note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) the library of work and play outdoor sports and games by claude h. miller, ph.b. garden city new york doubleday, page & company [illustration: a boys' camp] [illustration: title page] contents i. introductory the human body a perfect machine--how to keep well--outdoor sleeping--exercise and play--smoking--walking. ii. the boy scouts of america headquarters--purpose--scout law--how to form a patrol of scouts--organization of a troop--practical activities for scouts--a scout camp--model programme of sir r.s.s. baden-powell scout camp. iii. camps and camping how to select the best place to pitch a tent--a brush bed--the best kind of a tent--how to make the camp fire--what to do when it rains--fresh air and good food--the brush leanto and how to make it. iv. camp cooking how to make the camp fire range--bread bakers--cooking utensils--the grub list--simple camp recipes. v. woodcraft the use of an axe and hatchet--best woods for special purposes--what to do when you are lost--nature's compasses. vi. use of fire-arms importance of early training--why a gun is better than a rifle--how to become a good shot. vii. fishing proper tackle for all purposes--how to catch bait--the fly fisherman--general fishing rules. viii. nature study what is a true naturalist?--how to start a collection--moth collecting--the herbarium. ix. water life the water telescope--how to manage an aquarium--our insect friends and enemies--the observation beehive. x. the care of pets cats--boxes for song birds--how to attract the birds--tame crows--the pigeon fancier--ornamental land and water fowl--rabbits, guinea pigs, rats and mice--how to build coops--general rules for the care of pets--the dog. xi. the care of chickens the best breed--good and bad points of incubators--what to feed small chicks--a model chicken house. xii. winter sports what to wear--skating--skiing--snowshoeing--hockey. xiii. horsemanship how to become a good rider--the care of horses--saddles. xiv. how to swim and to canoe the racing strokes--paddling and sailing canoes. xv. baseball how to organize a team and to select the players--the various positions--curve pitching. xvi. how to play football the various positions and how to select men for them--team work and signals--the rules. xvii. lawn tennis how to make and mark a court--clay and sod courts--the proper grip of the racket--golf--the strokes and equipment. xviii. photography the selection of a camera--snapshots vs. real pictures--how to make a photograph from start to finish. xix. outdoor sports for girls what to wear--confidence--horseback riding--tennis--golf--camping. xx. one hundred outdoor games illustrations a boy's camp a child's may-day party fishing is the one sport of our childhood that holds our interest through life the moth collector and his outfit the exciting sport of ski-running swimming is one of the best outdoor sports in canoeing against the current in swift streams a pole is used in place of the paddle photographs of tennis strokes taken in actual play how an expert plays golf i introductory the human body a perfect machine--how to keep well--outdoor sleeping--exercise and play--smoking--walking suppose you should wake up christmas morning and find yourself to be the owner of a bicycle. it is a brand-new wheel and everything is in perfect working order. the bearings are well oiled, the nickel is bright and shiny and it is all tuned up and ready for use. if you are a careful, sensible boy you can have fun with it for a long time until finally, like the "one hoss shay" in the poem, it wears out and goes to pieces all at once. on the other hand, if you are careless or indifferent or lazy you may allow the machine to get out of order or to become rusty from disuse, or perhaps when a nut works loose you neglect it and have a breakdown on the road, or you may forget to oil the bearings and in a short time they begin to squeak and wear. if you are another kind of a boy, you may be careful enough about oiling and cleaning the wheel, but you may also be reckless and head--strong and will jump over curbstones and gutters or ride it over rough roads at a dangerous rate of speed, and in this way shorten its life by abuse just as the careless boy may by neglect. it is just so with the human body which, after all, is a machine too, and, more than that, it is the most wonderful and perfect machine in the world. with care it should last many years. with abuse or neglect it may very soon wear out. the boy who neglects his health is like the boy who allows the bearings on his wheel to become dry or the metal parts rusty. the chief difference is that when the bicycle wears out or breaks down we may replace the parts or even buy another machine, but when our health is injured, money will not restore it. in order to keep well we must observe certain rules of health. by exercise we keep the working parts in good order. if we are lazy or indolent we are like the bicycle that is allowed to go to pieces from lack of use. if we are reckless and foolhardy we may injure some part of the delicate machinery from excessive exercise or strain. play is the most natural thing in the world but we must use judgment in our play. a boy or girl who is not allowed to play or who is restrained by too anxious parents is unhappy indeed. nearly all animals play. we know, for instance, that puppies, kittens, and lambs are playful. it is a perfectly natural instinct. by proper play we build up our bodies and train our minds. the healthy man never gets too old to play. he may not care to play marbles or roll hoops, but he will find his pleasure in some game or sport like tennis, golf, horseback riding, camping, fishing or hunting. in this book we shall talk about some forms of play and recreation that are not strictly confined to children, but which we may still enjoy even after we have become grown men and women. we shall also talk about some children's games that some of the older readers may have outgrown. while we play we keep our minds occupied by the sport, and at the same time we exercise our muscles and feed our lungs and our bodies with oxygen. it is unfortunate that in school or college athletics those who need exercise the most are often those who are physically unfitted to play on the school teams. in other words, we select our runners and jumpers and football players from among the stronger boys, while the weaker ones really need the benefit of the sport. every boy should take part in school games when possible even if he is not as swift or as strong as some other boys. it is very unmanly of one boy to make fun of another because he is weak or clumsy or unskilful. after all, the thing that counts and the thing that is most creditable is to make the most of our opportunities whatever they may be. if an undersized or timid boy becomes stronger or more brave because he joins in games and sports, he deserves a hundred times more credit than the big, strong boy whom nature has given a sturdy frame and good lungs and who makes a place on the school team without any real effort. if we live a natural, open-air life we shall have but little need of doctors or medicine. many of our grandmothers' notions on how to keep well have changed in recent years. old-fashioned remedies made from roots and herbs have been almost completely replaced by better habits of life and common-sense ideas. we used to believe that night air was largely responsible for fevers and colds. doctors now say that one of the surest ways to keep well is to live and sleep in the open air. in many modern houses the whole family is provided with outside sleeping porches with absolutely no protection from the outside air but the roof. i have followed the practice of sleeping in the open air for some time, and in midwinter without discomfort have had the temperature of my sleeping porch fall to six degrees below zero. of course it is foolish for any one to sleep exposed to rain or snow or to think that there is any benefit to be derived from being cold or uncomfortable. the whole idea of open-air sleeping is to breathe pure, fresh air in place of the atmosphere of a house which, under the best conditions, is full of dust and germs. if we become outdoor sleepers, coughs and colds will be almost unknown. general sherman once wrote a letter in which he said that he did not have a case of cold in his entire army and he attributed it to the fact that his soldiers slept and lived in the open air. [illustration: a child's may day party (photograph by mary h. northend)] one can almost tell a man who sleeps in the open by looking at him. his eye is clear and his cheek ruddy. there is no surer way to become well and strong than to become accustomed to this practice. then you can laugh at the doctor and throw the medicine bottles away. in stating this i know that many parents will not agree with me, and will feel that to advise a boy to sleep in the open when the weather is stormy or extremely cold is almost like inviting him to his death. it is a fact just the same that every one would be healthier and happier if they followed this practice. in a few years i expect to see outdoor sleeping the rule rather than the exception. progressive doctors are already agreed on this method of sleeping for sick people. in some hospitals even delicate babies are given open-air treatment in midwinter as a cure for pneumonia. my own experience is that in the two years that i have been an outdoor sleeper, with the snow drifts sometimes covering the foot of the bed, with the wintry winds howling about my head in a northeaster, i have been absolutely free from any trace of coughs or colds. thousands of others will give the same testimony. according to old-fashioned ideas such things would give me my "death of cold." it rarely happens that one begins the practice of sleeping out without becoming a firm believer in it. one of the children of a friend in connecticut who had just built a beautiful home was taken ill, and the doctor recommended that the child's bed be moved out on the porch. this was in december. the father also had his own bed moved out to keep the baby company. my friend told me that after the first night he felt like a changed man. he awoke after a refreshing sleep and felt better than he had in years. the whole family soon followed and all the beautiful bedrooms in the house were deserted. the baby got well and stayed well and the doctor's visits are few and far between in that household. by all means sleep in the open if you can. of course one must have ample protection from the weather, such as a porch or piazza with a screen or shelter to the north and west. a warm room in which to dress and undress is also absolutely necessary. if your rest is disturbed by cold, as it will probably be until you become accustomed to it and learn the tricks of the outdoor sleeper, you simply need more covers. in winter, the bed should be made up with light summer blankets in place of sheets, which would become very cold. use, as a night cap, an old sweater or skating cap. a good costume consists of a flannel shirt, woollen drawers, and heavy, lumberman's stockings. with such an outfit and plenty of covers, one can sleep out on the coldest night and never awaken until the winter's sun comes peeping over the hill to tell him that it is time to get up. besides fresh air, another important thing in keeping well is to eat slowly and to chew your food thoroughly. boys and girls often develop a habit of rapid eating because they are anxious to get back to play or to school. slow eating is largely a matter of habit as well, and while it may seem hard at first it will soon become second nature to us. remember to chew your food thoroughly. the stomach has no teeth. we have all heard of mr. horace fletcher, that wonderful old man who made himself young again by chewing his food. there is no fun in life unless we are well, and a sensible boy should realize that his parents' interest in him is for his own benefit. it may seem hard sometimes to be obliged to do without things that we want, but as a rule the judgment of the older people is better than our own. a growing boy will often eat too much candy or too many sweet things and then suffer from his lack of judgment. to fill our stomachs with indigestible food is just as foolish as it would be to put sand in the bearings of our wheel, or to interfere with the delicate adjustment of our watch until it refuses to keep time. while we play, our muscles are developed, our lungs filled with fresh air and the whole body is made stronger and more vigorous. some boys play too hard. over-exertion will sometimes cause a strain on the delicate machinery of the body that will be very serious in after life. the heart is especially subject to the dangers of overstrain in growing boys. we are not all equally strong, and it is no discredit to a boy that he cannot run as far or lift as much as some of his playmates or companions. you all remember the fable of the frog who tried to make himself as big as the ox and finally burst. the idea of exercise is not to try to excel every one in what you do, but to do your best without over-exertion. if a boy has a rugged frame and well developed muscles, it is perfectly natural that he should be superior in most sports to a boy that is delicate or undersized. to be in good physical condition and to laugh at the doctor we must keep out of doors as much as possible. gymnasium work of course will help us to build up our strength and develop our muscles, but skill in various acrobatics and gymnastic tricks does not give the clear eye and ruddy cheek of the person whose life is in the open air. outdoor sports, like tennis, baseball, and horseback riding are far superior to chestweights or indian clubs as a means of obtaining normal permanent development. parents who criticize school or college athletics often forget that the observance of the strict rules of training required from every member of a team is the very best way to keep a boy healthy in mind and body. tobacco and alcohol are absolutely prohibited, the kind of food eaten and the hours for retiring are compulsory, and a boy is taught not only to train his muscles but to discipline his mind. before a candidate is allowed to take active part in the sport for which he is training he must be "in condition," as it is called. there are a great many rules of health that will help any one to keep well, but the best rule of all is to live a common-sense life and not to think too much about ourselves. systematic exercises taken daily with setting up motions are very good unless we allow them to become irksome. all indoor exercise should be practised with as much fresh air in the room as possible. it is an excellent plan to face an open window if we practise morning and evening gymnastics. there are many exercises that can be performed with no apparatus whatever. in all exercises we should practise deep regular breathing until it becomes a habit with us. most people acquire a faulty habit of breathing and only use a small part of their total lung capacity. learn to take deep breaths while in the fresh air. after a while it will become a habit. just how much muscle a boy should have will depend upon his physical make-up. the gymnasium director in one of our largest colleges, who has spent his whole life in exercise, is a small, slender man whose muscles are not at all prominent and yet they are like steel wires. he has made a life-long study of himself and has developed every muscle in his body. from his appearance he would not be considered a strong man and yet some of the younger athletes weighing fifty pounds more than he, have, in wrestling and feats of strength, found that the man with the largest muscles is not always the best man. there is one question that every growing boy will have to look squarely in the face and to decide for himself. it is the question of smoking. there is absolutely no question but that smoking is injurious for any one, and in the case of boys who are not yet fully grown positively dangerous. ask any cigarette smoker you know and he will tell you _not to smoke_. if you ask him why he does not take his own advice he will possibly explain how the habit has fastened its grip on him, just as the slimy tentacles of some devil fish will wind themselves about a victim struggling in the water, until he is no longer able to escape. a boy may begin to smoke in a spirit of fun or possibly because he thinks it is manly, but more often it is because the "other fellers" are trying it too. my teacher once gave our school an object lesson in habits which is worth repeating. he called one of the boys to the platform and wound a tiny piece of thread around the boy's wrists. he then told him to break it, which the boy did very easily. the teacher continued to wind more thread until he had so many strands that the boy could break them only with a great effort and finally he could not break them at all. his hands were tied. just so it is with a habit. the first, second, or tenth time may be easy to break, but we shall finally get so many tiny threads that our hands are tied. we have acquired a habit. don't be a fool. don't smoke cigarettes. walking is one of the most healthful forms of exercise. it may seem unnecessary to devote much space to a subject that every one thinks they know all about, but the fact is that, with trolley cars, automobiles, and horses, a great many persons have almost lost the ability to walk any distance. an excellent rule to follow if you are going anywhere is this: if you have the time, and the distance is not too great, walk. in recent years it has been the practice of a number of prominent business and professional men who get but little outdoor exercise to walk to and from their offices every day, rain or shine. in this way elderly men will average from seven to ten miles a day and thus keep in good condition with no other exercise. it is very easy to cultivate the street car habit, and some boys feel that they must ride to and from school even if it is only a few blocks or squares. we have all read of the old men who are walking across the country from new york to california and back again and maintaining an average of forty miles a day. there is not a horse in the world that would have the endurance to go half the distance in the same time and keep it up day after day. for the first week or ten days the horse would be far ahead but, like the fable of the hare and the tortoise, after a while the tortoise would pass the hare and get in first. in walking for pleasure, avoid a rambling, purposeless style. decide where you are going and go. walk out in the country if possible and on roads where the automobiles will not endanger your life or blow clouds of dust in your face. never mind the weather. one rarely takes cold while in motion. to walk comfortably we should wear loose clothing and old shoes. walking just for the sake of exercise can easily become a tiresome occupation, but the active mind can always see something of interest, such as wild flowers, gardens, and all the various sides of nature study in the country, and people, houses and life in the city. a tramping vacation of several days furnishes a fine opportunity to see new scenes and to live economically, but near a city you may have difficulty in persuading the farm-wife where you stop that you are not a tramp who will burn the house in the night. if you intend to live by the wayside, the surest way to inspire confidence is to show in advance that you have money to pay for your accommodations. also try to avoid looking like a tramp, which is quite different from looking like a tramper. there seems to be a great difference of opinion on the question of how fast one can walk. the popular idea is "four miles an hour" but any one who has tried to cover a mile every fifteen minutes will testify that such a rate of speed is more like a race than a walk and that it will require great physical exertion to maintain it for any considerable distance. an eighteen or twenty-mile walk is about all the average boy should attempt in a day, and this is allowing the full day for the task from early morning until sunset. short and frequent rests are much better than long stops, which have a tendency to stiffen the muscles. the walker on a long tramp must pay especial attention to the care of his feet. they should be bathed frequently in cold water to which a little alum has been added. a rough place or crease in the stocking will sometimes cause a very painful blister. mountain climbing is a very interesting branch of walking. it is sometimes very dangerous as well and in such cases should only be attempted under the guidance of some one familiar with the neighbourhood. for rough climbing our shoes should be provided with iron hob nails. steel nails often become very slippery and will cause a bad fall on rocks. cross-country running and hare and hound chases are much more common in england than in america. our runners as a rule excel in the sprints and short dashes, although in the recent olympic sports we have shown that our trained athletes are the equal of the world in nearly all branches of sport. in many of the english schools it is a regular part of the school work for the teacher to organize hare and hound chases. the hares are given a start of several minutes and leave a trail by means of bits of paper or confetti, which they carry in a bag. in this kind of running the object to be sought is not so much speed as endurance. an easy dog trot with deep regular breathing will soon give us our second wind, when we can keep on for a long distance. after any kind of physical exertion, especially when we are in a perspiration, care must be exercised not to become chilled suddenly. a rub down with a rough towel will help to prevent soreness and stiff muscles. the lameness that follows any kind of unusual exercise is an indication that certain muscles have been brought into use that are out of condition. a trained athlete does not experience this soreness unless he has unduly exerted himself, and the easiest way to get over it is to do more of the same kind of work until we are in condition. ii the boy scouts of america headquarters--purpose--scout law--how to form a patrol of scouts--organization of a troop--practical activities for scouts--a scout camp--model programme of a sir r.s.s. baden-powell scout camp the boy scout movement that has recently been introduced both in england and america with such wonderful success is so closely related to nearly all branches of outdoor recreation and to the things that boys are interested in that this book would be incomplete without mention of the object and purposes of this organization. it is a splendid movement for the making of better citizens, and it cannot be too highly recommended. the boy scouts of america is a permanent organization, and it has its headquarters at fifth avenue, new york city. from the central office, patrols and troops are being formed all over the united states. any information with reference to the movement may be obtained by applying to this office. through the courtesy of the managing secretary, mr. john l. alexander, certain facts are presented concerning the organization, which are obtained from their published literature, for which due credit is hereby given. the boy scouts is an organization the purpose of which is character-building for boys between the ages of twelve and eighteen. it is an effort to get boys to appreciate the things about them and to train them in self-reliance, manhood, and good citizenship. it is "peace-scouting" these boys engage in, living as much as possible out of doors; camping, hiking and learning the secrets of the woods and fields. the movement is not essentially military, but the military virtues of discipline, obedience, neatness and order are scout virtues. endurance, self-reliance, self-control and an effort to help some one else are scout objectives. every activity that lends itself to these aims is good scoutcraft. the boy scouts were started in england by gen. sir robert baden-powell. he was impressed with the fact that per cent. of the boys of england were growing up without any knowledge of useful occupations, and wanted to do something that would help the boy to become a useful citizen. he emphatically stated that his intention was not the making of soldiers. in his work. general baden-powell has touched the boy's life in all its interests and broadened a boy's outlook by the widest sort of activities. in two and a half years over half a million boy scouts have been enrolled, and twenty thousand of these have been in parade at one time in london. the scout idea has sprung up spontaneously all over america. in canadian cities the boy scouts number thousands. in the united states, towns and cities are being swept by the idea. gangs of boys are to be seen on every hand, doing their best at scoutcraft, "doing a good turn every day to some one," and getting fun out of it. prominent business men and educators are behind the movement. the aim of the boy scouts is to supplement the various existing educational agencies, and to promote the ability in boys to do things for themselves and others. the method is summed up in the term "scoutcraft" and is a combination of observation, deduction and handiness--or the ability to do. scoutcraft consists of "first aid," life saving, tracking, signalling, cycling, nature study, seamanship and other instruction. this is accomplished in games and team play and in pleasure, not work, for the boy. the only equipment it needs is the out-of-doors, a group of boys and a leader. before he becomes a scout, a boy must take the scouts' oath thus: "on my honour, i promise that i will do my best, . to do my duty to god and my country. . to help other people at all times. . to obey the scout law." when taking this oath the scout will stand holding his right hand raised level with his shoulder, palm to the front, thumb resting on the nail of the little finger, and the other three fingers upright pointing upward. this the scouts' salute and secret sign. when the hand is raised shoulder high it is called "the half salute." when raised to the forehead it is called "the full salute." the three fingers held up (like the three points on the scouts' badge) remind him of his three promises in the scouts' oath. there are three classes of scouts. a boy on joining the boy scouts must pass a test in the following points before taking the oath: know the scouts' laws and signs and the salute. know the composition of the national flag and the right way to fly it. tie four of the following knots: reef, sheet bend, clove hitch, bowline, middleman's, fisherman's, sheep-shank. he then takes the scouts' oath and is enrolled as a tenderfoot and is entitled to wear the buttonhole badge. a second-class scout before being awarded a second-class scout's badge, a boy must pass the following tests: . have at least one month's service as a tenderfoot. . elementary first aid bandaging. . signalling. elementary knowledge of semaphore or morse alphabet. . track half a mile in twenty-five minutes, or if in a town describe satisfactorily the contents of one store window out of four, observed for one minute each. . go a mile in twelve minutes at "scouts' pace." . lay and light a fire using not more than two matches. . cook a quarter of a pound of meat and two potatoes without cooking utensils other than the regulation billy. . have at least twenty-five cents in the savings bank. . know the sixteen principal points of the compass. first-class scout before being awarded a first-class scout's badge, a scout must pass the following test in addition to the tests laid down for a second-class scout: . swim fifty yards. (this may be omitted where the doctor certifies that bathing is dangerous to the boy's health). . must have at least fifty cents in the savings bank. . signalling. send and receive a message either in semaphore or morse, sixteen letters per minute. . go on foot or row a boat alone to a point seven miles away and return again, or if conveyed by any vehicle or animal go a distance of fifteen miles and back and write a short report on it. it is preferable that he should take two days over it. . describe or show the proper means for saving life in case of two of the following accidents: fire, drowning, runaway carriage, sewer gas, ice breaking, or bandage an injured patient or revive an apparently drowned person. . cook satisfactorily two of the following dishes as may be directed: porridge, bacon, hunter's stew; or skin and cook a rabbit or pluck and cook a bird. also "make a damper" of half a pound of flour or a "twist" baked on a thick stick. . read a map correctly and draw an intelligent rough sketch map. point out a compass direction without the help of a compass. . use an axe for felling or trimming light timber: or as an alternative produce an article of carpentry or joinery or metal work, made by himself satisfactorily. . judge distance, size, numbers and height within per cent. error. . bring a tenderfoot trained by himself in the points required of a tenderfoot. the scouts' law . a scout's honour is to be trusted. if a scout were to break his honour by telling a lie, or by not carrying out an order exactly, when trusted on his honour to do so, he may be directed to hand over his scouts' badge and never to wear it again. he may also be directed to cease to be a scout. . a scout is loyal to his country, his officers, his parents and his employers. he must stick to them through thick and thin against any one who is their enemy or who even talks badly about them. . a scout's duty is to be useful and to help others. he must be prepared at any time to save life or to help injured persons, and he must try his best to do a good turn to somebody every day. . a scout is a friend to all and a brother to every other scout, no matter to what social class the other belongs. . a scout is courteous, especially to women, children, old people, invalids, and cripples. and he must never take a reward for being courteous. . a scout is a friend to animals. killing an animal for food is allowable. . a scout obeys orders of his parents, patrol leader, or scout master without question. . a scout smiles and whistles under all circumstances. . a scout is thrifty and saves every penny he can and puts it into the bank. the scout master is the adult leader of a troop. a troop consists of three or more patrols. the scout master may begin with one patrol. he must have a deep interest in boys, be genuine in his own life, have the ability to lead and command the boys' respect and obedience, and possess some knowledge of a boy's ways. he need not be an expert on scoutcraft. the good scout master will discover experts for the various activities. to organize a patrol, get together seven or more boys, explain to them the aims of the boy scouts, have them elect a leader and corporal from their own number and take the scout oath as tenderfeet. to organize a local committee, call together the leading men of a town or city, teachers, business men, professional men, and all who are interested in the proper training of boys, for a committee to superintend the development of the scout movement. there are a number of divisions to scouting depending upon the place where the boys live and upon their opportunities. for instance, to obtain: _an ambulance badge_: a scout must know: the fireman's lift. how to drag an insensible man with ropes. how to improvise a stretcher. how to fling a life-line. the position of main arteries. how to stop bleeding from vein or artery, internal or external. how to improvise splints and to diagnose and bind fractured limb. the schafer method of artificial respiration. how to deal with choking, burning, poison, grit in eye, sprains and bruises, as the examiners may require. generally the laws of health and sanitation as given in "scouting for boys," including dangers of smoking, in continence, want of ventilation, and lack of cleanliness. _aviator_: a scout must have a knowledge of the theory of æroplanes, ball balloons and dirigibles, and must have made a working model of an æroplane or dirigible that will fly at least twenty-five yards. he must also have a knowledge of the engines used for æroplanes and dirigibles. _bee-farmer_: a scout must have a practical knowledge of swarming, hiving, hives, and general apiculture, including a knowledge of the use of artificial combs, etc. _blacksmith_: a scout must be able to upset and weld a one-inch iron rod, make a horseshoe, know how to tire a wheel, use a sledge hammer and forge, shoe a horse correctly, and rough-shod a horse. _bugler_: a scout must be able to sound properly on the bugle the scouts' rally and the following army calls: alarm, charge, orderlies (ord. corpls.), orders, warning for parade, quarter bugle, fall in, dismiss, rations, first and second dinner calls (men's), reveille, last post, lights out. _carpenter_: a scout must be able to shoot and glue a four-foot straight joint, make a housing, tenon and mortise, and halved joint, grind and set a chisel and plane iron, make a ft. by ft. in., by ft. by ft. dovetailed locked box, or a table or chair. _clerk_: a scout must have the following qualifications: good handwriting and hand printing. ability to use typewriting machine. ability to write a letter from memory on the subject given verbally five minutes previously. knowledge of simple bookkeeping. or, as alternative to typewriting, write in shorthand from dictation at twenty words a minute as minimum. _cook_: a scout must be able to light a fire and make a cook-place with a few bricks or logs; cook the following dishes: irish stew, vegetables, omelet, rice pudding, or any dishes which the examiner may consider equivalent; make tea, coffee, or cocoa; mix dough and bake bread in oven; or a "damper" or "twist" (round steak) at a camp fire; carve properly, and hand plates and dishes correctly to people at table. _cyclist_: a scout must sign a certificate that he owns a bicycle in good working order, which he is willing to use in the scouts' service if called upon at any time in case of emergency. he must be able to ride his bicycle satisfactorily, and repair punctures, etc. he must be able to read a map, and repeat correctly a verbal message. on ceasing to own a bicycle the scout must be required to hand back his badge. _dairyman_: a scout must understand: management of dairy cattle; be able to milk, make butter and cheese; understand sterilization of milk, safe use of preservatives, care of dairy utensils and appliances. _electrician_: a scout must have a knowledge of method of rescue and resuscitation of persons insensible from shock. be able to make a simple electro-magnet, have elementary knowledge of action of simple battery cells, and the working of electric bells and telephone. understand and be able to remedy fused wire, and to repair broken electric connections. _engineer_: a scout must have a general idea of the working of motor cars and steam locomotives, marines, internal combustion and electric engines. he must also know the names of the principal parts and their functions; how to start, drive, feed, stop, and lubricate any one of them chosen by the candidate. _farmer_: a scout must have a practical knowledge of ploughing, cultivating, drilling, hedging and draining. he must also have a working knowledge of farm machinery, hay-making, reaping, heading and stacking, and a general acquaintance with the routine seasonal work on a farm, including the care of cattle, horses, sheep and pigs. _fireman_: a scout must know how to give the alarm to inhabitants, police, etc. how to enter burning buildings. how to prevent spread of fire. use of hose, unrolling, joining up, hydrants, use of nozzle, etc. the use of escape, ladders, and shutes; improvising ropes, jumping sheets, etc. the fireman's lift, how to drag patient, how to work in fumes, etc. the use of fire extinguishers. how to rescue animals. how to salve property, climb and pass buckets. "scrum" to keep back crowd. _first aid to animals_: a scout must have a general knowledge of the anatomy of domestic and farm animals, and be able to describe treatment and symptoms of the following: wounds, fractures and sprains, exhaustion, choking, lameness. he must understand shoeing and shoes, and must be able to give a drench for colic. _gardener_: a scout must dig a piece of ground not less than twelve feet square, know the names of a dozen plants pointed out in an ordinary garden, understand what is meant by pruning, grafting and manuring, plant and grow successfully six kinds of vegetables or flowers from seeds or cuttings, cut and make a walking stick, or cut grass with scythe under supervision. _handyman_: a scout must be able to paint a door or bath, whitewash a ceiling, repair gas fittings, tap washers, sash lines, window and door fastenings, replace gas mantles and electric light bulbs, hang pictures and curtains, repair blinds, fix curtain and portiere rods, blind fixtures, lay carpets, mend clothing and upholstery, do small furniture and china repairs, and sharpen knives. _horseman_: a scout must know how to ride at all paces, and to jump an ordinary fence on horseback. how to saddle and bridle a horse correctly. how to harness a horse correctly in single or double harness, and to drive. how to water and feed, and to what amount. how to groom his horse properly. the evil of bearing and hame reins and ill-fitting saddlery. principal causes and remedies of lameness. _interpreter_: a scout must be able to carry on a simple conversation, write a simple letter on subject given by examiner, read and translate a passage from a book or newspaper, in either esperanto or any language that is not that of his own country. _leather worker_: a scout must have a knowledge of tanning and curing, and either (a) be able to sole and heel a pair of boots, sewn or nailed, and generally repair boots and shoes: or (b) be able to dress a saddle, repair traces, stirrup leathers, etc., and know the various parts of harness. _marksman_: a scout must pass the following tests for miniature rifle shooting from any position: n.r.a. standard target to be used. twenty rounds to be fired at or yards. highest possible, points. a scout gaining points or over to be classified as marksman. scoring: bull's-eye, points; inner, points; magpie, points; outer points. also: judge distance on unknown ground: five distances under yards, between and yards, with not more than an error of per cent. on the average. _master-at-arms_: a scout must attain proficiency in two out of the following subjects: single-stick, quarter-staff, fencing, boxing, jiu-jitsu and wrestling. _missioner_: the qualifications are: a general elementary knowledge of sick-nursing; invalid cookery, sick-room attendance, bed-making, and ventilation. ability to help aged and infirm. _musician_: a scout must be able to play a musical instrument correctly other than triangle, and to read simple music. or to play properly any kind of musical toy, such as a penny whistle, mouth-organ, etc., and sing a song. _pathfinder_: it is necessary to know every lane, by-path, and short cut for a distance of at least two miles in every direction around the local scouts' headquarters in the country, or for one mile if in a town, and to have a general knowledge of the district within a five-mile radius of his local headquarters, so as to be able to guide people at any time, by day or night. to know the general direction of the principal neighbouring towns for a distance of twenty-five miles, and to be able to give strangers clear directions how to get to them. to know, in the country, in the two-mile radius, generally, how many hayricks, strawricks, wagons, horses, cattle, sheep and pigs there are on the different neighbouring farms; or, in a town, to know in a half-mile radius what livery stabling, corn chandlers, forage merchants, bakers, butchers, there are. in town or country to know where are the police stations, hospitals, doctors, telegraph, telephone offices, fire engines, turncocks, blacksmiths and job-masters or factories, where over a dozen horses are kept. to know something of the history of the place, or of any old buildings, such as the church, or other edifice. as much as possible of the above information is to be entered on a large scale map. _photographer_: a scout must have a knowledge of the theory and use of lenses, and the construction of cameras, action of developers. he must take, develop and print twelve separate subjects, three interiors, three portraits, three landscapes and three instantaneous photographs. _pioneer_: a scout must have extra efficiency in pioneering in the following tests, or suitable equivalents: fell a nine-inch tree or scaffolding pole neatly and quickly. tie eight kinds of knots quickly in the dark or blindfolded. lash spars properly together for scaffolding. build model bridge or derrick. make a camp kitchen. build a hut of one kind or another suitable for three occupants. _piper_: a scout must be able to play a march and a reel on the pipes, to dance the sword-dance, and must wear kilt and highland dress. _plumber_: a scout must be able to make wiped and brazed joints, to cut and fix a window pane, repair a burst pipe, mend a ball or faucet tap, and understand the ordinary hot and cold water system of a house. _poultry farmer_: a scout must have a good knowledge of incubators, brooders, sanitary fowl-houses and coops and runs; also of rearing, feeding, killing, and dressing birds for market; also he must be able to pack birds and eggs for market. _printer_: a scout must know the names of different types and paper sizes. be able to compose by hand or machine, understand the use of hand or power printing machines. he must also print a handbill set up by himself. _seaman_: a scout must be able to tie eight knots rapidly in the dark or blindfolded. splice ropes, fling a rope coil. row and punt a boat single-handed, and punt with pole, or scull it over the stern. steer a boat rowed by others. bring the boat properly alongside and make it fast. box the compass. read a chart. state direction by the stars and sun. swim fifty yards with trousers, socks, and shirt on. climb a rope or pole of fifteen feet, or, as alternative, dance the hornpipe correctly. sew and darn a shirt and trousers. understand the general working of steam and hydraulic winches, and have a knowledge of weather wisdom and knowledge of tides. _signaller_: a scout must pass tests in both sending and receiving in semaphore and morse signalling by flag, not fewer than twenty-four letters per minute. he must be able to give and read signals by sound. to make correct smoke and flame signals with fires. to show the proper method of signalling with the staff. _stalker_: a scout must take a series of twenty photographs of wild animals or birds from life, and develop and print them. or, alternately, he must make a collection of sixty species of wild flowers, ferns, or grasses, dried and mounted in a book and correctly named. or, alternately, he must make coloured drawings of twenty flowers, ferns or grasses, or twelve sketches from life of animals and birds. original sketches, as well as the finished pictures, to be submitted. or, alternately he must be able to name sixty different kinds of animals, insects, reptiles, or birds in a museum or zoological garden, or from unnamed coloured plates, and give particulars of the lives, habits, appearance and markings of twenty of them. _starman_: a scout must have a general knowledge of the nature and movements of the stars. he must be able to point out and name six principal constellations. find the north by means of other stars than the pole star in case of that star being obscured by clouds, etc., and tell the hour of the night by the stars or moon. he must have a general knowledge of the positions and movements of the earth, sun and moon, and of tides, eclipses, meteors, comets, sun spots, planets. _surveyor_: a scout must map correctly, from the country itself, the main features of a half a mile of road, with yards each side, to a scale of two feet to the mile, and afterward re-draw same map from memory. measure the heights of a tree, telegraph pole and church steeple, describing method adopted. measure width of a river, and distance apart of two objects a known distance away and unapproachable. be able to measure a gradient, contours, conventional signs of ordnance survey and scales. _swimming and life saving_: a scout must be able to dive and swim fifty yards with clothes on (shirt, trousers, socks as minimum). able to fling and use life-line or life-buoy. able to demonstrate two ways of rescue of drowning person, and revival of apparently drowned. the patrol the simplest way to form a patrol of scouts is to call together a small group of boys over twelve years of age. a simple recital of the things that scouts do, with perhaps an opportunity to look over the manual, will be enough to launch the organization. the selection of a patrol leader will then follow, and the scouting can begin. it is well not to attempt too much at the start. get the boys to start work to pass the requirements for the tenderfoot. _the patrol leader_: each patrol should have a patrol leader--preferably a boy. the choice of this leader has much to do with the success of the patrol. he should be a recognized leader among the boys in the group. do not hesitate to entrust him with details. let him feel that he is your right-hand man. ask his opinion on matters pertaining to the patrol. make him feel that the success of the organization depends largely upon him, being careful, of course, not to overdo it. you will find that this attitude will enlist the hearty cooperation of the boy and you will find him an untiring worker, with the ability to bind the boys closer together than you could ever hope to do alone. points of interest . scouting does not consist in wearing a khaki suit or a lot of decorations. it is in doing the things that are required for the tenderfoot, second-class and first-class scout badges and the badges of merit. . scouts do not wish any one to buy things for them. they buy their own equipment and pay their own way. . scouts do their best to keep the scout oath and law. . the glory of scouting is "_to do a good turn to some one every day without reward_." . scouts regard the rights of others, and do not trespass on the property or feelings of others. . scouting means obedience and discipline. the boy who can't obey will never command. . scouts are always busy and getting fun out of it--at work, at school, at home, at play. _be a good scout._ how to organize a troop _first_: write to headquarters, which is at fifth avenue, new york city, for a scout master's certificate. _second_: either combine three or more patrols or having one patrol, appoint several patrol leaders and enlist boys for the new patrols. _third_: the minimum number of patrols in a troop is three, and the maximum the number a scout master can _rightly_ handle. care should be taken not to organize for the sake of a big showing. _hints on starting_: in actually starting a troop, it has been found better to start in a small way. begin by one or two leader-men making a careful study of "scouting for boys" and as soon as the main ideas have been grasped, get together a small number of boys, and go through with them the initial stages step by step, until the boys bubble over with scouting ideals, and until the notion of a fancy uniform and games in the country have given place to a definite desire to qualify for manhood and citizenship. these boys will make the nucleus round which to form a troop, and should pass on their training and enthusiasm to the boys who are enlisting under them. it has been found better to obtain _distinctly older fellows for patrol leaders_: the scout masters should invariably be men who feel the great responsibility of having boys under their charge, and the possibility of leading the boys from the moment when they enlist in the scouts to the time they pass out again to be fully fledged men. _finances_: the finances necessary to run a troop of scouts should be met by the scouts themselves. it is a main principle of scouting to teach the boys to be self-reliant, and anything which will militate against the constant sending round of the hat will be a national good. _the scout master_: the scout master is the adult leader of a troop. the scout master may begin with one patrol. he must have a deep interest in boys, be genuine in his own life, have the ability to lead and command the boys' respect and obedience and possess some knowledge of a boy's ways. he need not be an expert on scoutcraft. the good scout master will discover experts for the various activities. applications for scout masters' certificates may be made at the headquarters, fifth avenue, new york city. from the outset, the scout master must have the interest of each boy at heart. he must not play favourites with any of the boys in his patrol or troop. while there are sure to be boys in the group who will develop more rapidly than others, and whose keenness will be sure to call forth the admiration of the scout master, he should not permit himself to be "carried away" by the achievements of these "star boys" to such an extent that he will neglect the less aggressive boy. the latter boy is the one who needs your attention most, and your interest in him must be genuine. every effort he makes, no matter how poor it may be, should be commended just as heartily as the better accomplishments of the more handy boy. practical activities for scouts . _scoutcraft_: boy scouts' organization, scout laws, discipline, scouts' secret signs, badges, etc. . _campaigning_: camp life and resourcefulness. hut and mat making. knots. fire lighting. cooking. boat management. judging distances, heights and numbers. swimming. cycling. finding the way. sign posts . do not have in the same patrol boys of great disparity in ages. for instance, the boy of twelve should not be in the same group with the sixteen-year-old boy, if it can possibly be avoided. you must remember that in most cases the things that appeal to the younger boy will have no attraction for the older boy. . do not enroll boys under twelve. if you do you are certain to lose your older boy. the movement is distinctly for boys of the adolescent period and is designed to help them to rightly catch the spirit of helpfulness. . do not try to do everything yourself. try to remember that the boys are always willing and anxious to take hold. let the boys understand that the whole proposition is theirs. it is what they make it. your contract with them should be largely of a big brother nature. . do not burden nor weary the boys with excessive military drills and tactics. the movement is not a military one. the military virtues of obedience, neatness, order, endurance and erect, alert bearing, however, are scout virtues. use everything that develops boys. this is good scoutcraft. . do not confine the activities of the patrols to things of one character. touch every activity as far as possible. do not omit anything. get the proper agencies to cooperate with you for these ends--a military man for signalling; a naturalist for woodcraft; a physician for first aid, etc. . do not permit the boys to fail in the proper keeping of the scout oath and law. . never fail to keep an engagement with your patrol or troop. if something should delay your coming or should you find yourself unable to keep an appointment with them, be sure to notify the patrol leaders beforehand. it might be well to require the same of the boys. . a real danger point is the failure of a scout master to visit the boys in their homes. knowing the boys' parents means much, and their cooperation will be much heartier when they know the man to whose care they entrust their boy, after he has discussed with them the real purpose of the scout movement. . do not hesitate to give a boy a hard task, but not an impossible one. a boy likes to do hard things. . do not attempt right at the start to give the boy every bit of detail regarding the activities of the troop. work out the plans with the boys from time to time, always reserving some things of interest for the next meeting. your attempt to give them everything at one time will cause the whole proposition to assume the nature of a task instead of pleasurable education, as was originally intended. . hold frequent tests for advancement to the classes of scouthood. get your fellows to really win their badges. . as a scout master use good judgment. if there are other scout masters in your town, or a scout council or local committee, cooperate with these. to be a scout master, you must have the spirit of ' , but be sure to work with others. the boys will benefit by the lesson. the scouts' camp to go camping should mean more than merely living under canvas away from the piles of brick and stone that make up our cities. to be in the open air, to breathe pure oxygen, to sleep upon "a bed of boughs beside the trail," to look at the camp fire and the stars, and to hear the whisper of the trees--all of this is good. but the camp offers a better opportunity than this. it offers the finest method for a boy's education. between twelve and eighteen years the interests of a boy are general ones, and reach from the catching of tadpoles and minnows to finding god in the stars. his interests are the general mass interests that are so abundant in nature, the activities that give the country boy such an advantage for the real enjoyment of life over the city lad. two weeks or two months in camp, they are too valuable to be wasted in loafing, cigarette smoking, card playing or shooting craps. to make a camp a profitable thing there must needs be instruction; not formal but _informal_ instruction. scouting, nature study, scout law, camp cooking, signalling, pioneering, path finding, sign reading, stalking for camera purposes, knowledge of animals and plants, first aid, life saving, manual work (making things), hygiene, sex instruction, star gazing, discipline, knowing the rocks and trees, and the ability to do for one's self, in order that a boy may grow strong, self-reliant, and helpful. this is a partial list of the subject in the camp curricula. a model scout camp programme is given here. it takes eight days to carry it out, but there is material enough to run ten times the number of days specified. a sir r.s.s. baden-powell scout camp model programme _first day_: preliminary work: settling into camp, formation of patrols, distribution of duties, orders, etc. _second day_: campaigning: camp resourcefulness, hut and mat making, knots, fire lighting, cooking, health and sanitation, endurance, finding way in strange country, and boat management. _third day_: observation: noticing and memorizing details far and near, landmarks, tracking, deducing meaning from tracks and signs, and training the eyesight. _fourth day_: woodcraft: study of animals, birds, plants and stars; stalking animals, noticing people, reading their character and condition, and thereby gaining their sympathy. _fifth day_: chivalry: honour, code of knights, unselfishness, courage, charity and thrift; loyalty to god, country, parents and employers, or officers; practical chivalry to women; the obligation to do a "good turn" daily, and how to do it. _sixth day_: saving life: from fire, drowning, sewer gas, runaway horses, panic, street accidents, improvised apparatus, and first aid. _seventh day_: patriotism: national geography, the history and deeds that won our world power, the navy and army, flags, medals, duties of a citizen, marksmanship, helping the police. _eighth day_: a summary of the whole course: sports comprising games and competitive practices in all subjects of the course. camp routines . a.m. turn out, bathe, etc. . " breakfast . " air bedding in sun if possible . " scouting games and practice . " swimming . m. dinner . p.m. talk by leader . " water games, etc. . " supper . " evening council around camp fire order of business: opening council roll-call record of last council report of scouts left-over business complaints honours new scouts new business challenges social doings, songs, dances, stories closing council (devotional services when desired) . p.m. lights out. the father of scouting for boys in america, and in fact the inspiration for the movement in england under lieut-gen. sir robert s.s. baden-powell, k.c.b., is mr. ernest thompson seton, the distinguished naturalist and nature student. the official handbook of the organization may be obtained from doubleday, page and company, garden city, n.y., the publishers of this book, or from the national headquarters of the boy scouts of america. iii camps and camping how to select the best place and to pitch the tent--a brush bed--the best kind of a tent--how to make the camp fire--what to do when it rains--fresh air and good food--the brush leanto and how to make it going camping is the best fun in the world if we know how to do it. every healthy boy and girl if given an opportunity should enjoy living outdoors for a week or two and playing at being an indian. there is more to camping however than "roughing it" or seeing how much hardship we can bear. a good camper always makes himself just as comfortable as he can under the circumstances. the saying that "an army travels on its stomach" means that a soldier can not make long marches or fight hard unless he has good food. the surest sign of a "tenderfoot" is the boy who makes fun of you because you try to have a soft dry bed while he prefers to sleep on the ground under the mistaken idea that it is manly or brave. he will usually spoil a trip in the woods for every one in the party. another poor kind of a camper pitches his tent so that his bed gets wet and his food spoiled on the first rainy day, and then sits around cold and hungry trying hard to think that he is having fun, to keep from getting homesick. this kind of a boy "locks the door after the horse is stolen." if we go camping we must know how to prevent the unpleasant things from happening. we must always be ready for wind and rain, heat and cold. a camping party should make their plans a long time ahead in order to get their equipment ready. careful lists should be made of what we think we shall need. after we are out in the woods, there will be no chance to run around the corner to the grocer's to supply what we have forgotten. if it is forgotten, we must simply make the best of it and not allow it to spoil our trip. it is surprising how many things that we think are almost necessary to life we can get along without if we are obliged to. the true woodsman knows how to turn to his use a thousand of nature's gifts and to make himself comfortable, while you and i might stand terrified and miserable under the same conditions. daniel boone, the great wilderness traveller, could go out alone in the untracked forest with nothing but his rifle, his axe and a small pack on his back and by a knowledge of the stars, the rivers, the trees and the wild animals, he could go for weeks travelling hundreds of miles, building his bed and his leanto out of the evergreen boughs, lighting his fire with his flint and steel, shooting game for his food and dressing and curing their skins for his clothing and in a thousand ways supplying his needs from nature's storehouse. the school of the woods never sends out graduates. we may learn something new every day. [illustration: with a head shelter and a sleeping bag he can keep dry and warm] the average city boy or girl does not have an opportunity to become a skilled master of woodcraft, but because we cannot learn it all is no reason why we should not learn something. the best way to learn it is in the woods themselves and not out of books. a party of four boys makes a good number for a camping trip. they will probably agree better than two or three. they can do much of the camp work in pairs. no one need to be left alone to look after the camp while the others go fishing or hunting or to some nearby town for the mail or for supplies. there is no reason why four boys of fifteen who are resourceful and careful cannot spend a week or two in the woods in perfect safety and come back home sounder in mind and body than when they left. it is always better to take along some one who has "camped out" before. if he cannot be found, then make your plans, decide what you will do and how you will do it, take a few cooking lessons from mother or the cook--if the latter is good-natured--and go anyway. first elect a leader, not because he is any more important than the rest but because if some one goes ahead and gives directions, the life in camp will run much more smoothly and every one will have a better time. if it is your first experience in camping, you had better go somewhere near home. the best place is one that can be reached by wagon. if we have to carry our supplies on our backs or in a canoe, the amount we can take will be much less. after you have had some experience near home you can safely try the other way. where you go is of comparatively little importance. near every large city there is some lake or river where you can find a good camping site. campers always have more fun if they are near some water, but if such a place is not easily found near where you live, go into the woods. try to get away from towns or villages. the wilder the place is, the better. you had better make sure of your camping ground before you go by writing a letter to the owner of the land. it isn't much fun after we have pitched the tent and made everything shipshape to have some angry landowner come along and order us off because we are trespassers. in selecting a place to camp, there are several very important things to look out for. . be sure you are near a supply of drinking water. a spring or a brook is best, but even the lake or river will do if the water is pure and clean. the water at the bottom of a lake is always much colder and cleaner than the surface water. when i was a boy, i used a simple device for getting cold water which some of you may like to copy. i took an old-fashioned jug and fastened a strong string to the handle and also fastened this string to the cork of the jug as the drawing shows. the jug was weighted so that it would sink, by means of a piece of stone tied to the handle. we used to go out to the middle of the lake where the water was the deepest and lower the jug over the side of a boat. when it reached bottom we would give the string a sharp tug and thus pull out the cork. the bubbles coming to the surface showed us when the jug was full. we then hauled it on board and had clear, cold, drinking water from a lake that on the surface was warm enough for swimming. [illustration: the jug by which we obtained pure, cold water] . the next important thing in selecting a camp is being near a supply of firewood. a week in camp will consume an amazing amount of wood, especially if we have a camp fire at night to sit around and sing and tell stories before turning in. in most sections there is plenty of dead wood that we can use for camp fires. this does not mean a lot of twigs and brush. there is no use trying to go camping unless some one knows how to use an axe. in another chapter i will tell you something about the proper use of axes and hatchets. for the present it is sufficient to say that an excellent place to practise handling an axe is on the family woodpile. you will thus combine business and pleasure, and your efforts will be appreciated by your family, which would not be the case if, like george washington, you began your lessons in woodcraft on the favourite cherry tree. almost any kind of wood will burn when it is dry, but it takes experience to know the kinds of trees that will burn when they are green. if there is no dry wood in the neighbourhood, and we are obliged to cut a tree down to get our supply, it is very important to pitch our camp somewhere near the right kind of a tree and not be obliged to carry our firewood a long distance. the best "green wood" for the campers' fire is hickory, although birch is excellent. hickory is also the best dry wood. other trees that will burn well when green are cedar, white ash, locust or white oak. there are comparatively few places, however, where dry wood is not available and of course it is always best to avoid such a place. . the camp site should be in a fairly open spot. thick woods and underbrush are either hot or "damp" cool. if you can find a site that is shaded during the heat of the day so much the better. it is unwise to pitch the tent under a tree that stands alone on account of possible danger from lightning. if your tent is shaded by a tree be sure there are no dead limbs to blow off and wreck it during a storm. be sure that the drainage is good, so that in case of heavy rains, the water will run off and not flood the camp. it is very important if your camp is along some river or stream to be high enough to avoid the danger of sudden floods. this can usually be determined by talking to some one who knows the country. you can also tell it by studying the previous high water marks in the trees. in case of floods there are always some wisps of straw, pieces of brush, etc., caught and held by the limbs of trees after the water settles back to its former level. it is a good chance to practise your woodcraft by trying to find them. damp locations are very bad. the higher we can get, the drier it will be. we avoid both fogs and mosquitoes. usually there is some prominent place that will give us a good outlook and where the breezes can reach us. there are both good and bad points in pitching our tent on the site of a former camp. as long as the former campers have not scoured the surrounding neighbourhood for firewood nor have left a place littered up with all sorts of rubbish and garbage to draw flies and vermin, they may have fixed up things around the camp site to save us work and to add to our comfort and pleasure. each case will have to be decided on its own merits. [illustration: a wall tent] the three important things then are the water supply, the firewood supply, and good drainage. next in importance to the camp site is the outfit, and the most important thing is the tent. for a party of four boys on their first camping trip, the best kind will be a wall tent. a tent, x feet will be large enough to provide sleeping quarters and to have every one comfortable. a simple shelter of canvas outside can be provided as a dining-room but this is more of a luxury than a real necessity. canvas or duck is the common material from which tents are made. the standard eight-ounce khaki duck used in the united states army will, for this size tent, cost about twenty dollars. this will include a fly, which is merely a second roof to the tent. the best material for tents is balloon silk. it is much more waterproof than canvas and only weighs a quarter as much. it is also much more expensive. a tent can be made at home, which is of course the cheaper way. they can also be hired from previous campers or from some awning maker who is also usually a tent maker. a canvas tent without a fly will leak in a rain storm if the roof is touched on the inside either by our hands or our clothing. it may be made partially waterproof by a coating of paraffine which has been previously dissolved in turpentine. the simplest and at the same time the warmest tent for an experienced camper who knows the tricks of the trade is a leanto tent, one with one side entirely open, in front of which a blazing fire may be kept burning. this is hardly adapted for boys on their first trip, however. another very good and very simple tent is the "a" tent used in the army. this looks like a "v" turned upside down. we can pitch it without the aid of tent poles by simply hanging it be ween two trees to which a rope has been stretched. [illustration: an "a" tent] the hudson bay tent, trapper's tent, forester's tent, canoe tent, and a dozen others, including an indian tepee and wigwam, are all good tents for special purposes. the pictures show the different styles and all of them are designed for special uses, either for warmth or lightness in carrying or ease in pitching. if we go camping in summer and can have our equipment or "duffle," as the woodsmen call it, carried by team, the wall tent will be the best one to take. tent pegs can always be cut in the woods, but it is far more satisfactory to get them ready at home before we leave. if you do cut your own pegs, select hardwood saplings to make them from and to further harden the points, char them slightly in a fire. if you spend a few winter evenings at home making the pegs, it will save you a lot of time and trouble when you reach the camping ground. the best pegs are made of iron or steel. this is especially true when the ground where they are to be driven is hard or rocky, which is usually the case. steel tent pins may be bought for six cents apiece or possibly the local blacksmith will make them for less. they should be a foot long. a sod cloth is a strip of canvas eight or ten inches wide fastened to the bottom of the tent wall. its purpose is to keep the wind and rain from blowing under the tent. after the tent is pitched a ditch should be dug all around it to catch the rain and carry it away. the earth that is dug from this trench may be thrown on the sod cloth to hold it down. it is an excellent idea, if you are a beginner, to practise pitching the tent at home so that you will understand it better when you are in the woods. besides this, you can try sleeping out a night or two to see how you are going to like it. [illustration: a trapper's tent] when you reach your camping place, the first step is to clear the ground of all rubbish, loose stones, sticks and brush to have a clean floor. then unpack the tent and fit the pegs of the two upright poles through the two holes in the ridge pole. next raise the tent and peg the guy ropes on the four corners first. a little practice will show you how to do this. after all the ropes are pegged at a proper distance from the tent, they should be tightened and the tent made secure. always plan to have a full four hours of daylight to make your camp ready. if the drive is a long one and you are obliged to get up very early in the morning, you will have to do it, that is all. i made my first camping trip when i was twelve years old. we had just reached the camping ground, unloaded our kit and sent the team home that brought us when--bang! over the mountain across the lake from where we were going to camp, a terrific thunder shower came up and in a few minutes it was pouring. there was our whole outfit--tent, bedding and food--getting soaked because, instead of hurrying along during the day, we had fooled away our time trying to catch fish in wayside brooks that had never seen a fish and not realizing how important it is to make haste as well as hay while the sun shines. [illustration: an indian tepee] we quickly pitched the tent, not as it should have been pitched, but in a heap over the rest of our goods to keep out as much water as possible and then ran for a nearby barn where we spent a cold hungry night, wetter but wiser. the next day, out came the sun and dried our things, but if the rain had continued we certainly should have been obliged to go home or at least to a farmhouse to stay until the weather cleared. we soon forgot our unpleasant experience but we have not forgotten the lesson it taught--and that is not to waste time along the road when there is work to be done at the journey's end. next to a good tent, the most important thing for the camper is a good bed. it is even more important than good food because if we sleep well, hunger will furnish the sauce for our grub, but if we spend the night trying to dodge some root or rock that is boring into our back and that we hardly felt when we turned in but which grew to an enormous size in our imagination before morning, we will be half sick and soon get enough of being an indian. a canvas cot makes the best camp bed if it can be taken along conveniently. there is one important thing to look out for in sleeping on a cot. in my first experience of the kind, i nearly froze. i kept piling things on me until all my clothing, and even the camp towels and table-cloth were pressed into service and was thinking about pulling some dry grass to pile on the rest of the stuff. still i shivered until i discovered that the cold was coming up from underneath because there was nothing to keep it out but the single thickness of canvas. when i put one of my blankets under me, i was as warm as toast. very often it is impossible to carry cots on a trip, and that is where a knowledge of woodcraft comes in. the softest, sweetest, downiest bed in the world can be made with no other materials but those which grow in the forest--if we know how. at least the tired camper will think it is soft and will sleep on it like a top and wake up refreshed in the morning. perhaps if we had our choice we would prefer our own bed at home, but in the woods we do not have this choice. most people call this a bed of "pine boughs." [illustration: how the bough bed is made] why i do not know as it never should be made of pine under any circumstances. the best wood for the bough bed is balsam. if this does not grow in the neighbourhood, hemlock, spruce, or even cedar will do. to make a bough bed properly means a lot of work. the first step is to cut four straight sticks. the side pieces should be six feet and a half long and the end pieces three feet and a half. they should be notched on the ends with an axe and either nailed or tied together from saplings or from a tree that you have felled. small balsam boughs should be broken off with the fingers and laid one on the other until the whole bed is filled with them. on this, the rubber blanket or poncho should be spread and the blankets over all. all the boughs should be shingled with the stems down to keep them in the best condition. this kind of a bed will require remaking every day. a better bed for the boy camper is made as follows: take a piece of heavy bed ticking and sew it into a bag about three feet by six feet. when you reach camp you can make a regular mattress by filling it with whatever material is most easily found. dry leaves? grass, hay, even moss or wet filler can be used if nothing dry can be found, but in this case the rubber blanket will be an absolute necessity. of course it is much better to use some dry material. be sure to have a comfortable bed. no matter what ideas you may have about cowboys and soldiers rolling up in their blankets and snatching a few hours' sleep under the stars by lying on the bare ground, a boy who is used to a good bed at home will never have much fun out of a camping trip if he tries to sleep on the ground with a rock for his pillow. for a summer camping trip, one blanket is enough. you must learn to roll up in it. lie flat on your back and cover the blanket over you. then raise up your legs and tuck it under first on one side and then the other. the rest is easy. this beats trying to "roll up" in it, actually. the common summer blankets used at home are not much use for the camper. these are usually all cotton. a camper's blanket should be all wool. you can buy a standard u.s. army blanket, size x inches, for five dollars. they can often be purchased in stores that deal in second hand army supplies for much less and are just as good as new except for some slight stain or defect. a sleeping bag is expensive but is excellent for cold weather camping. it is much too hot for the boy camper in summer. do not sleep in your clothing. unless it is too cold, undress, about as you do at home. if the blanket feels tickly, it would not be a great crime, no matter what the tenderfoot says who wanted you to sleep on the ground, to take along a sheet. i have never done this, however. at the end of this chapter, you will find a list of things to take with you. the camp fire and the cooking fire should be separate. almost any one can kindle a fire with dry materials. it takes a woodman to build a fire when it has been raining and everything is wet. the boy's method of taking a few newspapers, and a handful of brush or leaves will not do. first look around for an old dead top of a pine or cedar. if you cannot find one, chop down a cedar tree. whittle a handful of splinters and shavings from the dry heart. try to find the lee side of a rock or log where the wind and rain do not beat in. first put down the shavings or some dry birch bark if you can find it, and shelter it as well as you can from the rain. pile up some larger splinters of wood over the kindling material like an indian's wigwam. then light it and give it a chance to get into a good blaze before you pile on any larger wood and put the whole fire out. it sounds easy but before you try it in the woods i advise you to select the first rainy day and go out near home and experiment. to make a fire that will burn in front of the tent all night, first drive two green stakes into the ground at a slant and about five feet apart. then lay two big logs one on each side of a stake to serve as andirons. build a fire between these logs and pile up a row of logs above the fire and leaning against the stakes. you may have to brace the stakes with two others which should have a forked end. when the lower log burns out the next one will drop down in its place and unless you have soft, poor wood the fire should burn for ten hours. with this kind of a fire and with a leanto, it is possible to keep warm in the woods, on the coldest, night in winter. [illustration: the frame for a brush leanto] this is the way to build a brush leanto: first cut two sticks and drive them into the ground. they should have a point on one end and a fork on the other. lay a stout pole across the two forks like a gypsy fire rig. then lean poles against the crosspiece and finally thatch the roof with spruce, hemlock or other boughs and pile up boughs for the sides. a brush camp is only a makeshift arrangement and is never weather proof. it is simply a temporary shelter which with the all-night fire burning in front will keep a man from freezing to death in the woods. any kind of a tent is better or even a piece of canvas or a blanket for the roof of the leanto will be better than the roof of boughs. be careful not to set the leanto on fire with the sparks from your camp fire. mosquitoes have probably spoiled more camping trips that any other one thing. the best tents have mosquito net or cheese cloth fronts which may be held close to the ground by a stick on the bottom. perhaps the easiest way to secure protection is for each boy to take along a few yards of cotton mosquito netting and by means of curved sticks build a canopy over his bed. a smoky fire called a "smudge" will sometimes keep the pests away from the neighbourhood of the tent or if we build it in the tent will drive them out, but the remedy is almost as bad as the disease. as a rule they will only be troublesome at night and the net over our bed will enable us to sleep in peace. the most common "dope" used in the woods to keep off mosquitoes is called oil of citronella. it has a very pungent odour that the mosquitoes do not like and the chances are that you will not like it either. at the same time it may be a good plan to take a small bottle along. you may safely count on finding mosquitoes, no matter where you go or what the people tell you who live there. perhaps they have never tried sleeping in the woods and do not know. be sure therefore to take along some netting or cheese cloth to protect yourself against them. everything that you can do at home to get ready for your camping trip will add to your pleasure when you get out in the woods. if any part of your kit needs fixing, fishing rods wound or varnished, your jackknife ground, your camera fixed, or if your clothing needs any patches or buttons, do it at home. no one ever does half that he plans to on a trip like this unless he does not plan to do anything. take along a few books to read for the rainy days and have them covered with muslin if you ever expect to put them back into your library. if you have been putting off a visit to the dentist, by all means do it before you get out where there are no dentists. an aching tooth can spoil a vacation in the woods about as easily as anything i know of. as a final word of advice to the beginner in camping, let me tell you a few things that my own experience has taught me. a felt hat is better than a cap as it is sun and rain proof. wear a flannel shirt and take one extra one. you can wash one and wear the other. be sure to have a new shirt plenty loose in the neck as camp washing in cold water will make it shrink. do not go around in gymnasium shirts or sleeveless jerseys. one of my companions did this once and was so terribly sunburned that his whole trip was spoiled. two sets of underwear are plenty, including the one you wear. take along a silk handkerchief to wear around your neck. wear comfortable shoes. a camping trip is a poor place to break in new hunting boots or shoes. take bandanna handkerchiefs and leave your linen ones at home. if you have to choose between a coat and a sweater take the sweater and leave the coat at home. a coat is out of place in the woods. khaki or canvas trousers are excellent. so are corduroy. an old pair of woollen trousers are just as good as either. a poncho is almost necessary to your comfort. it is merely a rubber or oilskin piece with a slit in it to put your head through. the right size is x inches. with it you can keep dry day or night, either using it as a garment or as a cover. when you are not using it you can cover it over your bed or food supply. take along a good pocket knife and compass. better leave the revolver home. also always carry a waterproof box of matches. you will require some kind of a waterproof "duffle" bag to carry your personal things--tooth brush, extra clothing, mirror, fishing tackle, towel, soap, medicine, in fact whatever you think you will need. if it is your first camping trip you will come home without having had any use whatever for more than half the things you take. that is the experience of every one, so do not become discouraged. if you camp within reach of a post-office, address some stamped envelopes to your home in ink before you leave. then you will have no excuse for not writing a letter home. you can make an excellent pillow by rolling up your trousers. be sure to take everything out of the pockets first, including your knife, and roll them with the top inside so that the buttons or your belt buckle will not bore into your ear. if you fall overboard and come ashore to dry out, stuff your shoes full of dry grass or old paper to keep them from shrinking. when they are dry, soften them with tallow or oil. every one who goes camping at some time or other gets wet. the only advice i can give you is to get dry again as soon as possible. as long as you keep moving it will probably not injure you. waterproof garments are of little use in the woods. they are always too warm for summer wear and by holding the perspiration, are more of an injury than a benefit. never wear rubber boots in the woods or you will surely take cold. better have wet feet. the best foot wear is moccasins. if you wear them see that they are several sizes too large and wear at least two pairs of heavy woollen stockings with them. iv camp cooking how to make the camp fire range--bread bakers--cooking utensils--the grub list--simple camp recipes most boys, and i regret to say a few girls too, nowadays, seem to regard a knowledge of cooking as something to be ashamed of. the boy who expects to do much camping or who ever expects to take care of himself out in the woods had better get this idea out of his head just as soon as possible. cooking in a modern kitchen has been reduced to a science, but the boy or man who can prepare a good meal with little but nature's storehouse to draw on and who can make an oven that will bake bread that is fit to eat, with the nearest range fifty miles away, has learned something that his mother or sister cannot do and something that he should be very proud of. camp cooking is an art and to become an expert is the principal thing in woodcraft--nothing else is so important. we often hear how good the things taste that have been cooked over the camp fire. perhaps a good healthy appetite has something to do with it, but it is pretty hard even for a hungry boy to relish half-baked, soggy bread or biscuits that are more suitable for fishing sinkers than for human food. a party without a good cook is usually ready to break camp long before the time is up, and they are lucky if the doctor is not called in as soon as they get home. there is really no need for poor food in the woods. very few woodsmen are good cooks simply because they will not learn. the camp cook always has the best fun. every one is ready to wait on him _"if he will only, please get dinner ready"_ one year when i was camping at the head of moosehead lake in maine, i had a guide to whom i paid three dollars a day. he cooked and i got the firewood, cleaned the fish and did the chores around camp. his cooking was so poor that the food i was forced to eat was really spoiling my trip. one day i suggested that we take turns cooking, and in place of the black muddy coffee, greasy fish and soggy biscuit, i made some johnny cake, boiled a little rice and raisins and baked a fish for a change instead of frying it. his turn to cook never came again. he suggested himself that he would be woodchopper and scullion and let me do the cooking. i readily agreed and found that it was only half as much work as being the handy man. the basis of camp cooking is the fire. it is the surest way to tell whether the cook knows his business or not. the beginner always starts with a fire hot enough to roast an ox and just before he begins cooking piles on more wood. then when everything is sizzling and red-hot, including the handles of all his cooking utensils, he is ready to begin the preparation of the meal. a cloud of smoke follows him around the fire with every shift of the wind. occasionally he will rush in through the smoke to turn the meat or stir the porridge and rush out again puffing and gasping for breath, his eyes watery and blinded and his fingers scorched almost like a fireman coming out of a burning building where he has gone to rescue some child. the chances are, if this kind of a cook takes hold of the handle of a hot frying pan, pan and contents will be dumped in a heap into the fire to further add to the smoke and blaze. when the old hand begins to cook, he first takes out of the fire the unburned pieces and blazing sticks, leaving a bed of glowing coals to which he can easily add a little wood, if the fire gets low and a watched pot refuses to boil to his satisfaction. when the fire is simply a mass of red coals he quietly goes to cooking, and if his fire has been well made and of the right kind of wood, the embers will continue to glow and give out heat for an hour. of course, if the cooking consists in boiling water for some purpose, there is no particular objection to a hot fire, the fire above described is for broiling, frying and working around generally. [illustration: a type of camp fire that will burn all night] there are all sorts of camp fireplaces. the quickest one to build and one of the best as well, is the "hunter's fire," all you need is an axe. take two green logs about six to eight inches thick and five feet long and lay them six inches apart at one end and about fourteen inches at the other. be sure that the logs are straight. it is a good plan to flatten the surface slightly on one side with the axe to furnish a better resting place for the pots and pans. if the logs roll or seem insecure, make a shallow trench to hold them or wedge them with flat stones. the surest way to hold them in place is to drive stakes at each end. build your fire between the logs and build up a cob house of firewood. split wood will burn much more quickly than round sticks. as the blazing embers fall between the logs, keep adding more wood. do not get the fire outside of the logs. the object is to get a bed of glowing coals between them. when you are ready to begin cooking, take out the smoky, burning pieces and leave a bed of red-hot coals. if you have no axe and can find no logs, a somewhat similar fireplace can be built up of flat stones, but be sure that your stone fireplace will not topple over just at the critical time. if you only have your jack-knife, the best fire is a "gypsy rig". cut two crotched sticks, drive them into the ground and lay a crosspiece on them just as you would begin to build the leanto described in the preceding chapter, but of course not so high above the ground. the kettles and pots can be hung from the crossbar by means of pot hooks, which are pieces of wood or wire shaped like a letter "s." even straight sticks will do with two nails driven into them. these should be of different lengths to adjust the pots at various heights above the fire, depending on whether you wish to boil something furiously or merely to let it simmer. do not suspend the kettles by running the bar through them. this is very amateurish. with a gypsy fire, the frying pan, coffee pot and gridiron will have to be set right on the bed of coals. an arrangement for camp fires that is better and less work than the logs is obtained by using fire irons, which are two flat pieces of iron a yard or so long resting on stones and with the fire built underneath. the whole object of either logs or irons is to furnish a secure resting place for cooking utensils above the fire. there are several kinds of ovens used for baking bread and roasting meat in outdoor life. the simplest way is to prop a frying pan up in front of the fire. this is not the best way but you will have to do it if you are travelling light. a reflector, when made of sheet iron or aluminum is the best camp oven. tin is not so satisfactory because it will not reflect the heat equally. both the top and bottom of the reflector oven are on a slope and midway between is a steel baking pan held in place by grooves. this oven can be moved about at will to regulate the amount of heat and furthermore it can be used in front of a blazing fire without waiting for a bed of coals. such a rig can easily be made by any tinsmith. a very convenient folding reflector oven can be bought in aluminum for three or four dollars. when not used for baking, it makes an excellent dishpan. [illustration: a reflector camp oven] the standard camp oven that has been used by generations of pioneers and campers is the dutch oven. it is simply an iron pot on short legs and is provided with a heavy cover. to use it, dig a hole in the ground large enough to hold it, build a fire and fill the hole with embers. then scoop out a place for the pot, cover it over with more embers and ashes and let the contents bake. for the boy who wants to go to the limit in depending on his own resources, the clay oven is the nearest to real woodcraft. this is made in the side of a bank by burrowing out a hole, with a smoke outlet in the rear. a hot fire built inside will bake the clay and hold it together. to use this oven, build a fire in it and when the oven is hot, rake out the coals and put in your bread or meat on flat stones. close the opening with another stone and keep it closed long enough to give the oven a chance. this method is not recommended to beginners who are obliged to eat what they cook, but in the hands of a real cook, will give splendid results. the reflector oven is the best for most cases if you can carry it conveniently. the kind of a cooking equipment that we take with us on a camping trip will depend on what we can carry conveniently, how much we are willing to rough it and what our stock of provisions will be. one thing is sure--the things that we borrow from home will rarely be fit to return. in making a raid on the family kitchen, better warn the folks that they are _giving_ us the pots and pans instead of merely _lending_ them. very compact cooking outfits can be bought if one cares to go to the expense. an aluminum cook kit for four people, so made that the various articles nest one into the other, can be bought for fifteen dollars. it weighs only ten pounds and takes up a space of x inches. such a kit is very convenient if we move camp frequently or have to carry our outfit with us, but for the party of boys going out by team it is not worth the expense. you will need several tin pails, two iron pots, a miner's coffee pot--all in one piece including the lip--two frying pans, possibly a double boiler for oatmeal and other cooked cereals, iron spoon, large knife, vegetable knife, iron fork and broiler. a number of odds and ends will come in handy, especially tin plates to put things on. take no crockery or glassware. it will be sure to be broken. do not forget a can opener. camp fire utensils should never be soldered. either seamless ware or riveted joints are the only safe kind. solder is sure to melt over a hot open fire. the personal equipment for each boy should be tin cup, knife, fork, and spoons, deep tin plate, extra plate and perhaps one extra set of everything for company if they should happen to drop in. a lot of dish washing can be avoided if we use paper or wooden plates and burn them up after the meal. the main question is "what shall we take to eat." a list of food or as it is commonly known "the grub list" is a subject that will have to be decided by the party themselves. i will give you a list that will keep four hungry boys from staying hungry for a trip of two weeks and leave something over to bring home. if the list does not suit you exactly you can substitute or add other things. it is an excellent plan for the party to take a few home cooked things to get started on, a piece of roasted meat, a dish of baked beans, some crullers, cookies or ginger snaps. we must also consider whether we shall get any fish or game. if fishing is good, the amount of meat we take can be greatly cut down. this list has been calculated to supply a party who are willing to eat camp fare and who do not expect to be able to buy bread, milk, eggs or butter. if you can get these things nearby, then camping is but little different from eating at home. grub list ten lbs. bacon, half a ham, cans corned beef, lbs. cheese, lbs. lard, cans condensed milk, lbs. hard tack, packages soda crackers, packages sweet crackers, - / lbs. of wheat flour, - / lbs. of yellow cornmeal, can baking powder, / bushel potatoes, peck onions, lbs. ground coffee, / lb. tea, sack salt, lbs. granulated sugar, packages prepared griddle cake flour, packages assorted cereals, including oatmeal, lbs. rice, dried fruits, canned corn, peas, beans, canned baked beans, salmon, tomatoes, sweetmeats and whatever else you like. be sure to take along plenty of tin boxes or tight wooden boxes to keep rain and vermin away from the food. tell your grocer to pack the stuff for a camping trip and to put the perishable things in tight boxes as far as possible. if you are going to move camp, have some waterproof bags for the flour. if you can carry eggs and butter, so much the better. a tin cracker box buried in the mud along some cold brook or spring makes an excellent camper's refrigerator especially if it is in the shade. never leave the food exposed around camp. as soon as the cook is through with it let some one put it away in its proper place where the flies, ants, birds, sun, dust, and rain cannot get at it. always examine food before you cook it. take nothing for granted. once when camping the camp cook for breakfast made a huge pot of a certain brand of breakfast food. we were all tucking it away as only hungry boys can, when some one complained that caterpillars were dropping from the tree into his bowl. we shifted our seats--and ate some more, and then made the astonishing discovery that the breakfast food was full of worms. we looked at the package and found that the grocers had palmed off some stale goods on us and that the box was fairly alive. we all enjoy the recollection of it more than we did the actual experience. it is impossible in a book of this kind to say very much about how to cook. that subject alone has filled some very large books. we can learn some things at home provided that we can duplicate the conditions in the woods. so many home recipes contain eggs, milk and butter that they are not much use when we have none of the three. there is a book in my library entitled "one hundred ways to cook eggs" but it would not do a boy much good in the woods unless he had the eggs. if you ask your mother or the cook to tell you how to raise bread or make pies and cakes, be sure that you will have the same ingredients and tools to work with that she has. it might be well to learn a few simple things about frying and boiling, as both of these things can be done even by a beginner over the camp fire. there are a few general cooking rules that i will attempt to give you and leave the rest for you to learn from experience. you use bacon in the woods to furnish grease in the frying pan for the things that are not fat enough themselves to furnish their own grease. condensed milk if thinned with water makes a good substitute for sweet milk, after you get used to it. to make coffee, allow a tablespoonful of ground coffee to each cup of water. better measure both things until you learn just how full of water to fill the pot to satisfy the wants of your party. do not boil coffee furiously. the best way is not to boil it at all but that would be almost like telling a boy not to go swimming. better let it simmer and when you are ready for it, pour in a dash of cold water to settle the grounds and see that no one shakes the pot afterward to stir up grounds--and trouble. a teaspoonful of tea is enough for two people. this you must not boil unless you want to tan your stomach. pour boiling water on the tea and let it steep. good camp bread can be made from white flour, one cup; salt, one teaspoonful; sugar, one teaspoonful and baking powder, one teaspoonful. wet with water or better with diluted condensed milk. pour in a greased pan and bake in the reflector oven until when you test it by sticking a wooden splinter into it, the splinter will come out clean without any dough adhering to it. if you want to make the kind of bread that has been the standard ration for campers for hundreds of years you must eat johnny-cake or pone. it is really plain corn bread. personally i like it better than any of the raised breads or prepared flours that are used in the woods. it should always be eaten hot and always broken by the hands. to cut it with a knife will make it heavy. the ingredients are simply one quart of yellow meal, one teaspoonful of salt and three cups--one and one-half pints--of warm water. stir until the batter is light and bake for a short hour. test it with the wooden splinter the same as wheat bread. it may be baked in an open fire on a piece of flat wood or by rolling up balls of it, you can even roast it in the ashes. a teaspoonful of sugar improves it somewhat and it can be converted into cake by adding raisins or huckleberries. for your butter, you will use bacon grease or gravy. indian meal, next to bacon, is the camper's stand-by. in addition to the johnny-cake, you can boil it up as mush and eat with syrup or condensed milk and by slicing up the cold mush, if there is any left, you can fry it next day in a spider. the beginner at cooking always makes the mistake of thinking that to cook properly you must cook fast. the more the grease sputters or the harder the pot boils, the better. as a rule, rapid boiling of meat makes it tough. game and fish should be put on in cold water and after the water has boiled, be set back and allowed to simmer. do not throw away the water you boil meat in. it will make good soup--unless every one in camp has taken a hand at salting the meat, as is often the case. all green vegetables should be crisp and firm when they are cooked. if they have been around camp for several days and have lost their freshness, first soak them in cold water. a piece of pork cooked with beans and peas will give them a richer flavour. the water that is on canned vegetables should be poured off before cooking. canned tomatoes are an exception to this rule, however. save all the leftovers. if you do not know what else to do with them, make a stew or soup. you can make soup of almost anything. the chinese use birds' nests and the eskimos can make soup of old shoes. a very palatable soup can be made from various kinds of vegetables with a few bones or extract of beef added for body. the length of time to cook things is the most troublesome thing to the beginner. nearly everything will take longer than you think. oatmeal is one of the things that every beginner is apt to burn, hence the value of the double boiler. rice is one of the best camp foods if well cooked. it can be used in a great variety of ways like cornmeal. but beware! there is nothing in the whole list of human food that has quite the swelling power of rice. half a teacupful will soon swell up to fill the pot. a tablespoonful to a person will be an ample allowance and then, unless you have a good size pot to boil it in, have some one standing by ready with an extra pan to catch the surplus when it begins to swell. there are certain general rules for cooking which may help the beginner although they are not absolute. mutton, beef, lamb, venison, chicken, and large birds or fish will require from ten to twenty minutes' cooking for each pound of weight. the principal value of this is to at least be sure that you need not test a five-pound chicken after it has been cooking fifteen minutes to see if it is done. peas, beans, potatoes, corn, onions, rice, turnips, beets, cabbage, and macaroni should, when boiled, be done in from twenty to thirty minutes. the surest test is to taste them. they will be burned in that many seconds, if you allow the water to boil off or put them in the middle of a smoky fire where they cannot be watched. fried things are the easiest to cook because you can tell when they are done more easily. fried food however is always objectionable and as little of it should be eaten as possible. you are not much of a camp cook if a frying pan is your only tool. a bottle of catsup or some pickles will often give just the right taste to things that otherwise seem to be lacking in flavour. in frying fish, always have the pan piping hot. test the grease by dropping in a bread crumb. it should quickly turn brown. "piping hot" does not mean smoking or grease on fire. dry the fish thoroughly with a towel before putting them into the pan. then they will be crisp and flaky instead of grease-soaked. the same rule is true of potatoes. if you put the latter on brown butcher's paper when they are done, they will be greatly improved. nearly every camper will start to do things away from home that he would never think of doing under his own roof. one of these is to drink great quantities of strong coffee three times a day. if you find that after you turn in for the night, you are lying awake for a long time watching the stars and listening to the fish splashing in the lake or the hoot owl mournfully "too-hooing" far off in the woods, do not blame your bed or commence to wonder if you are not getting sick. just cut out the coffee, that's all. v woodcraft the use of an axe and hatchet--best woods for special purposes--what to do when you are lost--nature's compasses the word "woodcraft" simply means skill in anything which pertains to the woods. the boy who can read and understand nature's signboards, who knows the names of the various trees and can tell which are best adapted to certain purposes, what berries and roots are edible, the habits of game and the best way to trap or capture them, in short the boy that knows how to get along without the conveniences of civilization and is self-reliant and manly, is a student of woodcraft. no one can hope to become a master woodsman. what he learns in one section may be of little value in some other part of the country. a guide from maine or canada might be comparatively helpless in florida or the tropics, where the vegetation, wild animal life, and customs of the woods are entirely different. most of us are hopeless tenderfeet anywhere, just like landlubbers on shipboard. the real masters of woodcraft--indians, trappers, and guides--are, as a rule, men who do not even know the meaning of the word "woodcraft." some people think that to know woodcraft, we must take it up with a teacher, just as we might learn to play golf or tennis. it is quite different from learning a game. most of what we learn, we shall have to teach ourselves. of course we must profit from the experience and observation of others, but no man's opinion can take the place of the evidence of our own eyes. a naturalist once told me that chipmunks never climb trees. i have seen a chipmunk on a tree so i know that he is mistaken. as a rule the natives in any section only know enough woods-lore or natural history to meet their absolute needs. accurate observation is, as a rule, rare among country people unless they are obliged to learn from necessity. plenty of boys born and raised in the country are ignorant of the very simplest facts of their daily experience. they could not give you the names of a dozen local birds or wildflowers or tell you the difference between a mushroom and a toadstool to save their lives. [illustration: the wilderness traveller] on the other hand, some country boys who have kept their ears and eyes open will know more about the wild life of the woods than people who attempt to write books about it; myself, for example. i have a boy friend up in maine who can fell a tree as big around as his body in ten minutes, and furthermore he can drop it in any direction that he wants to without leaving it hanging up in the branches of some other tree or dropping it in a soft place where the logging team cannot possibly haul it out without miring the horses. the stump will be almost as clean and flat as a saw-cut. this boy can also build a log cabin, chink up the cracks with clay and moss and furnish it with benches and tables that he has made, with no other tools than an axe and a jackknife. he can make a rope out of a grape-vine or patch a hole in his birch bark canoe with a piece of bark and a little spruce gum. he can take you out in the woods and go for miles with never a thought of getting lost, tell you the names of the different birds and their calls, what berries are good to eat, where the partridge nests or the moose feeds, and so on. if you could go around with him for a month, you would learn more real woodcraft than books could tell you in a lifetime. and this boy cannot even read or write and probably never heard the word "woodcraft." his school has been the school of hard knocks. he knows these things as a matter of course just as you know your way home from school. his father is a woodchopper and has taught him to take care of himself. if you desire to become a good woodsman, the first and most important thing is to learn to use an axe. patent folding hatchets are well enough in their way, but for real woodchopping an axe is the only thing. one of four pounds is about the right weight for a beginner. as it comes from the store, the edge will be far too thick and clumsy to do good work. first have it carefully ground by an expert and watch how he does it. if i were a country boy i should be more proud of skilful axemanship than to be pitcher on the village nine. with a good axe, a good rifle, and a good knife, a man can take care of himself in the woods for days, and the axe is more important even than the rifle. the easiest way to learn to be an axeman is to make the acquaintance of some woodchopper in your neighbourhood. but let me warn you. never ask him to lend you his axe. you would not be friends very long if you did. you must have one of your own, and let it be like your watch or your toothbrush, your own personal property. a cheap axe is poor economy. the brightest paint and the gaudiest labels do not always mean the best steel. your friend the woodchopper will tell you what kind to buy in your neighbourhood. the handle should be straight-grained hickory and before buying it you will run your eye along it to see that the helve is not warped or twisted and that there are no knots or bad places in it. the hang of an axe is the way the handle or helve is fitted to the head. an expert woodchopper is rarely satisfied with the heft of an axe as it comes from the store. he prefers to hang his own. in fact, most woodchoppers prefer to make their own axe handles. you will need a stone to keep a keen edge on the axe. no one can do good work with a dull blade, and an edge that has been nicked by chopping into the ground or hitting a stone is absolutely inexcusable. to chop a tree, first be sure that the owner is willing to have it chopped. then decide in which direction you wish it to fall. this will be determined by the kind of ground, closeness of other trees, and the presence of brush or undergrowth. when a tree has fallen the woodchopper's work has only begun. he must chop off the branches, cut and split the main trunk, and either make sawlogs or cordwood lengths. hence the importance of obtaining a good lie for the tree. before beginning to chop the tree, cut away all the brush, vines, and undergrowth around its butt as far as you will swing the axe. this is very important as many of the accidents with an axe result from neglect of this precaution. as we swing the axe it may catch on a bush or branch over our head, which causes a glancing blow and a possible accident. be careful not to dull the axe in cutting brush. you can often do more damage to its edge with undergrowth no thicker than one's finger than in chopping a tree a foot through. if the brush is very light, it will often be better to use your jack-knife. in cutting a tree, first make two nicks or notches in the bark on the side to which you wish it to fall and as far apart as half the diameter of the tree. then begin to swing the axe slowly and without trying to bury its head at every blow and prying it loose again, but with regular strokes first across the grain at the bottom and then in a slanting direction at the top. the size of the chips you make will be a measure of your degree of skill. hold the handle rather loosely and keep your eye on the place you wish to hit and not on the axe. do not work around the tree or girdle it but keep right at the notch you are making until it is half way through the tree. do not shift your feet at every blow or rise up on your toes. this would tire even an old woodchopper in a short time. see that you do not set yourself too fast a pace at first. a beginner always starts with too small a notch. see to it that yours is wide enough in the start. [illustration: the right way to chop a tree--make two notches on opposite sides] [illustration: the wrong way--this looks like the work of a beaver] when you have cut about half way through, go to the other side of the tree and start another notch a little higher than the first one. a skilled man can chop either right-or left-handed but this is very difficult for a beginner. if you are naturally right-handed, the quickest way to learn left-handed wood chopping is to study your usual position and note where you naturally place your feet and hands. then reverse all this and keep at it from the left-handed position until it becomes second nature to you and you can chop equally well from either position. this you may learn in a week or you may never learn it. it is a lot easier to write about than it is to do. when the tree begins to creak and show signs of toppling over, give it a few sharp blows and as it falls jump sideways. never jump or run backward. this is one way that men get killed in the woods. a falling tree will often kick backward like a shot. it will rarely go far to either side. of course a falling tree is a source of danger anyway, so you must always be on your guard. if you wish to cut the fallen tree into logs, for a cabin, for instance, you will often have to jump on top of it and cut between your feet. this requires skill and for that reason i place a knowledge of axemanship ahead of anything else in woodcraft except cooking. with a crosscut saw, we can make better looking logs and with less work. next to knowing how to chop a tree is knowing what kind of a tree to chop. different varieties possess entirely different qualities. the amateur woodchopper will note a great difference between chopping a second growth chestnut and a tough old apple tree. we must learn that some trees, like oak, sugar maple, dogwood, ash, cherry, walnut, beech, and elm are very hard and that most of the evergreens are soft, such as spruce, pine, arbor vitae, as well as the poplars and birches. it is easy to remember that lignum vitae is one of the hardest woods and arbor vitae one of the softest. some woods, like cedar, chestnut, white birch, ash, and white oak, are easy to split, and wild cherry, sugar maple, hemlock, and sycamore are all but unsplitable. we decide the kind of a tree to cut by the use to which it is to be put. for the bottom course of a log cabin, we place logs like cedar, chestnut, or white oak because we know that they do not rot quickly in contact with the ground. we always try to get straight logs because we know that it is all but impossible to build a log house of twisted or crooked ones. it is a very common custom for beginners to make camp furniture, posts, and fences of white birch. this is due to the fact that the wood is easily worked and gives us very pretty effects. birch however is not at all durable and if we expect to use our camp for more than one season we must expect to replace the birch every year or two. rustic furniture made of cedar will last for years and is far superior to birch. getting lost in the woods may be a very serious thing. if you are a city boy used to signboards, street corners, and familiar buildings you may laugh at the country boy who is afraid to go to a big city because he may get lost, but he knows what being lost means at home and he fails to realize when he is in a city how easy it is to ask the nearest policeman or passer-by the way home. most city boys will be lost in the woods within five minutes after they leave their camp or tent. if you have no confidence in yourself and if you are in a wilderness like the north woods, do not venture very far from home alone until you are more expert. it is difficult to say when we are really lost in the woods. as long as we think we know the way home we are not lost even if we may be absolutely wrong in our opinion of the proper direction. in such a case we may soon find our mistake and get on the right track again. when we are really lost is when suddenly a haunting fear comes over us that we do not know the way home. then we lose our heads as well as our way and often become like crazy people. a sense of direction is a gift or instinct. it is the thing that enables a carrier pigeon that has been taken, shut up in a basket say from new york to chicago, to make a few circles in the air when liberated and start out for home, and by this sense to fly a thousand miles without a single familiar landmark to guide him and finally land at his home loft tired and hungry. no human being ever had this power to the same extent as a pigeon, but some people seem to keep a sense of direction and a knowledge of the points of compass in a strange place without really making an effort to do it. one thing is sure. if we are travelling in a strange country we must always keep our eyes and ears open if we expect to find our way alone. we must never trust too implicitly in any "sense of direction." forest travellers are always on the lookout for peculiar landmarks that they will recognize if they see them again. oddly shaped trees, rocks, or stumps, the direction of watercourses and trails, the position of the sun, all these things will help us to find our way out of the woods when a less observing traveller who simply tries to remember the direction he has travelled may become terrified. rules which tell people what to do when they are lost are rarely of much use, because the act of losing our way brings with it such a confusion of mind that it would be like printing directions for terror stricken people who are drowning. suppose, for example, a boy goes camping for a week or two in the adirondacks or maine woods. if he expects to go about alone, his first step should be to become familiar with the general lay of the land, the direction of cities, towns, settlements, mountain ranges, lakes, and rivers in the section where he is going, and especially with the location of other camps, railroads, lumber camps, and so on in his immediate neighbourhood, say within a five-mile radius. it is an excellent plan to take along a sectional map which can usually be bought of the state geologist. one can by asking questions also learn many things from the natives. such a boy may start out from his camp, which is on the shore of a lake, for example, on an afternoon's fishing or hunting trip. if he is careful he will always consult his compass to keep in mind the general direction in which he travels. he will also tell his friends at camp where he expects to go. if he has no compass, he at least knows that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west and he can easily remember whether he has travelled toward the setting sun or away from it. rules for telling the points of compass by the thickness of the bark or moss on trees are well enough for story books. they are not of much value to a man lost in the woods. suddenly, say at four o'clock, this boy decides to "turn around" and go back to camp. and then the awful feeling comes to him that he doesn't know which way to turn. the woods take on a strange and unfamiliar look. he is lost. the harder he tries to decide which way the camp lies, the worse his confusion becomes. if he would only collect his thoughts and like the indian say "ugh! indian not lost, indian here. wigwam lost," he probably would soon get his bearings. it is one thing to lose your way and another to lose your head. when you are lost, you are confused, and the only rule to remember is to sit down on the nearest rock or stump and wait until you get over being "rattled." then ask yourself, "how far have i gone since i was not sure of my way?" and also, "how far am i from camp?" if you have been out three hours and have walked pretty steadily, you may have gone five miles. unless you have travelled in a straight line and at a rapid pace, the chances are that you are not more than half that distance. but even two or three miles in strange woods is a long distance. you may at least be sure that you must not expect to find camp by rushing about here and there for ten minutes. we have all heard how lost people will travel in circles and keep passing the same place time after time without knowing it. this is true and many explanations have been attempted. one man says that we naturally take longer steps with our right leg because it is the stronger; another thinks that our heart has something to do with it, and so on. why we do this no one really knows, but it seems to be a fact. therefore, before a lost person starts to hunt for camp, he should blaze a tree that he can see from any direction. blazing simply means cutting the bark and stripping it on all four sides. if you have no hatchet a knife will do, but be sure to make a blaze that will show at some distance, not only for your own benefit but to guide a searching party that may come out to look for you. you can mark an arrow to point the direction that you are going, or if you have pencil and notebook even leave a note for your friends telling them your predicament. this may all seem unnecessary at the time but if you are really lost, nothing is unnecessary that will help you to find yourself. as you go along give an occasional whack at a tree with your hatchet to mark the bark or bend over the twigs and underbrush in the direction of your course. the thicker the undergrowth the more blaze marks you must make. haste is not so important as caution. you may go a number of miles and at the end be deeper in the woods than ever, but your friends who are looking for you, if they can run across one of your blazes, will soon find you. when you are certain that you will not be able to find your way out before dark, there is not much use of going any farther. the thing to do then is to stop and prepare for passing the night in the woods while it is still daylight. go up on the highest point of ground, build a leanto and make your camp-fire. if you have no matches, you can sometimes start a fire by striking your knife blade with a piece of flint or quartz, a hard white stone that is common nearly everywhere. the sparks should fall in some dry tinder or punk and the little fire coaxed along until you get a blaze. there are many kinds of tinder used in the woods, dried puff balls, "dotey" or rotten wood that is not damp, charred cotton cloth, dry moss, and so on. in the pitch pine country, the best kindlings after we have caught a tiny blaze are splinters taken from the heart of a decayed pine log. they are full of resin and will burn like fireworks. the southerners call it "light-wood." dry birch bark also makes excellent kindlings. a universal signal of distress in the woods that is almost like the flag upside down on shipboard is to build two smoky fires a hundred yards or more apart. one fire means a camp, two fires means trouble. another signal is two gunshots fired quickly, a pause to count ten and then a third. always listen after you have given this signal to see if it is answered. give your friends time enough to get the gun loaded at camp. always have a signal code arranged and understood by your party before you attempt to go it alone. you may never need it but if you do you will need it badly. sometimes we can get our bearings by climbing a tree. another aid to determine our direction is this: usually all the brooks and water courses near a large lake or river flow into it. if you are sure that you haven't crossed a ridge or divide, the surest way back home if camp is on a lake is to follow down the first brook or spring you come across. it will probably bring you up at the lake, sooner or later. on a clear night you can tell the points of compass from the stars. whether a boy or girl is a camper or not, they surely ought to know how to do this. have some one point out to you the constellation called the "dipper." it is very conspicuous and when you have once learned to know it you will always recognize it as an old friend. the value of the dipper is this: the two stars that form the lower corners of its imaginary bowl are sometimes called the "north star pointers." the north star or polaris, because of its position with reference to the earth, never seems to move. if you draw an imaginary line through the two pointers up into the heavens, the first bright star you come to, which is just a little to the right of this line, is the north star. it is not very bright or conspicuous like venus or mars but it has pointed the north to sailors over the uncharted seas for hundreds of years. by all means make the acquaintance of polaris. vi the use of fire-arms importance of early training--why a gun is better than a rifle--how to become a good shot whether a boy of fifteen should have a gun or a rifle is a question that parents will have to settle for themselves. there is no question but that a careful boy who has been taught by some older person how to handle a gun is more to be trusted than a man who has never learned the proper use of fire-arms and who takes up the sport of hunting after he is grown up. most of the shooting accidents are caused by inexperienced men who have never been accustomed to guns in their younger days. once or twice i have just missed being shot by friends who had never been hunting before, and who became so excited when they unexpectedly kicked up a rabbit or walked into a flock of quail that they fired the gun without knowing whether any of their friends were in range or not. when a boy is allowed to have a gun it should be a real one. air rifles and small calibre guns are all the more dangerous, because they are often looked upon as toys. in handling a gun, always treat it as though it were loaded, no matter if you _know_ it is empty. by this means it will soon become second nature to you never to point the gun at any one even carelessly or in fun. a guide once said to me, "a gun is a dangerous critter without lock, stock, or barrel, and if a feller ever points one at me i think he means business." [illustration: a double barrelled hammerless shot-gun] a gun can never be trusted. accidents happen so quickly that it is over before we know it and the terrible damage is done. sometimes the trigger will catch on a coat button or a twig, and, bang! an unexpected discharge takes place and if you were careless just for an instant, it may cost some one his life. especial care must be taken in loading and unloading a gun. it is at this time that a gun is most likely to go off unexpectedly. the best way to learn how to handle a gun is to watch the methods of an old hand. never fire a gun when you are standing behind another person. you may know that you are not aiming at him, but the concussion of the air near the end of the barrel is terrific, and your friend may have a split ear drum as a result. a shot-gun is better for a boy than a rifle, for the reason that most real shooting except for big game is done with a shot-gun, and besides, it takes a lot of practice to shoot well with it. a shot-gun is not a weapon for play but a real tool. in almost every section of the country there is some small game to be hunted and there is usually also an opportunity to practise at clay pigeons. no one would think of hunting quail, ducks, or rabbits with a rifle, and even if you were an excellent rifle shot at a still mark you might not be able to hit moving game at all. a shot-gun is less dangerous for the reason that its range is limited to a little over a hundred yards, while a rifle may carry a mile. a cheap shot-gun is far more dangerous than a cheap rifle. until it is possible to buy a good one it is better to have none at all. a good american-made gun can be bought for about twenty-five dollars. a gun suitable for its owner should fit just as his clothing fits him. when a gun is quickly brought to the shoulder in firing position, there is no time in actual hunting to shift it around. when you buy a gun, remember that your canvas or corduroy hunting coat makes more of a bulge at the shoulder than an ordinary suit and accordingly see that the stock is the proper length. the "drop" of a gun is the number of inches that the stock falls below the line of the barrel. if the stock is bent too much you will shoot under your game. if it is too straight the tendency will be to shoot over game. the average stock is made to fit most people and will probably answer most purposes unless you can afford to have a stock made especially. the principal thing is to do all your practising with your own gun until it becomes second nature to bring it up quickly and have the eye find the barrel instantly. a shot-gun is not aimed in the same way as a rifle. the method of good shots is rather to keep their eye on the game and when they "feel" that the gun is pointed right to fire. a skilful shot can tell whether he is shooting too high or too low just as he pulls the trigger. the brain, head, and eyes and trigger-finger must all work in harmony or you will never be a good shot. never flinch as you shoot. this is a very common fault of beginners and it is fatal to becoming a marksman. the first lesson in handling a gun is to understand perfectly how it works. if it is a hammerless gun, remember that it is always cocked. when you open the barrels you cock the gun automatically. for this reason there is some kind of a safety device provided, which should always be left at "safe" except at the actual instant of firing. it is just as easy to learn to push the safety off when you fire as it is to learn to pull the trigger, if one starts right. never carry your gun with your finger on the trigger. wait until you put the gun up as you are ready to shoot. don't forget the safety. a great many shots are missed because the hunter forgets whether he has left it on or off and in his anxiety to hit the game will tug and pull on the trigger until, just as the game disappears out of range, he will remember that he did not release it. this shows the importance of acquiring the proper habit at first. it is harder to correct bad habits in handling a gun than to teach the beginner the proper way at first. on your first lesson in the field, walk on the left side of your teacher so that your gun will be pointing away from him. if you come across any game, try to take your time before you fire. nearly every one shoots too quickly. as most shot-gun shooting is what is called snap shooting, there isn't much time at best, but a good shot will be sure that he has covered his game before he fires, while a beginner will trust to luck. this will be the hardest fault to correct. consequently a beginner should if possible hunt alone for a while, as the presence of another gun alongside of him makes him too anxious to get in the first shot, and gets him into bad habits. if your teacher also has a gun, he must assure you that he does not intend to shoot and then you will try harder to get the game and run less chance of missing. always unload a gun before going into a house, under or over a fence, or in or out of a boat or carriage. if you leave your gun, even for a minute, unload it. never rest a loaded gun against a tree or building. never pull a gun loaded or empty toward you by the muzzle. in unloading always point it toward the ground. a jar will sometimes discharge a gun and very often a discharge will take place when closing the breech on a tight shell. always be ready for game. in hunting, we never can tell at what instant it will rise up in front of us. "be ready" does not mean having the muscles and nerves constantly on a tension. it is simply to carry your gun in such a position that you can quickly bring it to the shoulder at any time. it is a good plan to practise aiming at various objects as you go along until you gradually overcome your awkwardness. it is difficult to say what makes a good shot with a gun. there is no question but that practice will make any one a better shot than he would be without it, but some people are better shots with very little practice than others with a great deal. one very important thing is to do your practising under conditions similar to the actual hunting. if the cover is thick where you hunt, a swamp or brush lot for example, you will not derive much benefit from practising entirely in the open. a pigeon trap is an inexpensive way to learn to shoot. some experienced hunters will say that practice at clay pigeons does not help in the field, but at the same time a good brush shot is almost always a good trap shot and if you can become skilful enough to break an average of eighteen to twenty clay pigeons out of twenty-five at sixteen yards rise, you may be sure that you will get your share of game under actual hunting conditions. the most difficult part of bird hunting is to learn to give the game a start. the average shot-gun will kill quail at sixty yards and duck at forty. the farther the game is away from us, provided it is within range, the more the shot will spread. i once saw a half-dozen hunters fire at a covey of quail that rose in an open field before they had gone thirty yards and every hunter scored a clean miss. any one of these men could bring down his bird under the same conditions nine times out of ten if he had taken his time. on this occasion when their guns were empty another hunter who had withheld his fire said, "are you all done, boys?" and shot a bird with each barrel at a measured fifty-eight yards. to kill a bird that another man has shot at is called "wiping his eye," and it is the chief joy of an old hunter to do this with a beginner. if you do not want to let the old hunter wipe your eye, take your time. learn to shoot with your head well up and with both eyes open. when the game rises, keep your eye on it and at the instant that you see it on the end of your gun barrel, fire. the greatest joy of hunting is to see the game appear to tumble off the end of your gun barrel when it is hit. if there is a doubt as to whose bird it is, and this happens constantly as two people often shoot at the same time at the same bird, do not rush in and claim it. remember you are a gentleman, but if you are sure that you hit it, at least stand for your rights. so much of the pleasure of hunting depends on our companions that we must be considerate of the feelings of others as well as our own. always hunt if possible with experienced hunters. you will not only have more fun, but you will run much less risk. in rabbit hunting, one is especially at the mercy of the beginner who fires wildly without any thought as to whose life he may be endangering, so long as he gets the rabbit. if you hunt with some one who owns the dogs, be very careful not to interfere with them by giving commands. as a rule the owner of a well-trained dog prefers to handle him without any help, and, while he may not tell you, you may be sure that he will resent it if you try to make the dog do your bidding when his master is around. the pattern of a gun, as it is called, is the number of shot it will put within a circle at a given distance. as a rule the factory test pattern will be found on a tag attached to the gun. if not, you can easily get the pattern yourself. the usual distance for targeting a new gun is thirty yards, and the standard circle is thirty inches. make a circle on the barn door with a piece of chalk and string fifteen inches long. first drive a nail into the wood and fasten the string to it with the chalk on the loose end. then describe and measure ninety feet from the target. fire as nearly as you can at the centre of the circle and count the shot that are inside the chalk mark. in order not to count the same shot twice mark them off with a pencil. perhaps a surer way would be to fire at the door first and in the centre of the load of shot drive the nail and describe a circle afterward. the chief advantage of studying the pattern of your gun is to know just how much it scatters and how far it may be depended upon to shoot and kill. in a choke-bore gun, the end of the barrel is drawn in slightly and made smaller to keep the shot together. guns that are used in duck and goose hunting are usually full choked as most of the shots are long ones, but for ordinary brush and field shooting a gun that has a full cylinder right barrel and a modified choke on the left will be the best for general purposes. the best size is -bore or gauge. ten gauge guns are entirely too heavy for general use and the smaller bores, such as sixteen or even twenty gauge, while they are very light and dainty, are not a typical all around gun for a boy who can only afford to have one size. the smaller bores, however, have become very popular in recent years and much may be said in their favour. the standard length of barrels is either twenty-eight or thirty inches. the shorter length will probably be just as satisfactory and makes a much better proportion between the stock and barrels. you can easily test the amount of choke in a -gauge gun. a new ten-cent piece will just go inside the end of the barrel of a full cylinder gun and just fail to go into one that has been slightly choked. while it is impossible to give any written directions for shooting that are as valuable as actual practice, the important thing for a beginner is to get his form right at first, just as in golf or horseback riding, and then to make up his mind that every shot has got to count. rifle shooting is entirely different from shot-gun shooting and skill in one branch of the sport of marksmanship does not mean much in the other. a boy may be an excellent rifle shot at a stationary target and still not be able to hit "a flock of barns," as the country boys say, with a shot-gun. skill with a rifle is chiefly of value to those who are interested in military affairs and more rarely to those who are fortunate enough to have an opportunity for hunting big game. in settled communities there is a strong feeling against allowing boys to have rifles. practically the only game that can be hunted will be our little friends, the song birds, and no self-respecting boy will shoot them. a small calibre rifle such as a -calibre flobert will afford considerable pastime at target practice and is also excellent to hunt snakes and frogs along some brook or creek, but generally a boy with a rifle is a public nuisance, and as a rule is liable to arrest in possessing it. if we fix up a rifle range where there are no dangers of damage from spent bullets or badly aimed shots it is well enough to practise with a small rifle. a real sporting rifle, such as is used for big game, is a very dangerous fire-arm and cannot be used with safety anywhere but in an absolute wilderness or on a target range. such guns will kill at a mile and go through a tree a foot or two in diameter; to use such a weapon in even a sparsely settled section is very dangerous indeed. if a boy has any chance of going hunting for deer or moose, he will surely need practice and for this purpose a range will have to be selected where there is absolutely no danger to any one within a mile or two. a good practice range is across a lake or river with a bank of earth or clay to stop the bullets. big game hunting is done so frequently from canoes that it is well to get practice from a boat, both moving and stationary. to shoot successfully from a sitting position in a canoe is a very difficult feat. just as with a shot-gun the universal tendency is to shoot too quickly, with a rifle it is to shoot too high. the reason is that we hold our head so high up in looking at our game that we fail to see the rear sight at all. be sure your head is low enough to see both sights. [illustration: the modern sporting rifle that will kill at a mile. an unsafe weapon for boys] always hold your breath while you are taking aim. learn to shoot from all sorts of positions, lying, sitting, kneeling, and standing. if the shot is a long one, be sure that your rear sight is properly elevated for the distance. most of the shots at big game are stationary shots and within a hundred yards; consequently accuracy counts for more than quickness. with a magazine or repeating rifle be sure that you have emptied your magazine before you leave the gun. with a shot-gun there is a possibility that the "person who didn't know it was loaded" may not kill his victim outright. with a sporting rifle it is practically sure death. the general rules of care apply to both rifles and shot-guns. always clean the gun after you have taken it into the field. this is necessary whether you have fired the gun or not, as a gun barrel will always collect a certain amount of dampness. it is an excellent practice to keep a gun covered with oil or vaseline except when it is in use. it not only prevents rust, but the grease also discourages visitors and friends from handling the gun, snapping the trigger, or otherwise damaging it. in this chapter, i have not said anything about revolvers or pistols, because i do not believe that any sensible boy will care to own one. a revolver is a constant source of danger owing to its short barrel, and as it has no practical value except as a weapon of defence, and as there is a severe penalty for carrying a concealed weapon, i should not care to recommend any boy to own a revolver. the final question whether we may have a gun and what kind it should be, will depend very largely on the place we live. any kind of a gun is very much out of place in cities or towns. the boy who does not really have an opportunity to use a gun should be too sensible to ask for one, for surely if we own it we shall constantly want to use it even at some risk. it will be far better to ask for something we can use and leave the gun question until the time when we have a real opportunity. finally we must remember that the one who has the gun in his possession is rarely the one that is accidentally shot. we should therefore avoid companions who do own guns and who are careless with them. no amount of care on our part will prevent some careless boy friend from risking our lives. the safer way is to stay home. vii fishing proper tackle for all purposes--how to catch bait--the fly fisherman--general fishing rules fishing is one sport of boyhood that we never outgrow our love for. some of the most enthusiastic fishermen are gray-haired men. we often hear about the boy with the bent pin and the piece of thread who catches more fish than the expert fisherman with modern, up-to-date tackle, but i doubt if it is so. as a rule the better our tackle the more fish we shall catch. if the country boy catches the most fish, it is simply because he is better acquainted with the places where the fish hide or feed. he knows their habits better and the best kind of bait to use. a lover of fishing should take a personal interest in his equipment and should desire to have the best he can afford. the chief requirement of a successful fisherman is patience. next to that is a knowledge of the waters fished in and the habits of the fish and how to attract them. a man or a boy who will sit all day in the hot sun waiting for a bite is not always a good fisherman. he must use common sense as well as patience. a game fish may be defined as one that will make a good fight for its life and that is caught by scientific methods of angling. almost any fish will struggle to escape the hook, but generally by game fish we understand that in fresh water the salmon, bass, or trout family is referred to. pickerel and pike are also game fish, but in some sections they are considered undesirable because they rarely rise to the fly, which is the most scientific method of fishing. a fisherman who is a real sportsman always uses tackle as light as he can with safety and still have a chance of landing the fish. if the angler will take his time he can, with skill, tire out and land fish of almost any size. tunas and tarpon weighing over a hundred pounds are caught with a line that is but little thicker than a grocer's twine, and even sharks and jewfish weighing over five hundred pounds have been caught in the same way. sometimes the fight will last all day, and then it is a question whether the fisherman or the fish will be exhausted first. [illustration: fishing is the one sport of our childhood that holds our interest through life] in selecting our tackle, we must always keep in mind the kind of fish we expect to catch. for general, fresh-water use, except fly casting, an eight-foot rod weighing seven or eight ounces will fill most purposes. a fly rod should be a foot longer and at least two ounces lighter. the best rods are made of split bamboo, but cheap rods of this material are not worth having. the best cheap rods (i.e., costing five dollars or less) are either lancewood or steel. see that your rod has "standing guides" and not movable rings. most of the wear comes on the tip, therefore it should if possible be agate lined. a soft metal tip will have a groove worn in it in a very short time which will cut the line. the poorest ferrules are nickel-plated. the best ones are either german silver or brass. to care for a rod properly, we must keep the windings varnished to prevent them from becoming unwound. spar varnish is the best for this purpose but shellac will answer. in taking a rod apart, never twist it. give a sharp pull, and if it refuses to budge, it can sometimes be loosened by slightly heating the ferrule with a candle. if a ferrule is kept clean inside, and if the rod is taken apart frequently, there is no reason why it should stick. a multiplying reel holding sixty yards is large enough for most fishing. the raised pillar reels are the best, one of good quality costing about four dollars. a cheap reel soon goes to pieces. silk lines are better than linen because greater strength is obtained with the same thickness. always dry a line every time it is used, or it will soon rot and be worthless. the back of a chair is excellent for this purpose. never tie a knot in a line that you expect to use with rod and reel. the knot will always catch in one of the guides just at the time when you are landing your "biggest" fish. [illustration: actual sizes of hooks] hooks come in a great variety of shapes and models but there are none better than the standard "sproat." it is the general favourite of fishermen everywhere, although of course the other leading models, carlisle, limerick, pennell, aberdeen, sneck and a number of others all have their friends. a great many fishermen make the mistake of using hooks that are too large. the hook sizes that are commonly used are numbered from / , which is the largest, to no. , which is a tiny thing about right to catch minnows. where we expect to catch fish a pound or two in weight, the no. size is about right. such a hook will catch much larger fish if they happen to come along. i have caught a twelve-pound lake trout on a no. sproat hook and the hook did not show that it had bent in the least. our tackle box should contain an assortment of sizes however. snelled hooks are better than ringed hooks and those of blued steel better than black enamel. no matter how inexpensive the rest of the equipment is, be sure that your hooks are of good quality. keep the points sharp. a tiny bit of oil stone, a file, or a piece of emery cloth are all good for this purpose. it takes a sharp point to penetrate the bony jaw of a fish. always inspect your hook after you have caught it on a rock or snag. fishing is generally divided into four classes: fly casting, bait casting, trolling, and still fishing. the average boy is a still fisherman, which means not only that he must keep still, but that his bait remains in one place instead of being trolled or cast about. the usual strings of fish that boys catch, such as perch, sunfish, bullheads, catfish, and whitefish, are called pan fish. this is not entirely a correct name as i have seen some catfish that it would take a pretty big pan to hold. one caught in the mississippi river weighed over a hundred pounds. fly casting is the most scientific method of fishing and gives the greatest pleasure to the fisherman after he has once become an expert. no matter what method we follow in fishing, we must never try to catch fish by any method which the laws may prohibit, such as spearing, set lines, or nets. each state has its own laws which the fisherman must learn and obey. worms are the best all around bait for fishing. they are as a rule easily obtained and may be kept for a long time. the boy's method of placing them in a tin can with a mixture of mud will soon kill them, however, especially if the worms are exposed to the sun for a time. a half-buried soap box makes a very good place to keep a supply of worms which will be ready for use at any time without the necessity of digging them. worms may be fed on the white of a hard-boiled egg, but if given plenty of room they will usually find enough food in the soil. by placing worms in sand they will soon scour and turn pink when they are far more attractive as bait. the large worms, or "night walkers," can be caught at night with a lantern. these large worms are best obtained after a rain or on lawns that are sprinkled frequently, when they will be found moving about on top of the ground but always with one end in the hole from which they have emerged and into which they can dart if they are disturbed. for big fish, the best bait is minnows. in trolling with them it will make but little difference whether dead or alive, but for still fishing the minnows must not only be alive, but, to attract the fish, lively as well. the regulation minnow bucket consists of one pail fitted inside of another, the inner one being made of wire mesh to permit the free circulation of the water. this enables us to change the water frequently without handling the fish. when we reach a place where fresh water is obtainable, we simply remove the inner pail, pour out the stale water from the other pail, and fill it as quickly as possible. to keep bait alive in warm weather we must change the water frequently. another method where fresh water is not available, as on a long drive, is to aerate it by pouring from one pail to another. it is an excellent plan to place a piece of ice on top of the minnow pail. with this arrangement, it will not be necessary to give them fresh water for a long time. [illustration: an excellent device for catching minnows] the simplest way to catch minnows is with a drop net. take an iron ring or hoop such as children use and sew to it a bag of cotton mosquito netting, half as deep as the diameter of the ring. sew a weight in the bottom of the net to make it sink readily and fasten it to a pole. when we reach the place which the minnows frequent, such as the cove of a lake, we must proceed very cautiously, lowering the net into the water and then baiting it with bits of bread or meat, a very little at a time, until we see a school of bait darting here and there over the net. we must then give a quick lift without any hesitation and try to catch as many as possible from escaping over the sides. the minnow bucket should be close at hand to transfer them to and care must be used not to injure them or allow them to scale themselves in their efforts to escape. the common method of capturing minnows is to use a sweep net, but it takes several people to handle one properly and for our own use the drop net method will probably supply us with all the bait that we need. fish are very fickle in their tastes. what will be good bait one day will absolutely fail the next and sometimes even in an hour this same thing will take place. why this is so no one has been able to explain satisfactorily, but that it is a fact no fisherman will deny. we should therefore have as great a variety of bait in our equipment as possible. worms, crawfish, minnows, frogs, grasshoppers, grubs and helgramites are all good at times in fresh water, as well as various kinds of artificial baits, spoons, spinners, and rubber lures. [illustration: a trolling spoon] sometimes fish will take very unusual baits. black bass have been caught on young bats. the famous old trout in the beaverkill river in new york state, which had refused all the ordinary baits and flies that were offered him for years and that on bright days could be seen in a pool lying deep down in the water, finally fell a victim to a young mouse that was tied to the hook with pink silk. fly fishing is the most expert and scientific method of angling. it is the poetry of fishing. the fly fisherman usually wades in the brook or stream where he is fishing, although it is sometimes possible to cast a fly from the bank or a boat. it is useless to go fly fishing while there is snow water in the brooks but just as soon as the first warm days of spring come, then fishing is at its best. the whole idea of casting a fly is to drop it in the most likely-looking places and to strike the fish just as soon as he seizes the hook. to do this we must always have the line under perfect control, therefore do not attempt to cast a line too great a distance. if we do not fix the hook into the fish's mouth at the instant that he seizes the fly, he will very soon find that what he thought was a nice fat bug or juicy caterpillar is nothing but a bit of wool and some feathers with a sting in its tail, and he will spit it out before we can recover our slack line. it is a common mistake to use flies that are too large. ordinary trout flies are the proper size for bass and the smallest size trout flies are plenty large enough for trout. there are hundreds of kinds of flies of various combinations of colours and no one can say which is the best. this question has been argued by fishermen ever since the days of izaak walton. the universal rule of trout and bass fishermen who use a fly is to select small dark flies for bright days or when the water is very clear or low and the more brightly coloured ones when the day is dark or the water dark or turbid. the fly book should contain a varied assortment to meet these conditions. the best lines for fly fishing are made of braided enamelled silk. some fly lines are tapered but this is not necessary and is a needless expense. twisted lines are much cheaper but very unsatisfactory. fly fishing is not only the most scientific and sportsmanlike method of fishing but it is also the most difficult to acquire skill in. it is of course possible to catch trout and salmon on other bait than flies. in fact, there is really no better bait for brook trout than common fish worms that have been scoured in sand. the use of a fly, however, is more satisfactory where the pleasure derived in fishing is more important than the size of the string. [illustration: an artificial fly; used for salmon] in learning to cast a fly, you can practise at home, either in an open space or wherever there is room to work the line. it is not necessary to practise with the actual hooks or flies on the line. simply tie a knot in it. hold the rod lightly but firmly in the right hand. point your thumb along the line of the rod and start by pulling out a little line from the reel with the left hand. with a steady sweep, cast the end of the line toward some near-by object and with each cast pull out a little more line until you reach a point when you are handling all the line you can take care of without effort or without too much of a sweep on the back cast. you must not allow the line to become entangled in trees or other obstacles. the wrist does most of the work in casting. the elbow should be close to the side. if you find that the line snaps like a whip on the back cast, it is because you start the forward cast before the line straightens out behind. when you can handle twenty-five or thirty feet accurately, you can safely get ready to go fishing. the most successful fly fishermen use a short line, but they use it with the utmost accuracy and can make the flies land within a foot of the place they are aiming at almost every time. when a trout strikes your fly, you must snub him quickly or he will surely get away. if the flies you are using do not cause the fish to rise, and if you are certain that it is not due to your lack of skill, it will be well to change to some other combination of colours; but give your first selection a fair trial. bait casting is much easier than fly casting as the weight of the bait will help to carry out the line. it is the common method of fishing with minnows, frogs, small spoons and spinners, and other artificial lures. some fishermen practise the method of allowing the line to run from the reel. the principal point in this way of fishing is to stop the reel by using the thumb as a brake at the instant that the bait strikes the water. this prevents the reel from spinning and causing the line to overrun. neglect of this precaution will cause a very annoying tangle that is sometimes call a "backlash" but more often characterized by much harsher names by the impatient fisherman who has the misfortune to experience it. in live bait casting, start with the line reeled to within fifteen inches of the end of the rod, holding the thumb on the reel spool. with a rather strong overhead sweep, bring the rod forward. at the proper instant, which is just as the point of the rod goes over your head, release the pressure of your thumb and the bait will go forward as the line runs out rapidly. when the bait lands, reel in slowly and with various motions try to give to the bait as life-like an appearance as possible. if you have a strike, allow the fish sufficient time to obtain a secure hold of the bait and by a sudden jerk fix the hook in his mouth. bait casting is as a rule a very effective method of catching fish, especially in shallow lakes and where fly fishing is not practised. in deep water, trolling or still fishing are usually the best methods of catching fish and often the only methods that will be successful. trolling consists simply in rowing or paddling slowly with the bait or spoon trailing behind. it is not a scientific way of fishing and requires but little skill. when the fish strikes, it usually hooks itself and all that remains is to reel it into the boat and land it. the conditions on large lakes often make it necessary to follow one of these methods of trolling or still fishing, especially during the warm weather when the big fish have left the spawning grounds and are in deep water. there are trolling devices called spinners that have several gangs of hooks, sometimes as many as fifteen. no real fisherman would use such a murderous arrangement which gives the fish practically no chance at all and in many states their use is properly prohibited by law. a single hook, or at most a single gang of three hooks, is all that any one should ever use. [illustration: a raised pillar multiplying reel] every boy knows what still fishing is. it is the common method of baiting our hook, casting it from the shore or from a boat and waiting for a bite. in still fishing it is customary to use a light sinker to keep the bait near the bottom and a float or "cork" which serves the double purpose of keeping the bait away from snags, stones, or weeds on the bottom and also of showing us when we have a bite. the more expert still fishermen never use a float, as they prefer to tell by the pull on the line when a fish has taken the bait. a fishing boat should be thoroughly seaworthy and also have plenty of room. flat-bottom boats make the best type for fishing, provided that we do not have to row them far or if the place where we use them is not subject to sudden squalls or rough water. the middle seat should contain both a fish well and a minnow box with a dividing partition and with two hinged lids fitted into the seat. such a boat can be built by an ordinary carpenter and should not cost over ten or twelve dollars. it should be painted every year to keep it in good condition. use clear white pine or cedar for the sides. the bottom boards should not be fitted tightly together but left with cracks fully a half-inch wide to allow for the swelling of the wood when the boat is launched. the best oarlocks are fastened to the oars and fit in the sockets with a long pin. this arrangement permits one to fish alone, and if trolling to drop the oars quickly and take up the rod without danger of losing them. [illustration: a landing net should be a part of every fisherman's outfit] a landing net should be a part of every fishing outfit. more fish are lost just as they are about to be lifted from the water than at any other time. a gaff is used for this same purpose with fish too large to go into a landing net. a gaff is a large hook without a barb fastened into a short pole. if you have no net or gaff and have succeeded in bringing a large fish up alongside the boat, try to reach under him and get a firm grip in his gills before you lift him on board. if it is a pickerel, look out for his needle-like teeth. the best time to fish is either in the early morning or just before sundown. during the heated part of the day most game fish stop feeding and seek the cool, deep places in the lake or river. in many states, fishing is prohibited by law until after the fish are through the spawning season. in all kinds of fishing, the rule is to keep as quiet as possible. talking does not make so much difference, but any sudden noises in the water or on the bottom of the boat are especially likely to frighten the fish. never fish in your own shadow or that of your boat. try to have the sun in front of you or at your side. never be in a hurry to land a big fish. remember that some of the so-called "big game fish" of the ocean will take all day to land. you must use skill to tire your fish out or by keeping his gills open to drown him. the rod and line are not intended as a lever to force the fish to the landing net but merely as a guide to lead him about and by his struggles to force him to become exhausted. a very interesting experiment has demonstrated that a skilful fisherman can with a fly rod and light line in a very short time tire out a strong swimmer to which the line has been attached and force him to give up the struggle and come to the side of a boat. methods of fishing differ so much in different localities that aside from the ordinary equipment of rods, reels, lines, leaders, and hooks, the fisherman going to a new locality had better first ascertain what the general methods of fishing are, or else, if possible, secure his equipment after he reaches his fishing grounds. viii nature study what is a true naturalist?--how to start a collection--moth collecting--the herbarium there is nothing in the world that will bring more pleasure into the life of a boy or girl than to cultivate a love for nature. it is one of the joys of life that is as free as the air we breathe. a nature student need never be lonely or at a loss for friends or companions. the birds and the bugs are his acquaintances. whenever he goes afield there is something new or interesting to see and to observe. he finds-- "----_tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones and good in everything_." to love nature and her mysteries does not necessarily mean to be some kind of a queer creature running around with a butterfly net or an insect box. a true naturalist is simply a man or boy who keeps his eyes and ears open. he will soon find that nature is ready to tell him many secrets. after a time, the smell of the woods, the chirp of a cricket and the rustling of the wind in the pines become his pleasures. the reason that people do not as a rule know more about nature is simply because their minds are too full of other things. they fail to cultivate the power of accurate observation, which is the most important thing of all. a practical start in nature study is to go out some dewy morning and study the first spider web you come across, noting how wonderfully this little creature makes a net to catch its food just as we make nets to catch fish, how the web is braced with tiny guy ropes to keep the wind from blowing it away in a way similar to the method an engineer would use in securing a derrick or a tall chimney. when a fly or bug happens to become entangled in its meshes, the spider will dart out quickly from its hiding place and if the fly is making a violent struggle for life will soon spin a ribbon-like web around it which will hold it secure, just as we might attempt to secure a prisoner or wild animal that was trying to make its escape, by binding it with ropes. a spider makes a very interesting pet and the surest way to overcome the fear that many people have of spiders is to know more about them. there is no need to read big books or listen to dry lectures to study nature. in any square foot that you may pick out at random in your lawn you will find something interesting if you will look for it. some tiny bug will be crawling around in its little world, not aimlessly but with some definite purpose in view. to this insect the blades of grass are almost like mighty trees and the imprint of your heel in the ground may seem like a valley between mountains. to get an adequate idea of the myriads of insects that people the fields, we should select a summer day just as the sun is about to set. the reflection of its waning rays on their wings will show countless thousands of flying creatures in places where, if we did not take the trouble to observe, we might think there were none. there is one very important side to nature that must not be overlooked. it consists in knowing that we shall find a thousand things that we cannot explain to one that we fully understand. education of any kind consists more in knowing when to say "i don't know and no one else knows either" than to attempt a foolish explanation of an unexplainable thing. if you ask "why a cat has whiskers," or why and how they make a purring noise when they are pleased and wag their tails when they are angry, while a dog wags his to show pleasure, the wisest man cannot answer your question. a teacher once asked a boy about a cat's whiskers and he said they were to keep her from trying to get her body through a hole that would not admit her head without touching her whiskers. no one can explain satisfactorily why the sap runs up in a tree and by some chemical process carries from the earth the right elements to make leaves, blossoms or fruit. nature study is not "why?" it is "how." we all learn in everyday life how a hen will take care of a brood of chicks or how a bee will go from blossom to blossom to sip honey. would it not also be interesting to see how a little bug the size of a pin head will burrow into the stem of an oak leaf and how the tree will grow a house around him that will be totally unlike the rest of the branches or leaves. that is an "oak gall." if you carefully cut a green one open you will find the bug in the centre or in the case of a dried one that we often find on the ground, we can see the tiny hole where he has crawled out. did you ever know that some kinds of ants will wage war on other kinds and make slaves of the prisoners just as our ancestors did in the olden times with human beings? did you ever see a play-ground where the ants have their recreation just as we have ball fields and dancing halls? did you ever hear of a colony of ants keeping a cow? it is a well-known fact that they do, and they will take their cow out to pasture and bring it in and milk it and then lock it up for the night just as you might do if you were a farm boy. the "ants' cow" is a species of insect called "aphis" that secretes from its food a sweet kind of fluid called "honey dew." the ten thousand things that we can learn in nature could no more be covered in a chapter in this book than the same space could cover a history of the world. i have two large books devoted to the discussion of a single kind of flower, the "orchid." it is estimated that there are about two hundred thousand kinds of flowers, so for this subject alone, we should need a bookshelf over a mile long. this is not stated to discourage any one for of course no one can learn all there is to know about any subject. most people are content not to learn anything or even see anything that is not a part of their daily life. the only kind of nature study worth while is systematic. it is not safe to trust too much to the memory. keep a diary and record in it even the most simple things for future reference. all sorts of items can be written in such a book. as it is your own personal affair, you need not try to make it a work of literary merit. have entries such as these: first frost--oct. rd first snow-- inches thanksgiving day skating--december rd weather clear and bright on candlemas day, feb. nd and therefore ground-hog saw his shadow heard crows cawing--feb. th. last year--jan. th saw first robin--march th last snow--april th there is scarcely anything in nature that is not interesting and in some way useful. perhaps you will say "how about a bat?" as a matter of fact a bat is one of our best friends because he will spend the whole night catching mosquitoes. but some one will say "he flies into your hair and is covered with a certain kind of disgusting vermin." did you ever know of a bat flying into any one's hair? and as for the vermin science tells us that they are really his favourite food so it is unlikely that he would harbour a colony of them very long. the subject of snakes is one in which there is more misinformation than any other common thing. there are only three venomous kinds of snakes in america. they are the rattlesnake, copperhead and moccasin. all of them can be distinguished by a deep pit behind the eye, which gives them the name of "pit vipers." the general impression that puff adders, pilots, green snakes or water snakes are poisonous is absolutely wrong, and as for hoop snakes and the snake with a sting in his tail that all boys have heard about, they are absolutely fairy tales like "jack and the bean stalk" or "alice in wonderland." we have all heard about black snakes eight or ten feet long that will chase you and wind themselves around your neck, but of the many hundreds of black snakes that a well known naturalist has seen he states that he never saw one that did not do its best to escape if given half a chance. why so much misinformation about snakes exists is a mystery. nature study has recently been introduced into schools and it is a very excellent way to have the interesting things pointed out to us until our eyes are trained to see for ourselves. the usual methods of nature study may be roughly divided into, . keeping pets. . bird study. . insect study. . systematic study of flowers and plants. . wild animal life. the basis of nature study consists in making collections. a collection that we have made for ourselves of moths or flowers, for instance, is far more interesting than a stamp or coin collection where we buy our specimens. if we go afield and collect for ourselves, the cost is practically nothing and we have the benefit of being in the air and sunshine. one kind of collecting is absolutely wrong--that of birds' eggs, nests or even the birds themselves. our little feathered songsters are too few now and most states have very severe penalties for killing or molesting them. a nature student must not be a lawbreaker. the outfit for a butterfly or moth collection is very simple and inexpensive. we shall need an insect net to capture our specimens. this can be made at home from a piece of stiff wire bent into the shape of a flattened circle about a foot across. fasten the ring securely to a broom handle and make a cheesecloth net the same diameter as the ring and about two feet deep. [illustration: the cyanide bottle] it is very cruel to run a pin through insects and to allow them slowly to torture to death. an insect killer that is generally used is called "the cyanide bottle." its principle ingredient, cyanide of potassium is a harmless looking white powder but it is the _most deadly poison in the world_. unless a boy or girl knows fully its terrible danger, they should never touch it or even breathe its fumes. one of your parents or the druggist should prepare the cyanide bottle for you and as long as you do not look into the bottle to watch the struggles of a dying bug or in any way get any of the contents of the bottle on your fingers, you are safe. take a wide-mouthed bottle made of clear glass and fit a cork or rubber stopper to it. then wash the bottle thoroughly and dry it, finally polishing the inside with a piece of soft cloth or tissue paper. place one ounce of cyanide of potassium into the bottle and pour in enough dry sawdust to cover the lumps of poison. then wet some plaster of paris until it is the consistency of thick cream and quickly pour it over the sawdust, taking care that it does not run down the sides or splash against the bottle. place the bottle on a level table and very soon the plaster of paris will set and harden into a solid cake. sufficient fumes from the cyanide will come up through the plaster to poison the air in the bottle and to kill any living thing that attempts to breathe it. as you capture your specimens of moths, bugs or butterflies afield you place them into the bottle, and as soon as they are dead, you remove them; fold them carefully in stiff paper and store them in a paper box or a carrying case until you get home. they should then be mounted on boards or cork sheets, labelled carefully with the name of the specimen, date and place of capture and any other facts that you may wish to keep. [illustration: how insects are spread to dry them in a natural position] considerable skill is required to mount insects properly and in a life-like position. if they are out of shape you must "spread" them before they dry out. spreading consists in holding them in the proper position by means of tiny bits of glass and pins until they are dry. as moths are, as a rule, night-flying creatures the collector will either obtain them in a larval stage, or will adopt the method of "sugaring," one of the most fascinating branches of nature study. a favourable locality is selected, a comparatively open space in preference to a dense growth, and several trees are baited or sugared to attract the moths when in search of food. the sugar or bait is made as follows: take four pounds of dark brown sugar, one quart of molasses, a bottle of stale ale or beer, four ounces of santa cruz rum. mix and heat gradually. after it is cooked for five minutes allow it to cool and place in mason jars. the bait will be about the consistency of thick varnish. just before twilight the bait should be painted on a dozen or more trees with a strip about three inches wide and three feet long. you will need a bull's-eye lantern or bicycle lamp and after dark, make the rounds of your bait and cautiously flash the light on the baited tree. if you see a moth feeding there, carefully bring the cyanide bottle up and drop him into it. under no circumstances, clap the bottle over the specimen. if you do the neck of the bottle will become smeared with the bait and the moth would be daubed over and ruined. you will soon have all the specimens that you can care for at one time and will be ready to go home and take care of them. the moths are among the most beautiful creatures in nature and a reasonably complete collection of the specimens in your neighbourhood will be something to be proud of. [illustration: the moth collector and his outfit (photograph by f.w. stack)] the plant and flower collector should combine his field work with a study of botany. like most subjects in school books, botany may seem dry and uninteresting but when we learn it for some definite purpose such as knowing the wild flowers and calling them our friends, we must accept the few strange words and dry things in the school work as a little bitter that goes with a great deal of sweet. a collection of dried plants is called an herbarium. it is customary to take the entire plant as a specimen including the roots. separate specimens of buds, leaves, flowers and fruit taken at different seasons of the year will make the collection more complete. specimens should be first pressed or flattened between sheets of blotting paper and then mounted on sheets of white paper either by glue or by strips of gummed paper. after a flower is properly identified, these sheets should be carefully numbered and labelled and a record kept in a book so that we can readily find a specimen without unnecessarily handling the specimen sheets. the sheets should be kept in heavy envelopes of manila paper and placed in a box just the size to hold them. the standard or museum size of herbarium sheets is - / x - / inches. specimens of seaweed or leaves can be kept in blank books. a typical label for plants or flowers should be as follows: common names yellow adder's tongue date collected, may th, dog tooth violet botanical name erythronium americanum remarks: john burroughs family lilies suggests that the name where found rockaway valley near be changed either to beaver brook fawn lily because its leaves look like a spotted fawn or trout lily because they always appear at trout fishing season. a boy or girl living in a section where minerals are plentiful, can make a very interesting collection of stones and mineral substances, especially crystals. this should be taken up in connection with school work in chemistry and mineralogy. to determine the names of minerals is by no means as easy as that of flowers or animals. we shall need to understand something of blow-pipe analysis. as a rule a high school pupil can receive a great deal of valuable instruction and aid from one of his teachers in this work. mineral specimens should be mounted on small blocks or spindles using sealing wax to hold them in place. there are unlimited possibilities in nature for making collections. shells, mosses, ferns, leaves, grasses, seeds, are all interesting and of value. an observation beehive with a glass front which may be darkened will show us the wonderful intelligence of these little creatures. the true spirit of nature study is to learn as much as we can of her in all of her branches, not to make a specialty of one thing to the neglect of the rest and above all not to make work of anything. we see some new side to our most common things when we once learn to look for it. not one person in ten thousand knows that bean vines and morning glories will twine around a pole to the right while hop vines and honeysuckle will go to the left and yet who is there who has not seen these common vines hundreds of times? no one can give as an excuse that he is too busy to study nature. the busiest men in national affairs have had time for it and surely we with our little responsibilities and cares can do so too. i once went fishing with a clergyman and i noticed that he stood for a long time looking at a pure white water lily with beautiful fragrance that grew from the blackest and most uninviting looking mud that one could find. the next sunday he used this as an illustration for his text. how many of us ever saw the possibility of a sermon in this common everyday sight? ix water life the water telescope--how to manage an aquarium--our insect friends and enemies--the observation beehive the eggs of so many insects, toads, frogs and other interesting creatures are laid and hatched in water that a close study of pools, brooks and small bodies of water will disclose to the nature student some wonderful stories of animal life. to obtain water specimens for our collection, we shall need a net somewhat similar to the butterfly net described in the previous chapter but with a much stronger frame. one that i have used for several years was made by the village blacksmith. the ring or hoop is of quarter-inch round iron, securely fastened to a stout handle and bent to a shape as shown in the drawing. to this ring is fastened a regular landing net such as fishermen use, with an extra bag of cheesecloth to fit inside to capture insects too small to be held by the meshes of the outside net. for frogs, turtles, and minnows, the single net is all that is necessary. this device is almost strong enough to use as a shovel. it will scoop up a netful of mud without bending. this is important as muddy ditches and sluggish ponds will yield us more specimens than swiftly running brooks. in addition to the net, the collector will require a small pail to hold his trophies. a fisherman's minnow bucket is excellent for this purpose and the water can easily be freshened and the contents of the pail reached by simply lifting out the inside pail from the water, which will drain out. [illustration: a heavy net is useful to capture aquarium specimens] to study the animal life under the surface of a clear and shallow lake, a water telescope is a great aid. it is simply a wooden box a foot or so long and open at both ends. the inside should be painted black to prevent cross reflection of light. a square of clear glass should be fitted into one end and puttied tight to keep out the water. to use the water telescope, we simply shove the glass end under water and look into the box. a cloth hood or eye piece to keep out the outside light will make it more effective. the best way to use a water telescope is to lie in the bottom of a boat which is drifting about, and to look through the telescope over the side. as you study the marvellous animal and plant life that passes along under you like a panorama, see to it that in your excitement you do not fall overboard as a boy friend of mine once did. the care of an aquarium is a never ending source of interest to the nature student. if a boy is handy with tools he can build one himself. it is by no means an easy task however to make a satisfactory water-tight box with glass sides, and my advice is not to attempt it. glass aquaria may be bought so cheaply that it is doubtful if you can save any money by making one at home. if you care to try it, this is the way it is usually done: use a piece of seasoned white wood - / inches thick for the bottom. if you wish your aquarium to be, say, inches wide and inches long, this bottom board should be x to give a margin at the edge. the size of a home-made aquarium can be anything that you desire. it is customary to allow a gallon of water to each three-inch gold fish that will inhabit it. by multiplying the three dimensions, length, width and height of your box and by dividing your result, which will be in cubic inches, by (the number of cubic inches in a gallon) you can tell how many gallons of water it will hold. of course the rule for gold fish is not absolute. the nature student will probably have no gold fish at all. they are not nearly so interesting as our native kinds. besides nearly all varieties of fresh water fish will either kill gold fish or if they are too large to kill will at least make life so miserable for them that to keep them together is cruelty to animals. if we keep in our aquarium the specimens that we collect in our neighbourhood, beetles, newts, crawfish, snails, and tiny sunfish the number may be greatly increased. overcrowding however is very bad. the ideal we should strive for is not "how many specimens" but "how many kinds" we can have in our collection. the white wood board should have three or four hardwood cleats screwed to the bottom to prevent warping. the corner pieces of our glass box may either be made of sheet copper or heavy tin, or of wood, if we cannot work in metals. the wooden strips and the bottom board should have grooves ploughed in them to hold the glass. all the woodwork should be given several coats of asphalt varnish and to further waterproof it and as a final coat use some kind of marine copper paint that is used to coat the bottoms of vessels. never use the common white lead and linseed oil paint for an aquarium. you can sometimes buy aquarium cement or prepared putty at a "gold fish" store. this you will need to putty in the glass. if you cannot buy it, make it yourself from the asphalt varnish and whiting. be sure that the paint and putty of an aquarium is thoroughly dry before you fill it with water. perhaps the most satisfactory way to study fish and insect life in water is to use all glass boxes and globes. so many kinds of fish and insects are natural enemies, even though they inhabit the same streams, that they must be kept separate anyway. to put them in the same aquarium would be like caging up two game roosters. if we were studying the development of mosquitoes, for instance, from the larvae or eggs to the fully developed insect, we should not get very far in our nature study if we put them in an aquarium with fish. a fish will soon make short work of a hundred mosquito wigglers just as a large frog will eat the fish, a snake will eat the frog and so on. rectangular glass boxes such as are commonly used for aquaria cost less than a dollar per gallon capacity. goldfish globes cost about the same. white glass round aquaria are much cheaper and those made of greenish domestic glass are the cheapest of all, a glass tank holding eight gallons costing but two dollars. [illustration: a self-sustaining or balanced aquarium] any transparent vessel capable of holding water, even a mason jar will make an aquarium from which a great deal of pleasure may be derived. the old way of maintaining aquaria in good condition required a great deal of care and attention. the water had to be changed at least once a day if running water was not available, and altogether they were so much trouble that as a rule owners soon tired of them. modern aquaria are totally different. by a proper combination of fish and growing plants we can almost duplicate the conditions of nature and strike a balance so that the water need never be changed except when it becomes foul or to clean the glass. these are called "self-sustaining" aquaria and they are the only kind to have unless we can furnish running water from a public water supply. self-sustaining aquaria are very simple and any boy or girl living near a brook can stock one at no expense whatever. the method is as follows: first cover the bottom of the aquarium with a layer of sand and pebbles to a depth of about two inches. then plant in the bottom some aquatic or water plants that you have collected from a near-by lake. any kind of water plants will do--the kind of plants boys always call seaweed, even a thousand miles from the sea. in collecting the plants, choose small specimens and obtain roots and all. if you can find it, the best plant is fanwort. other good kinds are hornwort, water starwort, tape grass, water poppy, milfoil, willow moss, and floating plants like duckweed. even if you do not know these by name they are probably common in your neighbourhood. fill the tank with clean water. that taken from a spring or well is better than cistern water. after two or three days, when the plants seem to be well rooted, put in your fish. you may keep your aquarium in a light place, but always keep it out of the sun in summer and away from the heat of a stove or radiator in winter. the nature student will not attempt to stock up his aquarium immediately. he should always leave room for one more fish or bug. one year i started with a lone newt and before the summer was over i had thirteen sunfish, pickerel, bass, minnows, catfish, carp, trout, more newts, pollywogs or tadpoles, five kinds of frogs, an eel and all sorts of bugs, waterbeetles and insects. i soon found that one kind of insect would kill another and that sometimes my specimens would grow wings over night and fly away. but to learn these things, even at our own disappointment is "nature study." if we knew it all in advance, we would not have much use for our experimental aquarium. always keep a few snails and tadpoles, for they are the scavengers and will eat the refuse stuff and keep the glass free from greenish scum. boys and girls are almost sure to overfeed fish. this is a great mistake. the best standard feed is dried ants' eggs that can be bought for a few cents a box at any bird and fish store. do not feed pieces of bread and meat. study what their natural food is and if possible get that for them. if your fish seem sickly, give them a five-minute bath in salt water every day for a week. the kind of an aquarium above described is intended to fill an entirely different purpose from the usual gold fish globe. in your excursions you will find all sorts of queer looking eggs and specimens. some of the eggs are so tiny that they look almost like black or white dust on the water. another kind will be a mass like a jellyfish with brown dots in it, still others will be fastened in masses to the under side of a leaf in the water or perhaps on the bottom. what are they? that is just the question and that is why you will carefully collect them and take them home to await developments. always keep an accurate note-book with dates and facts. also keep a close watch on your specimens. sometimes they will hatch and be eaten by the other bugs before you could read this chapter. a nature student will need some part of the house that he may call his very own. here he can keep his specimens, his aquarium, his herbarium and what not. around the wall he can hang the twigs with their cocoons, oak galls, last year's wasp and bird nests and other treasures. he should also have a work table that a little glue or ink will not injure and a carpet that has no further use in the household. usually one corner of the attic or cellar is just the place. see to it that you do not make other people uncomfortable in the pursuit of your hobby. you will find that almost every one is afraid of bugs and toads and that most people live in a world full of wonderful things and only see a little beyond the end of their noses. there is a very practical side to nature study and the principal way that we can make it really pay, is to know our friends from our enemies in the animal and insect world. there are insects that chew, suck and bore to ruin our orchards and grain crops. they are our enemies. if we know their life story, where they hide and how they breed, we can fight them better. for every dollar's worth of crops that a farmer grows, it is estimated that his insect enemies eat another dollar's worth. a little bug called the "san josé" scale has nearly ruined the orchards of some of the eastern states. to fight him, we must know how he lives. that is nature study. by study we learn that the hop-toad is our best garden friend. he will spend the whole night watching for the cutworms that are after our tomato plants. when we see a woodpecker industriously pecking at the bark of our apple trees, we know that he is after the larvae of the terrible codling moth and we call him our friend. after we learn that a ladybug lives almost entirely on plant lice and scale insects, we never kill one again except perhaps to place a specimen in our collection. naturalists say that without ladybugs, our orchards would soon be entirely killed off. the dragon fly or mosquito hawk as well as "water tigers," water striders and many kinds of beetles are the natural enemies of mosquitoes and as they never harm our crops we should never harm them. nearly every living creature has some enemies. you have perhaps heard the famous verse of dean swift: "so naturalists observe, a flea has smaller that upon them prey and these have smaller still to bite 'em and so proceed _ad infinitum_." [illustration: an observation beehive] among our insect friends the leading place belongs either to the honey bee or the silkworm. as silkworms are not especially successful in this country and as their principal food, mulberry trees, are not common, the nature student who cares to study our beneficial insects had better devote his attention to honey bees. an observation beehive is simply a glass box or hive instead of a wooden one. when we are not engaged in studying our bee city, the hive must be covered with a blanket as bees prefer to work in the dark. a boy or girl living in the country can also keep bees profitably and thus combine business with pleasure. a single hive will in a few years produce enough swarms to give us a good start as "bee farmers." x the care of pets cats--boxes for song birds--how to attract the birds--tame crows--the pigeon fancier--ornamental land and water fowl--rabbits, guinea pigs, rats and mice--how to build coops--general rules for pets--the dog in this chapter on pets, i regret exceedingly that i cannot say much in favour of the family cat. like nearly all children, i was brought up to love kittens and to admire their playful, cunning ways. when a kitten becomes a cat my love for it ceases. cats will do so many mean, dishonourable things, and will catch so many song birds and so few rats and mice that it simply has become a question whether we shall like the song birds or the cat. so many people do like cats that it is unfair perhaps to condemn the whole race for the misdeeds of a few. if a cat is carefully watched or if we put a bell on its neck, these precautions will to a certain extent keep the cat from catching birds, but most people have something better to do than to act as guardian for a cat. the fact is that a cat is a stupid animal seldom showing any real affection or loyalty for its owner and possessing but little intelligence. it is very difficult to teach a cat even the simplest tricks. we never know when a cat will turn on its best friend. they have the "tiger" instinct of treachery. a cat which one minute is contentedly purring on our lap may sink its claws into us the next. the only way to force a cat to catch mice is to keep it half starved. then instead of catching mice, it will probably go after birds if there are any in the neighbourhood. i have shut a cat up in a room with a mouse and it is doubtful whether the cat or the mouse were the more frightened. the cat does more damage to the song birds of this country than any other enemy they have. if kept at home and well fed, cats sometimes become so fat and stupid that they will not molest birds but this is due to laziness and not to any good qualities in the cat. in normal condition they are natural hunters. the habits of a cat are unclean, its unearthly cries at night are extremely disagreeable and altogether it is a nuisance. a famous naturalist, shaler, once said "a cat is the only animal that has been tolerated, esteemed and at times worshipped without having a single distinctly valuable quality." a few years ago a quail had a nest under a rock opposite my house. quail raise their young like poultry rather than like robins or wrens or the other song birds. as soon as the tiny quail chicks are hatched, the mother takes them around like a hen with a brood of chickens. this mother quail was my especial care and study. she became so tame that i could feed her. finally she hatched out ten tiny brown balls of feathers. our cat had been watching her, too, but not from the same motives and one day the cat came home with the mother quail in her mouth. she ran under the porch just out of reach and calmly ate it. the little brood were too small to look out for themselves so of course they all died or fell an easy victim to other cats. the mother was probably an easy prey because in guarding the young, a quail will pretend to have a broken wing and struggle along to attract attention to her and away from her little ones, who scurry to high grass for safety. i have never been very friendly to cats since i witnessed this episode. it has been estimated that the average domestic cat kills an average of one song bird a day during the season when the birds are with us. in certain sections a cat has been known to destroy six nests of orioles, thrushes and bobolinks in a single day. the worst offenders are cats that live around barns and old houses in a half wild condition. many people who say they "haven't the heart to kill a cat" will take it away from home and drop it along the road. a thoughtless act like this may mean the death of a hundred birds in that neighbourhood. it takes less heart to kill the cat than to kill the birds. so much for the cat. [illustration: a bird house] birds make splendid pets, but in keeping them in captivity, we must be sure that we are not violating the game laws of the state we live in. nearly everywhere it is unlawful to keep in cages any native song birds or those that destroy harmful insects--the so-called "insectivorous birds." this includes thrushes, wrens, robins, bluebirds, orioles or, in fact, practically all birds but crows, blackbirds and kingfishers. it does not cover canaries, parrots, or any birds that are not native. it is an excellent law and every boy or girl should act as a special policeman to see that his friends and companions do not molest either birds or their nests. it is cruel to cage a wild bird anyway for a cage is nothing but a prison. there is no law against taming the birds or making friends of them and after all this is the most satisfactory way. if we build houses for the birds to nest in, provide feed for them and in other ways do what we can to attract them, they will soon learn that we are their friends. we must study their habits and always avoid frightening them. next to a cat, the worst enemies of our song birds are the english sparrows. a sparrow is always fair game for the boy with a slingshot or rifle. in many places these sparrows have driven practically all the other birds out of the neighbourhood, have robbed their nests and in other ways have shown themselves to be a public nuisance. until there were no sparrows in this country and now they are more numerous than any other variety of birds, and sooner or later, the government will have to take steps to exterminate them or we shall have no song birds at all. the usual size of a bird house is six inches square and about eight inches high. it should always be made of old weather-beaten boards in order not to frighten away its prospective tenants by looking like a trap of some kind. the chances are that the sparrows will be the first birds to claim a house unless we keep a close watch and drive them away. one way to keep them out is to make the entrance doorway too small for them to enter. a hole an inch in diameter will admit a wren or chickadee and bar out a sparrow, but it will also keep out most of the other birds. the usual doorway should be two inches in diameter. it is surprising how soon after we build our bird house we find a tiny pair making their plans to occupy it and to take up housekeeping. sometimes this will happen the same day the bird house is set up. always provide some nesting material near at hand; linen or cotton thread, ravellings, tow, hair and excelsior are all good. of course we must not attempt to build the nest. no one is skillful enough for that. nearly all of our native birds are migratory, that is they go south for the winter. the date that we may look for them to return is almost the same year after year. some few birds--bluebirds, robins, cedar birds and song sparrows will stay all winter if it is mild but as a rule we must not expect the arrival of the feathered songsters until march. the phoebe bird is about the first one we shall see. in april look for the brown thrasher, catbird, wren, barn, eave and tree swallows, martins, king birds and chipping sparrows. in may the principal birds of our neighbourhood will return--thrushes, vireos, tanagers, grosbeaks, bobolinks, orioles. the game birds--quail, partridge, meadowlarks and pheasants do not migrate as a rule. at least they do not disappear for a time and then return. when they leave a neighbourhood, they rarely come back to it. all the song birds begin nesting in may. consequently we should have our bird houses "ready for occupancy" may st. it will take about twelve days for most birds to hatch their eggs. some varieties will hatch three broods in a season, but two is the usual rule. we shall require a great deal of patience to tame the wild birds. some bird lovers have succeeded in teaching birds to feed from their hands. a wild bird that is once thoroughly frightened can probably never be tamed again. a crow is a very interesting pet. crows are especially tamable and may be allowed full liberty around the dooryard. we must get a young one from the nest just before it is ready to fly. crows are great thieves and are attracted by bright objects. if you have a tame crow, and if any member of your household misses jewellery or thimbles you had better look in the crows' nest before you think that burglars have been around. the chief difference between tamed wild animals, such as squirrels, birds, owls, foxes, crows and so on, and the domesticated animals and birds, dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs, pigeons and chickens, lies in the possibility with the latter of modifying nature and breeding for certain special markings, colours or size. all breeds of chickens from the little bantams to the enormous brahmas have been bred from a wild species of chicken found in india and called the jungle fowl. all the great poultry shows held throughout the country annually are for the purpose of exhibiting the most perfectly marked specimens of the breeders' skill. this is decided by judges who award prizes. the competition is sometimes very keen. in barred plymouth rock chickens, for example, there are sometimes a hundred birds entered to compete for a single prize. the breeders are called fanciers. the principal breeders of certain animals such as rabbits, pigeons or poultry, form an association or club and agree to an imaginary type of the animal called the ideal or "standard of perfection." for example, the breeders of white fantail pigeons agree that perfect birds shall be of certain shape and size, with the head resting on the back just at the base of the tail; the tail should be spread out like a fan and contain at least twenty-eight feathers. these feathers should be laced on the ends. the model fantail should have a nervous jerky motion and never be at rest. each of these points is given a certain value on a scale of marking and in judging the birds they are marked just as you may be in your lessons at school. the fancier tries to breed a bird that comes the nearest to this model. the prizes are sometimes of great value. there is an enormous list of breeds in nearly all varieties of animals and poultry. in pigeons alone there are carriers, pouters, tumblers, baldheads, beards, dragoons, barbs, jacobins, antwerps, turbits, owls, orientals, damoscenes, capuchins, fantails, trumpeters, swifts, lahores, burmese, scandaroons, magpies, nuns, archangels, runts and so on. these birds are very different in appearance, the pouter, for example, has the power of inflating his crop until it puffs out in front as large as a baseball. jacobins or as they are commonly called, "ruffle-necks," have an immense ruffle of feathers like a feather boa. dragoons have a huge wart on the bill as large as an almond. the tumblers are so named from their habit of turning backward somersaults during flight. almost every one who starts keeping domestic pets either soon tires of the sport or becomes a fancier. the care of common pigeons is a very simple matter. the principal thing is a good loft or cote for them in the top of a barn or house. they will practically take care of themselves and after a few years greatly increase in numbers. a model pigeon house for breeding fancy pigeons requires separate mating boxes, nests and other appliances. it would be impossible to make much of a success with fancy pigeons if they are allowed their liberty to fly about and mate at will. the best nest boxes for pigeons are rough earthenware pans, eight inches across, which may be bought cheaply at a bird store. the floor of the cote should be covered with sawdust or gravel to the depth of half an inch. pigeons that are confined should be fed regularly on a mixture of small grains and cracked corn. they should also be given cracked oyster shells, grit and charcoal occasionally. a pigeon loft should be rat proof and clean. it is very doubtful whether there is any money in raising pigeons or squabs for market. fanciers never sell their output for market purposes unless it is to get rid of surplus or undesirable stock. a breeder who is successful in winning prizes with birds of his "strain" as it is called will find a ready market with other breeders for all the birds he cares to sell. prize winning birds sometimes bring a hundred dollars a pair. it is by no means easy to breed prizewinners and the chances are that the beginner will be a buyer of stock rather than a seller. homing pigeons or as they are commonly called, carriers, are not bred for special markings like fancy pigeons but because of their power and speed in flight. a carrier has the "homing" instinct more fully developed than any other animal. in some homing pigeon races, the birds have made speed records of over a mile a minute for many hours and have flown over a thousand miles. if a well-bred homing pigeon fails to return to his home loft it is almost a certainty that he is either forcibly detained or that he has been killed by hunters or hawks. never try to capture a pigeon that may stop for a rest at your loft. he may be in a race and his owner may be waiting for his return five hundred miles away when every minute counts in winning a prize. another large class of birds that make fine pets although they are not strictly in the class of birds bred by the fancier are the ornamental land and water fowl. the chief objection to these birds as pets is the expense of buying them. the list of birds in this class is very large. in swans the leading varieties are mute, american whistling, black australian, white berwick and black-necked swans. the largest class are the pheasants. they are exceedingly beautiful, especially the golden, silver, lady amherst, elliott, reeves, green japanese, swinhoe, english ring neck, melanotis, and torquatis pheasants. the common wild geese are egyptian, canadian, white-fronted, sebastopol, snow, brant, bar-headed, spin-winged and many others. in ducks, there are mallards, black, wood, mandarin, blue and green winged teal, widgeon, redhead, pin-tail, bluebill, gadwell, call and many others. beside pheasants, ducks and geese there are also the various storks, cranes, pea-fowl and herons in the "ornamental fowl" list. these are all wild fowl. the commoner varieties will cost from six to fifteen dollars a pair and the rare ones several hundred. to keep the semi-wild birds from flying away they are usually pinioned, a process of taking off the end joint of one wing. the colours of some of the ornamental fowl are more beautiful than any birds in nature. pheasants especially are easily cared for and make interesting pets. they can be tamed and if kept outdoors they will seldom be subject to disease. most of these birds are as easily cared for as chickens. [illustration: a home-made rabbit house] rabbits make fine pets for boys and girls. they are clean in their habits, hardy and gentle. the common kinds are white rabbits with pink eyes or albinos, and brown rabbits or belgian hares. with rabbits also there is a "fancy." the fur fanciers' association recognizes the following distinct breeds: belgians, flemish giants, dutch marked, english, himalayan, silvers, tans, polish, lops, and angoras. a rabbit hutch or coop is easily built from old packing boxes. one third of the coop should be darkened and made into a nest, with an entrance door outside and the rest simply covered with a wire front, also with a door for cleaning and feeding. the hutch should stand on legs above ground as rabbits do not thrive well in dampness. they will, however, live out all winter in a dry place. a box four feet long and two feet wide will hold a pair of rabbits nicely. rabbits will become very tame and may often be allowed full liberty about the place if there are no dogs to molest them. the drawing shows a standard type of rabbit hutch. a boy who is handy with tools can easily build one. we can always dispose of the increase in our rabbit family to friends or to dealers. guinea pigs or cavies are similar to rabbits in their requirements. the chief difference is that guinea pigs cannot stand excessive cold and will not do well if kept outside in severe winter weather. rabbits and cavies will eat almost anything and eat constantly. the usual feed is hay, clover, wheat, corn, carrots, turnips, cabbage, lettuce, celery, potato parings, or any green food or grains. cavies are especially fond of bread and milk. the three classes of cavies are peruvians or angoras, with long silky hair; abyssinians, with coarse hair in tufts or rosettes, and the common guinea pig or smooth, cavy. a pair of cavies will cost about two dollars. a dry airy cellar is a good place to keep them as they are cleanly in their habits. neither cavies nor rabbits are especially intelligent but they do learn to know their master or at least the one who feeds them. pet rats and mice are in the same class as rabbits but they should always have a coop that they will not gnaw out of. there is even a mouse club. it is in europe and has over a thousand members. an interesting example of skill in breeding is seen in dutch belted varieties of cattle, in hogs, rabbits, cavies and mice. in all of these animals the same markings have been bred by careful crossing and selection. in all lines of "fancy" it is important to stick to a few varieties. we shall never make much of a success if we have half a dozen kinds of chickens, pigeons or rabbits. by far the most important "fancy" is with chickens, but this subject will be considered in the chapter on the care of poultry. among other pets are tame squirrels, turtles, snakes, lizards and toads. a tame gray squirrel makes a splendid pet. after a while we can give our squirrel full liberty and find him back in his nest at night. i once had a tame owl but i found that because of his habit of flying and feeding at night he was a very stupid pet. besides that his powerful beak and sharp claws or talons were dangerous. i also once had a pair of flying squirrels but they also only appear at night and were consequently uninteresting in the daytime. we must always study the natural habits of our pets and try to give them coops and food as much like nature as possible. my flying squirrels were given soft feed in place of the usual hard-shelled nuts. consequently their teeth grew so long that they were a positive deformity. we finally liberated them but before they could get to a place of safety one of them was caught and killed by a chicken. the poor little creature was so fat from overfeeding and lack of exercise that he had all but lost the power of using his legs. coops for pets may be as elaborate as our pocketbook will allow. the important things to remember are to construct a coop so that it may be cleaned easily, and to provide plenty of ventilation. it must also be dry. fresh air is as important for animals as for people. the larger we can make a coop, the better it will be. be careful not to overfeed pets. regular and frequent meals of just what they will eat up clean is better than an occasional big meal. rabbits require very little water. usually they will obtain enough moisture from the green food they eat. it is a mistake, however, to think that water will kill rabbits. change the straw in the nest boxes frequently. when they make fur nests do not disturb them. for squirrels and other small animals, the coop may be made entirely of wire except the baseboard, which should be a piece of seasoned wood. be sure that there are no sharp wire points or projecting nails in a coop to injure the animals. the whole secret of taming wild creatures is patience. we must try to show them that we are their friends. the most direct way to an animal's heart is through his stomach, which is another way of saying that the owner should personally feed his own pets if he wishes them to know him. there is really no reason why a country boy or girl should have any caged pets at all. in the city it is different. perhaps the best pet for the unnatural conditions of city life is a canary. the real spirit to develop a love for the little creatures that inhabit our woods and fields is to feel that they are our friends rather than that they are prisoners. by all means cultivate the acquaintance of your "small country neighbours." the dog every boy should own a dog. he is the friend and companion of our youth. for a boy to grow up without a dog is to be denied one of the real joys of life. senator vest once said: "the one absolute, unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world; the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog. he will sleep on the cold ground where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely if only he can be near his master's side. he will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will guard the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. when all other friends desert he remains." the breed makes but little difference so long as the dog is intelligent and kind. mixed breeds and mongrel dogs are often the most intelligent. a thoroughbred dog will give us more satisfaction possibly than a mongrel because he will make a better appearance. but at the same time, he is far more likely to be stolen. there are so many breeds to select from that it is almost impossible to give much advice. as a rule, the dog we shall like is the one we can get. the very heavy dogs such as saint bernards, mastiffs and great danes are clumsy and will require outside quarters, as they are too bulky to have in the house. on the other hand the small toy breeds such as pomeranians, black and tans and king charles spaniels and pugs, are too delicate to be a real boy's dog. a list from which you may safely select a dog would be bull terriers, airedale terriers, scotch terriers, irish terriers, cocker spaniels, pointers and setters, either irish or english. this is by no means a complete list. i prefer a setter because my first dog, "old ben," was a setter, and he shared in most of my fun from the earliest recollections that i have. when he died i lost a true friend. it was the first real sorrow i ever had. a dog should not sleep in the same room with his owner, but should have a warm dry kennel and be taught to regard it as his home. do not make the mistake of overfeeding a dog. he does not need three meals a day. one is sufficient, about nine in the morning, when he should have all he wants to eat. if you insist on a second meal give him a dog biscuit or a bone to gnaw on in the evening. keep your dog free from fleas, in spite of what david harum says that "a reasonable amount of fleas is good for a dog, because it keeps him from brooding over being a dog." a thorough bath with carbolic soap and water will rid a dog of fleas, but this treatment should be repeated at weekly intervals to kill the eggs which hatch in the meantime. fresh insect powder or scotch snuff if dusted thoroughly in a dog's coat will cause fleas to leave. this treatment should be done out of doors. a good plan is to place the dog on a sheet or piece of white paper and work the powder well into the hair, especially around his neck and behind the ears. be careful not to injure his eyes. a dog will soon recognize his master, and there is no quicker way to show that you are his master than to enforce obedience when you attempt to make him mind. whether a whipping is necessary depends on the dog. with most dogs a good scolding will be sufficient. never whip a dog when you are angry and never overdo the matter. it is possible to "break a dog's spirit," which simply means to make him afraid of you. a dog so frightened is ruined until you regain his confidence, a very difficult thing to do. never cuff a dog with your hand. always use a whip or switch. let the whipping be a definite ceremony with a plain object in view. some dogs will prove to be headstrong and others will try to do whatever their master wants. there is an amazing difference in dogs and their intelligence seems to have no limits. a dog must never be allowed to annoy our neighbours or friends. one of the most annoying habits that a dog cultivates is that of running out and barking at passing carriages or people. a few lessons in discipline early in life will break him of this habit, but once acquired it is practically unbreakable. another very annoying habit is that of allowing a dog to put his paws on us. we may not mind it when we are dressed in old clothes but friends or callers are possibly not so considerate. nearly every bad habit that a dog learns is usually the fault of the owner rather than of the dog. the training of a dog should be done as a puppy. therefore we must secure our dog as young as possible. in training hunting dogs the first step is called "yard-breaking." with ordinary dogs a thorough course in yard-breaking by teaching the simple command is all that will be necessary. first of all, teach your dog to lie down and come to you at call. the usual word for the former is "charge." a dog can be taught this in a very short time. take him by the neck and back, and at the word, force him to lie down. do not use any other words, or even pet him. simply impress on his mind that when he hears "charge" it means lie down. as a rule a puppy is taught to come by snapping the fingers or by making a noise with the lips similar to that by which we urge a horse. it is almost natural to say "come here." after a puppy learns to follow us at the command "heel in" and to run ahead when we say "go on," we must also teach him to come when we whistle. most boys can make a whistle with the fingers sufficiently penetrating to call a dog for a long distance but a small metal whistle to carry in the pocket is the best way. after a dog has acquired the simple lessons of training we shall find that he learns to understand us and to do our wishes very quickly. there should be a complete understanding between a dog and his owner. he will know our ways and we shall know his. i have hunted in virginia with a dog so intelligent that merely by watching him his master could tell whether he was on the trail of a rabbit, wild turkey, or deer. for each kind of game he had a different manner of barking and what is more remarkable, he was a thoroughly broken quail dog with the best "nose" or scent i have ever known and of course did not bark under these circumstances. such a dog would be a mystery to any one who did not know his ways. this dog "old doc" would hunt with any one on quail, but if the hunter did not succeed in killing game the dog would soon show his disapproval in every way, sulk along behind, and if the poor shooting continued, finally leave for home. a friend who took him out told me, "first i missed the birds and then i missed the dog." he had left in disgust. no matter what breed our dog is we shall surely become greatly attached to him and almost look upon him as a friend rather than as an animal. a boy should never encourage a dog to fight. it is a cruel, unmanly thing and one that a real dog lover will never do. dog fighting is a form of brutality second only to tying tin cans and other things to a dog's tail for the "fun" of seeing him run. i once saw a poor beast lose his tail as a result of this brutal joke. some one had tied a string tightly around his tail and the dog ran until completely exhausted. he then kept out of sight for a few days. in the meantime the string caused his tail to become fearfully sore and finally to fall off. can any one see a joke in this? xi the care of chickens the best breed--good and bad points of incubators--what to feed small chicks--a model chicken house a pen of chickens gives a boy or girl an opportunity for keeping pets that have some real value. whether there is much profit in poultry is a question, but it is at least certain that the more care you give them the better they pay. there is but little difference in the results obtained from the various breeds of chickens, but there is a great difference in the people who take care of them. it is very difficult to make poultry pay on a large scale. nearly every poultry farm that has started as a business has failed to make a success. the surest way to make chickens pay is to have only a few. then the table scraps and the worms and weed seeds they can pick up will supply them with practically all their feed and the time you give them need not be counted as expense. there are sixty or seventy distinct breeds of poultry recognized by expert fanciers and from three to ten colours or varieties in many of these breeds. new ones are being added constantly. for example, a breed called orpingtons was recently introduced from england and now has ten varieties or colours that are "standard." at the new york poultry show a record price of $ , was paid for the prize-winning hen of this breed. there is a style in chickens as well as in anything else. a new breed will always have a great many admirers at first, and great claims will be made for its superior qualities. the poultrymen who have stock and eggs to sell will secure high prices for their output. very soon, however, the real value of a new breed will be known and it will be on the same basis as the older breeds. a beginner had better start with some standard recognized breed and leave the experimenting to some one else. one thing is certain: thoroughbreds will pay better than mongrels. their eggs are of more uniform size and colour, the stock will be healthy and as a rule weigh a pound or two more than birds of uncertain breeding. thoroughbreds do not cost any more to feed or care for than the mongrels and in every way are superior. breeds of poultry are usually divided into three separate classes, depending on the place where the breed originated. they are the american, asiatic, and mediterranean strains. the leading american breed is the barred plymouth rock and for a beginner will probably be the best to start with. another very excellent american or general purpose breed is the white wyandotte. they are especially valuable as broilers, as they make rapid growth while young. the leghorns are the leading breed for eggs. they are "non-sitters" and, being very active, do not become overfat. their small size, however, makes them poor table fowls and for this reason they are not adapted to general use. the asiatic type, which includes brahmas, langshans, and cochins, are all clumsy, heavy birds, which make excellent table fowl but are poor layers and poor foragers. brahma roosters will frequently weigh fifteen pounds and can eat corn from the top of a barrel. a beginner should never attempt to keep more than one kind of chickens. to get a start, we must either buy a pen of birds or buy the eggs and raise our own stock. the latter method will take a year more than the former, as the chicks we hatch this year will be our layers a year later. sometimes a pen of eight or ten fowls can be bought reasonably from some one who is selling out. if we buy from a breeder who is in the business they will cost about five dollars a trio of two hens and a rooster. the cheapest way is to buy eggs and hatch your own stock. the usual price for hatching-eggs is one dollar for fifteen eggs. we can safely count on hatching eight chicks from a setting, of which four may be pullets. therefore we must allow fifteen eggs for each four pullets we intend to keep the next year. the surplus cockerels can be sold for enough to pay for the cost of the eggs. if we have good luck we may hatch every egg in a setting and ten of them may be pullets. on the other hand, we may have only two or three chicks, which may all prove to be cockerels; so the above calculation is a fair average. if we start with eggs, we shall have to buy or rent some broody hens to put on the eggs. a good plan is to arrange with some farmer in the neighbourhood to take charge of the eggs and to set his own hens on them. i once made such an arrangement and agreed to give him all but one of the cockerels that hatched. i was to take all the pullets. the arrangement was mutually satisfactory and he kept and fed the chicks until they were able to leave the mother hen--about eight weeks. it is also possible to buy one-day-old chicks for about ten or fifteen cents apiece from a poultry dealer, but the safest way is to hatch your own stock. the easiest way to make a large hatch all at one time is with an incubator. there are a number of very excellent makes advertised in the farm papers and other magazines and the prices are quite reasonable. an incubator holding about a hundred eggs will cost ten or twelve dollars. there are many objections to incubators which we can learn only from practical experience. we shall not average more than per cent. hatches as a rule. that is to say, for every hundred eggs we set we must not count on hatching more than fifty chicks. incubators are a constant care. the most important objection to an incubator is that it is against the rules of most fire insurance companies to allow it to be operated in any building that the insurance policy covers. if the automatic heat regulator fails to work and the heat in our incubator runs up too high we may have a fire. at any rate, we shall lose our entire hatch. the latter is also true if the lamp goes out and the eggs become too cool. i have made a great many hatches with incubators of different makes and my experience has been that we must watch an incubator almost constantly to have success with it. the sure way to hatch chickens is with a broody hen, but at the same time incubators are perfectly satisfactory if run in a room where the temperature does not vary much (a cellar is the best place). with an incubator there is always a temptation to attempt to raise more chickens than we can care for properly. overcrowding causes more trouble than any other one thing. it is better to have a dozen chickens well cared for than a hundred that are neglected. eggs for incubators will cost about five dollars a hundred. of course if they are from prize-winning stock the cost will be several times this amount. before placing any eggs in an incubator it should be run for two days to be sure that the heat regulator is in working order. the usual temperature for hatching is degrees and the machine should be regulated for this temperature as it comes from the factory. full directions for operating, as well as a thermometer, will come with the machine and should be studied and understood before we begin to operate it. as the hatch progresses, the heat will "run up," as it is called, and we shall need to understand how to regulate the thermostat to correct this tendency toward an increased temperature. the eggs in an incubator must be turned twice a day. to be sure that we do this thoroughly it is customary to mark the eggs before we place them in the machine. the usual mark is an "x" on one side of the egg and an "o" on the other written in lead pencil. in placing the eggs in the trays we start with all the "o" marks up, for instance, and at the time of the first turning leave all the "x's" visible, alternating this twice every day. in order to operate an incubator successfully, we shall also need a brooder, which is really an artificial mother. there is a standard make of brooder costing five dollars that will accommodate fifty chicks. brooders are very simple in construction and can be made at home. a tinsmith will have to make the heating drum. the rest of it is simply a wooden box with a curtain partition to separate the hot room from the feeding space. ventilating holes must be provided for a supply of fresh air and a box placed at the bottom to prevent a draught from blowing out the lamp. in a very few days after we place the chicks in a brooder they should be allowed to go in and out at will. in a week or two we shall be able to teach them the way in, and then by lowering the platform to the ground for a runway we can permit them to run on the ground in an enclosed runway. on rainy days we must shut them in. there is always a temptation to feed chicks too soon after they are hatched. we should always wait at least twenty-four hours to give them a chance to become thoroughly dry. the general custom of giving wet cornmeal for the first feed is wrong. always feed chicks on dry food and you will avoid a great deal of sickness. an excellent first food is hard-boiled egg and corn bread made from cornmeal and water without salt and thoroughly baked until it may be crumbled. only feed a little at a time, but feed often. five times a day is none too much for two-week-old chicks. one successful poultryman i am acquainted with gives, as the first feed, dog biscuit crushed. all the small grains are good if they are cracked so that the chicks can eat them. the standard mixture sold by poultry men under the name "chick food" is probably the best. it consists of cracked wheat, rye, and corn, millet seed, pinhead oatmeal, grit, and oyster shells. do not feed meat to chicks until their pin feathers begin to show, when they may have some well-cooked lean meat, three times a week. there is quite an art in setting a hen properly. they always prefer a dry, dark place. if we are sure that there are no rats around, there is no better place to set a hen than on the ground. this is as they sit in nature and it usually seems to be the case that a hen that steals her nest will bring out more chicks than one that we have coddled. eggs that we are saving for hatching should be kept in a cool place but never allowed to freeze. they should be turned every day until they are set. hens' eggs will hatch in about twenty-one days. the eggs that have failed to hatch at this time may be discarded. when we move a broody hen we must be sure that she will stay on her new nest before we give her any eggs. test her with a china egg or a doorknob. if she stays on for two nights we may safely give her the setting. it is always better when convenient to set a hen where she first makes her nest. if she must be moved, do it at night with as little disturbance as possible. it is always a good plan to shut in a sitting hen and let her out once a day for feed and exercise. do not worry if in your judgment she remains off the nest too long. the eggs require cooling to develop the air chamber properly, and as a rule the hen knows best. young chickens are subject to a great many diseases, but if they are kept dry and warm, and if they have dry food, most of the troubles may be avoided. with all poultry, lice are a great pest. old fowls can dust themselves and in a measure keep the pest in check, but little chicks are comparatively helpless. the big gray lice will be found on a chick's neck near the head. the remedy for this is to grease the feathers with vaseline on the head and neck. the small white lice can be controlled by dusting the chicks with insect powder and by keeping the brooder absolutely clean. a weekly coat of whitewash to which some carbolic acid has been added will keep lice in check in poultry houses and is an excellent plan. hen-hatched chicks are usually more subject to lice than those hatched in incubators and raised in brooders, as they become infected from the mother. some people say that chicks have lice on them when they are hatched, but this is not so. the first two weeks of a chick's life are the important time. if they are chilled or neglected they never get over it, but will develop into weaklings. there are many rules and remedies for doctoring sick chickens, but the best way is to kill them. this is especially so in cases of roup or colds. the former is a very contagious disease and unless checked may kill an entire pen of chickens. a man who raises , chickens annually once told me that "the best medicine for a sick chicken is the axe." a very low fence will hold small chicks from straying away, but it must be absolutely tight at the bottom, as a very small opening will allow them to get through. avoid all corners or places where they can be caught fast. the mesh of a wire fence must be fine. ordinary chicken wire will not do. [illustration: a home-made chicken coop built on the "scratching-shed" plan] a brooder that will accommodate fifty chicks comfortably for eight weeks will be entirely too small even for half that number after they begin to grow. as soon as they can get along without artificial heat, the chickens should be moved to a colony house and given free range. they will soon learn to roost and to find their way in and out of their new home, especially if we move away the old one where they cannot find it. a chicken coop for grown fowls can be of almost any shape, size, or material, providing that we do not crowd it to more than its proper capacity. the important thing is to have a coop that is dry, easily cleaned and with good ventilation, but without cracks to admit draughts. a roost made of two by four timbers set on edge with the sharp corners rounded off is better than a round perch. no matter how many roosts we provide, our chickens will always fight and quarrel to occupy the top one. under the roost build a movable board or shelf which may easily be taken out and cleaned. place the nest boxes under this board, close to the ground. one nest for four hens is a fair allowance. hens prefer to nest in a dark place if possible. a modern, up-to-date coop should have a warm, windproof sleeping room and an outside scratching shed. a sleeping room should be provided with a window on the south side and reaching nearly to the floor. a hotbed sash is excellent for this purpose. the runway or yard should be as large as our purse will permit. in this yard plant a plum tree for shade. the chickens will keep the plum trees free from the "curculio," a small beetle which is the principal insect pest of this fruit. this beetle is sometimes called "the little turk" because he makes a mark on a plum that resembles the "star and crescent" of the turkish flag. whether we can make our poultry pay for the trouble and expense of keeping them will depend on the question of winter eggs. it is contrary to the natural habits of chickens to lay in winter, and if left to themselves they will practically stop laying when they begin to moult or shed their feathers in the fall, and will not begin again until the warm days of spring. when eggs are scarce it will be a great treat to be able to have our own supply instead of paying a high price at the grocer's. the fact that it is possible to get really fresh eggs in midwinter shows that with the proper care hens will lay. the average farm hen does not lay more than eighty eggs a year, which is hardly enough to pay for her feed. on the other hand, at an egg-laying contest held in pennsylvania, the prize-winning pen made a record of eggs per year for each hen. this was all due to better care and proper feed. the birds were healthy pullets to begin with, they had warm food and warm drinking water throughout the winter, their coop was a bright, clean, dry place with an outside scratching shed. the grain was fed in a deep litter of straw to make them work to get it and thus to obtain the necessary exercise to keep down fat. the birds in this contest were all hatched early in march and were all through the moult before the cold weather came. most of the advertised poultry feeds for winter eggs are a swindle. if we give the birds proper care we shall not require any drugs. it is an excellent plan to give unthreshed straw to poultry in winter. they will work to obtain the grain and be kept busy. the usual quantity of grain for poultry is at the rate of a quart of corn or wheat to each fifteen hens. a standard winter ration is the so-called hot bran mash. this is made from wheat bran, clover meal, and either cut bone or meat scraps. it will be necessary to feed this in a hopper to avoid waste and it should be given at night just before the birds go to roost, with the grain ration in the morning, which will keep them scratching all day. always keep some grit and oyster shells where the chickens can get it; also feed a little charcoal occasionally. a dust bath for the hens will be appreciated in winter when the ground is frozen. sink a soap box in a corner of the pen and sheltered from rain or snow and fill it with dry road dust. have an extra supply to fill up the box from time to time. the best place for a chicken house is on a sandy hillside with a southern slope. a heavy clay soil with poor drainage is very bad. six-foot chicken wire will be high enough to enclose the run. if any of the chickens persist in flying out we must clip the flight feathers of their wings (one wing, not both). do not put a top board on the run. if a chicken does not see something to fly to, it will seldom attempt to go over a fence, even if it is quite low. it is much better to allow chickens full liberty if they do not ruin our garden or flower beds or persist in laying in out of the way places where the eggs cannot be found. xii winter sports what to wear--skating--skiing--snowshoeing--hockey if one is fortunate enough to live in a part of the country where they have old-fashioned winters, the possibilities for outdoor sports are very great and the cold weather may be made the best part of the year for healthful outdoor exercise. to enjoy winter recreations properly we must have proper clothing. an ordinary overcoat is very much out of place, except possibly for sleighing. the regulation costume for almost any outdoor sport in winter is a warm coat, a heavy sweater, woollen trousers and stockings, and stout leather shoes. if in addition we have woollen gloves or mittens and a woollen skating cap or toque, we shall be enabled to brave the coldest kind of weather, provided of course that we have warm woollen underwear. various modifications in this costume such as high hunting boots, or leggings and a flannel shirt worn under the sweater are possible. in the far north, the universal winter footwear is moccasins. we must be careful not to dress too warmly when we expect to indulge in violent exercise. excessive clothing will render us more liable to a sudden check of perspiration, a consequent closing of the pores and a resulting cold. rubber boots or overshoes are very bad if worn constantly. the rubber, being waterproof, holds in the perspiration and we often find our stockings damp even when the walking is dry. rubber boots also make our feet tender and cause cold feet. tight shoes are also bad for the reason that they check circulation. the best footwear for a boy who lives in the country will be indian moccasins or shoepacs worn with several pairs of lumbermen's woollen stockings. such footwear would not do for skating, as they have no soles, but for outdoor tramping in the snow they are just the thing. no leather is thoroughly waterproof against snow water, but by frequent greasing with mutton tallow, neatsfoot oil or vaseline, shoes can be kept soft and practically waterproof as long as the soles and uppers are in good condition. [illustration: a shoepac] in all winter sports, especially in canada, the custom is to wear gaily coloured goods. a mackinaw jacket made from the same material as a blanket, with very prominent stripes or plaids, is often worn. closely woven goods are better than a thicker loose weave as they are lighter, warmer, and more waterproof. chief among winter sports is skating. there is no healthier recreation, provided that the ice is safe. even in the coldest weather with the ice a foot thick or more we must always be sure to be on the lookout for air-holes or thin places over springs. it is said that ice an inch thick will hold the weight of a man, but it is better to be sure than to be sorry, and three or four inches are much safer. [illustration: the club skate model] a few years ago the height of the skater's art was so called "fancy or figure" skating, but recently the tendency has been for speed rather than for grace and the old-fashioned club skates have been replaced by racing or hockey skates with much longer runners. fancy skating for prizes is governed by rules just as any other game or sport. the contestants do not attempt figures of their own invention but strive to excel in the so-called "compulsory" figures. a fancy skater can practise from diagrams and directions just as one might practise moves in a game of chess. in printed directions for fancy skating the following abbreviations are used for the strokes: r--right l--left f--forward b--backward o--outside i--inside t--three lp--loop b--bracket rc--rocker c--counter supposing the figure to be executed to be the well-known "figure eight." it would be described as follows: r-f-o l-f-o. r-f-i l-f-i. r-b-o l-b-o. r-b-i l-b-i. by referring to the above table the skater can easily determine just what strokes are necessary to produce the figure properly. racing skates should be attached to shoes of special design either by screws or rivets. the most important thing is to have the blades carefully ground by an expert. they should be keen enough to cut a hair. to become a fast skater, practise if possible with an expert. have him skate ahead of you and measure your stroke with his. by keeping your hands clasped behind your back your balance will not only be greatly improved but your endurance will be doubled. the sprinting stroke is a direct glide ahead with the foot straight. a trained skater can go very long distances with very little fatigue but one must carefully measure his speed to the distance to be travelled. when you can cover a measured mile in three and one-half minutes you may consider yourself in the class of fast skaters. [illustration: a hockey skate] hockey skates are somewhat shorter than racing skates although built on the same general lines, the standard length being from nine and one-half to eleven and one-half inches. hockey is one of the best winter games either outdoors or in a rink. the game of shinney or "bandy" as it is called in england has been modified in this country by substituting a flat piece of rubber weighing a pound called a "puck" for the india rubber lacrosse ball, which weighs but four ounces. the best hockey sticks are made of canadian rock elm. the whole idea of hockey is to shoot the puck through your opponents' goal and to prevent them from shooting it through yours. in practice almost any number can play hockey and have plenty of exercise. the less experienced players should when securing the puck always shoot it as quickly as possible to a more experienced player on their own side to attempt shooting the goal. skilful passing is the most important branch of hockey and consequently good team work is absolutely essential to success. [illustration: the hockey player's costume] a regulation hockey team consist of seven players called goal, point, cover point, right centre, left centre, right wing, left wing. the position of goal tender is the most difficult to acquire skill in. he stands directly in front of the goal and is expected to stop the puck with hands, feet, and body. while the position of goal does not involve much skating, a goal tender should also be a good skater. his position requires more nerve and cool-headedness than any other position on the team because the final responsibility of all goals scored against his team is up to him. his position is largely a defensive one and his work at times very severe. the goal keeper must very rarely leave his position but must depend upon the two other defensive men the "point" and "cover point" to stop the puck when it away from the direct line of the goal. the defensive men on a hockey team should not by any strategy or coaxing on the part of their opponents allow themselves to leave their own goal unprotected. the forwards have most of the work of shooting goals and advancing the puck. of course such a man must be very active and a good all round player. hockey is a poor game in which to display grand-stand playing. the player's whole idea should be to shoot the puck so that either he or some member of his team may score a goal. the rules of hockey are comparatively few and simple. the game consists of two twenty-minute halves with a ten-minute intermission between. in case of a tie at the end of a game it is customary to continue until one side secures a majority of the points. a standard rink must be at least one hundred and twelve feet long by fifty-eight feet wide. nets are six feet wide and four feet high. one of the most exciting of winter sports is skate sailing. the same principles that are applied to sailing a boat are brought into play in sailing with skates. while considerable skill is necessary to handle a skate sail well, any one who is a good skater will soon acquire it. the direction that you go is determined by the angle at which the sail is held. when you wish to turn around or stop you simply shift its position until you run dead into the wind. a skate sail should be light and strong. a limit of five pounds' weight is all that is necessary. the sail is a very simple device. there are a great many kinds but one of the simplest is made from a t-shaped frame of bamboo with a v-shaped piece of canvas or balloon silk sewed or wired to the frame. the best skate sails are made with a jointed frame like a fishing rod so that they may be taken apart and easily carried. while an expert can handle a sail eight or ten feet wide and twelve feet high it is better for the beginner to start with one much smaller. the construction of the sail and the method of holding it are shown in the diagram. [illustration: a skate sail] snowshoeing is another winter sport that will furnish a great deal of pleasure and will enable us to be outdoors when our less fortunate friends may be cooped up in the house. there are a number of standard shapes in snowshoes, but probably the "canadian" model will be found to be the most satisfactory generally. snowshoes should be from twenty-four to forty-four inches long depending on the weight to be carried. in order to enjoy snowshoeing we must use moccasins. the proper method of attaching the snowshoes is clearly shown in the diagrams. the beginner will find that snowshoeing is a very simple art to acquire, being far less difficult than skating and with far less danger of having a bad fall. [illustration: four types of snowshoes] the sport of "ski-running" or skiing is practised more generally abroad than in this country. a number of winter resorts owe their popularity largely to this sport. skis are simply long flat pieces of wood fastened or strapped to the shoes. the best type are the so called "norway" pattern. various lengths are used from four to eight or nine feet long, but for a beginner the shorter ones will be better. [illustration: to throw the lumberman's hitch, start this way] [illustration: then across the toe with both ends and under the loop] ski-running is simply coasting down steep inclines on the snow with the skis used in much the same way as a sled. the longer they are the greater the speed obtained, but the longer ones are also correspondingly hard to manage. [illustration: draw the ends tightly forward to fasten down the toe] [illustration: then tie the ends together in a bow knot back of the heel] in norway and sweden skis are made to order just as we might be measured for suits of clothes. the theory is that the proper length of ski will be such that the user, can, when standing erect and reaching above his head, just crook his forefinger over it as it stands upright. ski shoes should be strong, with well blocked toes. a pair of heavy school shoes are just the thing if well made. [illustration: the straps over the toe remain buckled] [illustration: this is the "thong" hitch but it is not as good as the lumberman's hitch] to learn skiing we should select the slope of a hill not very steep and with no dangerous rocks or snags to run foul of. the best snow conditions are usually found two or three days after it has fallen. fresh snow is too light to offer good skiing and snow with a crust is also bad. in running with skis on the level ground a long, sweeping stride is used somewhat after the fashion of skating. the strokes should be made just as long as possible, and the skis kept close together. in going up an incline the tendency to slip backward is overcome by raising the toe of the ski slightly and bringing the heel down sharply. one foot should be firmly implanted before the other is moved. in going up a steep hill a zigzag course will be necessary. [illustration: front and side view of a ski] as an aid in ski-running it is customary to employ a pair of ski poles, which are fastened to the wrist by leather thongs. they are usually made of bamboo or other light material with a wicker disk near the end to keep the pole from sinking into the soft snow. ski poles should never be used in attempting a jump, as under these circumstances they might be very dangerous. ski coasting is the sport that most boys will be interested in. to make a descent, begin at the top of a hill as one would in coasting with a sled and lean well forward with the skis parallel and with one foot slightly ahead of the other. the knees should be bent and the body rigid. the weight should be borne by the ball of the foot that is behind. as the start forward begins, the impulse will be to lean back, but this impulse must be overcome or you will take a tumble in the snow as you gain speed. [illustration: a ski pole] in jumping with skis an abrupt drop is necessary. for the beginner a few inches is sufficient. the start is made by coasting down an incline, and just before the take-off is reached, the runner assumes a crouching attitude and then straightens up quickly, maintaining an erect attitude until he is about to land, when, as in jumping, the knees are bent slightly to break the force of landing. during the flight the skis should be kept perfectly parallel but drooping slightly behind. [illustration: the exciting sport of ski running] the various forms of coasting with toboggan sleds and bobsleds are all well known to boys who live where there are snow and hills. a sled can be steered either by dragging the foot or by shifting the sled with the hands. sleds with flexible runners have recently been introduced and are a great improvement on the old type. one branch of carpenter work that nearly all boys attempt at some time in their lives is to make a bobsled or double runner, which is a pair of sleds fastened on either end of a board long enough to hold from three to twenty or thirty people. [illustration: a bobsled or double runner] coasting, especially with a bob, is somewhat dangerous sport, especially in cities or where the turns are sharp and there is danger of upsetting. a good bob is broad between the runners and low to the ground. the drawing shows one that almost any boy can make at little cost. various devices are used as brakes on a bob. most of them are found to be out of order or frozen when the time comes to use them. a brake that is made from a piece of iron bent in an angle and fastened to the side of the runners on the rear sled is the best arrangement to have. a bobsled should not cost over ten dollars complete with steering wheel, bell, and necessary iron work, which should be made at the blacksmith's. xiii horsemanship how to become a good rider--the care of a horse--saddles so many branches of outdoor sport depend on a knowledge of horsemanship that every boy or girl who has the opportunity should learn to ride horseback. when once acquired, we shall never forget it. the first few lessons will make us feel discouraged, because the jolting and jarring every one receives in learning to ride almost make it appear that we can never acquire the knack, but remember that even the cowboy has had to go through the same experience. a beginner should only ride a gentle horse. in case we do take a tumble, it is well to take our first lesson on soft ground or in a tanbark ring. there are three types of saddles generally used: the english saddle is simply a leather seat with stirrups, and while it is the most refined type and the one used for fox hunting and all expert riding in england, it is not the best kind to learn on. the army saddle and the mexican or cowboy saddle with a pommel or box-stirrups are far safer and less expensive. if you know of a dealer in second-hand army equipments you can buy a saddle and bridle of excellent material at less than half the retail price of the stores. [illustration: mexican saddle, army saddle, english saddle] before mounting your horse always examine carefully your saddle and bridle to see that the girths are tight, that the bridle is properly buckled, and the stirrups are the proper length. the latter is sometimes determined by placing the stirrup under the armpits and touching the saddle with the finger tips. a more accurate way is to have the straps adjusted after you are in the saddle. a beginner will prefer a short stirrup, but it is a bad habit to acquire. in mounting, stand on the left side and place the left foot in the stirrup. swing the right leg over the horse and find the right stirrup with the toe just as quickly as possible. do not jerk a restless horse or otherwise betray your excitement if he starts. let him see by your calmness that he too should be calm. so much depends on the kind of horse you are riding that it will be difficult to say just how to handle him. a horse that is "bridle wise" is not guided in the customary way; that is, by pulling on the rein on the side you wish him to turn as one does in driving. a bridle-wise horse is guided by pressing the opposite rein against his neck. such a horse is much easier to handle on horseback and we should try to teach our horse this method as soon as possible. there is very close understanding between a horse and rider that does not exist when a horse is driven to a carriage. a horse can be guided simply by the leg pressure or spur. the proper seat is well back in the saddle with the toe pointing almost straight ahead. in order to learn to ride quickly we must overcome any strain or tension of our muscles and try to be flexible above the waist. in this way we soon accommodate our own motion to that of the horse. the most difficult gait to ride is the trot. there are two distinct styles of riding--to trot in english style of treading the stirrups, which necessitates rising from the saddle at every step of the horse, and the army style of simply sitting back in the saddle and taking the jouncing. either method will prove very difficult for the beginner. a partial treading or easing up but not as extreme as the english style will probably be the best to acquire. so much depends upon the gait of a horse that we learn to ride some horses in a very few days, and would be several times as long with some others. [illustration: the wrong way to mount a horse--facing forward] a horse that habitually stumbles is very dangerous. we must be sure our saddle horse is sure footed. in using english stirrups never permit the foot to go through the stirrup and rest on the ball. the toes should be in such a position that the stirrups can be kicked off at an instant's notice in case the horse falls with us. [illustration: the right way to mount--facing toward his tail] in tying a saddle horse in the stable for feeding or rest always loosen the girth and throw the stirrups over the saddle. a saddle horse should always be spoken to gently but firmly. the horse can tell by your voice when you are afraid of him. the canter is the ideal gait. after we once learn it, the motion of a good saddle horse is almost like a rocking chair and riding becomes one of the most delightful of outdoor pastimes. the boy who expects to go on an extended trip in the saddle should learn to care for a horse himself. a horse should never be fed or watered when he is warm unless we continue to drive him immediately afterward. neglect of this precaution may cause "foundering," which has ruined many a fine horse. the art of packing a horse is one which every one in mountain countries away from railroads should understand. packing a horse simply means tying a load over his back. there are a great many hitches used for this purpose by western mountaineers, but the celebrated diamond hitch will answer most purposes. hunting and steeplechasing, leaping fences and ditches, are the highest art of horsemanship. it is difficult to teach an old horse to be a hunter, but with a young one you can soon get him to take a low obstacle or narrow ditch, and by gradually increasing the distance make a jumper of him. [illustration: jumping fences is the highest art of horsemanship] the popularity of automobiles has caused the present generation partially to lose interest in horseflesh, but no automobile ever made will furnish the real bond of friendship which exists between a boy and his horse, or will be a substitute for the pleasure that comes from a stiff canter on the back of our friend and companion. we do not really need an expensive horse. a typical western or polo pony is just the thing for a boy or girl provided that it has no vicious or undesirable traits such as kicking, bucking, or stumbling, or is unsound or lame. it is always better if possible to buy a horse from a reliable dealer or a private owner. there is a great deal of dishonesty in horse trading and an honest seller who has nothing to conceal should be willing to grant a fair trial of a week or more. to enjoy our horse to the fullest extent we should take entire care of him ourselves. he should be fed and watered regularly and groomed every morning until his coat shines. if we neglect a horse and allow his coat to become rough it is almost as bad as to neglect feeding him. never trust the care of your horse too much to another. even if you keep him in a public stable or have a man of your own to care for him, it is well to let them see that you are interested in giving your horse close personal attention. xiv how to swim and to canoe the racing strokes--paddling and sailing canoes it has been said that the human being is the only animal that does not know instinctively how to swim without the necessity of being taught. if we take a dog or a horse or even a mouse and suddenly place it in the water it will immediately begin to swim, even though it has never seen a body of water larger than the source from which it obtains its drink. with a man or boy it is different, for the reason that with all the other animals the motions necessary to swim are those by which they walk or run; with a human being it is entirely an acquired stroke. after one becomes an expert swimmer he will find that he can keep afloat or at least keep his head above water, which is all there is to swimming anyway, by almost any kind of a motion. by a little practice we can learn to swim "no hands," "no feet," "one hand and one foot," by all sorts of twists and squirms and in fact to propel ourselves by a simple motion of the toes. the first stroke that a self-taught small boy learns is what is called "dog fashioned." this name accurately describes the stroke, as it is in reality very similar to the motions by which a dog swims. no amount of book instruction can teach a person to swim, but a clear idea of the best general strokes will be of great assistance. swimming is probably the best general exercise among athletic sports. practically every important muscle in the body is brought into play, and measurements show that swimmers have the most uniform muscular development of any class of athletes. after we learn to swim, the distance that we are capable of going is largely dependent upon our physical strength. almost any man can swim a mile if he begins slowly and with the same regard for conserving his strength that a runner would have in attempting a mile run. [illustration: swimming is one of the best outdoor sports (photograph by a.r. dugmore)] however skillful one is as a swimmer, a proper respect for the dangers of the sport should always be present. to take unnecessary risks, such as swimming alone far beyond reach of help or jumping and diving from high places into water of uncertain depth is not bravery; it is simply foolhardiness. a good swimmer is a careful swimmer always. the beginner must first of all try to overcome his natural fear of the water. this is much harder to do than to learn the simple motions of hands or feet that makes us keep afloat and swim. nothing will help to give us this confidence more quickly than to take a few lessons from some one in whom we have confidence and who will above all things not frighten us and so get us into danger. with a good teacher, a boy should be able to learn how to swim in two or three lessons. of course he will take only a few strokes at first, but those few strokes, which carry with them self-confidence and which make us feel that swimming is not so hard an art after all, is really half the battle. after we are at least sure that we can get to shore somehow, we can take up all the finished strokes which make a fancy swimmer. there are a number of strokes used in swimming and especially in racing. the common breast stroke is the first one to learn. in this the swimmer should lie flat on his breast in the water and either be supported by the hand of his teacher or by an inflated air cushion. the hands are principally used to maintain the balance and to keep afloat. the real work should be done with the legs. we learn to use the hands properly in a very short time, but the beginner always shows a tendency to forget to kick properly. for this reason swimming teachers lay great stress on the leg motion and in a measure let the hands take care of themselves. in swimming the important thing is to keep our heads above the water, a simple statement, but one that beginners may take a long time to learn. the impulse is not only to keep our heads but our shoulders out of the water also, and this is a feat that even an expert can not accomplish for very long. if we can allow ourselves to sink low in the water without fear, and if we can also remember to kick and, above all, to make our strokes slowly and evenly, we shall very soon learn to swim. i have frequently seen boys learn to swim in a single afternoon. another tendency of the beginner is to hold his breath while swimming. of course we cannot swim very far or exert ourselves unless we can breathe. we should take a breath at each stroke, inhaling though the mouth and exhaling through the nose, which is just the opposite to the hygienic method of land breathing. whatever may be our methods, however, the main thing is not to forget to breathe, which always results in finishing our five or ten strokes out of breath and terrified. a great deal may be learned about swimming strokes by practice on land. in fact some swimming teachers always follow the practice of teaching the pupil ashore how to make the stroke and how to breathe correctly. a small camp stool or a box will give us the support we need. the three things to keep in mind are the leg motion and the taking in of the breath through the mouth as the arms are being drawn in and exhaling as they are pushed forward. it is better to learn to swim in salt water, for the reason that it will support the body better. an additional advantage is that we always feel more refreshed after a salt-water bath. if we take up fast swimming, we must learn one of the various overhand or overarm strokes. the chief difference between these strokes and the simple breast stroke is that the arms as well as the legs are used to propel the body through the water, and this power is applied so steadily and uniformly that instead of moving by jerks we move with a continuous motion and at a greater speed. the single overarm is easier to learn than the double overarm or "trudgeon" stroke. this latter stroke is very tiring and while undoubtedly faster than any other when once mastered, it is only used for short sprints. most of the great swimmers have developed peculiar strokes of their own, but nearly all of them have adopted a general style which may be called the "crawl." there are many fancy strokes in swimming that one may acquire by practice, all of which require close attention to form rather than speed, just as fancy skating is distinguished from racing. one of the simplest tricks to learn is called "the rolling log." we take a position just as we would in floating and then exerting the muscles first of one side and then the other we shall find that we can roll over and over just as a log might roll. the idea in performing this trick successfully is not to show any apparent motion of the muscles. swimming on the back is easily learned and is not only a pretty trick but is very useful in giving us an opportunity to rest on a long swim. diving is also a branch of swimming that requires confidence rather than lessons. a dive is simply a plunge head first into the water. a graceful diver plunges with as little splash as possible. it is very bad form either to bend the knees or to strike on the stomach, the latter being a kind of dive for which boys have a very expressive though not elegant name. somersaults and back dives from a stationary take-off or from a spring-board are very easily learned. we shall probably have a few hard splashes until we learn to turn fully over, but there is not much danger of injury if we are sure of landing in the water. [illustration: a perfect dive] water wings and other artificial supports are very useful for the beginner until he has mastered the strokes, but all such artificial devices should be given up just as soon as possible, and, furthermore, as soon as we can really swim, in order to gain confidence, we should go beyond our depth, where it will be necessary to swim or drown. a swimmer should always know how to assist another to shore in case of accident. it is not nearly so easy as one who has never tried it might think. a drowning person will for the time being be panic-stricken and the first impulse will be to seize us about the neck. always approach a drowning person from the rear and support him under an armpit, meanwhile talking to him and trying to reassure him. every year we hear of terrible drowning accidents which might have been avoided if some one in the party had kept his head and had been able to tell the others what to do. i have placed canoeing and swimming in the same chapter because the first word in canoeing is never go until you can swim. there is practically no difference between the shape of the modern canoe and the shape of the indian birch bark canoes which were developed by the savages in america hundreds of years ago. all the ingenuity of white men has failed to improve on this model. a canoe is one of the most graceful of water craft and, while it is regarded more in the light of a plaything by people in cities, it is just as much a necessity to the guides and trappers of the great northern country as a pony is to the cowboy and the plainsman. the canoe is the horse and wagon of the maine woodsman and in it he carries his provisions and his family. [illustration: a typical indian model canoe] while a canoe is generally propelled by paddles, a pole is sometimes necessary to force it upstream, especially in swift water. in many places the sportsman is forced to carry his canoe around waterfalls and shallows for several miles. for this reason a canoe must be as light as possible without too great a sacrifice of strength. the old styles of canoes made of birch bark, hollow logs, the skins of animals and so on have practically given way to the canvas-covered cedar or basswood canoes of the canadian type. [illustration: a sailing canoe in action] it will scarcely pay the boy to attempt to make his own canoe, as the cost of a well-made eighteen-foot canoe of the type used by professional hunters and trappers is but thirty dollars. with care a canoe should last its owner ten years. it will be necessary to protect it from the weather when not in use and frequently give it a coat of paint or spar varnish. sailing canoes are built after a different model from paddling canoes. they usually are decked over and simply have a cockpit. they are also stronger and much heavier. their use is limited to more open water than most of the rivers and lakes of maine and canada. cruising canoes are made safer if watertight air chambers are built in the ends. even if a canoe turns over it does not sink. some experts can right a capsized canoe and clamber in over the side even while swimming in deep water. the seaworthiness of a canoe depends largely upon its lines. some canoes are very cranky and others can stand a lot of careless usage without capsizing. one thing is true of all, that accidents occur far more often in getting in and out of a canoe than in the act of sailing it. it is always unsafe to stand in a canoe or to lean far out of it to pick lilies or to reach for floating objects. canoes may be propelled by either single or double paddles, but the former is the sportman's type. it is possible to keep a canoe on a straight course entirely by paddling on one side and merely shifting to rest, but the beginner may have some difficulty in acquiring the knack of doing this, which consists of turning the paddles at the end of the stroke to make up the amount that the forward stroke deflects the canoe from a straight course. [illustration: in canoeing against the current in swift steams a pole is used in place of the paddle (photographs by a.r. dugmore)] [illustration: a type of sailing canoe] an open canoe for paddling does not require a rudder. a sailing canoe, however, will require a rudder, a keel, and a centreboard as well. canoe sailing is an exciting and dangerous sport. in order to keep the canoe from capsizing, a sliding seat or outrigger is used, upon which the sailor shifts his position to keep the boat on an even keel. the centreboard is so arranged that it can be raised or lowered by means of a line. xv baseball how to organize a team and to select the players--the various positions--curve pitching baseball is called the national game of america just as cricket is regarded as the national game in england. the game received its wide popularity directly after the civil war by the soldiers who returned to all parts of the country and introduced the game that they had learned in camp. almost every village and town has its ball team, in which the interest is general. it is not a game for middle-aged men to play, like golf, but if one has been a ball player in youth the chances are that he will keep his interest in the game through life. baseball is largely a game of skill. it does not afford nearly as much opportunity for physical exercise as tennis or football, and because of the professional games it is not always conducted with as high a regard for sportsmanlike conduct, but it has a firm hold on the american public, and the winning of a championship series in the professional leagues is almost a national event. every boy knows that a baseball team consists of nine players, the positions being pitcher, catcher, first base, second base, third base, and shortstop, which are called the in-field, and right-field, centre-field, and left-field, which positions are called the out-field. the umpire has a very important position in baseball, as his decisions in a close game may result either in defeat or victory for a team. an umpire should always be some one who knows the rules thoroughly and who is not too greatly interested in either team. he should always try to be fair, and having once made a decision be sure enough of himself to hold to it even if the whole opposing team may try by "kicking" to cause him to change. much of the rowdyism in baseball can be attributed to this cause. a good ball player is first of all a boy or man who shows himself to be a gentleman under, all circumstances. in baseball, like many games where winning is sometimes the important thing rather than fair play, the real benefits of the game are lost sight of in the desire to have a higher score than one's opponents. probably the most clean-cut games are played by school and college teams, which should always be strictly amateur. the pitcher has the most important position on the team. if by his skill he is able to deceive the opposing batsmen and cause them to strike out or to make feeble hits, the rest of the team will have but little to do except of course to bat when their turn comes and try to score runs. baseball has become a very scientific game in recent years and the sustained interest in it year after year is largely due to the fact that the regular attendants at a game have learned to understand and to appreciate the finer points of the game almost as well as the players themselves. while it might appear to a beginner that the battery does all the work in a game, as a matter of fact every man on the nine is supposed to do his part in backing up every play and to be in the right place at the right time. [illustration: the in-curve] [illustration: the out-curve] a good pitcher must be able to pitch a curved ball. this art will only come with constant practice. until about forty years ago a curve was unknown. in the old days the number of runs scored in a game was very high, it being a common thing for a winning team to make twenty to thirty runs. the rules of baseball are changed frequently and almost every change has been made with a view to restricting the batsman. as a consequence, in modern games the scores are very low and sometimes neither side will score a single run in a tie game of ten or twelve innings. [illustration: the drop] [illustration: the out-drop] in modern baseball a team that plays together frequently has a prearranged code of signals that are understood by each member of the team. it is very important for every player on a side to know whether the pitcher intends to deliver a high or a low ball or one that may either be batted well into the out-field or probably be a grounder that will be taken care of by some one on the in-field. of course these things do not always work out as is planned. the pitcher may not have good control of the ball or pitch wild, the catcher may make a bad "muff" and let the ball get by him, or what we expect to be a bunted ball may be a home run, but all of this is part of the sport and helps to make baseball one of the most interesting and exciting of games. in any case there is no question that nine boys who are accustomed to play together and who understand each other's methods of play and signals will have a better chance of winning a close game than nine other players who may have a shade the better of it in individual work but who do not play together. most games are won or lost in a single instant at a crucial moment when some one fails to make good, or who, usually in the case of a pitcher, lets up on his speed or accuracy just at the critical time. the national championship of was decided in favour of chicago because one of new york's players in the deciding game of the season failed to touch second base when the last man was out. the game had been won by new york except for this mistake, and the result was that another game was played, which chicago won before the largest crowd that probably ever assembled to witness a game of baseball. when a baseball team is organized, the first thing to do is to elect a captain from one of the players, and after this is decided every boy on the team should give him absolute support and obedience. a team should also have a manager whose duties are to arrange games with other teams of the same class, to arrange for the transportation of players and, in fact, to attend to all the business duties of games that come outside of actual playing. usually a boy is chosen for manager who is not a ball player himself, but who has shown an interest in the team. the captain should be a boy who first of all knows the game and who has the respect and cooperation of the other players. the position that he may play on the team is not so important, but usually it is better to have some one from the in-field as captain, as he will be in a better position to keep close watch on the progress of the game and to give directions to the other players. in case of a disputed point it is better to allow your captain to make a protest if such is necessary. observance of this rule will prevent much of the rowdyism that has characterized the game of baseball. no boy should ever attempt to win games by unfair tactics. the day of tripping, spiking, and holding is gone. if you are not able by your playing to hold up your end on a ball team you had better give up the game and devote your attention to something that you can do without being guilty of rowdyism. strict rules of training are not as necessary for baseball players as for some other branches of sport, because the game is not so strenuous nor does it involve such sustained physical exertion, but any boy will make a better ball player as well as a better man if he observes the rules of training, such as early hours for retiring, simple food, and regular systematic exercise. the battery of a team is an exception to the rule regarding strict training. both the pitcher and catcher should be in the best physical condition. a pitcher who stands up for nine innings is obliged to do a tremendous amount of work and if he becomes tired or stiff toward the end of the game he will probably be at the mercy of the opposing batsmen. usually the pitcher of a team is a boy who is physically strong and who can stand hard work. the other positions, however, are usually assigned because of the build of the individual player. the pitcher, however, may be tall or short, fat or thin, so long as he can pitch. the pitcher is the most important member of a ball team. most of the work falls to him, and a good pitcher, even with a comparatively weak team behind him, can sometimes win games where a good team with a weak pitcher would lose. a good pitcher must first of all have a cool head and keep his nerve even under the most trying circumstances. he must also have good control of the ball and be able to pitch it where he wants it to go. after that he must have a knowledge of curves and know how by causing the ball to spin in a certain way to cause it to change its course and thus to deceive the batsman. the art of curving a ball was discovered in . before that time all that a pitcher needed was a straight, swift delivery. the three general classes of curved balls used to-day are the out-curve, the in-curve, and the drop. there are also other modifications called "the fade away," "the spitball," and others. curve pitching will only come with the hardest kind of practice. in general the spin is given to the ball by a certain use of the fingers and the method of releasing it. it is necessary to conceal your intentions from the batsman in preparing to deliver a curve or he will divine your intention and the effort may be wasted. all curves are produced by a snap of the wrist at the instant of releasing the ball. excellent practice may be had in curving by pitching at a post from a sixty-foot mark and watching to see the effect of various twists and snaps. pitching is extremely hard on the arm and practice should be very light at first until the muscles become hardened. even the best professional pitchers are not worked as a rule oftener than two or three games a week. a good baseball captain always tries to develop several pitchers from his team. it is of course very desirable to have a "star pitcher" who can be depended on, but if the star should happen to be ill or to injure his fingers on a hot liner or for some reason cannot play, unless there is a substitute, the effect of his absence on his team will be to demoralize it. for that reason every encouragement should be given to any boy who wants to try his hand at pitching. if a game is well in hand it is usually safe to put in a substitute pitcher to finish it. this is done in college teams for the reason that no amount of practice is quite like playing in an actual game. it may be said to guide the beginner that the method of producing curves varies greatly with different pitchers, but that in general the out-curve is produced by grasping the ball with the first and second fingers and the thumb. the grip for this curve should be tight and the back of the hand turned downward. the out-curve can be produced either with a fast ball or a slow one. for the in-curve a swinging sidearm motion is used, the ball being released over the tips of the first two fingers with a snap to set it spinning. it may also be produced by releasing the ball over all four fingers. the grip of the ball for the drop is very similar to the out-curve, but in delivery the hand is brought almost directly over the shoulder. in all curves the pitcher must have extremely sensitive fingers and be able to control them with almost as much skill as one requires in playing a piano. we must keep in mind which way we desire the ball to spin to produce the required curve and then to give it just as much of this spin as we can without interfering with our accuracy. no two pitchers will have the same form or manner of delivery. in learning to pitch, the main thing is to adopt the delivery that seems most natural to you without especial regard to form, and with no unnecessary motions. a pitcher must always be on the alert and keep a close watch on the bases when they are occupied. he must not, however, allow the remarks of coacher or spectators to cause him to become rattled or confused. baseball at best is a noisy game, and a pitcher who is sensitive to outside remarks or joshing will never be a real success. the catcher is usually a short, stocky player with a good reach and a quick, accurate throw. he is usually the acting general in a game and signals to the whole team. the principal test of a good catcher is to be able to make a quick, swift throw to second base without being obliged to draw his arm fully back. such a ball is snapped from the wrist and should be aimed to catch the base runner who is attempting to steal the base. this play is very common in ball games, and as there is only a difference of an instant in the time that it takes a runner to go from first base to second, who starts just as the pitcher delivers the ball, and the time it takes a pitched ball to be caught by the catcher and snapped to second, a game may be won or lost just on this play alone. if the opposing team finds that it can make second in safety by going down with the pitcher's arm, it will surely take full advantage of the knowledge. to have a man on second is disconcerting to the pitcher as well as a difficult man to handle. it therefore follows that a catcher who cannot throw accurately to the bases becomes a serious disadvantage to his team. in the old days a catcher had to be able to catch either with bare hand or with a light glove, but the modern catcher's mitt, mask, chest-protector, and shin-guards make the position far safer, and almost any boy who is quick and has nerve can be trained to become a fairly good catcher so long as he has a good throw and is a good general. the first baseman is usually a tall boy who is active and who can cover his position both in reaching for high balls and in picking up grounders. of course in a baseball score the first baseman will score the largest number of "put outs," because practically all he is obliged to do is to cover the base and to catch the ball before the runner gets there. it is in fielding his position and in pulling down balls that are thrown wildly that the first baseman can show his chief skill. the positions of second base and shortstop are practically the same, and these two players should understand each other perfectly and know just when to cover the base and when to back up the other. neglect of this precaution often results in the most stupid errors, which are discouraging alike to the team and the spectators. both players should be quick and active, with an ability to throw both over and under handed as well as to toss the ball after picking it up on the run. the shortstop is often the smallest man on a team, due no doubt to the theory that his work is largely in picking up grounders. the shortstop is often led into habits which are commonly known as "grand-stand plays"; that is, he attempts to make difficult plays or one-handed stops with an unnecessary display of motions, to bring the applause of the spectators. no ball player was ever made by playing to the audience. good form is not only very desirable but very necessary, but the main thing in ball playing is to play your part and to forget that there is such a thing as an audience or applause. if your form is good so much the better, but if by paying too much attention to it you miss the ball and score an error, your team may suffer defeat on account of your pride. the main thing is to get the ball and after that to to do it as gracefully as possible. one-handed stops are well enough when you cannot get both hands on the ball, but an error made in this way is not only the most humiliating kind but also the most inexcusable. it must not be inferred that grand-stand playing is confined to the shortstop. any member of the team can be guilty of it. no player, no matter how good he may be, should be allowed to hold his position on a team unless he is willing to do his best at all times and unless he feels that the game is not lost nor won until the last man is out. many experienced players consider that the most difficult position to play well is third base. this player has to be ready for slow bunts as well as hard drives; he must cover a lot of ground and try to get every ball that comes near him. at the same time he must cover his base to stop the base runner from advancing home. he will be obliged to stop hot liners with one hand and often while on the run to make an accurate throw to first base. out-fielders are usually chosen because of their ability to bat as well as to be quick on their feet and catch fly balls on the run. fielders should practise if possible to catch the ball in a throwing position, so that no unnecessary time may be lost in getting the ball back to the in-field. of the three fielding positions, right-field is by far the most important. he must be sure of ground balls as well as flies and also, in common with all the fielders, be a good judge of the batsmen and try to be where the batted ball is going. the centre-fielder must be especially quick on his feet, as he is expected to back up both shortstop and second base as well as to run in for line hits that just go over the in-fielders' heads. the ability to start quickly when running for a ball can be greatly developed by practice and will greatly improve the player's game. very often a fly ball will fall in such a position that the out-fielders will be in doubt who is to take it. the result is usually a collision, a missed ball and a chorus of groans from the spectators. the remedy for this is to arrange beforehand for the second baseman to call out who in the case of a doubtful ball is to take it. all of these things are part of the finer points of the game and will only come from practice. a boy who really desires to become proficient in his position will try to avoid changing from one position to another, but decide which position he likes to play best or is best fitted for and try to get all the practice possible. an excellent opportunity will come from studying the methods of a good player in the same position, noting carefully what he does on each play, how he backs up the other players and how he fits in the general plan of team work. it is a great advantage to any player to learn as much as he can about the skill and methods of his opponents. some men cannot hit a low ball or a high one, some will flinch when the ball comes close to them, giving the pitcher a chance to deliver a straight, swift ball over the inside of the plate, which the umpire will call a strike even though the batsman devotes all of his energy to getting out of the way. a left-handed thrower will seldom make a success as a ball player except as pitcher or on first base. left-handed batsmen, however, are a distinct advantage to a team, as nothing will so disconcert a green pitcher as to have batsmen standing first on one side of the plate and then on the other. every boy who plays baseball must know the rules thoroughly to be a success. it is in this way that advantage of every fair opportunity can be taken. nothing is so disheartening to a team as to lose a closely contested game on a technicality of rules. batting and base running are two departments of the game where one member of the team is as important as another. a good batsman must have a quick eye and a quick brain. when he decides to strike at a ball he must not change his mind and simply swing at it feebly after it is in the catcher's hands. the best batters are not those who hit the ball the hardest. judgment in placing hits is far more important than trying to knock out a home run every time you are at the bat. you must remember that the pitcher is studying your batting methods and you must try just as hard to deceive him as he is trying to deceive you. many a game has been won by a man who knew how to wait at the bat instead of swinging wildly at everything just for fear of having strikes called. when you hit the ball there is only one rule--run. you will very soon find out whether the ball is fair or foul or whether there is any chance of making first base. a base runner should never stop trying to make a base until the ball is in the hands of the baseman. one never can tell when a ball may be fumbled or muffed. a baseball diamond should be a part of a town just as is the public square or a town hall. the distance between the bases should be ninety feet and the four base-lines should form a square and all the angles should be right angles. the three bases should be canvas bags filled with sawdust and fastened to their positions by pegs that are driven into the ground. the home plate should if possible be a piece of whitened rubber. a board securely fastened will do. [illustration: how to lay out a baseball field] the pitcher's box should be denoted by a strip of wood or rubber inches long and inches wide. this and home plate should be buried so that they are flush with the surface of the field. the pitcher's box on a full-sized field is exactly - / feet from home plate. the standard baseball is the kind used by professional players. it is covered with horsehide, and is warranted to last an entire game without ripping or getting out of shape. baseball bats are made of a variety of woods, the common materials being ash, willow, and hickory. a bat must not exceed - / inches in thickness at its thickest part. there are a great many shapes and models named after the professional players who use them. the shape of a bat does not make as much difference as some poor batters are inclined to think. the manufacturers of sporting goods make all the accessories for playing baseball both in men's and boys' sizes. every ball player should own his own mitt or glove and become accustomed to it. the same is true of his bat. the art of becoming a good ball player depends largely on the boy himself. no one plays ball naturally. it all comes with practice, and it follows that the more practice we can get the better ball players we shall become. it is a game where a loss of nerve is absolutely fatal to good work. a player must keep his head no matter how trying the circumstances may be. cool-headedness is especially important and the surest way to develop it is to be just as indifferent to the criticism of the crowd or your fellow-players, so long as you know that you have done your best, as you should be to their applause. just play the game for all there is in it, and you will be sure to become a moderately good player even though you may not be a star. in field practice, when some one is batting out balls to you, try just as hard to stop and field each ball that comes within reach as you would if the result of the game depended on it. it is only by this means that you can hope to become a finished ball player. you can never learn by lying around in the shade and telling your friends how good you are going to be in the coming match game. a regularly organized ball team should always adopt some club colours and be provided with uniforms. very good ones complete with shirt, pants, stockings, belt, and cap can be purchased of sporting goods outfitters for two or three dollars a suit (when ordered in lots of nine or more). they can also sometimes be made more cheaply at home if mothers and sisters are willing. the shirt should always be lettered with the name or initials of the team. baseball shoes are usually provided with steel plates or leather knobs. spikes are very dangerous and should not be permitted. the regulation baseball shoe reaches just under the instep. the rules of baseball are too long and complicated to be published here. almost every year many important changes are made to improve the sport and to make it harder for the batsmen to make runs. all of this tends to make the game more interesting and to develop it from a scientific side. when a team is playing away from its home grounds the choice of innings--i.e., who is to bat first--goes to the home team. a game consists of nine full innings unless called by rain, darkness or for some other cause. if five complete innings have been played when the game stops, the score always stands and the team ahead is declared the winner. in case of a tie at the end of the game the play continues until at the completion of a full inning one team is ahead. that ends the game and the team ahead is the winner. in arranging games with visiting teams it is customary to make some arrangement as to expenses, share of gate receipts or other guarantee. it is very important in order to avoid unpleasant disputes to have this matter fully understood and agreed upon by the managers of each team before the game starts. on account of fences, houses, and other obstacles that some baseball fields have it is customary for the umpire to decide what are called "ground rules" before the game starts. the principal thing that mars a good game of ball next to kicking and wrangling is the tendency of the crowd to get on the field and to interfere with the players. an easy remedy for this is simply to call the game until the spectators take their proper places. baseball is a good game if it is properly played. it is unfortunate that so many amateur games are spoiled because some of the players lose their tempers in their anxiety to have their wrongs righted. no matter how good a ball player a boy is he will never get the real benefit of the game unless he remembers that it is not the one who loses his temper but "he who ruleth his spirit" that is really entitled to the respect of his fellows. make up your mind to abide by the decision of the umpire just as a soldier obeys the orders of his superior officer. it is the easiest thing in the world for an umpire to make a mistake, but he will be far less likely to correct his errors if nine angry boys are all talking to him at once than if your captain quietly goes to him with the rules or the facts behind him and states the case. it is an old saying but none the less true that "oil catches more flies than vinegar." a boy who has developed a healthy interest in baseball while young will probably never lose it in after life even though his opportunities to play or even to see a game are few. i once met a mining man in the interior of mexico, a hundred miles from a railroad and in a town where only three people spoke the english language, and this man had not been to his home town in ten years, but he had followed his baseball team through the papers all those years and could tell you more about the players than many a man living in the town where the team played. such a man is what the newspapers call a "fan," which is an abbreviation of the word "fanatic." there is no harm in being a baseball enthusiast, provided that we do not allow it to interfere with our work or allow our desire to witness games to take the place of systematic exercise for ourselves. xvi how to play football the various positions and how to select men for them--team, work and signals--the rules football is usually played in the fall of the year because the exercise that it involves is so violent that to attempt it at any other time would probably result in injury to the players. the cool, frosty days of october and november make baseball out of season, and such weather is ideal for football. so much has been said and written about the dangers of football as a sport that many parents have strong objections to permitting their sons to play. there is no question that it is a hard game and not suited to weaklings, but a strong, healthy boy can play football under proper conditions and with proper training quite as safely as he can do many other things to which parents raise no objections, such as wrestling, climbing trees, playing hockey, or even performing difficult feats of gymnastics or acrobatics in a gymnasium. every year there are a number of serious accidents from football, but there are also injuries from other games, and people are injured who play no games at all, so it simply is a question whether we are willing to take the chances of a sprained ankle or broken bone for the love of one of the best of outdoor sports. [illustration: the lineup] the recent changes in rules have made football a much safer game than it was in the early nineties, when such plays as the "flying wedge" and line bucking were practically all there was to the game. to any one who does not understand football it seems as though it were played with practically no science and with but few rules. as a matter of fact a well-coached college team will sometimes have sixty or seventy separate plays each of which has been carefully practised and which requires each man on the team to do something to help make the play successful, while on the other hand each man on the opposing team is doing his best to cause the play to fail. the result to any one not understanding the game is simply a confused mass of struggling men and a final tumble with a pile of legs and arms flying about. the american game of football called rugby is a development of the english game, but the present game is very different from the english game of soccer or association football, in which kicking predominates and where a round ball is used instead of the oval-shaped american football. numerous efforts have been made to introduce the game of soccer into this country, but the long popularity of the american game and the strong support that has been given to it by the colleges have prevented soccer from gaining much of a foothold. football is played by two opposing teams of eleven men each. the positions are right and left end, right and left tackle, right and left guard, centre rush, quarter-back, right and left half-backs and full-back. the manner in which they line up is shown in the accompanying diagram. l.e. l.t. l.g. c. r.g. r.t. r.e. q. l.h.-b. r.h.-b. f-b. the weight and size of the men on a football team largely govern the positions where they play. the centre rush and the two guards are usually the heaviest men on the team, as extra weight in the centre of the line is important to prevent what is called "bucking the centre." the two tackles should be strong, stocky players, not too tall, but still with sufficient weight to enable them to keep their feet in a mass play and to offer strong resistance to a united attack on their position. they should also be quick and agile and be able to advance the ball by rushing when called upon. the two ends must be fleet of foot and quick, sure tacklers. with the constant changes in football rules the position of end has become more and more important, until now a team with weak, slow ends is almost like a baseball team with a poor pitcher. many people regard the position of quarter-back as the most important on the team. he is virtually the field captain. a good quarter-back must be an all around player of the highest order. he must first of all have a good head and be able to run off the plays of his team without confusion. he must keep his head under the most trying circumstances. he must watch for weak places in the opposing team and direct the play of his men against them. he must offer encouragement to his own team and be always on the alert to capture a fumbled ball, stop a runner who has eluded the tacklers or to catch a punt that may come within his reach. in nearly all the big college games the quarter-back is one of the star players. the nature of his many duties is such that he is forced to be a grand-stand player and to be conspicuous even though he may not desire to. in running back punts the quarter-back will often be used because he is sure in catching them, which is a matter of the greatest importance. and all of this work is required of a man who is usually the smallest, lightest man on the team and who alongside of the giant guards and centre sometimes looks like a pigmy. there is no higher honour in football than to be a good all around quarter-back. the half-backs are chosen because of their speed and their ability to advance the ball and to elude the tackling of the opposing team. they come in for a very large share of the work and must be boys of superior strength and agility. next to the quarter-back the player of the greatest importance is full-back. his duty first of all is to attend to the kicking end of the game. for that reason he must practise constantly both with punts and drop kicks and be able to put the ball between the goal-posts from all angles and distances within reason. a great many games are won by a good drop kicker making a field goal at a critical time, and such a man is of the highest value to a team. as drop kicking, like pitching in baseball, comes largely from practice, the captain or manager of a team should see to it that any member of his team who shows any ability at all in this department should be given every opportunity and encouragement to develop his skill. a good drop kicker can be used temporarily from almost any position in the line, whether he be guard, tackle or end. as a rule, however, the full-back is the player who does most of the kicking. he must also be a good line bucker and be able to gain the required distance when called upon. in general, then, we choose the three centre men because of their weight, the tackles and ends for speed and ability in tackling, the quarter-back for his all around ability and his generalship, the half-backs because of their skill in rushing the ball, and the full-back for the kicking department. any man on the team may be chosen captain. as his work is largely done in practice and in perfecting plays, unless a team is in the hands of a coach it is better not to add the duties of captain to the already overburdened quarter-back. otherwise he is the logical and ideal man for the position. [illustration: a football gridiron] there is no game in which team work is more important than in football. eleven boys of moderate ability and comparative light weight who can execute their plays with skill and precision can beat a team of heavier boys or superior players who may lack their skill and organization. in the case of a school team it is almost always possible to secure the services of a coach from among the graduates. if such a one has had experience on a college team so much the better. a football field is feet long by feet wide. at each end are goal posts set feet inches apart, with a crossbar feet above the ground. the field is marked off in chalk lines similar to a tennis court, these lines being yards apart. the centre of the field where the play starts is yards from either end. it is usually customary to run lines parallel to the sides of the field, also yards apart, but as a field is but feet wide the first and last of these lines are but feet from the side lines instead of yards. the lines on a football field make a checkerboard effect and have given to the field the name of "gridiron." football is a game where eleven men try to force the ball back of the opposing players' goal line by various efforts in running with it or in kicking, while the opposing team meanwhile, by throwing the runner or by pushing him back, try to prevent any gain being made. each team is allowed a certain number of attempts to make a certain distance and, if they fail to do this the ball becomes the property of the other team to make a similar attempt. each of these attempts is called a "down," and, according to the rules, after three attempts, if the runners have failed to gain the required distance, the ball is given to their opponents. in practice it is customary for a team to kick the ball on its last down and thus to surrender it just as far from its own goal line as possible. the distance that must be made in three downs according to the present rules is ten yards. sometimes a team will not kick on its last down because the distance remaining to be gained is so little that the quarter-back feels sure that one of his men can make it, but this is an exception. when ten or more yards are gained the ball becomes at first down again and the team has three more attempts to make another ten yards figured from where the ball was finally downed. the ultimate object of "rushing the ball," as this play is called, is to place it on the ground behind the enemy's goal line, which is called a "touchdown." sometimes a team will succeed in getting the ball almost over the goal line and then because of the superior resistance of its opponents will find that it can advance it no further. it is then customary for one of the players who has had practice in drop kicking to attempt to kick what is called a "goal from the field" or "field goal." this play counts less than a touchdown in the score, counting but three points, while a touchdown counts five, but many a game has been won by a field goal. football scores between evenly matched teams who play scientifically are usually low, one or two scores in a game being all that are made. it frequently happens that neither side will score, but, unlike baseball, the game does not continue after the time limit has expired, but simply becomes a tie game. the game is divided into four periods of fifteen minutes each. there are resting periods of three minutes each between the first and second and third and fourth periods, and fifteen minutes between the second and third periods. at the beginning of the game the two opposing captains toss up a coin and the winner of the toss has the choice of goals or of the ball. his decision will be governed by the position of the sun and the wind conditions, two very important things in football. after each score the sides change goals, however; so the choice is not so important unless the game happens to be scoreless. at the first play the ball is placed in the centre of the field and is kicked off, a man on the opposing team trying to catch it and to run back as far as possible before he is tackled and the ball "downed." the next lineup takes place at this point and the game proceeds until a score is made. after each score the ball is put in play just as at the beginning of the game. the quarter-back calls out a series of numbers and letters called "signals" before the ball is put into play. these signals will tell his team what the play is to be, whether a run around end, a kick, or a mass play on centre, for example. the matter of thorough coaching in signals is very important and must be practised by the team until it can tell in an instant just what the play is to be when the play starts. the centre stoops low and holds the ball in an upright position on the ground between his feet. the quarter-back is directly behind him with outstretched hands ready to receive it. after the signal is given the team must be ready to execute the play, but must not by look or motion permit its opponents know what the play is to be. at a touch or word from the quarter-back, the full-back snaps the ball back and the play starts. the position of the men on a team is generally as the diagram shows but for various plays other formations are used, provided that they do not violate the rules, which specify just how many men must be in the lineup and how many are permitted behind the line. the first requirement of signals is to have them simple. in the heat and stress of a game the players will have but little time to figure out what the play is to be, even though it may all have seemed very simple on paper. to begin a code of signals each position on the team is given a letter. the eleven positions will require eleven letters and no two must be alike. it would be possible of course to simply start with the letter "a" and go to "k," but this system would be too simple and easily understood by your opponents. a better way is to take a word easily remembered in which no letter occurs twice, such as "b-l-a-c-k-h-o-r-s-e-x" or any other combination. "buy and trade" "importance," "formidable," and many others are used. the same principle is used by tradesmen in putting private price marks on their goods. take the words "buy and trade" for example. their positions right and left end, abbreviated (r.e. and l.e.), right and left tackle (r.t. and l.t.), right and left guard (r.g. and l.g.), centre (c.), quarter-back (q.), right and left half-backs (r.h. and l.h.), and full-back (f.b.), would be assigned letters as follows: l.e. l.t. l.g. c. r.g. r.t. r.e. q. l.h. f.b. r.h. _b u y a n d t r a d e_ the letters denote not only players but holes in the line, as the spaces between the players are called. the quarter-back always adds to his signal a number of other letters or figures which have no meaning, simply to confuse the opposing players. for example the signal given is " -e-n- -x." the figures and mean nothing, nor does the "x." the signal says "e will take the ball and go through n," or right half-back through right guard. any number of other plays can be denoted by letters or numbers, for example all punts by figures which are a multiple of ten, as - , - , and so on. the beginner in football should first of all be provided with a suitable uniform; there is no game in which this is more important. the game is rough and many and harsh are the jolts we receive; consequently we must use whatever padding and guards we can to provide against injury. the custom is to wear a tight jersey with elbow pads, a tight-fitting canvas jacket and well-padded canvas khaki or moleskin trousers. the appearance of our uniform is of little consequence, as football players are not noted for the beauty of their costumes. heavy woollen stockings and football shoes complete the outfit. the shoes are the most important part of the uniform. they should lace with eyelets and be well provided with leather cleats to prevent slipping. [illustration: football shoes] a beginner at football can gain a lot of valuable points by carefully watching the practice of his team from the side lines. he is then in a position when called upon to fill a given position which he may be trying for, without obliging the coach or captain to give him instruction in many rudiments which he can just as well learn from observation. he must also be thoroughly familiar with the rules and their interpretation. a violation of the rules in football carries with it a severe penalty for the team, provided of course that the referee sees it, consequently, a beginner must be especially careful not to permit his anxiety to make a good showing to result in being offside when the ball is put in play, interfering with a man about to make a fair catch or in doing many other things which the excitement of the game may occasion. the moment of putting the ball into play is called a "scrimmage" and the scrimmage continues until the ball is downed. a ball is "down" when the runner is brought to a standstill or when he touches the ground with any part of his body except his hands or feet. at this point the referee will blow his whistle and a lineup for a new scrimmage will take place. [illustration: the football uniform] when the ball is kicked, a member of the opposing team who raises his hand and stands in one spot is entitled to make a catch without interference, which if successful gives his team a free kick. in a free kick his opponents may not come within ten yards of where the ball was caught and some member of his team may kick either a drop kick, punt or place kick as he sees fit. after a touchdown, which counts five, a place kick for goal is attempted. if the ball goes between the goal-posts and above the crossbar it counts one point additional for the team making the touchdown, or six in all. a score of one alone cannot be made in football, as the attempt for goal cannot be made until after a touchdown. this of course does not apply to a field goal, which may be attempted at any time while the ball is in possession of the team and which counts three. the smallest score is from a "safety," which results when a member of a team is forced to touch the ball down behind his own goal or is downed there by the opposing team. this play counts two for his opponents and is an evidence of weakness of the team. it has the advantage, however, of permitting the ball to be brought out twenty-five yards to be put into play. the rules of football were practically unchanged for a number of years, but the game developed so many dangerous features that nearly all the colleges recently agreed to certain important changes especially directed to abolishing mass play and line bucking. for that reason the rules for the present game may be changed considerably within a few years. a boy taking up football should therefore acquaint himself with the latest rules governing the sport. football requires careful training, but the best training will come from actual play itself. in the beginning of the season a period of ten minutes' hard play is all that a boy should be called upon to do, unless he is in excellent physical shape. after that the time of practice should be lengthened until a candidate can go through a game of two full halves without being exhausted. one reason for many football injuries is that the players become so completely winded that the ordinary power of resistance is lost. besides actual play the best training is in taking long runs to improve the wind, one of the most essential things in football. in the colleges training for nearly all athletic events is done in this way and a candidate who cannot go out with his squad and run four or five miles at a stiff dog trot will have but little chance of making his team. xvii lawn tennis how to make and mark a tennis court--clay and sod courts--the proper grip of the racket--golf--the strokes and equipment the steady growth in popularity of lawn tennis as well as the splendid exercise that results from playing this game has given it a sure place in the field of athletic sports. it is a game that requires a great deal of skill, and as no one realizes this fact more than those who are experts, a beginner should not be deterred from playing tennis simply because he may fear the criticism of the more experienced. the only way to learn the various strokes and to be able to play a good game is to practise at every opportunity. it is better to play against some one who is more skilful than ourselves and who will keep us on our mettle to make a good showing. the eye and the muscles must work automatically and with precision. no amount of written instructions can give us this skill. the personal outfit for playing tennis is of course very simple. every player should own his racket and become accustomed to it. they cost almost any price up to eight dollars, which will buy the very best rackets made. the weight and size of the racket will depend on our strength. the average weight for a man is about fourteen ounces and for a boy an ounce or two lighter. a skilful player becomes so accustomed to the feeling and weight of his own racket that often he will play an indifferent game if he is forced to use any other. the game of lawn tennis was first played on a lawn or grass court, and many players still prefer this kind of a court, but the difficulty of obtaining a good sod, and after having obtained it the greater difficulty of keeping it in good condition, have increased the popularity of a skinned or clay court, which is always in fair condition except immediately after a heavy rain. the expense of maintaining a tennis court is more than most boys or most families would care to undertake. as a rule, tennis courts fall in the same general class with golf links in that they lend themselves readily to the joint ownership of a club or school, where the expense falls on a number rather than on an individual. in a great many places the boys of a town or village have clubbed together and have obtained permission from some one owning a piece of vacant ground that is not likely to be sold or improved within a few years and have built a tennis court on it. this arrangement helps the appearance of the land, that should be secured at a very low rental, or none at all if the owner is public spirited and prefers to see the boys of his town grow up as healthy, athletic men rather than weaklings who have no place for recreation but in the village streets, where passing trucks and automobiles will endanger their lives, or at least cause them to be a nuisance to the public. [illustration: the dimensions of a tennis court] to build a tennis court properly means a lot of work and it should only be attempted under the direction of some one who understands it. the things most important are good drainage, good light, and sufficient room. a double court is feet wide by feet long, but in tournament games or on courts where experts play it is customary to have an open space about feet wide by to feet long, to give the players plenty of room to run back and otherwise to play a fast game. a court should always be laid out north and south or as near these points of the compass as possible. in courts running east and west the sun is sure to be in the eyes of one of the players nearly all day; this is of course a very serious objection. while it is very pleasant to play tennis in the shade of a tree or building, a court should never be located under these conditions if it is possible to avoid it. a properly placed court should be fully exposed to the sun all day. first of all it will be necessary to decide whether a grass or "dirt" court is to be built. if the grass is fine and the place where the court is to be happens to be level, there is little to do but to cut the sod very short with a lawn-mower and to mark out the court. if, on the contrary, there is much grading or levelling to be done, a dirt court will be much cheaper and better in the end, as constant playing on turf soon wears bare spots. the upkeep of a grass court will be expensive unless it is feasible to move its position from time to time. whatever the court is to be, the first question to consider is proper drainage. if the subsoil is sandy the chances are that the natural soakage will take care of the surplus water, but on the contrary, if the court is at the bottom of a hill or in a low place where clay predominates, it is necessary to provide some means of getting rid of the surplus water from rainfalls or our court may be a sea of mud just when it would be most useful to us. to level a court properly we shall need the services of some one expert with a levelling instrument of some kind. it is not safe to depend on what seems to be level to our eye, as our judgment is often influenced by leaning trees, the horizon, and other natural objects. with a few stakes driven into the ground, the tops of which are level, we are enabled to stretch lines which will give us our levels accurately. a court should have a slope of a few inches from one end to the other to carry off water. after the level is determined, all there is to making a court is to fill in or cut away soil and earth until the proper level space is obtained. as a rule it is better to dig away for a court rather than to fill in, as we thus obtain a better bottom and one that will require but little rolling. in the case of a slope, it is well so to locate the court that the amount of earth excavated from one end will be just about sufficient to fill in the other. the final surfacing of a court is done by means of clay and sand in the proportion of about four or five to one, the clay of course being in excess. to mix clay and sand thoroughly, the former should first be pulverized thoroughly when dry and the mixture sifted over the court carefully and evenly. the next step is rolling and wetting, and more rolling and wetting until finally the whole is allowed to dry and is ready for play. the slight irregularities and roller ridges that often appear in a court will soon be worn off by the players' feet, but playing of course will not change the grade. a new court will be greatly improved by use, but no one should be allowed on a court except with rubber-soled shoes. heeled shoes will soon ruin a court, and it is bad practice even to allow any one to walk over a court unless with proper footwear. the preliminary levelling of a court can be accomplished with a rake and a straight-edged board, but after the clay has become packed and hard it will be necessary to use considerable force in scraping off the inequalities. a metal cutting edge, such as a hoe or scraper, will be found useful. a court should be swept with a coarse broom to distribute the fine material evenly. another very good sweeper can be made from a piece of wood about six or eight feet long to which several thicknesses of bagging have been tacked or fastened. the final step in making a court consists in marking it out. most courts are marked so that they will be suitable either for singles or doubles or so that either two or four people can play at a time. where tape markers are to be used, the proper distances will appear on the tape without measuring, but if lime is used for marking a careful plotting will be necessary to secure the proper distances, after which the corners should be indicated by angle irons, so that the court may be re-marked at any time without re-measuring. [illustration: a game of doubles in lawn tennis] considerable difficulty is often experienced by beginners in marking out a court, and, in fact, it is not a simple matter. the first thing of importance is to determine generally one corner of the court and to get a base line and a side line at a true right angle of ninety degrees. the same principle may be employed that is used by builders and surveyors in "squaring a building," as it is called. you will need a ten-foot pole with marks for the feet indicated on it in lead pencil, and in addition to this a few -penny spikes and a ball of stout twine. drive a nail into the ground where you want one corner of the court and fasten the line to it; then stretch the line to another nail to mark either a side line or back line. you will then have one side and the corner fixed, and the problem is to get another line at right angles to it. boys who have studied geometry know that "in a right-angle triangle the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides." it isn't necessary to understand this, but it is the principle employed in "squaring." you next stretch another line and have some one hold it. on the fixed side line you measure eight feet from the corner nail and mark it with a piece of twine tied around the line. you also make a six-foot mark on the line to be at right angles to it, the exact direction of which is yet to be determined. both of these measurements must be accurate. the boy on the end of the loose line moves it until the distance between the two pieces of twine is exactly the length of your ten-foot pole. the angle thus formed is exactly ninety degrees, or a right angle. having obtained one side and one end, to finish marking is simply a matter of making the necessary measurements of a court as shown on the diagram and marking each intersecting point with a nail driven into the ground. [illustration: how to mark out a tennis court] another way to lay out a court is to drive two stakes or nails into the ground feet apart. (the line of these stakes should be the position of the net.) then take two pieces of twine, one feet inches long, and the other feet. fasten one line to each of the spikes that you have placed feet apart. where the two lines meet as they are pulled taut are the true corners of the court, as there are only four points where they can meet. the various measurements can then be marked as above by referring to the diagram. it is customary to mark a double court and to indicate the lines for singles afterward. the game of tennis may be played either by two or four persons, or sometimes an expert player will stand two beginners. the ball used is rubber filled with air and covered with white felt and is - / inches in diameter. it is necessary to play with two balls, and to save time in chasing those that go wild it is customary to play with three or four. one of the players begins by serving. the selection of the court is usually chosen by lot or by tossing up a racket in a way similar to tossing a cent. the side of the racket where the woven gut appears is called "rough," and the other side "smooth." this practice is not to be recommended, as it injures the racket. it is better to toss a coin. the game of tennis consists in knocking the ball over the net and into the court of your opponent, keeping up this volley until one side or player fails to make the return properly or at all, which scores his opponent a point. while a game in tennis consists of four points, the simple numbers from one to four are not used. the points run , , , game, when one side makes them all. or it may be " - ," " all," and so on, the score of the server being mentioned first. where one side has nothing their score is called "love." when one side has scored four points the game is won--with this exception: when both sides are tied at , or "deuce," as it is called, the winners must make two points more than their opponents to win. in this way the game may be continued for a long time as the points are won first by one side and then by the other. the score at deuce, or " all," will be denoted as "vantage in" or "vantage out," depending upon whether the server's side or the other wins one of the two points necessary to win from "deuce." if first one side, then the other, obtains one of these points the score will be "vantage in" or "out," as the case may be, and then "deuce" again, until finally when two points clear are made it is "game." a set of tennis consists in winning six games, but in this case also there is a peculiar condition. where each side wins five games it is necessary in order to win the set to obtain a lead of two games. the score in games is then denoted just as in a single game, "deuce" and "vantage" games being played until a majority of two is won. [illustration: photographs of tennis strokes taken in actual play] [illustration: (a) the right and (b) the wrong way to hold a tennis racket] to learn the game of tennis, first obtain a proper grip of the racket. it should always be held firmly and as near the end as possible, the leather butt being inside the hand. a loose grip will absolutely prevent a player from becoming expert, as the accuracy and quickness that are a part of tennis can never be obtained unless we have the racket under perfect control. the various backhand, high and low strokes will only come from constant practice. the most important stroke to master as well as the most difficult is a swift, accurate service. a player who is otherwise a fair player can easily lose game after game by not having mastered his service stroke, and thus he beats himself without any effort on the part of his opponent. the various "twist" services have almost passed out of use. even the best players employ a straight, swift overhand ball. to fail to serve the ball over the net and in the proper place is called a "fault." the player has two chances and to fail in both is called "a double fault." a common mistake is to attempt a swift smash on the first ball, which may fail half the time, and then to make sure of the second ball by an easy stroke which a skilful opponent can return almost at will and thus either extend us to the utmost to return it or else make us fail altogether. it is better to make sure of the first serve than to attempt a more difficult serve than our skill will permit. golf the game of golf, while of comparatively recent introduction in this country, has sprung rapidly into popularity. it is hard to say just why it should be such a popular game except that it combines a certain amount of healthful outdoor exercise with an unlimited opportunity for skill, and in addition to this, unlike the more violent games, it can be joined in by old as well as young. the proper construction and maintenance of a golf course is an expensive proposition. a private course is altogether out of the question except for the very wealthy. a club in starting with a limited amount of money will find it more satisfactory to begin with the construction of a nine-hole or even a six-hole course rather than to attempt a full course of eighteen holes which will be indifferently constructed or kept up. the average eighteen-hole course is about three miles long and is built according to the general lay of the land. a hole in golf consists in the stretch between the "tee," from which the ball is knocked off, and the "putting green," where the player "putts" the ball into the "hole"--a can sunk into the ground which has about the same diameter as a tomato can. the score consists in the number of strokes required to make the hole, and of course the player making the fewest number of strokes is the winner of the hole or match. [illustration: addressing] [illustration: at the top of the swing] [illustration: just before the ball is struck] golf has but few rules. the secret of playing well consists in being able to swing the clubs with accuracy and precision. there is no game where proper form counts for more and none in which more careful preliminary instruction by an expert is so important. if one can at the very outset obtain the services of a professional or a skilful player for a few lessons, it will do far more good than ten times as many lessons after we have contracted bad habits which will have to be unlearned. [illustration: how an expert plays golf] the surest way to be a poor golfer is first to think that it is a sort of "old man's game," or, as one boy said, "a game of knocking a pill around a ten-acre lot"; then when the chance to play our first game comes along to do it indifferently, only to learn later that there is a lot more to the skill of a good player than we ever realized. another very common mistake is to buy a complete outfit of clubs, which a beginner always improperly calls "sticks," before we really know just what shape and weight of club is best adapted to our needs. [illustration: a good outfit of clubs for golf] the common clubs in most players' outfits consist of a driver, brassie, cleek, iron, and putter. we can add to this list almost indefinitely if we wish, as there are all sorts of clubs made for various shots and with various angles. the game of golf consists in covering a certain fixed course in the fewest number of shots. we shall have to practise both for distance and accuracy. the first few shots on a hole of average length will give us an opportunity for distance. this is especially true of the first shot, or drive, but after that we make what are known as approach shots--that is to say, we are approaching the putting green where we complete the hole by "putting" the ball into the tin cup sunk into the ground. on the green we shall need to be very careful, as a stroke wasted or poorly played counts just as much against our score if the ball goes only a few feet as if we sliced or "foozled" our drive. in scoring for golf there are two methods: either the score of each hole is taken and the winner of a majority of holes wins the match, or the total score in counted as in "medal" or "tournament play." "bogie score" is a fictitious score for the course that is supposed to denote perfect playing without flukes or luck. the mysterious "colonel bogie" is an imaginary player who always makes this score. xviii photography the selection of a camera--snapshots vs. real pictures--how to make a photograph from start to finish aside from our own pleasant recollections, an album of photographs can be the most satisfactory reminder of the good times we have had on some vacation or outdoor trip. photography has been made so easy and so inexpensive by modern methods that every one should have some kind of a camera. small instruments capable of taking really excellent pictures within their limits can be bought for five dollars or even less. of course we cannot hope often to obtain pictures that will be really artistic with such a small outfit, but sometimes the inexpensive cameras will give remarkably good results. snapshot pictures seem to fill such an important place in our outdoor life that no vacation or excursion trip seems to be complete unless some one takes along a camera. the modern way of taking pictures, which is simply pressing a button and sending a film to the professional to "do the rest," including developing, printing and mounting, is really not photography. almost any one can take pictures with a small hand camera. the manufacturers have perfected instruments so complete for this kind of work that there is very little for us to do beyond being sure that we have an unexposed section of film in place and that we have sufficient light to obtain a picture. of course we must have the focus right and must be sure we are pointing at what we wish to take. real photography is quite different from snapshot work. it is a hobby so fascinating and with such great possibilities that there is scarcely anything that will give a boy or girl more real pleasure in life and a better opportunity to be outdoors than to become an expert outdoor photographer. unfortunately it is a rather expensive pastime, but even with a moderate priced instrument we can obtain excellent results under the right conditions. i have seen a prize-winning picture in an exhibition that was made with a cigar box, with a pinhole in one end for a lens. even though one does not care to become an expert photographer, by all means get a camera and make snapshots. it is quite a common idea for an amateur to attribute his failures to defects in his material or outfit. you may be sure when you fail it is your own fault. dealers in photographic supplies constantly have complaints from customers about defective materials, and certainly nine out of every ten of these cases are simply due to the carelessness of the operator with perfectly good material. it is well for a beginner in photography to start with a simple snapshot camera. they can be bought for three or four dollars up to twenty-five. such cameras are used with films, and simply require the operator to expose his film in plenty of light and with the proper attention to the distance that the object to be photographed may be from the camera. until we can accurately estimate distances, such as , , or more feet, it will be far safer to pace off the distance, remembering that a long step for a boy is about equivalent to three feet. some cameras have a universal focus and require no adjusting, but an adjustable camera will usually give better results. some cameras are so constructed that they may be used either as a hand machine or on a tripod for view work. they can also be adapted either to films or plates and be operated with the ground glass for focussing, or if desired, the focussing scale and view finder may be used. the size of our camera will depend largely upon our purse. the cost of the camera itself is not the only thing to consider. all the plates and supplies increase in proportion to the size of our instrument. a good all around size is x , or if we really wish to become photographers the x is a standard. a number of new sizes have recently been introduced and have proven very satisfactory. perhaps the best size for a snapshot camera is - / x - / . there are a great many makes of cameras on the market, but even at the risk of advertising one firm more than another it is only fair to say that there is really nothing better in pocket snapshot machines than the kodaks. in view cameras it is different. there are instruments of a dozen makes any of which will produce excellent results. the tests to apply in selecting a view camera are its workmanship, compactness, and the various attachments and conveniences it has. the salesman from whom you purchase will explain fully just what its possibilities are, especially if you take some experienced person with you who can ask questions. suppose you begin photographing with a simple "snapshot" outfit. the first thing to remember is that there is absolutely no excuse for the large percentages of failures that beginners have in making pictures, and which are due solely to their own carelessness and inattention to simple details. first of all, immediately after making an exposure, be sure to form the habit of turning the key until a fresh film comes into place; then you will never be troubled with the question whether you have exposed the film or not. every professional photographer who develops for amateurs handles many films in which some of the negatives are blank and some are double negatives with two pictures on one film. this is solely the fault of the photographer, who was never quite sure and would first make the mistake of exposing a film twice, then turning the roll without exposing it at all. if you are really in doubt, it is better to turn the roll to the next number, as you thus simply lose a film but preserve both negatives; if, on the other hand, you make a double exposure, you will lose both pictures. the snapshot photographer should never take a picture unless he really wants it and unless he is pretty certain of making a picture. snapping here and there without a proper condition of light, focus, or subject is a very bad habit to contract. until you can make at least eight good pictures out of ten you are not a photographer. no average lower than this should satisfy you. do not blame the lens for your failures. in recent years the art of making lenses has advanced wonderfully, and while the one in your camera may not be an expensive one or capable of a wide range of use, it is at least adapted to the purpose of your instrument or you may be sure that the manufacturers would never have used it. we should not consider the snapshot expert who merely presses the button as a real photographer, even though he obtains fine pictures. no one deserves this name who does not understand the operations of the dark room. one who has experienced the wonderful sensation of working in a faint yellow-ruby light and by the application of certain mysterious chemicals of seeing a picture gradually come into view on the creamy surface of a dry plate will never again be satisfied to push the button and allow some one else "to do the rest." however, if you do not wish to go into photography extensively you may at least learn just what limits your hand camera has, and at the end of the season in place of a lot of ill-timed pictures you can have an album full of creditable prints for which no apology will be necessary. it is quite beyond the limits of this chapter to go into photography fully, but some of the simple principles may be of use to the boy or girl who has taken up the subject. the modern snapshot camera even of small size has great possibilities. with a clear negative we can have an enlargement made on bromide paper that will be a source of great satisfaction. the actual making of enlargements is usually beyond the limits of an amateur's outfit. in this part of photographic work it will be better to patronize a professional. to become an expert photographer and one whose work will be worth while, we must really make a study of the subject. the modern outfits and chemicals make it very easy for us if we do our part. the basis of successful work is a good lens, which is really the eye of the camera. in selecting it we should get just as good a one as we can afford. there are a great many excellent makes of lenses on the market and even the stock types that are supplied with moderate-priced cameras are of very good quality. the two distinct types of lenses are the "rapid rectilinear" and the "anastigmatic," which names refer to their optical properties in distributing the light. for our purpose all we need to know is that the higher price we pay the better our lenses will be, and in addition to this the further fact that the best kind of results can be obtained by any lens provided that we do not try to force it to do work for which it is not adapted. to understand photography we must first of all get a clear notion of the use and purpose of the stops, as the various openings or apertures are called that the lens is provided with. a "fast" lens is one that will give a sharp picture at a maximum opening, and such lenses are both the most expensive and the most universal in their application. lenses of this class are used in making instantaneous pictures with very rapid exposures, and for ordinary view or portrait work will produce no better results than much slower and less expensive types. perhaps the best way to understand photography as an art rather than a "push the button" pastime is to take up the process of making a picture step by step. to begin with, the real photographer will use plates instead of films, as much better pictures usually are possible by their use. dry plates come a dozen in a box, usually packed face to face--that is, with the film or sensitive sides facing. the plate-holder must be loaded in a dark room or dark closet, with absolutely no exposure to daylight or any artificial light whatever except a very faint light from a dark-room lantern, a combination of ruby and yellow glass or paper. we should always test our dark room and light by means of a plate before we trust them to actual working conditions. take a fresh plate and cover it half with a piece of cardboard, or if it is in a holder draw the slide half way out and allow the dark-room light to strike it for five minutes, then develop the plate just as you would an exposed negative, and if the test plate shows the effect of the exposure and darkens, we shall need to make our light safer either by adding a sheet or two of yellow or ruby paper or we must examine our room carefully to stop up any cracks where rays of white light may enter. we must remember that a plate sensitive enough to record instantaneous exposures of - of a second must be sensitive to any tiny ray of outside light also. almost any room will make a dark room, especially if it is used at night. by drawing the shades and by doing our work in a far corner of the room away from outside light we are comparatively safe. of course an electric street lamp or other bright light would have to be shut out, but this can easily be done by pinning up a blanket over the window. when we have loaded our plate-holders we are ready to make a picture. suppose, for example, it is to be a house or a vista of some kind such as a group of trees or a bit of water: the first thing of importance is to obtain a point of view that will not only give us the picture we desire but that will leave out any undesirable features that we do not care to take. some cameras are provided with a small view finder for snapshot work, and this may often be used to get a general idea of what the picture will be. successful photography consists largely in knowing just what to take and what to omit. sometimes an ugly piece of fence or a post will spoil an otherwise excellent picture. we must also remember that in a photograph our colours are expressed in black and white, and therefore a picture that depends on its colour contrast for its beauty, such as autumn foliage or a sunset, may be disappointing as a photograph. when we have decided upon our subject, the next step is to set our camera in the proper position to permit the plate to take in what we wish. usually it will be necessary to shift our position several times until we find the proper position. the tripod should be firmly set on the ground and the camera made as level as possible. the camera should then be focussed with the stop or diaphragm wide open. the fact that the image is inverted as it appears on the ground glass will at first be confusing to a beginner, but we soon become accustomed to it and never give it a thought. our focussing cloth should be tightly drawn about the head to keep out as much outside light as possible. at first we have some difficulty in seeing the image on the ground glass, but after we learn to look at the glass and not through it we should have no further trouble in this respect. by moving the lens backward and forward we finally strike a position where the principal image to be photographed will appear sharp and clear. the camera is then in focus, but we shall discover that other objects more in the background or foreground will appear blurred and confused. often it is desirable to have a blurred or "fuzzy" background, but if we desire to bring the indistinct objects in focus we must "stop down" our lens first by trying the no. stop, and if this does not accomplish the results the no. , and so on until we get what we wish. as we look at the image on the ground glass, it will be evident that as we stop down our lens, the more remote objects are gradually brought into view with a sharp outline, we shall discover that the image on the ground glass becomes less and less distinct, which shows very clearly that we are admitting less light, and the lesson to be learned is that when we make the exposure we must give a corresponding increase in time as the amount of light admitted decreases. an exposure that would give a perfect picture at no. may be very much under-exposed at no. diaphragm. having focussed our camera and set the stop, we then close the shutter, insert the plate-holder in the back of the camera and carefully draw the slide. omitting to pull the slide is a common mistake with beginners. we are now ready to decide just what exposure to give our plate. rules for exposure are almost useless, but in general it may be said that the modern plates are lightning fast and that in bright sunlight at midday the average exposures will not be over - of a second. an "exposure meter" will prove to be of great assistance to a beginner, but such arrangements are not often used by experts except in doubtful cases. we soon find that we can guess at average exposures with considerable accuracy, especially if we adopt a certain brand of plate and become accustomed to its working qualities. of course all of these speeds must be indicated on the shutter, and all we can do is to set our shutter at this point and squeeze the bulb. correct judgment in exposure will only come after experience. in taking interior views or making pictures on dark days we shall be less likely to make a mistake than in bright sunlight. i have made two interior views, to one of which i gave ten minutes and the other an hour, with practically the same result in the negative. an over-exposed plate is flat, which means that the print will lack contrast and be unsatisfactory as a photograph. after the bulb is squeezed and the exposure made we are ready to develop our plate and to see what result we have obtained. of course in practice we make a number of exposures before we begin to develop. some photographers use numbered plate-holders and keep a record of the pictures, time of day and of exposure, stop and any other items of interest. we now take the plate-holder in our dark room and prepare our developer. there are a great many developers on the market and we can scarcely make a mistake with any of them. probably the best of all is "pyro," but the fact that it stains the fingers is a serious objection to it for amateur use, and almost any other developer, such as metol, eikonogen or hydroquinon will be better. these stock developers usually come in dry salts, which must be dissolved and mixed. all of this work must be done in the light so we can see that we are getting the proper proportions and that the chemicals are thoroughly in solution. the developing trays should be washed thoroughly and placed conveniently at hand so that we can find them in the dark. in addition to developers we must have what is called the "hypo" fixing bath. this is a solution of hyposulphite of soda, a chemical which is used in development and which renders the plate no longer sensitive to light, but dissolves that part which has not been acted upon by the developer. the hypo should be in a tray or box placed conveniently at hand but not so located that it will be liable to become mixed with the developer or in any way to splash or spot the plate. we must always wash the hands thoroughly after immersing a plate in the hypo before handling a fresh plate, as a very few drops will ruin a negative. after we have prepared the hypo and the developer we are ready to develop the plate. place it face side up in the tray and quickly pour the developer over it, being sure that the solution covers the surface immediately, to avoid unequal development. while we should not develop in a strong red or yellow light we can at least place our tray in such a position that we may watch the process of bringing up the image out of the creamy surface of the plate. this is the most fascinating part of photography. first the high lights will appear and then the shadows, and then after an instant the whole image will come into view and then begin to fade away. to know at what point development should stop will only come by experience with negatives of all sorts of classes. generally speaking, when the image fades from view and begins to appear through the film on the glass side we should wash it quickly and immerse it in the hypo. the "fixing" in hypo will take probably five minutes and should be continued until the white coating is thoroughly dissolved. the plate may then be brought safely to the light and should be washed thoroughly either in running water for half an hour or in at least twelve changes of fresh water. care must be taken not to touch the film side of the plate during development or fixing, as the gelatine coating becomes very soft and will show the slightest scratch or abrasion. we must dry the plate away from dust, sunlight, or artificial heat. after it is dry we are ready to make a print. photographic printing papers are of two classes--those which are used in direct sunlight and upon which the image gradually appears, and those which are similar to plates and which are given a very short time exposure in artificial light and the picture developed just as we should a plate. the beginner will probably have more uniform success with sunlight paper after the simple process of toning and fixing is learned, although the developing papers are extremely simple to handle and give better results. the final step of trimming and mounting the print is too simple to require explanation. there are a great many things that might be said about photography, but in a book of this kind only the most simple facts are stated. if you become a photographer you will soon learn many of the fine points. our negatives should all be kept carefully in labelled envelopes and a record kept in a book of some kind. when we really become expert as a photographer, there are many opportunities to make our hobby pay. the publishers of nearly all the magazines experience the greatest difficulty in securing the kind of pictures they wish to reproduce. this is remarkable when so many people are taking pictures. if one wishes to sell pictures, it is important to study the class of materials that the magazines use. then, if we can secure good results, we can be almost sure of disposing of some of our work and, in addition to the money, have the satisfaction of seeing our pictures published. xix outdoor sports for girls what to wear--confidence--horseback riding--tennis--golf--camping a generation ago the girl who joined her brother in his sports would have been considered a "tom boy," but in recent years girls have discovered that with comparatively few exceptions they can join in the sports and recreations of their brothers and in some cases attain a remarkable degree of skill. girls' schools have done much to spread this idea. a rational outdoor costume and a desire to be physically well also has helped "the outdoor girl" to be regarded as the highest type of womanhood. only her grandmother sighs over tanned cheeks and muscular arms. the girl who is not a good sport is the exception rather than the rule. besides, our grandmothers worked at their gardening, which is out-of-door exercise, and a preventive, as kipling tells, of the "hump" we get from having too little to do. he says: _"the cure for this ill is not to sit still, or frowst with a book by the fire, but to take a large hoe and a shovel also, and dig till you gently perspire."_ from a feminine standpoint the first question must be, "what shall i wear?" there is no need to be handicapped by skirts, at least when one's exercise is taken in company with a crowd of girls. the bicycle introduced the bloomer girl and this costume is now generally regarded as proper for outdoor girls. in camp one should in addition wear a sailor blouse, and a pair of sneakers, which though rather heating for the feet are very comfortable and very satisfactory for long tramps through the woods. the rubber soles give a firm footing on slippery moss and dead leaves, while high heels might cause a wrenched ankle or a bad fall. it is perfectly allowable for a girl to wear a broad-brimmed hat to avoid sunburn, which might be so serious as to spoil a vacation. a gradually acquired coat of tan is much more desirable. the hat prevents headaches or sunstroke, neither of which may be dared with impunity by a delicate girl, unless she wears her hair on top of her head. in regard to hair, which is of great importance to its owner, though very much of a nuisance after the age when it may be worn boyishly short, the one word is that it must be fixed to stay without re-pinning or tucking back at frequent intervals. for bathing, a girl must either be willing to have her hair well soaked or else to put a cap on so tightly that it cannot be loosened. to hesitate to try a dive for fear of getting wet hair spoils much of the sport of swimming. each moment of hesitation makes her more convinced that perhaps, after all, she had better not try that dive, because she probably would not be able to do it anyway. the lack of confidence is disastrous. i have known girls who could swim perfectly well in the shallows but could not keep up at all in water out of their depth. and yet they have not been touching the bottom in the shallow water, but they _could_ if they wished. learning to swim in water that is over your head is really better, though it is more "scary" at first. if you do learn in that way you can thereafter look upon the deepest water with confident scorn. confidence is a necessary possession for the beginner in almost any sport. it is so much easier to do anything if we are quite positive that we can. probably, because you are a girl and are modest, you will have to assume this attitude, but in horseback riding, for example, an instant of fear while on the horse's back will "give you away" to the beast. since he is as keen as a dog to know when you fear and dislike him, he will undoubtedly take advantage of it. if you are quite positive that you can learn to ride and that the horse under you is harmless, you will keep a firm hold on the reins instead of clinging to the saddle horn in a panic. the trying part of learning to ride is that the first day's experience is painfully stiffening. this applies to almost any unusual exercise. but to withdraw on account of that you may as well resign yourself to taking exercise no more severe than that afforded by a rocking chair. it does not pay to stop when you are stiff. sticking to it is the only way that will train those hitherto unused muscles to perform their duties with no creaking of the hinges. a good night's rest is the utmost limit of time that should intervene between each trial. a girl has the physical disadvantage of less endurance than a boy, and she does have to care for herself in that respect, and leave untried some forms of exercise that would be overexertion for her. a girl may "paddle her own canoe," of course, without risk of overstraining herself, but when it comes to moving it from place to place out of the water, the feather-light canoe of poetry becomes heavy reality. two girls can carry a canoe between them for a short distance without much difficulty, but if one is alone it is far better to drag the canoe over the ground, which is not particularly hard on it, unless the ground is rough. the boy's way of carrying it balanced upside down on his shoulders requires considerable strength. devotees of tennis will claim first place for that among girls' sports. the amount of practice and quickness of thought and motion that maybe acquired in a game of tennis is remarkable; the fascination of the game itself rather than the benefits to be derived from it will hold the attention. the main trouble is in the learning, which requires unflagging energy and constant practice. an overmodest beginner will make the mistake of playing only against her likewise beginning friends; the result is that she takes a discouragingly long time finding out how to use her racket properly and never gets a chance to return a really good serve. it is really just as well at some point in your practising to see some well-trained athlete do the thing you are trying to learn. a girl can accomplish a great deal with her brain as well as with her muscles in athletics. some one once remarked that he learned to swim in winter and to skate in summer. he meant that after he had in its proper season practised skill in the winter sport, his brain, during the warm months, kept repeating to the muscles those directions until by the next winter they had a very fair idea of what they had to do, and responded more quickly and easily. it is rather consoling to think you do not lose time, but rather progress, between seasons. the girl who goes camping with a crowd of boys and girls realizes how much depends on the mere strength of the boys; at the same time she herself has an opportunity of showing not only her athletic proficiency and nerve, but also her superior common sense. she will really have to leave the heavy work of pitching the tents and chopping the wood to the boys, but she cannot sit down and fold her hands meanwhile. she can be collecting materials for the beds of balsam on which they hope to sleep in comfort, or she may gather chips for the fire, or she may be helping to unload the wagon or canoes in which they have come. when the tents are pitched she has a woman's prerogative of "putting the house in order," and during the time of camping keeping it so. if there is actually a case of nothing for her to do, far better for her to sit down and keep quiet than to get in the way of the boys and bother them. a young man who in his first season as a guide in the canadian woods took out a party of girls from a summer school on a camping trip told me that he would never do it again, because they gave him no relief from a continual rain of questions. a case where zeal for knowledge outruns discretion. after the tents are pitched and the fire made by the boys, it is plainly up to the girls to get supper. let us hope they have practised cooking for some time before they went camping. every one gets so desperately hungry in the outdoor life that meals are of first importance, as tempers are apt to develop unexpectedly if many failures are turned out. if the girls are good cooks, however, and wash the dishes after each meal the division of labour will be fair to all concerned. a girl is more or less dependent on her boy friends for instruction in sports and considerably anxious for their approval. even if she has a woman instructor, in nine cases out of ten she requires some kind of praise from some man before she is satisfied with her performance. sister may tell her that she steers her canoe with beautiful precision, but unless brother remarks carelessly that "the kid paddles pretty well" she will hesitate to take her canoe in places where expert paddling is required. when you know that you can do some things as well as any boy you still have to rest content with the grudging assurance that "you do pretty well for a girl." xx one hundred outdoor games the following games are described in this chapter: all-around athletic championship archery association football badminton balli-callie bandy baseball basket ball bean bag best college athletic records blind man's buff boulder on bull in the ring call ball cane rush canoe tilting cat, or cattie counting-out rhymes court tennis cricket croquet curling dixie's land duck on the rock equestrian polo fat feather race foot-and-a-half football garden hockey golf golf-croquet hab-enihan haley over hand ball hand polo hand tennis hat ball hide and seek high kick hockey hop over hop scotch hunkety hunt the sheep intercollegiate amateur athletic association of america i spy jack fagots jai-a-li japanese fan ball kick the stick king of the castle knuckle there lacrosse lawn bowls lawn bowling lawn hockey lawn skittles lawn tennis last tag luge-ing marathon race marbles mumblety peg names of marbles nigger baby olympic games one old cat over the barn pass it pelota plug in the ring polo potato race prisoner's base push ball quoits racquets or rackets red line red lion roley boley roque rowing record rubicon sack racing scotland's burning skiing soccer spanish fly squash stump master suckers tether ball tether tennis three-legged racing tub racing volley ball warning washington polo water water race wicket polo wolf and sheep wood tag yank while all the games and sports described in this chapter are not absolutely confined to outdoors, almost any game in which violent physical exercise results is better if played in the open air rather than in a house or gymnasium. in fact, we should only play indoors when the weather makes it impossible for us to be outside. there are very few indoor games that cannot be played in the open air with proper apparatus or rules. it is also equally true that many of our outside sports may be played indoors with certain modifications. all-around athletic championship this contest was instituted in america in to give athletes an opportunity to demonstrate their ability in all-around work. the contest is rapidly becoming the blue ribbon championship event in america for track athletes. the following ten events are contested for: -yard dash high jump long jump vault throwing -pound hammer putting a -pound shot throwing -pound weight -yard hurdle race half-mile walk one-mile run the system of scoring in the all-around championship is complicated. each contestant has his score made up independently. the world's best amateur record is taken as a basis and , points are allowed for it. for example, the best record (amateur) for the -yard dash is - / seconds and for each / of a second more than this that the runner in the all-around championship contest makes in his trial points are deducted from this score. the same method is used in all the events. in the ten events the maximum score where the contestant equalled every world's record would be , points. the contest was won in by the remarkable score of , points. archery archery is the art of shooting with a bow and arrow. it is especially adapted as a lawn game for ladies and gentlemen, but boys and girls can practise archery and become proficient with bows and arrows just as the indians were or the boys in england in the days of robin hood. of course the invention of gunpowder has practically done away with the bow and arrow either as a means of warfare or as a weapon to be used in the chase, but it is still used by savages. the modern bow used in archery is made of lancewood or yew and for men's use is usually feet long and for women and children inches shorter. the strength or pull necessary to bend the bow, given in pounds, determines its classification. the arrows for men's use should be inches long and for women to inches. the target is a straw-filled canvas disk painted in bright colours. there are usually five circles and the object in archery, as in shooting with firearms, is to hit either the centre ring or "bull's-eye" or as near to it as possible. in scoring, a shot in the inner gold centre counts nine; red ring, seven; inner white ring, five; black ring, three, and outer white ring, one. targets are of various sizes from inches in diameter to feet, depending on the distance of the range. a common distance will be from to yards. each archer should have some distinguishing mark or colour on his arrows. standard lancewood bows will cost two or three dollars, arrows from one to two dollars a dozen, and targets from two to five dollars each, with three dollars extra for the target stand. in championship matches in archery the customary range for men is yards with arrows, and the same number of arrows at yards for women. a recent match championship was decided for men with hits and a total score of , and for women with hits and a total score of . association football or soccer a game similar to rugby football except that it more closely resembles what its name implies and kicking predominates. a round, leather-covered ball is used and the game is considered to be much safer than our college football. efforts consequently have been made to introduce the game into american colleges because of its less dangerous character. as there is practically no tackling or falling, the "soccer" uniform does not require the same amount of padding as a rugby player's uniform. the game is ordinarily played in running trousers with a full sleeved shirt and special shoes with leather pegs or cleats. the stockings are rolled down just below the knee. the association football goal net into which the ball is kicked is fastened to the ground and is made of tarred rope. thus far, the game has not been very popular in america, although a number of exhibition match games have recently been played by visiting english teams which attracted considerable attention. as a game, soccer is fast and exciting, and splendid opportunities are given for team work; but for some reason it has not succeeded in displacing our american game of rugby, although possibly it is more interesting for the spectator. badminton an english outdoor game similar to lawn tennis but played with shuttlecocks. the net is five feet above the ground. the shuttlecock is a cork in which feathers have been inserted. the shuttlecock is served and returned as in tennis and either two or four may play. a badminton court is feet wide and feet long. bandy a game very similar to hockey, except that it is played out of doors instead of in a covered rink and a ball is used in place of a puck or rubber disk. the name "bandy" is sometimes applied also to shinney or shinty and in england it is also applied to our american game of ice hockey. baseball the national game of america. (see chapter on baseball.) the game is played by eighteen persons, nine on a side, called "nines." the positions are pitcher, catcher, first base, second base, third base, shortstop, right-field, left-field, centre-field. the first six positions are called the in-field, and the last three, the out-field. the diamond or field where the game is played is a square plot of ground with sides ninety feet long. at each corner of the square are bases called first, second, third and home plate. a game consists of nine innings, in each of which both teams have an opportunity to bat the ball and to score runs. the players bat in turn and attempt to reach the various bases without being put out by their opponents. each year the rules are changed in some slight particulars, consequently a beginner in baseball must be thoroughly familiar with the rules of the game before attempting to play. the pitcher attempts to pitch the ball over the home plate to the catcher and the batsman endeavours to hit it. if the ball after being hit is caught by one of the opposing players, or if it is thrown to the base to which the batsman is running before he reaches the base, he is "out." otherwise he is "safe" and will try to make the next base. if he completes the circuit of the four bases without being put out, he scores a run for his team or nine. when a player makes the entire circuit without being forced to stop for safety he makes a "home run." a hit which gains him a single base only is called a "base hit." similarly if he reaches second base it is a "two-bagger," and third base, a "three-bagger." after three players are put out, the other side has its "innings," and at the completion of nine full innings the side having scored the greatest number of runs is the winner. the game of baseball has become very scientific and the salaries of professional players are almost as high as those of the highest salaried men in business life. the ball used in the game is made of the best all wool yarn with a horsehide cover and a rubber centre. baseball bats are usually made of ash. basket ball a game of ball which may be played either indoors or out, but which is especially adapted to in-door play when weather conditions make out-door sports impossible. two baskets suspended on wire rings are placed at the two opposite ends of a room or gymnasium and the players strive to knock or pass the ball from one to another on their own side and to throw it so that it will fall into the basket. it is not permissible to run with the ball as in rugby football. the ball used is round, but in other respects resembles the ball used in football. it is made in four sections of grained english leather and is inflated by means of a rubber bladder. the players use rubber-soled shoes with peculiar knobs, ridges, or depressions to prevent slipping. the conventional uniform is simply a gymnasium shirt, running trousers, and stockings which are rolled down just below the knees. the game of basket ball is especially adapted to women and girls and consequently it is played very largely in girls' schools and colleges. any level space may be used for basket ball. a convenient size is by feet. the baskets used for goals are inches in diameter and are fixed feet above the ground or floor. the official ball weighs about ounces and is inches in circumference. five players constitute a team. the halves are usually twenty minutes, with a ten-minute intermission for rest. it is not permissible to kick, carry or hold the ball. violation of a rule constitutes a foul and gives the opponents a free throw for the basket from a point fifteen feet away. a goal made in play counts two points and a goal from a foul one point. bean bags this game is known to every one by name and yet its simple rules are often forgotten. a couple of dozen bean bags are made in two colours of muslin. the players stand in two lines opposite each other and evenly divided. at the end of the line is a clothes basket. the bags are placed on two chairs at the opposite end of the line and next to the two captains. at a signal the captains select a bag and pass it to the next player, who passes it along until finally it is dropped into the basket. when all the bags are passed they are then taken out and passed rapidly back to the starting point. the side whose bags have gone up and down the line first scores a point. if a bag is dropped in transit it must be passed back to the captain, who starts it again. five points usually constitute a game. best college athletic records these records have been made in the intercollegiate contests which are held annually under the intercollegiate amateur athletic association of america. -yard dash - / seconds made in -yard dash - / seconds made in -yard dash - / seconds made in half-mile run min. seconds made in one-mile run min. - / seconds made in two-mile run min. - / seconds made in running broad jump feet - / in. made in running high jump feet - / in. made in putting -pound shot feet - / in. made in throwing the hammer feet in. made in pole vault feet - / in. made in -yard high hurdle - / seconds made in -yard hurdle - / seconds made in one-mile walk min. - / seconds made in blind man's buff this game is played in two ways. in each case one player is blindfolded and attempts to catch one of the others and to identify him by feeling. in regular blind man's buff, the players are allowed to run about at will and sometimes the game is dangerous to the one blindfolded, but in the game of "still pon" the one who is "it" is turned several times and then announces, "still pon no more moving," and awards a certain number of steps, which may be taken when in danger of capture. after this number is exhausted the player must stand perfectly still even though he is caught. bull in the ring in this game the players form a circle with clasped hands. to be "bull" is the position of honour. the bull is supposed to be locked in by various locks of brass, iron, lead, steel, and so on. he endeavours to break through the ring by catching some of the players off their guard. he will then run until captured, and the one who catches him has the position of bull for the next game. in playing, it is customary for the bull to engage one pair of players in conversation by asking some question such as "what is your lock made of?" at the answer, brass, lead, etc., he will then make a sudden rush at some other part of the ring and try to break through. call ball in this game a rubber ball is used. one of the players throws it against a wall and as it strikes calls out the name of another player, who must catch it on its first bounce. if he does so he in turn then throws the ball against the wall, but if he misses he recovers it as quickly as possible while the rest scatter, and calls "stand," at which signal all the players must stop. he then throws it at whoever he pleases. if he misses he must place himself against the wall and each of the others in turn has a free shot at him with the ball. cane rush this contest is usually held in colleges between the rival freshman and sophomore classes. a cane is held by some non-contestant and the two classes endeavour by pulling and pushing and hauling to reach the cane and to hold their hands on it. at the end of a stated time, the class or side having the most hands on the cane is declared the winner. it is a very rough and sometimes dangerous game and in many colleges has been abolished on account of serious injuries resulting to some of the contestants. canoe tilting this is a revival of the ancient game of tilting as described in "ivanhoe," except that the tilters use canoes instead of horses and blunt sticks in place of spears and lances. the object is for the tilter to shove his opponent out of his canoe, meanwhile seeing to it that the same undesirable fate does not fall to his own lot. in singles each contestant paddles his own canoe with one end of his pike pole, but the sport is much greater if each canoe has two occupants, one to paddle and the other to do the "tilting". cat a small block of wood pointed at both ends is used in this game. the batter strikes it with a light stick and as it flies into the air attempts to bat it with the stick. if the cat is caught the batter is out. otherwise he is entitled to a score equal to the number of jumps it will take him to reach the place where the cat has fallen. he then returns to bat again and continues until he is caught out. counting-out rhymes almost every section has some favourite counting-out rhyme of its own. probably the two most generally used are: "_my mother told me to take this one_," and that old classic-- "_eeny, meeny, miny, mo._ _catch a nigger by the toe;_ _if he hollers, let him go._ _eeny, meeny, miny, mo._" this is also varied into "_ena, mena, mona, mite._ _pasca, laura, bona, bite._ _eggs, butter, cheese, bread._ _stick, stock, stone dead._" the object of a counting-out rhyme is to determine who is to be "it" for a game. as each word is pronounced by the counter some one is pointed at, and at the end of the verse the one last pointed at is "it." court tennis this game, though very similar to rackets and squash, is more scientific than either. the court is enclosed by four walls. a net midway down the court divides the "service" side from the "hazard" side. the rackets used in court tennis have long handles and a large face. the balls used are the same size as tennis balls, but are heavier and stronger. in play, the ball rebounds over the court and many shots are made against the roof. while somewhat similar to lawn tennis, the rules of court tennis are extremely complicated. the game is scored just as in lawn tennis, except that instead of calling the server's score first the marker always announces the score of the winner of the last stroke. cricket a game of ball which is generally played in england and the british provinces, but which is not very popular in the united states. there are two opposite sides or sets of players of eleven men each. at two points yards apart are placed two wickets inches high and consisting of three sticks called stumps. as in baseball, one side takes the field and the other side is at the bat. two men are at bat at a time and it is their object to prevent the balls from being bowled so that they will strike the wickets. to do this a broad bat is used made of willow with a cane handle, through which are inserted strips of rubber to give greater spring and driving power. the batsman will either merely stop the ball with his bat or will attempt to drive it. when the ball is being fielded the two batsmen exchange wickets, and each exchange is counted as a run, and is marked to the credit of the batsman or striker. the batsman is allowed to bat until he is out. this occurs when the ball strikes the wicket and carries away either a bail, the top piece, or a stump, one of the three sticks. he is also out if he knocks down any part of his own wicket or allows the ball to do it while he is running, or if he interferes with the ball by any part of his person as it is being thrown, or if one of the opposing players catches a batted ball before it touches the ground, as in baseball. when ten of the eleven men on a side have been put out it constitutes an inning, and the side in the field takes its turn at the bat. the game usually consists of two innings, and at its completion the side having scored the greater number of runs is the winner. the eleven positions on a cricket team are called bowler, wicket-keeper, long stop, slip, point cover-slip, cover-point, mid-off, long-leg, square-leg, mid-on. the one at bat is, as in baseball, called the batsman. the two lines between which the batsmen stand while batting are called "popping creases" and "bowling creases." croquet a game played with wooden balls and mallets, on a flat piece of ground. the game consists in driving the ball around a circuitous course through various wire rings called "wickets" and, after striking a wooden peg or post, returning to the starting place. any number may play croquet either independently or on sides. each player may continue making shots as long as he either goes through a wicket, hits the peg or post, or hits the ball of an opponent. in this latter case he may place his ball against that of his opponent and, holding the former with his foot, drive his opponent's ball as far as possible from the croquet ground. he then also has another shot at his wicket. a croquet set consists of mallets, balls, wickets, and stakes and may be bought for two or three dollars. experts use mallets with much shorter handles than those in common sets. they are made of either maple, dogwood, or persimmon. in place of wooden balls, championship and expert games are often played with balls made of a patented composition. all croquet implements are usually painted in bright colours. the game of "roque" is very similar to croquet. croquet can be made more difficult by using narrow arches or wickets. hard rubber balls are more satisfactory than wood and also much more expensive. as a rule the colours played in order are red, white, blue and black. according to the rules any kind of a mallet may be used, depending upon the individual preference of the player. curling an ancient scotch game played on the ice, in which the contestants slide large flat stones, called curling stones, from one point to another. these points or marks are called "tees." in playing, an opportunity for skill is shown in knocking an opponent out of the way, and also in using a broom ahead of the stone as it slides along to influence its rate of speed. at the present time the greatest curling country is canada. curling is one of the few outdoor games that are played without a ball of some kind. dixie's land this game is also called "tommy tiddler's land." it is a game of tag in which a certain portion of the playground is marked off as the "land." the one who is "it" endeavours to catch the others as they invade his land. when a player is tagged he also becomes "it," and so on until the game ends because all the invaders are captured. the game is especially interesting because of the variety of verses and rhymes used in various parts of the country to taunt the one who is "it" as they come on his land. duck on a rock this game is also called "boulder up." it is not customary to "count out" to decide it. for this game usually some one suggests, "let's play duck on a rock," and then every one scurries around to find an appropriate stone, or "duck." as fast as they are found the fact is announced by the cry, "my one duck," "my two duck," etc. the last boy to find a stone is "drake," or "it." the drake is larger than the ducks and is placed on an elevated position such as a boulder. then from a specified distance ducks attempt to hit the drake and to knock him from his position. if they miss they are in danger of being tagged by the drake, as it is his privilege to tag any player who is not in possession of his duck. if, however, the drake is knocked from his perch, the ducks have the privilege of rushing in and recovering their stones, but unless they do so before the drake replaces his stone on the rock they may be tagged. the first one tagged becomes "it" and the drake becomes a duck. fat this is the universal game of marbles. it is sometimes called "yank," or "knuckle there." a ring is scratched in the ground a foot or two in diameter. it is then divided into four parts by two lines drawn through the diameter. the first step is for each player to "lay a duck," which in simple language means to enter a marble to be played for. this is his entrance fee and may be either a "dub," an "alley," a "crystal," or sometimes a "real," although this is very rare as well as extravagant. about ten feet from this ring a line is made called a "taw line." the first player, usually determined as soon as school is out by his having shouted, "first shot, fat!" stands behind the taw line and shoots to knock out a marble. if he is successful he continues shooting; if not he loses his turn and number shoots. number after his first shot from the taw line must then shoot from wherever his marble lies. if number can hit number he has a right to claim all the marbles that number has knocked out of the ring. in this way it is very much to the advantage of each player to leave himself as far from the taw line as possible. feather race the contestants endeavour to blow a feather over a certain course in the shortest time. the rule is that the feather must not be touched with the hands. out of doors this game is only possible on a very still day. foot and a half this is a game of "leap frog" also called "par" or "paw." one of the boys is chosen "down," who leans over and gives a "back" to the rest, who follow leader, usually the boy who suggests the game. he will start making an easy jump at first and over "down's" back, then gradually increase the distance of the point at which he lands, and each of those following must clear this line or become "it" themselves. the leader must also surpass his previous jumps each time or he becomes "down" himself. in this way the smaller or less agile boys have a more equal chance with the stronger ones. football the present game of football as played in american schools and colleges is a development of the english game of rugby. there are twenty-two players, eleven on a side or team. the game is played on a level field, at each end of which are goal posts through which the team having the ball in its possession attempts to force or "rush" it, while their opponents by various means, such as tackling, shoving or blocking, strive to prevent the ball from being successfully forced behind the goal line or from being kicked over the crossbar between the goal-posts. a football field is feet long by feet wide. it is usually marked out with white lines five yards apart, which gives the field the name of "gridiron." the various positions on a football team are centre rush, right and left guards, right and left tackles, right and left ends, quarter-back, right and left half-back, and full-back. as in baseball, the rules of football are constantly being changed and the game as played ten or fifteen years ago is very different from the modern game. the various changes in rules have been made with a view to making the game less dangerous to the players and more interesting to the spectator. the principal scores in football are the "touchdown" and the "field goal." in a touchdown the ball is carried by one of the players and touched on the ground behind the opponents' goal line. in a field goal, or, as it is often called, "a goal from the field," the ball is kicked over the crossbar between the goal posts. in a field goal the player executing it must not kick the ball until after it has touched the ground. such a kick is called a "drop kick" as distinguished from a "punt" where the ball is released from the hands and immediately kicked before touching the ground. a team in possession of the ball is allowed a certain number of attempts to advance it the required distance. each of these attempts is called a "down." if they fail to gain the necessary distance, the ball goes to their opponents. it is customary on the last attempt, or down, to kick the ball so that when the opposing team obtains possession of it it will be as far as possible from the goal line toward which they are rushing. in this play a "punt" is allowed. there are also other scores. a safety is made when a team is forced to touch the ball down behind its own goal line. the ball used in american football is a long oval case made of leather and inflated by means of a rubber bag or envelope. the football player's uniform consists of a heavily padded pair of trousers made of canvas, moleskin, khaki or other material, a jacket made of the same material, a tight-fitting jersey with elbow and shoulder pads, heavy stockings, and cleated shoes. players will often use other pads, braces and guards to protect them from injury. football is usually played in the fall months after baseball has been discontinued on account of the cold weather. a full game consists of four fifteen-minute periods. garden hockey this game is played between two parallel straight lines, feet inches apart and marked on the lawn with two strips of tape. at the opposite two ends of the tape are two goal posts inches apart with a crossbar. the length of the tapes should be feet when two or four players engage in the game, and may be extended for a greater number. the game is played with balls and hockey sticks. the game is started by placing the ball in the centre of the field. the two captains then face each other and at a signal strike off. if the ball is driven outside the tape boundaries it must be returned to the centre of the field opposite the place where it crossed the line. the object of the game is to score a goal through your opponents' goal posts as in ice hockey. if a player steps over the tape into the playing space he commits a foul. the penalty for a foul is a free hit for his opponents. golf a game played over an extensive piece of ground which is divided into certain arbitrary divisions called holes. a golf course is usually undulating with the holes laid out to afford the greatest possible variety of play. the ordinary course consists of either nine or eighteen holes from to yards apart. an ideal course is about yards long. the holes which mark the termination of a playing section consist of tin cans inches in diameter sunk into and flush with the level of the surrounding turf, which is called "the putting green." the game is played with a gutta-percha ball weighing about - / ounces and with a set of "clubs" of various odd shapes and for making shots under various conditions. usually a boy accompanies each player to carry his clubs. such boys are called "caddies." the clubs are peculiarly named and it is optional with each player to have as many clubs as he desires. some of the more common ones are called "driver," "brassie," "cleek," "iron," "mashie," "niblick," "putter," and "lofting iron." the game, which may be played by either two or four players, consists in endeavouring to drive the ball over the entire course from hole to hole in the fewest possible number of strokes. at the start a player takes his position on what is called the "teeing ground" and drives the ball in the direction of the first hole, the position of which is shown in the distance by a flag or tin sign with a number. before driving he is privileged to place the ball on a tiny mound of earth or sand which is called a "tee." the players drive in order and then continue making shots toward the hole until finally they have all "holed out" by "putting" their balls into the hole, and the lowest score wins the hole. golf is a game in which form is more essential than physical strength and which is adapted for elderly people as well as the young. the wooden clubs are usually made with either dogwood or persimmon heads and with split hickory handles or shafts. the handles are usually wound with a leather grip. golf clubs of good quality will cost from two to three dollars apiece and a set for most purposes will consist of four to six clubs. the caddy bag to carry the clubs is made of canvas or leather and will cost from two dollars up. standard quality golf balls will cost about nine dollars a dozen. almost any loose-fitting outdoor costume is suitable for playing golf and the tendency in recent years is to wear long trousers in preference to what are known as "golf trousers." a golf course--sometimes called a "links," from a scotch word meaning a flat stretch of ground near the seashore--should be kept in good condition in order to enjoy the game properly. the leading golf clubs maintain a large force of men who are constantly cutting the grass, repairing damages to the turf, and rolling the greens. for this reason it is a game only adapted to club control unless one is very wealthy and can afford to maintain private links. golf-croquet this game may be played either by two or four persons. wickets are placed at irregular distances, and the object of the game is to drive a wooden ball - / inches in diameter through these wickets. it may be played either as "all strokes," in which the total number of strokes to get through all the wickets is the final score, or as in golf, "all wickets," in which the score for each wicket is taken separately, as each hole in golf is played. the mallet used is somewhat different from a croquet mallet. the handle is longer and a bevel is made on one end to raise or "loft" the ball as in golf. the size of a golf-croquet course will depend upon the field available. a field yards long will make a good six-wicket course. hab-enihan this game is played with smooth stones about the size of a butter dish. a target is marked on the sand or on any smooth piece of ground, or if played on the grass the target must be marked with lime similar to marks on a tennis court. the outside circle of the target should be six feet in diameter, and every six inches another circle described with a piece of string and two pegs for a compass. the object of the game is to stand at a stated distance from the "enihan," or target, and to toss the "habs" as in the game of quoits. the player getting the best score counting from the inside ring or bull's-eye wins the game. haley over the players, equally divided, take positions on opposite sides of a building such as a barn, so that they can not be seen by their opponents. a player on one side then throws the ball over the roof and one of his opponents attempts to catch it and to rush around the corner of the building and throw it at one of the opposing side. if he succeeds, the one hit is a prisoner of war and must go over to the other side. the game continues until all of one side are captured. hand ball a game of ancient irish origin which is much played by baseball players and other athletes to keep in good condition during the winter when most outdoor sports are impossible. a regulation hand ball court has a back wall feet high and feet wide. each game consists of twenty-one "aces." the ball is - / inches in diameter and weighs - / ounces. the ball is served and returned against the playing wall just as in many of the other indoor games and is similar in principle to squash and rackets. hand polo a game played with a tennis ball in which two opposing sides of six players each endeavour to score goals by striking the ball with the hands. the ball must be struck with the open hand. in play, the contestants oppose each other by shouldering and bucking and in this way the game can be made a dangerous one. the goal is made into a cage form feet inches square. at the beginning of the game the ball is placed in the centre of the playing surface and the players rush for it. the umpire in hand polo is a very important official and calls all fouls, such as tripping, catching, holding, kicking, pushing, or throwing an opponent. three fouls will count as a goal for the opponents. hand tennis a game of lawn tennis in which the hand is used in place of a racket. a hand tennis court is smaller than a regulation tennis court. its dimensions are feet long and feet wide. the net is feet high. the server is called the "hand in" and his opponent the "hand out." a player first scoring twenty-five points wins the game. a player can only score when he is the server. a foul line is drawn feet on each side of the net, inside of which play is not allowed. in all essential particulars of the rules the game is similar to lawn tennis. hat ball this game is very similar to roley boley or nigger baby except that hats are used instead of hollows in the ground. the ball is tossed to the hats and the first boy to get five stones, or "babies," in his hat has to crawl through the legs of his opponents and submit to the punishment of being paddled. high kick a tin pan or wooden disk is suspended from a frame by means of a string and the contestants in turn kick it as it is drawn higher and higher until finally, as in high jumping, it reaches a point where the survivor alone succeeds in touching it with his toe. hockey hockey is usually played on the ice by players on skates, although, like the old game of shinney, it may be played on any level piece of ground. the hockey stick is a curved piece of canadian rock elm with a flat blade. instead of a ball the modern game of ice hockey is played with a rubber disk called a "puck." in hockey, as in many other games, the whole object is to drive the puck into your opponents' goal and to prevent them from driving it into yours. almost any number of boys can play hockey, but a modern team consists of five players. hockey skates are of special construction with long flat blades attached to the shoes. the standard length of blade is from - / to - / inches. they cost from three to six dollars. the hockey player's uniform is a jersey, either padded trousers or tights, depending upon his position, and padded shin guards for the goal tenders. hop over all but one of the players, form a ring standing about two feet apart. then by some "counting out" rhyme some one is made "it." he then takes his place in the centre of the circle, holding a piece of stout string on the end of which is tied a small weight or a book. he whirls the string about and tries to strike the feet or ankles of some one in the circle, who must hop quickly as the string comes near him. if he fails to "hop over" he becomes "it." hop scotch hop scotch is a game that is played by children all over the world. a court about feet long and or feet wide is drawn with chalk, coal, or a piece of soft brick on the sidewalk or scratched with a pointed stick on a piece of level ground. a line called the "taw line" is drawn a short distance from the court. the court is divided into various rectangles, usually eleven divisions, although this varies in different sections. at the end of the court a half circle is drawn, variously called the "cat's cradle," "pot," or "plum pudding." the players decide who is to be first, second, etc., and a flat stone or piece of broken crockery or sometimes a folded piece of tin is placed in division no. . the stone is called "potsherd." the object of the game is to hop on one foot and to shoot the potsherd in and out of the court through the various divisions until they are all played. he then hops and straddles through the court. whenever he fails to do the required thing the next player takes his turn. hunt the sheep two captains are chosen and the players divided into equal sides. one side stays in the home goal and the other side finds a hiding place. the captain of the side that is hidden or "out" then goes back to the other side and they march in a straight line to find the hidden sheep. when they approach the hiding place their own captain shouts, "apple!" which is a warning that danger is near. when he is sure of their capture or discovery he shouts, "run, sheep, run!" and all the party make a dash for the goal. intercollegiate amateur athletic association of america this association controls the field athletic contests between the colleges known as the "intercollegiates." it is generally known as the i.c.a.a.a.a. to win a point for one's college in this contest is the highest honour that a track athlete may obtain. in these games, which take place annually, the following thirteen events are contested for: mile run shotput -yard run -yard hurdles -yard dash running high jump two-mile run -yard run -yard low hurdles pole vault broad jump -yard dash hammer throw i spy this game is sometimes called "hide and seek," one of the players is made "it" by any of the familiar counting-out rhymes. the rest then secure a hiding place while he counts fifty or one hundred. a certain tree or fence corner is considered "home." "it" then attempts to spy his hidden playmates in their hiding places and to run "home" shouting, "i spy" and their names. if the one discovered can get home before "it," he does so, shouting, "in free!" with all the breath that is left in him. the game is especially interesting just at dusk, when the uncertain light makes the "outs" brave in approaching home without detection. if "it" succeeds in capturing all the players the first one caught is "it" for the next game. jack fagots this game is the same in principle as jackstraws except that fagots or sticks of wood two feet long are used in place of jackstraws. they are removed from a pile with a crooked stick and must be taken out one at a time without disturbing the rest. the number of sticks removed constitutes a player's score. when any stick other than the one he is trying for is moved he loses his turn. the next player must attempt to remove the same stick that the other failed on. the game is won by the player having the greatest number of sticks to his credit. japanese fan ball this game is especially adapted for a lawn party for girls. either japanese fans or the ordinary palm-leaf fans will do for rackets. the balls are made of paper and should be six or eight inches in diameter and in various colours. at opposite ends of a space about the size of a tennis court are erected goal-posts similar to those used in football, but only six feet above ground. these may be made of light strips of wood. there is also a similar pair of posts and a crossbar midway between the goals. the game is played by two contestants at a time. each takes an opposite end of the court and tosses the ball into the air. then by vigorous fanning she endeavours to keep it aloft and to drive it over the opponent's goal-post. at the middle posts the ball must be "fanned" under the crossbar. if the ball falls to the ground it may be picked up on the fan and tossed aloft again, but it must not be touched by the hands. the winner is the one who first drives the ball the length of the court and over the crossbar. kick the stick one player is chosen to be "it" and the rest are given a count of twenty-five or fifty to hide. a stick is leaned against a tree or wall and this is the home goal. as soon as the goal keeper can spy one of the players he runs in and touches the stick and makes a prisoner, who must come in and stand behind the stick. if one of the free players can run in and kick the stick before the goal tender touches it, he frees all the rest and they scurry to a place of hiding before the stick can again be set up and the count of twenty-five made. as the object of the game is to free your fellow-prisoners, the free players will attempt all sorts of ruses to approach the stick without being seen or to make a dash for it in hope of kicking it ahead of the goal keeper. the game is over when all the players are captured, and the first prisoner is "it" for the next game. king of the castle this can be made a very rough game, as it simply consists in a player taking a position on a mound or hillock and defying any one to dislodge him from his position by the taunting words: "_i'm the king of the castle,_ _get down you cowardly rascal._" the rest try to shove him from his position and to hold it successfully against all comers themselves. the game, if played fairly, simply consists in fair pulls and pushes without grasping clothing, but if played roughly it is almost a "free-for-all" fight. lacrosse a game of ball played by two opposing teams of twelve players each. the lacrosse field is a level piece of ground with net or wire goals at each end. the players strive to hurl the ball into their opponents' goal by means of a lacrosse stick or "crosse." this is a peculiar bent stick with a shallow gut net at one end. it somewhat resembles a tennis racket, but is more like a snowshoe with a handle. the game originated with the indians and is much played in canada. in playing, the ball must not be touched with the hands, but is hurled from one player to another by the "lacrosses" until it is possible to attempt for a goal. it is also passed when a player is in danger of losing the ball. lacrosse sticks cost from two to five dollars each and are made of hickory with rawhide strings. the players wear specially padded gloves to protect the knuckles. the usual uniform for lacrosse is a tight-fitting jersey and running trousers. lawn bowls this is a very old game and of great historic importance. the famous bowling green in new york city was named from a small park where the game was played by new yorkers before the revolution. the game is played with wooden balls five inches in diameter and painted in various gay colours. usually lignum vitae is the material used. they are not perfectly round but either slightly flattened at the poles into an "oblate spheroid" or made into an oval something like a modern football. each player uses two balls, which are numbered. a white ball, called a "jack ball," is then thrown or placed at the end of the bowling green or lawn and the players in turn deliver their balls or "bowl" toward the jack. the whole game consists in placing your ball as near to the jack as possible and of knocking away the balls of your opponents. it is also possible to strike the jack and to drive it nearer to where the balls of your side are lying. when all the players have bowled, the two balls nearest the jack each count a point for the side owning it. the game if played by sides is somewhat different from a two-handed contest. the main point first is to deliver the ball as near to the jack as possible and then to form a barrier or "guard" behind it with succeeding balls to block those of your adversaries. sometimes the jack is placed in the middle of the green and the teams face each other and bowl from opposite ends. a green is about seventy feet square with closely cropped grass. four players form a "rink" and are named "leader," "second," "third," and "skip" or captain. the position from which the balls are delivered is called the "footer." it is usually a piece of cloth or canvas three feet square. lawn bowling this game is similar in every respect to indoor bowling except that no regular alley is used. a net for a backstop is necessary. the pins are set upon a flat surface on a lawn and the players endeavour to knock down as many pins as possible in three attempts. the scoring is the same as in indoor bowling. to knock down all ten pins with one ball is called a "strike," in two attempts it is a "spare." in the score, the strike counts ten for the player and in addition also whatever he gets on the next two balls. likewise he will count ten for a spare, but only what he gets on one ball for a bonus. as a consequence the maximum or perfect score in bowling is , which is a series of ten strikes and two more attempts in which he knocks down all the pins. in lawn bowling the scores are very low as compared with the indoor game, where good players will often average close to on alleys where they are accustomed to bowl. lawn bowling is a different game from lawn bowls, which is described in a preceding paragraph. lawn hockey this game is played on a field a little smaller than a football field, being yards long and from to yards wide. the ball used is an ordinary cricket ball. the goals are two upright posts feet apart and with a crossbar feet from the ground. eleven men on a side constitute a full team, but the game may be played with a fewer number. the positions are known as three forwards, five rushes, two backs or guards, and the goal tender. the object of the game is very simple, being to drive the ball between your opponents' goals. the ordinary ice hockey stick will be satisfactory to play with. the principal thing to remember in lawn hockey is not to commit a "foul," the penalty for which is a "free hit" at the ball by your opponents. it is a foul to raise the stick above the shoulders in making a stroke, to kick the ball (except for the goal tender), to play with the back of the stick, to hit the ball other than from right to left, and any form of rough play such as tripping, pushing, kicking, or striking. lawn hockey is an excellent game and is really the old game of "shinney" or "shinty" played scientifically and with definite rules. lawn skittles from a stout pole which is firmly fixed in the ground a heavy ball is suspended by means of a rope fastened to the top of the pole. two flat pieces of stone or concrete are placed on opposite sides of the pole. the game is played with nine-pins, which are set up on one stone, the player standing on the other and endeavouring by hurling the ball to strike down a maximum number of pins. usually he has three chances and the number of pins knocked down constitutes his score. lawn tennis (see chapter on tennis) a game of ball played on a level piece of ground, called a court, by two, three, or four persons. when two play the game is called "singles," and when four play it is called "doubles." the game is played with a rubber ball, and rackets made by stringing gut on a wooden frame. the dimensions of a tennis court are by feet. in addition to this, space must be allowed for the players to run back, and it is customary to lay out a court at least by feet to give plenty of playing space. the court is divided into various lines, either by means of lime applied with a brush or by tapes. midway between the two rear lines and in the centre of the court a net is stretched, supported by posts. in playing one of the players has the serve--that is, he attempts to strike the ball so that it will go over the net and into a specified space on the opposite side of the net. his opponent then attempts to return the serve--that is, to strike the ball either on the fly or the first bound and knock it back over the net somewhere within the playing space as determined by the lines. in this way the ball is volleyed or knocked back and forth until one of the players fails either to return it over the net or into the required space. to fail in this counts his opponents a point. four points constitute a game except where both sides have obtained three points, in which case one side to win must secure two points in succession. the score is not counted as , , , and , but , , , game. when both sides are at it is called "deuce." at this point a lead of two is necessary to win. the side winning one of the two points at this stage is said to have the "advantage," or, as it is expressed, "vantage in" or "vantage out," depending upon whether it is the side of the server or his opponents, the server's score always being called first. a set of tennis consists of enough games to permit one side to win six, or if both are at five games won, to win two games over their opponents. last tag there are a great many games of "tag" that are familiar to boys and girls. one of the common games is "last tag," which simply means that a boy tags another and makes him "it" before leaving the party on his way home. it is the common boys' method of saying "good-bye" when leaving school for home. the principal rule of last tag is that there is "no tagging back." the boy who is "it" must not attempt to tag the one who tagged him, but must run after some one else. it is a point of honour with a boy not to be left with "last tag" against him, but he must try to run some one else down, when he is then immune and can watch the game in safety, or can leave for home with no blot on his escutcheon. luge-ing a form of coasting very much practised in switzerland at the winter resorts where the sled used is similar to our american child's sled with open framework instead of a toboggan or the more modern flexible flyer which is generally used by boys in america. marathon race a long distance race, held in connection with the olympic games and named from a famous event in greek history. the accepted marathon distance is miles, yards. the race was won at the olympic games held in england in by john hayes, an american, in hours minutes - seconds. olympic games the olympic games are open to the athletes of the world. the following events are contested for: -metre run -metre run -metre run -metre run -metre run -metre run -metre hurdles -metre hurdles -metre hurdles -metre steeplechase -metre steeplechase -metre steeplechase running long jump running high jump running triple jump standing broad jump standing high jump standing triple jump pole vault shot put discus throwing throwing -pound hammer throwing -pound weight marathon race weight lifting, one hand weight lifting, two hands dumb-bell competition tug-of-war team race team race miles five-mile run throwing stone throwing javelin throwing javelin held in middle penthathlon -metre walk -metre walk -mile walk throwing discus greek style marbles there is a large variety of games with marbles and the expressions used are universal. boys usually have one shooter made from agate which they call a "real." to change the position of the shooter is called "roundings," and to object to this or to any other play is expressed by the word "fen." the common game of marbles is to make a rectangular ring and to shoot from a line and endeavour to knock the marbles or "mibs" of one's opponents out of the square. a similar game is to place all the mibs in a line in an oval and to roll the shooter from a distance. the one coming nearest to the oval has "first shot" and continues to shoot as long as he drives out a marble and "sticks" in the oval himself. reals are often supposed to have superior sticking qualities. playing marbles "for keeps" is really gambling and should be discouraged. the knuckle dabster is a small piece of cloth or leather that boys use to rest the hand on when in the act of shooting. the best kind of a "dabster" is made from a mole's skin. names of marbles the common marbles used by boys everywhere are called mibs, fivers, commies, migs, megs, alleys, and dubs. a very large marble is a bumbo and a very small one a peawee. glass marbles are called crystals and those made of agate are called reals. the choicest real is supposed to be green and is called a "mossic" or "moss real." mumblety peg this game is played with a penknife. a piece of turf is usually the best place to play. various positions for throwing the knife are tried by each player, following a regular order of procedure, until he misses, when the knife is surrendered to the next in turn. when he receives the knife each player tries the feat at which he failed before. the last player to accomplish all the feats has the pleasure of "pulling the peg," the peg consists of a wedge-shaped piece of wood the length of the knife blade which is driven into the ground by the back of the knife and must be pulled by the teeth of the unfortunate one who was last to complete the necessary feats. the winner has the honour of driving the peg, usually three blows with his eyes open and three with them closed. if he succeeds in driving it out of sight the feat is considered especially creditable and the loser is greeted with the cry, "root! root!" which means that he must remove the sod and earth with his teeth before he can get a grip on the peg top. there are about twenty-four feats or "figures" to be gone through in a game of mumblety peg, throwing the knife from various positions both right and left handed. in each feat the successful result is measured by having the knife stick into the ground at such an angle so that there is room for two fingers to be inserted under the end of the handle without disturbing the knife. one old cat this is a modified game of baseball that may be played by three or four. generally there is only one base to run to, and besides the batter, pitcher, and catcher the rest of the players are fielders. any one catching a fly ball puts the batter out and takes his turn at bat, or in another modification of the game, when one is put out each player advances a step nearer to batsman's position, the pitcher going in to bat, the catcher becoming pitcher, first fielder becoming catcher, and so on, the batsman becoming "last fielder." pass it this game may be played on a lawn. four clothes baskets are required as well as a variety of objects of various sizes and kinds, such as spools of thread, pillows, books, matches, balls, pencils, umbrellas, pins, and so on. two captains are chosen and each selects a team, which stands in line facing each other. two of the baskets are filled with the various articles and these two baskets are placed at the right hand of the two captains. the empty baskets are on the opposite ends of the line. at a signal the captains select an object and pass it to the next in line. he in turn passes it to his left and finally it is dropped into the empty basket. if the object should be dropped in transit it must go back to the captain and be passed down the line again. two umpires are desirable, who can report the progress of the game to their own side as well as keep an eye on their opponents. pelota a game similar to racquets, sometimes called "jai-a-li," that is much played in spain and in mexico. the game is played with a narrow scoop-like wicker basket or racket which is fastened to the wrist. the players catch the ball in this device and hurl it with terrific force against the wall of the court. pelota is a hard, fast game, and sometimes serious injuries result from playing it. plug in the ring this is the universal game that boys play with tops. a ring six feet in diameter is described on the ground and each player puts a top called a "bait" in the centre. the baits are usually tops of little value. the "plugger," however, is the top used to shoot with and as a rule is the boy's choicest one. as soon as the players can wind their tops they stand with their toes on the line and endeavour to strike one of the baits in such a way as to knock it out of the circle and still leave their own tops within the circle and spinning. if they miss, the top must be left spinning until it "dies." if it fails to roll out of the ring, the owner must place another bait top in the ring, but if it leaves the circle he may continue shooting. it is possible to play tops for "keeps," but, like marbles for "keeps," it should be discouraged, as it is gambling. polo or equestrian polo a game played on horseback, which originated in eastern countries and was first played by the english in india. it has been introduced both into england and america. polo is a rich man's game and requires a great deal of skill in horsemanship as well as nerve. a polo team consists of four men, each of whom must have a stable of several horses. these horses, or "polo ponies," are trained carefully, and a well-trained pony is as essential to good playing as a skilful rider. the game is played with a mallet, the head of which is usually ash, dogwood, or persimmon, and has a handle about inches long. the ball is either willow or basswood. the principle of the game is similar to nearly all of the outdoor games played with a ball: that of driving it into the opponents' goal, meanwhile preventing them from making a score on one's own goal. potato race in this game as many rows of potatoes are laid as there are players. they should be placed about five feet apart. the race consists in picking up all of the potatoes, one at a time, and carrying them to the starting point, making a separate trip for each potato. at the end of the line there should be a basket or butter tub to drop them into. the game is sometimes made more difficult by forcing the contestants to carry the potatoes on a teaspoon. prisoner's base two captains select sides. they then mark out on the ground two bases, or homes. they also mark out two "prisons" near each home base. then each side stands in its own home and a player runs out and advances toward the enemy's home. one of the enemy will then run out and endeavour to tag him before he can run back to his own base, and one of his side will try to tag the enemy, the rule being that each in turn must have left his home after his opponent. if a player is tagged, he becomes a prisoner of the other side and is put into the prison. the successful tagger may then return to ids home without danger of being tagged. a prisoner may be rescued at any time if one of his side can elude the opponents and tag him free from prison. the game ends when all of one side are made prisoners. push ball a game usually played on foot but sometimes on horseback, in which the object is to push or force a huge ball over the opponents' goal line. a regulation "push ball" is six feet in diameter and costs three hundred dollars. in push ball almost any number may play, but as weight counts, the sides should be divided as evenly as possible. quoits a game played with flattish malleable iron or rubber rings about nine inches in diameter and convex on the upper side, which the players endeavour to loss or pitch so that they will encircle a pin or peg driven into the ground, or to come nearer to this peg than their opponents. the peg is called a "hob." a certain form of quoits is played with horseshoes throughout the country districts of america. a quoit player endeavours to give the quoit such a position in mid-air that it will not roll but will cut into the ground at the point where it lands. the game is remotely similar to the ancient greek game of throwing the discus. iron quoits may be purchased for a dollar a set. the average weight of the quoits used by experts is from seven to nine pounds each. sixty-one points constitute a game. the distance from the peg shall be either , or yards. for a space three feet around the pin or peg the ground should be clay. in match games, all quoits that fall outside a radius of inches from the centre of the pin are "foul," and do not count in the score. racquets or rackets one of the numerous court games similar to lawn tennis that is now finding public favour, but played in a semi-indoor court. a racquet court is feet inches wide and about feet long. the front wall, against which the ball is served, has a line or feet from the floor, above which the ball must strike. the server, as in tennis, takes his position in a service box with a racket similar to a lawn tennis racket except that it has a smaller head and a longer handle. either two or four players may play racquets. a game consists of fifteen "aces," or points. red line in this game, also called red lion, the goal must be a straight line, such as the crack in a sidewalk or the edge of a road. the one who is "it" runs after the rest as in tag, and when he has captured a prisoner he brings him into the "red line," and the two start out again hand in hand and another is captured, then three together, and two pair, and so on until all are prisoners. the first prisoner is "it" for the next game. roley boley this game is also called roll ball and nigger baby, and is played by children all over the civilized world. a number of depressions are hollowed in the ground corresponding to the number of players and a hole is chosen by each one. a rubber ball is then rolled toward the holes, and if it lodges in one of them the boy who has claimed that hole must run in and pick up the ball while the rest scatter. he then attempts to hit one of the other players with the ball. if he succeeds a small stone called a "baby" is placed in the hole belonging to the boy struck. otherwise the thrower is penalized with a "baby." when any boy has five babies he must stand against the wall and be a free target for the rest to throw the ball at. roque this game may be called scientific croquet. a roque mallet has a dogwood head - / inches long, with heavy nickel ferrules. roque balls are made of a special composition that is both resilient and practically unbreakable. a skilful roque player is able to make shots similar to billiard shots. the standard roque court is feet long, feet wide, with corner pieces feet long. the playing ground is of clay and should be as smooth as it is possible to make it. a very light top dressing of sand is used on the clay. the wickets, or "arches," are driven into blocks of wood to secure firmness and buried into the ground with the top of the arch inches above the surface. the roque balls are - / inches in diameter and the arches only - / wide, which gives an idea of the difficulty of playing this game. to be an expert requires an accurate eye and a great deal of practice. there is a national roque association, and an annual championship tournament is held to determine the champion. the home of roque is in the new england states. rowing record the best amateur intercollegiate record for the eight-oared race of four miles is minutes - / seconds, made by cornell, july , . rubicon this game may be played with any number of players, and is especially adapted for a school or lawn game. two players are chosen as pursuers and the rest are divided equally and stand two by two facing each other in two columns. the two pursuers stand at the head of each column and face each other. when ready they say, "cross the rubicon," and at this signal the rear couple from each line must run forward and try to reach the rear of the other line. the pursuers must not look back, but as soon as the runners are abreast of them must try to tag them before they reach the place of safety. the captured runners become pursuers, and the one who was "it" takes his or her place at the rear of the other line. sack racing a form of sport where the contestants are fastened in sacks with the hands and feet confined and where they race for a goal by jumping or hopping along at the greatest possible speed under this handicap. a sack race should not be considered one of the scientific branches of sport, but is rather to afford amusement for the spectators. scotland's burning this game is based upon the song of the same name. the players form a ring, with three judges in the centre. each player with appropriate gestures in turn begins the song, "_scotland's burning. scotland's burning,_ _look out! look out!_ _fire! fire! fire! fire!_ _pour on water! pour on water!_" the whole party are soon singing, but each four are singing different words. the object of the judges is to detect some one in the circle either making gestures that are not appropriate to the words or to be singing out of order. the penalty is to turn around and sing with the back to the circle. the three who are facing in last then become judges. skiing this sport has recently received wide popularity in sections of the country where the winters make it possible. skis--or, as they are sometimes spelled, skee,--are a pair of flat runners from five to ten feet long which are attached to the feet in such a way as to be easily cast off in case of accident. by means of skis a ski-runner may either make rapid progress over level snow or may coast down sharp declivities and make jumps of great extent. skis are usually made of ash and the standard lengths are from six to eight feet. they cost from five to seven dollars a pair. in skiing it is customary to use a pair of steel-shod poles with leather wrist straps, but in ski-running or coasting the use of poles is very dangerous. spanish fly in this game of leap frog various tricks are attempted by the leader, as in the game of "stump master." each of the boys following is expected to do as the leader or to drop out and become "down" himself. "torchlight" is to jump with one hand only, using the other to wave his cap as if it were a torch. in "hats on deck" each jumper in turn is supposed to leave his cap on "down's" back. naturally the last one over may have a large pile of hats to clear. if he disturbs any of them or knocks them off, he is "it." "hats off" means for each jumper in turn to take his own hat without knocking off any of the others. in all games of leap frog it is considered proper for the jumper to direct "down" to give him the kind of a "back" he desires. consequently he will say high or low back, depending upon whether he wishes "down" to stand almost upright or to bend close to the ground. squash this game is similar to racquets, but is less violent or severe on a player. it is played in a court feet inches wide. the front wall must be feet high. the service line above which the ball must strike on the serve is feet from the floor. below this line and feet from the floor is the "tell tale," above which the ball must strike in play. a squash racket is similar to a tennis racket, but slightly smaller. in squash, a game is "fifteen up." at the score of a player may "set the score" back to or , after which the player first winning either or points, or aces, as they are called, is the winner. the object of this is to endeavour to overcome the advantage that the server may have. in a regulation squash court the spectators' gallery is above the walls of the court, and the game is played in the pit below the gallery. stump master in this game one of the players is chosen master. it is usually the one who first suggests the game by saying. "let's play stump master." he then leads the line of players, going through various "stumps," or, as we should call them now, "stunts," such as climbing fences and trees, turning somersaults, crawling through narrow places, or whatever will be difficult for the rest to copy. the game is capable of all sorts of variations. suckers this can scarcely be called a game, but the use of the sucker is so familiar to most boys that a description of it is surely not out of place in this chapter. a piece of sole leather is used, three or four inches square. it is cut into a circle and the edges carefully pared thin. a hole is made in the centre and a piece of string or top twine is knotted and run through the hole. the sucker is then soaked in water until it is soft and pliable. the object of the sucker is to lift stones or bricks with it. this, too, is of especial interest in new england towns, where there are brick sidewalks. the sucker is pressed firmly on a brick by means of the foot, and it will be found to adhere to it with sufficient force to lift it clear of the ground. tether ball the same as tether tennis, which see. tether tennis this game has been developed out of lawn tennis. a wooden pole extending feet above the surface is placed in a vertical position and firmly imbedded in the ground. the pole must be - / inches in circumference at the ground and may taper to the top. six feet above the ground a black band inches wide is painted around the pole. the court is a smooth piece of sod or clay similar to a tennis court, but a piece of ground feet square is sufficient. at the base of the pole a circle is described with a -foot radius. a line feet long bisects this circle, and feet from the pole on each side are two crosses, which are known as service crosses. an ordinary tennis ball is used which has been fitted with a tight-fitting linen cover. the ball is fastened to the pole by means of a piece of heavy braided line. ordinary heavy fish line will do. the ball should hang - / feet from the top of the pole or - / feet from the ground. regulation tennis rackets are used. the game consists in endeavouring to wind the ball and string around the pole above the black mark in a direction previously determined. the opponent meanwhile tries to prevent this and to wind the ball in the opposite direction by striking it as one would volley in tennis. each player must keep in his own court. the points are scored as "fouls." eleven games constitute a set. a game is won when the string is completely wound around the pole above the black mark. the penalty for a foul, such as stepping outside of one's court, allowing the string to wind around the handle of the racket or around the pole below the black mark, provides for a free hit by one's opponent. three-legged racing a race in which the contestants are paired off by being strapped together at the ankles and thighs. remarkable speed can be obtained by practice under this handicap. there are definite rules to govern three-legged races, and official harness may be bought from sporting goods outfitters. as a race, however, it is like sack racing, to be classed among the sports designed to afford amusement rather than as a display of skill. tub racing these races are often held in shallow lakes. each contestant sits in a wash tub, and by using his hands as paddles endeavours to paddle the course first. as a wash tub is not a particularly seaworthy craft, and spills are of frequent occurrence, it is well for the tub racers also to know how to swim. volley ball this game is extremely simple and may be played by any number of players, provided that there is space and that the sides are evenly divided. the best dimensions for a volley ball court are feet wide and feet long, but any square space evenly divided into two courts will do. the game consists of twenty-one points. the ball is made of white leather and inflated with a rubber bladder. a net divides the two courts and is feet high. the standard volley ball is inches in circumference and weighs between and ounces. the whole object of the game is to pass the ball back and forth over the net without permitting it to touch the floor or to bound. in this way it somewhat resembles both tennis and hand ball. volley ball is an excellent game for gymnasiums and has the decided advantage of permitting almost any number to play. warning the "warner" takes his position at a space called "home" and the rest of the players stand some distance from him. he then clasps his hands and runs out, trying to tag an opponent with his clasped hands. this would be practically impossible except that the players endeavour to make him unclasp his hands by pulling at his arms and drawing temptingly near him. as soon as he has tagged a victim he runs for home as fast as possible. if he himself is tagged before he reaches home he is out, and the tagger becomes "warner." if both the warner and the one tagged reach home safely they clasp hands, and finally the line contains all the players but one, who has the honour of being warner for the next game. the game receives its name from the call, "warning!" which the warner gives three times before leaving home. washington in this game a player stands blindfolded and another player comes up and taps him. the one who is "it" then gives a penalty, such as "climb a tree or run to the corner and back," and then tries to guess who it was that tapped him. the one tapped must answer some question so that he may be recognized by his voice or laugh. if "it" is correct in his guess, the player must do as directed, but if his guess is wrong he must do it himself. the result of this game is that the blindfolded player will measure the severity of his "forfeits," or "penalties," to his certainty of guessing correctly the name of the player. water polo this game is played in a swimming pool. a white ball made of rubber fabric is used. the ball must be between and inches in diameter. the goals are spaces feet long and inches wide at each end of the tank and placed inches above the water line. six men on a side constitute a team. it is a game in which skill in swimming is absolutely essential. it is also a very rough game. the player endeavours to score goals by swimming with the ball, and his opponents are privileged to tackle him and to force him under water or in other ways to attempt to secure the ball from him. meanwhile the other players are blocking off opponents, and in general the game resembles a football game in its rudiments. water race in this game the contestants run a race carrying a glass or tin cup full of water on top of the head, which must not be touched by the hands. the one finishing first with a minimum loss of water from his cup is the winner. wicket polo a game played by two teams of four players each. the ball used is a regulation polo ball. a wicket polo surface is feet square, in which sticks or wickets are set up. the object of the game is to knock down the wickets of one's opponents by a batted ball and to prevent them from displacing our own. a crooked stick feet in length and a little over an inch in diameter is used. each player has a fixed position on the field or surface. wolf and sheep in this game "it" is the wolf. the sheep choose a shepherd to guard them. the wolf then secures a hiding place and the sheep and shepherd leave the fold and endeavour to locate him. when this is done the shepherd cries, "i spy a wolf!" and every one stands while he counts ten. then the sheep and shepherd scatter for the fold, and if tagged before they reach it the first becomes wolf for the next game. wood tag in this class are also "iron tag," "stone tag," and "tree tag." they are all simply the game of tag with the additional rule that when a player is in contact with iron, stone, trees, wood, and so on he is safe from being tagged by the one who is "it." the game of "squat tag" is similar, except that to be safe the one pursued must squat quickly on the ground before "it" catches him. in cross tag, "it" must select a victim and continue to run after him until some one runs ahead and crosses his path, when "it," who may be breathless by this time, must abandon his victim for a fresh one, who may soon be relieved and so on until some one is tagged, or "it" is exhausted. the country life press, garden city, n.y. a dog with a bad name by talbot baines reed ________________________________________________________________________ the story opens in a rather run-down school. there is an unfortunate incident in which a boy is almost killed, and a boy of the name of jeffreys, not a very popular chap, is held to have been responsible. thus the dog acquires a bad name. throughout the next few years of jeffreys' life this incident is brought up against him. he is brought lower and lower, till eventually he finds somewhere to live in the utmost poverty, amongst the very poor. here by a twist of fortune he ends up looking after some abandoned children. there is a fire, and he rescues somebody, but it is only when he gets that person back to his room that he realises it is the very person whom he had almost killed all those years before. this book is very well written. i have been wondering whether it is a book for teenagers, or a book for adults, and have come to the conclusion that it's for teenagers, but only the really bright ones, as there is so much food for thought in it. nh. ________________________________________________________________________ a dog with a bad name by talbot baines reed chapter one. dry-rot. bolsover college was in a bad temper. it often was; for as a rule it had little else to do; and what it had, was usually a less congenial occupation. bolsover, in fact, was a school which sadly needed two trifling reforms before it could be expected to do much good in the world. one was, that all its masters should be dismissed; the other was, that all its boys should be expelled. when these little changes had been effected there was every chance of turning the place into a creditable school; but not much chance otherwise. for bolsover college was afflicted with dry-rot. the mischief had begun not last term or the term before. years ago it had begun to eat into the place, and every year it grew more incurable. occasional efforts had been made to patch things up. a boy had been now and then expelled. a master had now and then "resigned." an old rule had now and then been enforced. a new rule was now and then instituted. but you can't patch up a dry-rot, and bolsover crumbled more and more the oftener it was touched. years ago it had dropped out of the race with the other public-schools. its name had disappeared from the pass list of the university and civil service candidates. scarcely a human being knew the name of its head- master; and no assistant-master was ever known to make bolsover a stepping-stone to pedagogic promotion. the athletic world knew nothing of a bolsover eleven or fifteen; and, worse still, no bolsover boy was ever found who was proud either of his school or of himself. somebody asks, why, if the place was in such a bad way, did parents continue to send their boys there, when they had all the public-schools in england to choose from? to that the answer is very simple. bolsover was cheap--horribly cheap! "a high class public-school education," to quote the words of the prospectus, "with generous board and lodging, in a beautiful midland county, in a noble building with every modern advantage; gymnasium, cricket-field, and a full staff of professors and masters," for something under forty pounds a year, was a chance not to be snuffed at by an economical parent or guardian. and when to these attractions was promised "a strict attention to morals, and a supervision of wardrobes by an experienced matron," even the hearts of mothers went out towards the place. after all, argues many an easy-going parent, a public-school education is a public-school education, whether dear benjamin gets it at eton, or shrewsbury, or bolsover. we cannot afford eton or shrewsbury, but we will make a pinch and send him to bolsover, which sounds almost as good and may even be better. so to bolsover dear benjamin goes, and becomes a public-school boy. in that "noble building" he does pretty much as he likes, and eats very much what he can. the "full staff of professors and masters" interfere very little with his liberty, and the "attention to morals" is never inconveniently obtruded. he goes home pale for the holidays and comes back paler each term. he scuffles about now and then in the play-ground and calls it athletics. he gets up caesar with a crib and todhunter with a key, and calls it classics and mathematics. he loafs about with a toady and calls it friendship. in short, he catches the bolsover dry- rot, and calls it a public-school training: what is it makes benjamin and his seventy-nine school-fellows (for bolsover had its full number of eighty boys this term) in such a particularly ill-humour this grey october morning? have his professors and masters gently hinted to him that he is expected to know his lessons next time he goes into class? or has the experienced matron been overdoing her attention to his morals? ask him. "what!" he says, "don't you know what the row is? it's enough to make anybody shirty. frampton, this new head-master, you know, he's only been here a week or two, he's going to upset everything. i wish to goodness old mullany had stuck on, cad as he was. he let us alone, but this beast frampton's smashing the place up. what do you think?--you'd never guess, he's made a rule the fellows are all to tub every morning, whether they like it or not. what do you call that? i know i'll get my governor to make a row about it. it won't wash, i can tell you. what business has he to make us tub, eh, do you hear? that's only one thing. he came and jawed us in the big room this morning, and said he meant to make football compulsory! there! you needn't gape as if you thought i was gammoning. i'm not, i mean it. football's to be compulsory. every man jack's got to play, whether he can or not. i call it brutal! the only thing is, it won't be done. the fellows will kick. i shall. i'm not going to play football to please a cad like frampton, or any other cad!" what benjamin says is, for a wonder, the truth. a curious change had come over bolsover since the end of last term. old mr mullany, good old fossil that he was, had resigned. the boys had heard casually of the event at the end of last term. but the old gentleman so seldom appeared in their midst, and when he did, so rarely made any show of authority, that the school had grown to look upon him as an inoffensive old fogey, whose movements made very little difference to anybody. it was not till the holidays were over, and mr frampton introduced himself as the new head-master, that bolsover awoke to the knowledge that a change had taken place. mr frampton--he was not even a "doctor" or a "reverend," but was a young man with sandy whiskers, and a red tie--had a few ideas of his own on the subject of dry-rot. he evidently preferred ripping up entire floors to patching single planks, and he positively scared his colleagues and pupils by the way he set to work. he was young and enthusiastic, and was perhaps tempted to overdo things at first. when people are being reformed, they need a little breathing time now and then; but mr frampton seemed to forget it. he had barely been in his post a week when two of the under-masters resigned their posts. undaunted he brought over two new men, who shared his own ideas, and installed them into the vacancies. then three more of the old masters resigned; and three more new men took their places. then the "experienced matron" resigned, and mrs frampton took her place. no sooner was that done than the order went out that every boy should have a cold bath every morning, unless excused by the doctor. the school couldn't resign, so they sulked, and gasped in the unwelcome element, and coughed heart-rendingly whenever they met the tyrant. the tyrant was insatiate. before the school could recover from his first shock, the decree for compulsory football staggered it. compulsory football! why, half the fellows in the school had never put their toes to a football in their lives, and those who had had rarely done more than punt the leather aimlessly about, when they felt in the humour to kick something, and nobody or nothing more convenient was at hand. but it was useless to represent this to mr frampton. "the sooner you begin to play the better," was his reply to all such objections. but the old goal posts were broken, and the ball was flabby and nearly worn-out. "the new goals and ball are to arrive from london to-day." but they had not got flannels or proper clothes to play in. "they must get flannels. every boy must have flannels, and meanwhile they must wear the oldest shirts and trousers they had." shirts and trousers! then they weren't even to be allowed to wear coats and waistcoats this chilly weather! hadn't they better wait till next week, till they could ask leave of their parents, and get their flannels and practise a bit? "no. between now and saturday they would have two clear days to practise. on saturday, the sixth would play the school at three o'clock." and mr frampton, there being nothing more to say on this subject, went off to see what his next pleasant little surprise should be. bolsover, meanwhile, snarled over the matter in ill-tempered conclaves in the play-ground. "it's simple humbug," said farfield, one of the sixth. "i defy him to make me play if i don't choose." "i shall stand with my hands in my pockets, and not move an inch," said another. "i mean to sit down on the grass and have a nap," said a third. "all very well," said a youngster, called forrester; "if you can get all the other fellows to do the same. but if some of them play, it'll look as if you funked it." "who cares what it looks like?" said farfield. "it will look like not being made to do what they've no right to make us do--that's all i care about." "well, i don't know," said pridger, another of the sixth; "if it came to the school licking us, i fancy i'd try to prevent that." "and if it came to the sixth licking us," said young forrester, who was of the audacious order, "i fancy _i'd_ try to put a stopper on that." there was a smile at this, for the valiant junior was small for his age, and flimsily built. smiles, however, were not the order of the day, and for the most part bolsover brooded over her tribulations in sulky silence. the boys had not much in common, and even a calamity like the present failed to bring them together. the big boys mooned about and thought of their lost liberties, of the afternoons in the tuck-shop, of the yellow- backed novels under the trees, of the loafings down town, and wondered if they should ever be happy again. the little boys--some of them--wept secretly in corners, as they pictured themselves among the killed and wounded on the terrible football field. and as the sharp october wind cut across the play-ground, they shuddered, great and small, at the prospect of standing there on saturday, without coats or waistcoats, and wondered if frampton was designedly dooming them to premature graves. a few, a very few, of the more sensible ones, tried to knock up a little practice game and prepare themselves for the terrible ordeal. among these were two boys belonging to the group whose conversation the reader has already overheard. one of them, young forrester, has already been introduced. junior as he was, he was a favourite all over bolsover, for he was about the only boy in the school who was always in good spirits, and did not seem to be infected with the universal dry-rot of the place. he was a small, handsome boy, older indeed then he looked (for he was nearly fifteen), not particularly clever or particularly jocular. to look at him you would have thought him delicate, but there was nothing feeble in his manner. he looked you straight in the face with a pair of brown saucy eyes; he was ready to break his neck to oblige any one; and his pocket- money (fancy a bolsover boy having pocket-money!) was common property. altogether he was a phenomenon at bolsover, and fellows took to him instinctively, as fellows often do take to one whose character and disposition are a contrast to their own. besides this, young forrester was neither a prig nor a toady, and devoted himself to no one in particular, so that everybody had the benefit of his good spirits, and enjoyed his pranks impartially. the other boy, who appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen, was of a different kind. he, too, was a cut above the average bolsoverian, for he was clever, and had a mind of his own. but he acted almost entirely on antipathies. he disliked everybody, except, perhaps, young forrester, and he found fault with everything. scarfe--that was his name was a sixth form boy, who did the right thing because he disliked doing what everybody else did, which was usually the wrong. he disliked his school-fellows, and therefore was not displeased with mr frampton's reforms; but he disliked mr frampton and the new masters, and therefore hoped the school would resist their authority. as for what he himself should do, that would depend on which particular antipathy was uppermost when the time came. curiously enough, bolsover by no means disliked scarfe. they rather respected a fellow who had ideas of his own, when they themselves had so few; and as each boy, as a rule, could sympathise with his dislike of everybody else, with one exception, he found plenty of adherents and not a few toadies. forrester was about the only boy he really did not dislike, because forrester did not care twopence whether any one liked him or not, and he himself was quite fond of scarfe. "what do you think the fellows will do?" said the junior, after attempting for the sixth time to "drop" the ball over the goal without success. "why, obey, of course," said scarfe scornfully. "shall you?" "i suppose so." "why, i thought you were going to stick out." "no doubt a lot of the fellows would like it if i did. they always like somebody else to do what they don't care to do themselves." "well, you and i'll be on different sides," said the youngster, making another vain attempt at the goal. "i'm sorry for you, my boy." "so am i; i'd like to see the sixth beaten. but there's not much chance of it if the kicking's left to you." "i tell you what," said forrester, ignoring the gibe. "i'm curious to know what cad jeffreys means to do. we're bound to have some fun if he's in it." "cad jeffreys," said scarfe, with a slight increase of scorn in his face and voice, "will probably assist the school by playing for the sixth." forrester laughed. "i hear he nearly drowned himself in the bath the first day, and half scragged shrimpton for grinning at him. if he gets on as well at football, frampton will have something to answer for. why, here he comes." "suppose you invite him to come and have a knock up with the ball," suggested the senior. the figure which approached the couple was one which, familiar as it was to bolsover, would have struck a stranger as remarkable. a big youth, so disproportionately built as to appear almost deformed, till you noticed that his shoulders were unusually broad and his feet and hands unusually large. whether from indolence or infirmity it was hard to say, his gait was shambling and awkward, and the strength that lurked in his big limbs and chest seemed to unsteady him as he floundered top- heavily across the play-ground. but his face was the most remarkable part about him. the forehead, which overhung his small, keen eyes, was large and wrinkled. his nose was flat, and his thick, restless lips seemed to be engaged in an endless struggle to compel a steadiness they never attained. it was an unattractive face, with little to redeem it from being hideous. the power in it seemed all to centre in its angry brow, and the softness in its restless mouth. the balance was bad, and the general impression forbidding. jeffreys was nineteen, but looked older, for he had whiskers--an unpardonable sin in the eyes of bolsover--and was even a little bald. his voice was deep and loud. a stranger would have mistaken him for an inferior master, or, judging from his shabby garments, a common gardener. those who knew him were in no danger of making that mistake. no boy was more generally hated. how he came by his name of cad jeffreys no one knew, except that no other name could possibly describe him. the small boys whispered to one another that once on a time he had murdered his mother, or somebody. the curious discovered that he was a lineal descendant of judge jeffreys, of hanging celebrity. the seniors represented him as a cross between nero and caliban, and could not forgive him for being head classic. the one thing fellows could appreciate in him was his temper. a child in arms, if he knew the way, could get a rise out of cad jeffreys, and in these dull times that was something to be thankful for. forrester was perhaps the most expert of jeffreys' enemies. he worried the cad not so much out of spite as because it amused him, and, like the nimble matador, he kept well out of reach of the bull all the time he was firing shots at him. "hullo, jeff!" he called out, as the cad approached. "are you going to play in the match on saturday?" "no," said jeffreys. "you're not? haven't you got any old clothes to play in?" jeffreys' brow darkened. he glanced down at his own shabby garments, and then at scarfe's neat suit. "i've got flannels," he said. "flannels! why don't you play, then? do you think you won't look well in flannels? he would, wouldn't he, scarfe?" "i don't see how he could look better than he does now," replied scarfe, looking at the figure before him. then noticing the black looks on his enemy's face, he added-- "forrester and i were having a little practice at kicking, jeff. you may as well join us, whether you play in the match or not." "why, are you going to play?" asked jeffreys, not heeding the invitation. "frampton has no right to make us do it." "why not? he's head-master. besides, you can get a doctor's certificate if you like." "no, i can't; i'm not ill." "then you'll have to play, of course. everybody will, and you'd better come and practise with us now. do you know how to play?" "of course i do," said jeffreys, "i've played at home." "all serene. have a shot at the goal, then." the cad's experience of football at home must have been of a humble description, for his attempt at a kick now was a terrible fiasco. he missed the ball completely, and, losing his balance at the same time, fell heavily to the ground. "bravo!" cried forrester, "i wish i'd learnt football at home; i couldn't do that to save my life." "i slipped," said jeffreys, rising slowly to his feet, and flushing crimson. "did you?" said the irreverent youth. "i thought it was part of the play. stand out of the way, though, while i take a shot." before, however, jeffreys could step aside, a neat and, for a wonder, accurate drop-kick from forrester sent the ball violently against the side of the unwieldy senior's head, knocking off his hat and nearly precipitating him a second time to the earth. the storm fairly burst now. as the fleet-footed junior darted past him the other struck out wildly; but missing his blow, he seized the ball and gave a furious kick in the direction of the retreating enemy. it was a fine drop-kick, and soared far over the head of its intended victim, straight between the goal posts, an undoubted and brilliant goal. forrester stopped his retreat to applaud, and scarfe scornfully joined. "awfully good," said he; "you certainly must play on saturday. we've nobody can kick like that." "i meant it to hit forrester," said jeffreys, panting with his effort, and his lips nearly white with excitement. "would you like another shot?" called out the young gentleman in question. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself, losing your temper like that," said scarfe bitterly. "couldn't you see he hit you by accident?" "he did it on purpose," said jeffreys savagely. "nonsense. he was aiming at the goal and missed. you did the same thing yourself, only you aimed at him." "i wish i had hit him!" growled jeffreys, glaring first at scarfe, than at forrester, and finally shambling off the ground. "there's a nice amiable lamb," said forrester, as he watched the retreating figure. "i'm sometimes half ashamed to bait him, he does get into such tantrums. but it's awfully tempting." "you'd better keep out of his way the rest of the day," said scarfe. "oh, bless you, he'll have worked it off in half an hour. what do you bet i don't get him to do my latin prose for me this afternoon?" forrester knew his man; and that afternoon, as if nothing had happened, the junior sat in the cad's study, eating some of the cad's bread and jam while the cad wrote out the junior's exercise for him. chapter two. a football tragedy. the two days' grace which mr frampton had almost reluctantly allowed before putting into execution his new rule of compulsory athletics told very much in his favour. bolsover, after the first shock, grew used to the idea and even resigned. after all, it would be a variety, and things were precious dull as they were. as to making a rule of it, that was absurd, and frampton could hardly be serious when he talked of doing so. but on saturday, if it was fine, and they felt in the humour--well, they would see about it. with which condescending resolution they returned to their loafings and novels and secret cigarettes, and tried to forget all about mr frampton. but mr frampton had no idea of being forgotten. he had the schoolmaster's virtue of enthusiasm, but he lacked the schoolmaster's virtue of patience. he hated the dry-rot like poison, and could not rest till he had ripped up every board and rafter that harboured it. any ordinary reformer would have been satisfied with the week's work he had already accomplished. but mr frampton added yet another blow at the very heart of the dry-rot before the week was out. on the day before the football match bolsover was staggered, and, so to speak, struck all of a heap by the announcement that in future the school tuck-shop would be closed until after the dinner hour! fellows stared at one another with a sickly, incredulous smile when they first heard the grim announcement and wondered whether, after all, the new head-master _was_ an escaped lunatic. a few gifted with more presence of mind than others bethought them of visiting the shop and of dispelling the hideous nightmare by optical demonstration. alas! the shutters were up. mother partridge was not at the receipt of custom, but instead, written in the bold, square hand of mr frampton himself, there confronted them the truculent notice, "the shop will for the future be open only before breakfast and after dinner." "brutal!" gasped farfield, as he read it. "does he mean to starve us as well as drown us?" "hard lines for poor old mother partridge," suggested scarfe. this cry took. there was somehow a lurking sense of shame which made it difficult for bolsover to rise in arms on account of the injury done to itself. money had been wasted, appetites had been lost, digestions had been ruined in that shop, and they knew it. if you had put the question to any one of the boys who crowded down, hungry after their bath, to breakfast on the day of the football match, he would have told you that frampton was as great a brute as ever, and that it was a big shame to make fellows play whether they liked it or not. for all that, he would tell you, _he_ was going to play, much as he hated it, to avoid a row. and if you had pressed him further he would have confided to you that it was expected the school would beat the sixth, and that he rather hoped, as he must play, he would get a chance at the ball before the match was over. from all which you might gather that bolsover was reluctantly coming round to take an interest in the event. "fortune favours the brave," said mr steele, one of his assistants, to the head-master at dinner-time. "you have conquered before you have struck, mighty caesar." mr frampton smiled. he was flushed and excited. two days ago he had seemed to be committed to a desperate venture. now, a straight path seemed to open before him, and bolsover, in his enthusiastic imagination, was already a reformed, reinvigorated institution. "yes, steele," said he, as he glanced from the window and watched the boys trooping down towards the meadow. "this day will be remembered at bolsover." little dreamed the brave head-master how truly his prophecy would be fulfilled. an arrangement had been made to give the small boys a match of their own. the young gladiators themselves, who had secretly wept over their impending doom, were delighted to be removed beyond the reach of the giants of the sixth. and the leaders of the school forces were devoutly thankful to be disencumbered of a crowd of meddlesome "kids" who would have spoiled sport, even if they did not litter the ground with their corpses. the sight of the new goal posts and ball, which mr freshfield, a junior master, was heard to explain was a present from the head-master to the school, had also a mollifying effect. and the bracing freshness of the air and the self-respect engendered by the sensation of their flannels (for most of the players had contrived to provide themselves with armour of this healthy material) completed their reconciliation to their lot, and drove all feelings of resentment against their tyrant, for the present at any rate, quite out of their heads. in a hurried consultation of the seniors, farfield, who was known to be a player, was nominated captain of the senior force; while a similar council of war among the juniors had resulted in the appointment of ranger of the fifth to lead the hosts of the school. mr freshfield, with all the ardour of an old general, assisted impartially in advising as to the disposition of the field on either side; and, for the benefit of such as might be inexperienced at the game, rehearsed briefly some of the chief rules of the game as played under the rugby laws. "now, are you ready?" said he, when all preliminaries were settled, and the ball lay, carefully titled, ready for farfield's kick-off. "wait a bit," cried some one. "where's jeffreys?" where, indeed? no one had noticed his absence till now; and one or two boys darted off to look for him. but before they had gone far a white apparition appeared floundering across the meadow in the direction of the goals; and a shout of derisive welcome rose, as jeffreys, arrayed in an ill-fitting suit of white holland, and crowned with his blue flannel cap, came on to the scene. "he's been sewing together the pillow-cases to make his trousers," said some one. "think of a chap putting on his dress shirt to play football in," cried another. "frampton said we were to wear the oldest togs we'd got," said a third, "not our sunday best." jeffreys, as indeed it was intended, heard these facetious remarks on his strange toilet, and his brow grew heavy. "come on," said scarfe, as he drew near, "it wasn't fair to the other side for you not to play." "i couldn't find my boots," replied the cad shortly, scowling round him. "perhaps you'll play forward," said farfield, "and if ever you don't know what to do, go and stand outside those flag posts, and for mercy's sake let the ball alone." "boo-hoo! i _am_ in such a funk," cried forrester with his mocking laugh. "thank goodness i'm playing back." "come now," called mr freshfield impatiently, "are you ready? kick off, farfield. look out, school." next moment the match had begun. as might have been expected, there was at first a great deal more confusion than play. bolsover was utterly unused to doing anything together, and football of all games needs united action. there was a great deal of scrimmaging, but very few kicks and very few runs. the ball was half the time invisible, and the other half in touch. mr freshfield had time after time to order a throw-in to be repeated, or rule a kick as "off-side." the more ardent players forgot the duty of protecting their flanks and rear; and the more timid neglected their chances of "piling up" the scrimmages. the sixth got in the way of the sixth, and the school often spoiled the play of the school. but after a quarter of an hour or so the chaos began to resolve itself, and each side, so to speak, came down to its bearings. mr frampton, as he walked across from the small boys' match, was surprised as well as delighted to notice the business-like way in which the best players on either side were settling down to their work. there was farfield, flushed and dogged, leading on his forwards, and always on the ball. there was scarfe, light and dodgy, ready for a run or a neat drop-kick from half-back. there was ranger and phipps of the fifth, backing one another up like another nisus and euryalus. there was young forrester, merry and plucky, saving his goal more than once by a prompt touch-down. there, even, was the elephantine jeffreys, snorting and pounding in the thick of the fray, feeling his feet under him, and doing his clumsy best to fight the battle of his side. the game went hard against the school, despite their determined rallies and gallant sorties. young forrester in goal had more than one man's share of work; and scarfe's drops from the rear of the sixth scrimmage flew near and still nearer the enemy's goal. once, just before half-time, he had what seemed a safe chance, but at the critical moment jeffreys' ungainly bulk interposed, and received on his chest the ball which would certainly have carried victory to his side. "clumsy lout!" roared farfield; "didn't i tell you to stand out of the way and not go near the ball--you idiot! go and play back, do." jeffreys turned on him darkly. "you think i did it on purpose," said he. "i didn't." "go and play back!" repeated farfield--"or go and hang yourself." jeffreys took a long breath, and departed with a scowl to the rear. "half-time!" cried mr freshfield. "change sides." it was a welcome summons. both sides needed a little breathing space to gird themselves for the final tussle. the school was elated at having so far eluded actual defeat, and cheerily rallied their opponents as they crossed over. jeffreys, in particular, as he made moodily to his new station, came in for their jocular greetings. "thanks awfully, cad, old man!" cried one; "we knew you'd give us a leg up." "my word! doesn't he look pleased with himself!" said another. "no wonder!" "is that the way they taught you to play football at home?" said young forrester, emphasising his question with an acorn neatly pitched at the cad's ear. jeffreys turned savagely with lifted arm, but forrester was far beyond his enemy's reach, and his hand dropped heavily at his own side as he continued his sullen march to the sixth's goal. "are you ready?" shouted mr freshfield. "kick off. ranger! look out, sixth!" the game recommenced briskly. the school, following up the advantage of their kick-off, and cheered by their recent luck, made a desperate onslaught into the enemy's territory, which for a while took all the energy of the sixth to repel. phipps and ranger were irrepressible, and had it not been for the steady play of scarfe and the sixth backs, that formidable pair of desperadoes might have turned the tide of victory by their own unaided exertions. in the defence of the seniors, jeffreys, it need hardly be said, took no part. he stood moodily near one of the posts, still glaring in the direction of his insulters, and apparently heedless of the fortunes, of the game. his inaction, however, was not destined to last long. the second half game had lasted about a quarter of an hour, and the school was still stubbornly holding their advanced position in the proximity of the enemy's goal, when the ball suddenly, and by one of those mysterious chances of battle, burst clear of the scrimmage and darted straight to where jeffreys stood. "pick it up and run--like mad!" shouted farfield. with a sudden swoop which astonished his beholders the cad pounced on the ball and started to run in the direction of the ill-protected goal of the school. till they saw him in motion with an almost clear field ahead, no one had had any conception how powerfully he was built or how fast he could run. the school, rash and sanguine of victory, had pressed to the front, leaving scarcely half a dozen behind to guard their rear. three of these jeffreys had passed before the school was well aware what he was doing. then a shout of consternation arose, mingled with the frantic cheers of the sixth. "collar him! have him over! stop him there! look out in goal!" but jeffreys was past stopping. like a cavalry charger who dashes on to the guns heedless of everything, and for the time being gone mad, so the bolsover cad, with the shouts behind him and the enemy's goal in front, saw and heard nothing else. the two men who stepped out at him were brushed aside like reeds before a boat's keel; and with half the field before him only one enemy remained between him and victory. that enemy was young forrester! there was something almost terrible in the furious career of the big boy as he bore down on the fated goal. those behind ceased to pursue, and watched the result in breathless suspense. even the saucy light on forrester's face faded as he hesitated a moment between fear and duty. "collar him there!" shouted the school. "he'll pass him easily," said the sixth. forrester stepped desperately across his adversary's path, resolved to do his duty, cost what it might. jeffreys never swerved from his course, right or left. "he's going to charge the youngster!" gasped farfield. forrester, who had counted on the runner trying to pass him, became suddenly aware that the huge form was bearing straight down upon him. the boy was no coward, but for a moment he stood paralysed. that moment was fatal. there was a crash, a shout! next moment jeffreys was seen staggering to his feet and carrying the ball behind the goal. but no one heeded him. every eye was turned to where young forrester lay on his back motionless, with his face as white as death. chapter three. gone! it would be difficult to picture the horror and dismay which followed the terrible termination to the football match described in our last chapter. for a second or two every one stood where he was, as if rooted to the ground. then with an exclamation of horror mr freshfield bounded to the side of the prostrate boy. "stand back and give him air!" cried the master, as the school closed round and gazed with looks of terror on the form of their companion. he lay with one arm above his head just as he had fallen. his cap lay a yard or two off where he had tossed it before making his final charge. his eyes were closed, and the deathly pallor of his face was unmoved by even a quiver of life. "he's dead!" gasped farfield. mr freshfield, who had been hastily loosening forrester's collar, and had rested his hand for an instant on his heart, looked up with a face almost as white as the boy's and said-- "go for the doctor!--and some water." half a dozen boys started--thankful to do anything. before the ring could close up again the ungainly form of jeffreys, still panting from his run, elbowed his way to the front. as his eyes fell on the form of his victim his face turned an ashy hue. those who watched him saw that he was struggling to speak, but no words came. he stood like one turned suddenly to stone. but not for long. with a cry something resembling a howl, the school by a sudden simultaneous movement turned upon him. he put up his hand instinctively, half-deprecatingly, half in self- defence. then as his eyes dropped once more on the motionless form over which mr freshfield was bending, he took half a step forward and gasped, "i did not--" whatever he had intended to say was drowned by another howl of execration. the sound of his voice seemed to have opened the floodgates and let loose the pent-up feelings of the onlookers. a score of boys rushed between him and his victim and hustled him roughly out of the ring. "murderer!" cried scarfe as he gave the first thrust. and amidst echoes of that terrible cry the cad was driven forth. once he turned with savage face, as though he would resist and fight his way back into the ring. but it was only for a moment. it may have been a sudden glimpse of that marble face on the grass, or it may have been terror. but his uplifted hand fell again at his side, and he dragged himself dejectedly to the outskirts of the crowd. there he still hovered, his livid face always turned towards the centre, drinking in every sound and marking every movement, but not attempting again to challenge the resentment of his school-fellows by attempting to enter the awe-struck circle. it seemed an age before help came. the crowd stood round silent and motionless, with their eyes fixed on the poor lifeless head which rested on mr freshfield's knee; straining their eyes for one sign of animation, yearning still more for the arrival of the doctor. mr freshfield did not dare to lift the form, or even beyond gently raising the head, to move it in any way. how anxiously all watched as, when the water arrived, he softly sponged the brow and held the glass to the white lips! alas! the dark lashes still drooped over those closed eyes, and as each moment passed bolsover felt that it stood in the shadow of death. at last there was a stir, as the sound of wheels approached in the lane. and presently the figure of the doctor, accompanied by mr frampton, was seen running across the meadow. as they reached the outskirts of the crowd, jeffreys laid his hand on the doctor's arm with an appealing gesture. "i did not mean--" he began. but the doctor passed on through the path which the crowd opened for him to the fallen boy's side. it was a moment of terrible suspense as he knelt and touched the boy's wrist, and applied his ear to his chest. then in a hurried whisper he asked two questions of mr freshfield, then again bent over the inanimate form. they could tell by the look on his face as he looked up that there was hope--for there was life! "he's not dead!" they heard him whisper to mr frampton. still they stood round, silent and motionless. the relief itself was terrible. he was not dead, but would those deep-fringed eyes ever open again? the doctor whispered again to mr frampton and mr freshfield, and the two passed their hands under the prostrate form to lift it. but before they could do so the doctor, who never took his eyes off the boy's face, held up his hand suddenly, and said "no! better have a hurdle," pointing to one which lay not far off on the grass. a dozen boys darted for it, and a dozen more laid their coats upon it to make a bed. once more, amid terrible suspense, they saw the helpless form raised gently and deposited on the hurdle. a sigh of relief escaped when the operation was over, and the sad burden, supported at each corner by the two masters, scarfe and farfield, began to move slowly towards the school. "slowly, and do not keep step. above all things avoid a jolt," said the doctor, keeping the boy's hand in his own. the crowd opened to let them pass, and then followed in mournful procession. as the bearers passed on, jeffreys, who all this time had been forgotten, but who had never once turned his face from where forrester lay, stepped quickly forward as though to assist in carrying the litter. his sudden movement, and the startling gesture that accompanied it, disconcerted the bearers, and caused them for a moment to quicken their step, thus imparting an unmistakable shock to the precious burden. the doctor uttered an exclamation of vexation and ordered a halt. "stand back, sir!" he cried angrily, waving jeffreys back; "a jolt like that may be fatal!" an authority still more potent than that of the doctor was at hand to prevent a recurrence of the danger. jeffreys was flung out of reach of the litter by twenty angry hands and hounded out of the procession. he did not attempt to rejoin it. for a moment he stood and watched it as it passed slowly on. a cold sweat stood on his brow, and every breath was a gasp. then he turned slowly back to the spot where forrester had fallen, and threw himself on the ground in a paroxysm of rage and misery. it was late and growing dark as he re-entered the school. there was a strange, weird silence about the place that contrasted startlingly with the usual evening clamour. the boys were mostly in their studies or collected in whispering groups in the schoolrooms. as jeffreys entered, one or two small boys near the door hissed him and ran away. others who met him in the passage and on the stairs glared at him with looks of mingled horror and aversion, which would have frozen any ordinary fellow. jeffreys, however, did not appear to heed it, still less to avoid it. entering the sixth form room, he found most of his colleagues gathered, discussing the tragedy of the day in the dim light of the bay window. so engrossed were they that they never noticed his entrance, and it was not till after standing a minute listening to their talk he broke in, in his loud tones-- "is forrester dead?" the sound of his voice, so harsh and unexpected, had the effect of an explosion in their midst. they recoiled from it, startled and half-scared. then, quickly perceiving the intruder, they turned upon him with a howl. but this time the cad did not retreat before them. he held up his hand to stop them with a gesture almost of authority. "don't!" he exclaimed. "i'll go. but tell me, some one, is he dead?" his big form loomed out in the twilight a head taller than any of his companions, and there was something in his tone and attitude that held them back. "you will be sorry to hear," said scarfe, one of the first to recover his self-control, and with a double-edge of bitterness in his voice, "that he was alive an hour ago." jeffreys gave a gasp, and held up his hand again. "is there hope for him, then?" "not with you in the school, you murderer!" exclaimed farfield, advancing on the cad, and striking him on the mouth. farfield had counted the cost, and was prepared for the furious onslaught which he felt certain would follow. but jeffreys seemed scarcely even to be aware of the blow. he kept his eyes on scarfe, to whom he had addressed his last question, and said-- "you won't believe me. i didn't mean it." "don't tell lies," said scarfe, "you did--coward!" jeffreys turned on his heel with what sounded like a sigh. the fury of his companions, which had more than once been on the point of breaking loose in the course of the short conference, vented itself in a howl as the door closed behind him. and yet, some said to themselves, would a murderer have stood and faced them all as he had done? the long night passed anxiously and sleeplessly for most of the inhabitants of bolsover. the event of the day had awed them into something like a common feeling. they forgot their own petty quarrels and grievances for the time, and thought of nothing but poor forrester. the doctor and mr frampton never quitted his room all night. boys who, refusing to go to bed, sat anxiously, with their study doors open, eager to catch the first sound proceeding from that solemn chamber, waited in vain, and dropped asleep where they sat as the night gave place to dawn. even the masters hovered restlessly about with careworn faces, and full of misgivings as hour passed hour without tidings. at length--it was about ten o'clock, and the school bell was just beginning to toll for morning chapel--the door opened, and mr frampton stepped quickly out of the sick-room. "stop the bell at once!" he said. then forrester must still be living! "how is he?" asked a dozen voices, as the head-master passed down the corridor. "there is hope," said mr frampton, "and, thank god! signs of returning consciousness." and with that grain of comfort wearied bolsover filed slowly into church. as mr frampton reached his study door he found scarfe and farfield waiting for him. "well?" said he wearily, seeing that they had something to say. "come in." they followed him into the room. "is there really hope?" said scarfe, who truly loved the injured boy. "i think so. he never moved or showed sign of life, except the beating of his heart, till an hour ago. then he moved his head and opened his eyes." "did he know you, sir?" "the doctor thinks he did. but everything depends now on quiet and care." "we wanted to speak to you, sir, about the--the accident," said farfield with a little hesitation. "yes. i have hardly heard how it happened, except that he fell in attempting to collar jeffreys. was it not so?" "yes, sir," replied farfield. "but--" "well, what?" asked mr frampton, noticing his hesitation. "we don't feel sure that it was altogether an accident," said farfield. "what! do you mean that the boy was intentionally injured?" "jeffreys might easily have run round him. anybody else would. he had the whole field to himself, and no one even near him behind." "but was it not forrester who got in front of him?" "of course he tried to collar him, sir," said scarfe; "but he's only a little boy, and jeffreys is a giant. jeffreys might have fended him off with his arm, as he did the other fellows who had tried to stop him, or he might have run round him. instead of that,"--and here the speaker's voice trembled with indignation--"he charged dead at him, and ran right over him." mr frampton's face clouded over. "jeffreys is a clumsy fellow, is he not?" he asked. "yes," said scarfe; "and if it had been any one else than forrester, we should all have put it down to his stupidity." "you mean," said the head-master, "that he had a quarrel with forrester?" "he hated forrester. every one knew that. forrester used to make fun of him and enrage him." "and you mean to tell me you believe this big boy of nineteen, out of revenge, deliberately ran over young forrester in the way you describe?" "i'm sure of it, sir," said farfield unhesitatingly. "no one doubts it," said scarfe. mr frampton took an uneasy turn up and down the room. he hated tale- bearers; but this seemed a case in which he was bound to listen and inquire further. "scarfe and farfield," said he, after a long pause, "you know of course as well as i do the nature of the charge you are bringing against your schoolfellow--the most awful charge one human being can bring against another. are you prepared to repeat all you have said to me in jeffreys' presence to-morrow, and before the whole school?" "certainly, sir," said both boys. "it was our duty to tell you, sir," said scarfe; "and only fair to poor young forrester." "nothing less than a sense of duty could justify the bringing of such a terrible accusation," said the head-master, "and i am relieved that you are prepared to repeat it publicly--to-morrow. for to-day, let us thank god for the hope he gives us of the poor sufferer. good-bye." much as he could have wished it, it was impossible for mr frampton, wearied out as he was with his night's watching, to dismiss from his mind the serious statement which his two senior boys had made. the responsibility which rested on him in consequence was terrible, and it required all his courage to face it. that afternoon he sent for mr freshfield, and repeated to him the substance of the accusation against jeffreys, asking him if he had noticed anything calculated to confirm the suspicion expressed by the boys. mr freshfield was naturally very much startled. "if you had not mentioned it," he said, "i should never have dreamed of such a thing. but i confess i have noticed that forrester and jeffreys were on bad terms. forrester is a mischievous boy, and jeffreys, who you know is rather a lout, seems to have been his special butt. i am afraid, too, that jeffreys' short temper rather encouraged his tormentors." "yes, but about the accident," said mr frampton; "you were on the ground, you know. did you notice anything then?" "there was a little horseplay as the sides were changing over at half- time. forrester, among others, was taunting jeffreys with a bad piece of play, and threw something at him. i was rather struck by the look almost of fury which passed across jeffreys' face. but it seemed to me he got better of his feelings with an effort and went on without heeding what was said to him." "that was not long before the accident?" "about a quarter of an hour. his run down the field at the last was really a good piece of play, and every one seemed surprised. but there was any amount of room and time to get past forrester instead of charging right on to him. it's possible, of course, he may have lost his head and not seen what he was doing." mr frampton shrugged his shoulders. "well," said he with a dejected look, "i wish you could have told me anything but what you have. at any rate, to-morrow morning the matter must be faced and decided upon. jeffreys is unpopular in the school, is he not?" "most unpopular," said mr freshfield. "that will make our responsibility all the greater," said the head- master. "he will have every one's hand against him." "and you may be quite certain he will do himself injustice. he always does. but what of forrester?" "he is conscious, and has taken some nourishment; that is all i can say, except, indeed," added mr frampton, with a groan, "that if he lives the doctor says it will be as a cripple." the day dragged wearily on, and night came at last. most of the boys, worn-out with their last night's vigil, went to bed and slept soundly. the doctor, too, leaving his patient in the charge of a trained nurse, specially summoned, returned home, reporting hopefully of the case as he departed. in two studies at bolsover that night, however, there was no rest. far into the night mr frampton paced to and fro across the floor. his hopes and ambitions had fallen like a house of cards. the school he had been about to reform and regenerate had sunk in one day lower than ever before. there was something worse than dry-rot in it now. but mr frampton was a brave man; and that night he spent in arming himself for the task that lay before him. yet how he dreaded that scene to-morrow! how he wished that this hideous nightmare were after all a dream, and that he could awake and find bolsover where it was even yesterday morning! the other watcher was jeffreys. he had slept not a wink the night before, and to-night sleep seemed still more impossible. had you seen him as he sat there listlessly in his chair, with his gaunt, ugly face and restless lips, you would have been inclined, i hope, to pity him, cad as he was. hour after hour he sat there without changing his posture, cloud after cloud chasing one another across his brow, as they chased one another across the pale face of the moon outside. at length, as it seemed, with an effort he rose to his feet and slipped off his boots. his candle had burned nearly out, but the moon was bright enough to light his room without it, so he extinguished it and softly opened the door. the passage was silent, the only sounds being the heavy breathing somewhere of a weary boy, and the occasional creaking of a board as he crept along on tip-toe. at the end of the passage he turned aside a few steps to a door, and stood listening. some one was moving inside. there was the rustle of a dress and the tinkle of a spoon in a cup. then he heard a voice, and oh, how his heart beat as he listened! "i'm tired," it said wearily. that was all. jeffreys heard the smoothing of a pillow and a woman's soothing whisper hushing the sufferer to rest. the drops stood in beads on his brow as he stood there and listened. in a little all became quiet, and presently a soft, regular breathing told him that some one was sleeping. he put his hand cautiously to the handle and held it there a minute before he dared turn it. at last he did so, and opened the door a few inches. the breathing went regularly on. inch by inch he pushed the door back till he could catch a glimpse in the moonlight of the bed, and a dark head of hair on the pillow. an inch or two more, and he could see the whole room and the nurse dozing in the corner. stealthily, like a thief, he advanced into the room and approached the bed. the sufferer was lying motionless, and still breathing regularly. jeffreys took a step forward to look at his face. at that moment the moonlight streamed in at the window and lit up the room. then, to his terror, he noticed that the patient was awake, and lying with eyes wide open gazing at the ceiling. suddenly, and before jeffreys could withdraw, the eyes turned and met his. for an instant they rested there vacantly, then a gasp and a shriek of horror proclaimed that forrester had recognised him. in a moment he was outside the door, and had closed it before the nurse started up from her slumber. he had not been in his study a minute when he heard a sound of footsteps and whispered voices without. the boy's cry had reached the wakeful ears of mr frampton, and already he was on his way to the sick-chamber. jeffreys sank down on his bed in an agony of terror and suspense. the boy's cry resounded in his ears and deafened him, till at last he could endure it no longer. next morning, when the school was gathered in the hall, after prayers, mr frampton, looking round him, missed the figure that was uppermost in his thoughts. "will some one tell jeffreys to come here?" he said. mr freshfield went, but returned suddenly to announce that jeffreys' study was empty, and that a rope formed of sheets suspended from his window made it evident he had escaped in the night and quitted bolsover. chapter four. gone again. on the evening following jeffreys' departure from bolsover, a middle- aged, handsome gentleman was sitting in his comfortable study in the city of york, whistling pleasantly to himself. the house in which he lived was a small one, yet roomy enough for an old bachelor. and what it wanted in size it made up for in the elegance and luxury of its furniture and adornments. mr halgrove was evidently a connoisseur in the art of making himself comfortable. everything about him was of the best, and bespoke not only a man of taste but a man of means. the books on the shelves--and where can you find any furniture to match a well-filled bookcase?--were well chosen and well bound. the pictures on the walls were all works of art and most tastefully hung. the knickknacks scattered about the room were ornamental as well as useful. even the collie dog which lay luxuriously on the hearthrug with one eye half open was as beautiful as he was faithful. mr halgrove whistled pleasantly to himself as he stirred his coffee and glanced down the columns of the london paper. if you had looked over his shoulder, you would have come to the conclusion that mr halgrove's idea of what was interesting in a newspaper and your own by no means coincided. he was, in fact, reading the money article, and running his eye skilfully among the mazes of the stocks and shares there reported. suddenly there was a ring at the hall door and a man's voice in the hall. next moment the study door opened, and amid the frantic rejoicings of julius, john jeffreys walked into the presence of his guardian. he was haggard and travel-stained, and mr halgrove, in the midst of his astonishment, noticed that his boots were nearly in pieces. bolsover was fifty-five miles from york, and the roads were rough and stony. the guardian, whatever astonishment he felt at this unexpected apparition, gave no sign of it in his face, as he sat back in his chair and took several quiet whiffs of his weed before he addressed his visitor. "ah!" said he, "you've broken up early." "no, sir," said jeffreys. "please may i have something to eat?" "help yourself to the bread and butter there," said mr halgrove, pointing to the remains of his own tea, "and see if you can squeeze anything out of the coffee-pot. if not, ring for some more hot water. lie down, julius!" jeffreys ate the bread and butter ravenously, and drank what was left in the coffee-pot and milk-jug. mr halgrove went on with his cigar, watching his ward curiously. "the roads are rough for walking this time of the year," observed he. "yes," said jeffreys; "i've walked all the way." "good exercise," said mr halgrove. "how long did it take you?" "i left bolsover at half-past four this morning." mr halgrove looked at his watch. "fifteen hours--a fairly good pace," said he. a silence ensued, during which time guardian and ward remained eyeing one another, the one curiously, the other anxiously. "why not sit down," said mr halgrove, when it became evident his ward was not going to open the conversation, "after your long walk?" jeffreys dropped heavily into the chair nearest to him and julius came up and put his head between his knees. "do you often take country walks of this sort?" said the guardian. "no, sir; i've run away from bolsover." mr halgrove raised his eyebrows. "indeed! was it for the fun of the thing, or for any special reason?" "it was because i have killed a boy," said jeffreys hoarsely. it spoke volumes for mr halgrove's coolness that he took this alarming announcement without any sign of emotion. "have you?" said he. "and was that for fun, or for any special reason?" "i didn't mean it; it was an accident," said jeffreys. "is the story worth repeating?" asked the guardian, knocking the ash off the end of the cigar, and settling himself in his chair. jeffreys told the story in a blundering, mixed-up way, but quite clearly enough for mr halgrove. "so you meant to run at him, though you didn't mean to kill him?" said he, when the narrative was ended. "i did not mean to kill him," repeated the boy doggedly. "of course it would not occur to you that you were twice his size and weight, and that running over him meant--well manslaughter." "i never thought it for a moment--not for a moment." "was the accident fatal, at once, may i ask?" "no, sir; he was brought to the school insensible, and remained so for more than twelve hours. then he became conscious, and seemed to be doing well." "a temporary rally, i suppose?" observed the guardian. jeffreys' mouth worked uneasily, and his pale brow became overcast again. "no, i believe if it hadn't been for me he might have recovered." "indeed," said the other, once more raising his eyebrows; "what further attention did you bestow on him--not poison, i hope?" "no, but i went to his room in the middle of the night and startled him, and gave him a shock." "yes; playing bogey is liable to alarm invalids. i have always understood so," said mr halgrove drily. "i didn't mean to startle him. i fancied he was asleep, and just wanted to see how he seemed to be getting on. no one would tell me a word about him," said jeffreys miserably. "and that killed him outright?" "i'm afraid it must have," said jeffreys. "the doctor had said the least shock would be fatal, and this was a very great shock." "it would be. you did not, however, wait to see?" "no; i waited an hour or two, and then i ran away." "did you say good-bye to the head-master before leaving?" "no; nobody knew of my going." "of course you left your address behind you, in case you should be invited to attend the inquest." "they know where i live," said jeffreys. "indeed! and may _i_ ask where you live?" the ward's face fell at the question. "here, sir," faltered he. "pardon me, i think you are mistaken, john jeffreys." jeffreys looked hard at his guardian, as if to ascertain whether or not he spoke seriously. his one longing at that moment was for food and rest. since saturday morning his eyes had never closed, and yet, strange as it may seem, he could take in no more of the future than what lay before him on this one night. the sudden prospect now of being turned out into the street was overwhelming. "i think you are mistaken," repeated mr halgrove, tossing the end of his cigar into the fireplace and yawning. "but, sir," began jeffreys, raising himself slowly to his feet, for he was stiff and cramped after his long journey, "i've walked--" "so you said," interrupted mr halgrove, incisively. "you will be used to it." at that moment jeffreys decided the question of his night's lodging in a most unlooked-for manner by doing what he had never done before, and what he never did again. he fainted. when he next was aware of anything he was lying in his own bed upstairs in broad daylight, and mr halgrove's housekeeper was depositing a tray with some food upon it at his side. he partook gratefully, and dropped off to sleep again without rousing himself enough to recall the events of the past evening. when, however, late in the afternoon, he awoke, and went over in his mind the events of the last few days, a dismal feeling of anxiety came over him and dispelled the comfort of his present situation. he got out of bed slowly and painfully, for he was very stiff and footsore. he knew not at what moment his guardian might return to the unpleasant topic of last night's conversation, and he resolved to end his own suspense as speedily as possible. he took a bath and dressed, and then descended resolutely but with sad misgivings to the library. mr halgrove was sitting where his ward had left him yesterday evening. "ah," said he, as the boy entered, "early rising's not your strong point, is it?" "i only woke half an hour ago." "and you are anxious, of course, to know whether you have been inquired for by the police?" said the guardian, paring his nails. jeffreys' face fell. "has some one been?" he asked. "have you heard anything?" "no one has been as yet except the postman. he brought me a letter from bolsover, which will probably interest you more than it does me. it's there on the table." jeffreys took up a letter addressed in mr frampton's hand. "am i to read it?" "as you please." jeffreys opened the letter and read:-- "bolsover, _october_ . "s. halgrove, esq. "dear sir,--i regret to inform you that your ward, john jeffreys, left bolsover secretly last night, and has not up to the present moment returned. if he has returned to you, you will probably have learned by this time the circumstances which led him to take the step he has. (here mr frampton briefly repeated the story of the football accident.) the patient still lingers, although the doctors do not at present hold out much hope of ultimate recovery. i am not inclined to credit the statement current in the school with regard to the sad event, that the injury done to the small boy was not wholly due to accident. still, under the grave circumstances, which are made all the more serious by your ward's flight, i suggest to you that you should use your authority to induce jeffreys to return here--at any rate for as long as forrester's fate remains precarious; or, failing that, that you should undertake, in the event of a legal inquiry being necessary, that he shall be present if required. "faithfully yours,-- "t. frampton." "pleasant letter, is it not?" said mr halgrove as jeffreys replaced it in its envelope and laid it again on the table. "i can't go back to bolsover," said he. "no? you think you are not appreciated there?" jeffreys winced. "but i will undertake to go there if--" "if the coroner invites you, eh?" "yes," replied the boy. "the slight difficulty about that is that it is i, not you, that am asked to make the undertaking." "but you will, won't you?" asked jeffreys eagerly. "i have the peculiarity of being rather particular about the people i give undertakings for," said mr halgrove, flicking a speck of dust off his sleeve; "it may be ridiculous, but i draw the line at homicide." "you're a liar!" exclaimed the ward, in a burst of fury, which, however, he repented of almost before the words had escaped him. mr halgrove was not in the slightest degree disturbed by this undutiful outbreak, but replied coolly,-- "in that case, you see, my undertaking would be worth nothing. no. what do you say to replying to mr frampton's suggestion yourself?" "i will write and tell him i will go whenever he wants me." "the only objection to that," observed the guardian, "will be the difficulty in giving him any precise address, will it not?" jeffreys winced again. "you mean to turn me adrift?" said he bluntly. "your perception is excellent, my young friend." "when?" mr halgrove looked at his watch. "i believe mrs jessop usually locks up about eleven. it would be a pity to keep her up after that hour." jeffreys gulped down something like a sigh and turned to the door. "not going, are you?" said the guardian. "it's early yet." "i am going," replied the ward quietly. "by the way," said mr halgrove, as he reached the door, "by the way, john--" jeffreys stopped with his hand on the latch. "i was going to say," said the guardian, rising and looking for his cigar-case, "that the little sum of money which was left by your father, and invested for your benefit, has very unfortunately taken to itself wings, owing to the failure of the undertaking in which it happened to be invested. i have the papers here, and should like to show them to you, if you can spare me five minutes." jeffreys knew nothing about money. hitherto his school fees had been paid, and a small regular allowance for pocket-money had been sent him quarterly by his guardian. now his guardian's announcement conveyed little meaning to him beyond the fact that he had no money to count upon. he never expected he would have; so he was not disappointed. "i don't care to see the papers," he said. "you are a philosopher, my friend," said his guardian. "but i have sufficient interest in you, despite your financial difficulties, to believe you might find this five-pound note of service on your travels." "no, thank you," said jeffreys, putting his hand behind his back. "don't mention it," said his guardian, returning it to his pocket. "there is, when i come to think of it," added he, "a sovereign which really belongs to you. it is the balance of your last quarter's allowance, which i had been about to send to you this week. i would advise you to take it." "is it really mine?" "pray come and look over the accounts. i should like to satisfy you." "if it is really mine i will take it," said the boy. "you are sensible," said his guardian, putting it into his hand. "you are perfectly safe in taking it. it is yours. it will enable you to buy a few postage stamps. i shall be interested to hear of your success. good-bye." jeffreys, ignoring the hand which was held out to him, walked silently from the room. mr halgrove stood a moment and listened to the retreating footsteps. then he returned to his chair and rang the bell. "mrs jessop," said he, "mr jeffreys is going on a journey. will you kindly see he has a good meal before starting?" mrs jessop went upstairs and found jeffreys writing a letter. "master says you're going a journey, sir." "yes. i shall be starting in half an hour." "can't you put it off till to-morrow, sir?" "no, thanks. but i want to finish this letter." "well, sir, there'll be some supper for you in the parlour. it's master's orders." jeffreys' letter was to mr frampton. "sir," he wrote, "i left bolsover because i could not bear to be there any longer. i did not mean to injure forrester so awfully, though i was wicked enough to have a spite against him. i am not a murderer, though i am as bad as one. if i could do anything to help forrester get better i would come, but i should only make everything worse. my guardian has turned me away, and i shall have to find employment. but the housekeeper here, mrs jessop, will always know where i am, and send on to me if i am wanted. i should not think of hiding away till i hear that forrester is better. if he dies i should not care to live, so i should be only too glad to give myself up. i cannot come back to bolsover now, even if i wanted, as i have only a pound, and my guardian tells me that is all the money i have in the world. please write and say if forrester is better. i am too miserable to write more. "yours truly,-- "john jeffreys." having finished this dismal letter, he packed up one or two of his things in a small handbag and descended to the parlour. there he found an ample supper provided for him by the tender-hearted mrs jessop, who had a pretty shrewd guess as to the nature of the "journey" that her master's ward was about to take. but jeffreys was not hungry, and the announcement that the meal was there by the "master's orders" turned him against it. "i can't eat anything, thank you," he said to mrs jessop, "you gave me such a good tea only a little while ago." "but you've a long journey, master john. is it a long journey, sir?" "i don't know yet," he said. "but i want you to promise to send me on any letter or message that comes, will you?" "where to?" "to the head post-office, here." "here? then you're not going out of york?" "not at first. i'll let you know when i go where to send on the letters." "mr john," said the housekeeper, "the master's turned you away. isn't that it?" "perhaps he's got a reason for it. good-bye, mrs jessop." "oh, but mr john--" but john interrupted her with a kiss on her motherly cheek, and next moment was gone. chapter five. freddy and teddy. john jeffreys, as he stood in the street that october evening, had no more idea what his next step was to be than had mr halgrove or the motherly mrs jessop. he was a matter-of-fact youth, and not much given to introspection; but the reader may do well on this particular occasion to take a hasty stock of him as he walked aimlessly down the darkening street. he was nineteen years old. in appearance he was particularly ugly in face and clumsy in build. against that, he was tall and unusually powerful whenever he chose to exert his strength. in mind he was reputed slow and almost stupid, although he was a good classical scholar and possessed a good memory. he was cursed with a bad and sometimes ungovernable temper. he was honest and courageous. he rarely knew how to do the right thing at the right time or in the right place. and finally he had a bad name, and believed himself to be a homicide. such was the commonplace creature who, with a sovereign in his pocket and the whole world before him, paced the streets of york that tuesday night. on one point his mind was made up. he must remain in york for the present, prepared at a moment's notice to repair to bolsover, should the dreaded summons come. with that exception, as i have said, his mind was open, and utterly devoid of ideas as to the future. he directed his steps to the poor part of the town, not so much because it was poor, as because it was farthest away from his guardian's. he resolved that to-night at any rate he would indulge in the luxury of a bed, and accordingly, selecting the least repulsive-looking of a number of tenements offering "cheap beds for single men," he turned in and demanded lodging. to the end of his days he looked back on the "cheap bed" he that night occupied with a shudder. and he was by no means a sybarite, either. happily, he had still some sleep to make up; and despite his foul bed, his unattractive fellow-lodgers, and his own dismal thoughts, he fell asleep, in his clothes and with his bag under his pillow, and slept till morning. he partook of a cheap breakfast at a coffee-stall on one of the bridges, and occupied the remainder of the time before the opening of business houses in wandering about on the city walls, endeavouring to make up his mind what calling in life he should seek to adopt. he had not decided this knotty point when the minster chimes struck ten, and reminded him that he was letting the precious moments slip. so he descended into the streets, determined to apply for the first vacancy which presented itself. wandering aimlessly on, he came presently upon a bookseller's shop, outside which were displayed several trays of second-hand volumes which attracted his attention. jeffreys loved books and was a voracious reader, and in the midst of his wearisome search for work it was like a little harbour of refuge to come upon a nest of them here. just, however, as he was about to indulge in the delicious luxury of turning over the contents of the tempting trays, his eye was attracted by a half-sheet of note-paper gummed on to the shop window and bearing the inscription, "assistant wanted. apply within." next instant jeffreys stood within. "i see you want an assistant," said he to the old spectacled bookseller who inquired his business. "that's right." "will you take me?" the man glanced up and down at his visitor and said doubtfully,-- "don't know you--are you in the trade?" "no, i've just left school." "what do you know about books?" "i love them," replied the candidate simply. the bookseller's face lit up and shot a glow of hope into the boy's heart. "you love them. i like that. but take my advice, young fellow, and if you love books, don't turn bookseller." jeffreys' face fell. "i'm not afraid of getting to hate them," said he. the man beamed again. "what's your name, my lad?" "john jeffreys." "and you've just left school? what school?" alas! poor jeffreys! it cost him a struggle to utter the name. "bolsover." "bolsover, eh? do you know latin?" "yes--and greek," replied the candidate. the bookseller took up a book that lay on the table. it was an old and valuable edition of pliny's _epistles_. "read us some of that." jeffreys was able fairly well to accomplish the task, greatly to the delight of the old bookseller. "capital! you're the first chap i ever had who could read pliny off." jeffreys' face lit up. the man spoke as if the thing was settled. "how will fifteen shillings a week and your meals suit you?" said he. "perfectly!" replied the candidate. "hum! you've got a character, of course?" poor jeffreys' face fell. "do you mean testimonials?" "no. you can refer to some one who knows you--your old schoolmaster, for instance." "i'm afraid not," faltered the boy. the man looked perplexed. "couldn't get a character from him--why not?" "because i ran away from school." "oh, oh! did they ill-treat you, then, or starve you? come; better tell the truth." "no--it wasn't that. it was because--" jeffreys gave one longing look at the shelves of beloved books, and an appealing glance at his questioner--"it was because i--nearly killed a boy." the man whistled and looked askance at his visitor. "by accident?" "partly. partly not. but i assure you--" "that will do," said the man; "that's quite enough. be off!" jeffreys departed without another word. like tantalus, the tempting fruit had been within reach, and his evil destiny had come in to dash it from his lips. was it wonderful if he felt disposed to give it up and in sheer desperation go back to bolsover? the whole of the remainder of that day was spent in spiritless wandering about the streets. once he made another attempt to obtain work, this time at a merchant's office. but again the inconvenient question of character was raised, and he was compelled to denounce himself. this time his confession was even more unfeelingly received than at the bookseller's. "how dare you come here, you scoundrel?" exclaimed the merchant in a rage. "don't call me a scoundrel!" retorted jeffreys, his temper suddenly breaking out. "i'll call a policeman if you are not out of here in half a minute. here, you boys," added he, calling his six or eight clerks, "turn this wretch out of the place. do you hear?" jeffreys spared them the trouble and stepped into the street, determined to die before he laid himself open to such an indignity again. his last night's experience at a common lodging-house did not tempt him to seek shelter again now, and as it was a fine mild night even at that time of year he trudged out of york into one of the suburbs, where at least everything was clean and quiet. he had the good fortune in a country lane to come across a wagon laid up by the roadside, just inside a field--a lodging far more tempting than that offered by mr josephs, and considerably cheaper. the fatigues and troubles of the day operated like a feather-bed for the worn-out and dispirited outcast, and he slept soundly, dreaming of forrester, and the bookshop, and the dog julius. next morning the weary search began again. jeffreys, as he trudged back to the city, felt that he was embarked on a forlorn hope. yet a man must live, and a sovereign cannot last for ever. he passed a railway embankment where a gang of navvies were hard at work. as he watched them he felt half envious. they had work to do, they had homes to return to at night, they had characters, perhaps. most of them were big strong fellows like himself. why should he not become one of them? he fancied he could wheel a barrow, and ply a crowbar, and dig with a spade, as well as any of them; he was not afraid of hard work any more than they were, and the wages that kept a roof over their heads would surely keep a roof over his. as he sat on a bank by the roadside and watched them, he had almost resolved to walk across to the foreman and ask for a job, when the sound of voices close to him arrested him. they were boys' voices, and their talk evidently referred to himself, "come along, teddy," said one. "he won't hurt." "i'm afraid," said the other. "he's so ugly." "perhaps that's how he gets his living--scaring the crows," said the first speaker. "he looks as if he meant to kill us." "i shall fight him if he tries." jeffreys looked round and had a view of the valiant speaker and his companion. they were two neatly dressed little fellows, hand-in-hand, and evidently brothers. the younger--he who considered his life in danger--was about eight, his intrepid brother being apparently about a year his senior. they had little satchels over their shoulders, and parti-coloured cricket caps on their little curly heads. their faces were bright and shining, the knees of their stockings were elaborately darned, the little hands were unmistakably ink-stained, and their pockets were bulged out almost to bursting. such was the apparition which confronted the bolsover "cad" as he sat slowly making up his mind to become a labourer. the younger brother drew back and began to cry, as soon as he perceived that the terrible villain on the bank had turned and was regarding them. "freddy, freddy, run!" he cried. "i shan't," said freddy with a big heave of his chest. "i'm not afraid." the fluttering heart beneath that manly bosom belied the words, as freddy, dragging his brother by the hand, walked forward. jeffreys did not exactly know what to do. were he to rise and approach the little couple the consequences might be disastrous. were he to remain where he was or skulk away, he would be allowing them to believe him the ruffian they thought him, and that lane would become a daily terror to their little lives. the only thing was to endeavour to make friends. "what are you afraid of?" said he, in as gentle a manner as he could. "i won't hurt you." the sound of his voice caused the smaller boy to scream outright, and even the elder trembled a little as he kept himself full front to the enemy. "you little donkeys, i'm a schoolboy myself," said jeffreys. this announcement had a magical effect. the younger brother stopped short in his scream, and freddy boldly took two steps forward. "are you a boy?" inquired the latter. "of course i am. i was in the top form. i'm older than you, though." "i'm ten," replied the proud owner of that venerable age. "i'm nine in february," chimed in the still-fluttered junior. "i'm about as old as you two put together. how old's that, freddy?" "nineteen," said freddy. by this time jeffreys had gradually descended the bank and stood close to the two small brothers. "bravo, young 'un, you can do sums, i see!" "compound division and vulgar fractions," said freddy confidentially. jeffreys gave a whistle of admiration which won the heart of his hearer. "are you going to school now?" inquired the latter. "no; i've left school," said jeffreys, "last week." "last week! why, it's only the middle of the term. were you sent away?" jeffreys began to feel uncomfortable in the presence of this small cross-examiner. "i got into trouble and had to leave." "i know why," said the younger brother, plucking up courage. "why?" inquired jeffreys, with an amused smile. "because you were so ugly!" jeffreys laughed. "thank you," said he. "was it because you killed the master?" asked the more matter-of-fact freddy. poor jeffreys winced before this random shot, and hastened to divert the conversation. "whose school do you go to?" he inquired. "trimble's; we hate her," said the two youths in a breath. "why? does she whack you?" "no; but she worries us, and young trimble's worse still. do you know the school?" "no. what's the name of the house?" "oh, galloway house, in ebor road. it wasn't so bad when fison was there," continued the open-hearted freddy; "but now he's gone. trimble's a cad." "we hate her," chimed in the original teddy. "we hope the new master will be like fison, but i don't believe trimble can get any one to come," said freddy. jeffreys pricked up his ears and asked a good many questions about the school, which the youthful pair readily and gaily replied to, and then suggested that if trimble was such a cad the boys had better not be late. "have some parliament cake?" said freddy, opening his satchel and producing a large square of crisp gingerbread. jeffreys had not the heart to refuse a little piece of this delicacy, and enjoyed it more than the most sumptuous meal in an hotel. teddy also insisted on his taking a bite out of his apple. "good-bye," said the little fellow, putting up his face in the most natural manner for a kiss. jeffreys felt quite staggered by this unexpected attention, but recovered his presence of mind enough to do what was expected of him. freddy, on the other hand, looked rather alarmed at his young brother's audacity, and contented himself with holding out his hand. "good-bye, little chap," said jeffreys, feeling a queer lump in his throat and not exactly knowing which way to look. next moment the two little brothers were trotting down the road hand-in- hand as gay as young larks. jeffreys thought no more about the navvies, or the delights of a labourer's life. a new hope was in him, and he strolled slowly back into york wondering to himself if angels ever come to men in the shape of little schoolboys. it was still early when he reached the city. so he spent sixpence of his little store on a bath in the swimming baths, and another sixpence on some breakfast. then, refreshed in body and mind, he called at the post-office. there was nothing for him there. though he hardly expected any letter yet, his heart sunk as he thought what news might possibly be on its way to him at that moment. the image of forrester as he lay on the football field haunted him constantly, and he would have given all the world even then to know that he was alive. hope, however, came to his rescue, and helped him for a time to shake off the weight of his heart, and address himself boldly to the enterprise he had in hand. that enterprise the acute reader has easily guessed. he would offer his services to the worthy mrs trimble, _vice_ mr fison, resigned. he never imagined his heart could beat as quickly as it did when after a long search he read the words--"galloway house. select school for little boys," inscribed on a board in the front garden of a small, old- fashioned house in ebor road. the sound of children's voices in the yard at the side apprised him that he had called at a fortunate time. mrs trimble during the play-hour would in all probability be disengaged. mrs trimble was disengaged, and opened the door herself. jeffreys beheld a stoutish harmless-looking woman, with a face by no means forbidding, even if it was decidedly unintellectual. "well, young man," said she. she had been eating, and, i regret to say, had not finished doing so before she began to speak. "can i see mrs trimble, please?" asked jeffreys, raising his hat. the lady, finding her visitor was a gentleman, hastily wiped her mouth and answered rather lest brusquely. "i am the lady," said she. "excuse me," said jeffreys, "i called to ask if you were in want of an assistant teacher. i heard that you were." "how did you hear that, i wonder? i suppose he's a friend of that fison. yes, young man, i am in want of an assistant." "i should do my best to please you, if you would let me come," said jeffreys. and then, anxious to avoid the painful subject of his character, he added, "i have not taught in a school before, and i have no friends here, so i can't give you any testimonials. but i am well up in classics and pretty good in mathematics, and would work hard, ma'am, if you would try me." "are you a steady young man? do you drink?" "i never touch anything but water; and i am quite steady." "what wages do you expect?" "i leave that to you. i will work for nothing for a month till you see if i suit you." mrs trimble liked this. it looked like a genuine offer. "are you good-tempered and kind to children?" she asked. "i am very fond of little boys, and i always try to keep my temper." his heart sank at the prospect of other questions of this kind. but mrs trimble was not of a curious disposition. she knew when she liked a young man and when she didn't, and she valued her own judgment as much as anybody else's testimonials. "you mustn't expect grand living here," she said. "i was never used to anything but simple living," said he. "very well, mr --" "jeffreys, ma'am." "mr jeffreys, we'll try how we get on for a month; and after that i can offer you a pound a month besides your board." "you are very kind," said jeffreys, to whom the offer seemed a magnificent one. "i am ready to begin work at once." "that will do. you'd better begin now. come this way to the schoolroom." chapter six. galloway house. my business-like readers have, i dare say, found fault with me for representing a business conference on which so much depended as having taken place on the front doorstep of galloway house, and without occupying much more than five minutes in the transaction. how did jeffreys know what sort of person mrs trimble was? she might have been a fury or a harpy. her house might have been badly drained. mr fison might have left her because he couldn't get his wages. and what did mrs trimble know about the bolsover cad? she never even asked for a testimonial. he might be a burglar in disguise, or a murderer, or a child-eater. and yet these two foolish people struck a bargain with one another five minutes after their first introduction, and before even the potatoes which mrs trimble had left on her plate when she went to the door had had time to get cold. i am just as much surprised as the reader at their rashness, which i can only account for by supposing that they were both what the reader would call "hard up." jeffreys, as we know, was very hard up; and as for mrs trimble, the amount of worry she had endured since mr fison had left was beyond all words. she had had to teach as well as manage, the thing she never liked. and her son and assistant, without a second usher to keep him steady, had been turning her hair grey. for three weeks she had waited in vain. several promising-looking young men had come and looked at the place and then gone away. she had not been able to enjoy an afternoon's nap for a month. in short, she was getting worn-out. when, therefore, jeffreys came and asked for the post, she had to put a check on herself to prevent herself from "jumping down his throat." hence the rapid conference at the hall door, and the ease with which jeffreys got his footing in galloway house. "come and have a bite of mutton," said mrs trimble, leading the way into the parlour. "jonah and i are just having dinner." jonah, who, if truth must be told, had been neglecting his inner man during the last five minutes in order to peep through the crack of the door, and overhear the conference in the hall between his mother and the stranger, was a vulgar-looking youth of about jeffrey's age, with a slight cast in his eye, but otherwise not bad-looking. he eyed the new usher as he entered with a mingled expression of suspicion and contempt; and jeffreys, slow of apprehension though he usually was, knew at a glance that he had not fallen on a bed of roses at galloway house. "jonah, this is mr jeffreys; i've taken him on in fison's place. my son, mr jeffreys." jonah made a face at his mother, as much as to say, "i don't admire your choice," and then, with a half-nod at jeffreys, said,-- "ah, how are you?" "jonah and i always dine at twelve, mr jeffreys," said mrs trimble, over whom the prospect of the afternoon's nap was beginning to cast a balmy sense of ease. "you two young men will be good friends, i hope, and look well after the boys." "more than you do," said the undutiful jonah; "they've been doing just as they please the last month." "it's a pity, jonah, you never found fault with that before." "what's the use of finding fault? no end to it when you once begin." "well," observed the easy-going matron, "you two will have to see i don't have occasion to find fault with you." jonah laughed, and asked jeffreys to cut him a slice of bread. presently mrs trimble quitted the festive board, and the two ushers were left together. "lucky for you," said young trimble, "you got hold of ma and pinned her down to taking you on on the spot. what's she going to pay you?" the question did not altogether please the new assistant, but he was anxious not to come across his colleague too early in their acquaintanceship. "she pays me nothing the first month. after that, if i suit, i'm to have a pound a month." "if you suit? i suppose you know that depends on whether i like you or not?" "i hope not," blurted out jeffreys--"that is," added he, seeing his mistake, "i hope we shall _get_ on well together." "depends," said trimble. "i may as well tell you at once i hate stuck- uppedness (this was a compound word worthy of a young schoolmaster). if you're that sort you'd better cry off at once. if you can do your work without giving yourself airs, i shall let you alone." jeffreys was strongly tempted after this candid avowal to take the youthful snob's advice and cry off. but the memory of yesterday's miserable experiences restrained him. he therefore replied, with as little contempt as he was able to put into the words,-- "thanks." trimble's quick ear detected the ill-disguised scorn of the reply. "you needn't try on that sort of talk," said he; "i can tell you plump, it won't do. you needn't think because ma took you on for the asking, you're going to turn up your nose at the place!" "i don't think so," said jeffreys, struggling hard with himself. "how many boys are there here?" "forty-four. are you anything of a teacher? can you keep order?" "i don't know; i haven't tried yet." "well, just mind what you're about. keep your hands off the boys; we don't want manslaughter or anything of that sort here." jeffreys started. was it possible that this was a random shot, or did trimble know about bolsover and young forrester? the next remark somewhat reassured him. "they're looking sharp after private schools now; so mind, hands off. there's one o'clock striking. all in! come along. you'd better take the second class and see what you can make of them. precious little ma will put her nose in, now you're here to do the work." he led the way down the passage and across a yard into an outhouse which formed the schoolroom. here were assembled, as the two ushers entered, some forty boys ranging in age from seven to twelve, mostly, to judge from their dress and manners, of the small shopkeeper and farmer class. the sound of trimble's voice produced a dead silence in the room, followed immediately by a movement of wonder as the big, ungainly form of the new assistant appeared. jeffreys' looks, as he himself knew, were not prepossessing, and the juvenile population of galloway house took no pains to conceal the fact that they agreed with him. "gordon," said trimble, addressing a small boy who had been standing up when they entered, "what are you doing?" "nothing, sir." "you've no business to be doing nothing! stand upon that form for an hour!" the boy obeyed, and trimble looked round at jeffreys with a glance of patronising complacency. "that's the proper way to do with them," said he. "plenty of ways of taking it out of them without knocking them about." jeffreys made no reply; he felt rather sorry for the weak-kneed little youngster perched up on that form, and wondered if mr trimble would expect him (jeffreys) to adopt his method of "taking it out" of his new pupils. just then he caught sight of the familiar face of master freddy, one of his friends of the morning, who was standing devouring him with his eyes as if he had been a ghost. jeffreys walked across the room and shook hands with him. "well, freddy, how are you? how's teddy?" "i say," said trimble, in by no means an amiable voice, as he returned from this little excursion, "what on earth are you up to? what did you go and do that for?" "i know freddy." "oh, do you? freddy rosher, you're talking. what do you mean by it?" "please, sir, i didn't mean--" "then stay in an hour after school, and write four pages of your copy- book." it took all jeffreys' resolution to stand by and listen to this vindictive sentence without a protest. but he restrained himself, and resolved that freddy should find before long that all his masters were not against him. "that's your fault," said trimble, noticing the dissatisfied look of his colleague. "how are we to keep order if you go and make the boys break rules? now you'd better get to work. take the second class over there and give them their english history. james the second they're at. now, you boys, first class, come up to me with your sums. second class, take your history up to mr jeffreys. come along; look alive!" jeffreys thereupon found himself mobbed by a troop of twenty of the youngest of the boys, and haled away to a desk at the far end of the room, round which they congregated book in hand, and waited for him to commence operations. it was an embarrassing situation for the new usher. he had never been so fixed before. he had often had a crowd of small boys round him, tormenting him and provoking him to anger; but to be perched up here at a desk, with twenty tender youths hanging on the first word which should fall from his lips, was to say the least, a novel experience. he glanced up towards the far end of the room, in the hopes of being able to catch a hint from the practised jonah as to how to proceed. but he found jonah was looking at him suspiciously over the top of his book, and that was no assistance whatever. the boys evidently enjoyed his perplexity; and, emboldened by his recent act of friendliness to the unlucky freddy, regarded him benevolently. "will some one lend me a book?" at last said jeffreys, half desperate. a friendly titter followed this request. "don't you know it without the book?" asked one innocent, handing up a book. "i hope you do," said jeffreys, blushing very much as he took it. "now," added he, turning to the reign of james ii, "can any one tell we what year king james ii came to the throne?" "please, sir, that's not the way," interposed another irreverent youngster, with a giggle. "you've got to read it first, and then ask us." jeffreys blushed again. "is that the way?" said he. "very well. james ii succeeded his brother charles in . one of his first acts on coming--" "oh, we're long past that," said two or three of his delighted audience at a breath; "we've done to where monmouth's head was cut off." this was very uncomfortable for the new master. he coloured up, as if he had been guilty of a scandalous misdemeanour, and fumbled nervously with the book, positively dreading to make a fresh attempt. at last, however, he summoned up courage. "the death of this ill-fated nobleman was followed by a still more terrible measure of retribution against those who had--" "please, sir, we can't do such long words; we don't know what that means. you've got to say it in easy words, not what's put in the book." jeffreys felt that all the sins of his youth were rising up against him that moment. nothing that he had ever done seemed just then as bad as this latest delinquency. "after monmouth's death they made it very--(hot, he was going to say, but he pulled himself up in time), they made it very (whatever was the word?)--very awkward for those who had helped him. a cruel judge named jeffreys--" that was a finishing stroke! the reader could have sunk through the floor as he saw the sensation which this denunciation of himself caused among his audience. there was not a shadow of doubt in the face of any one of them as to his identity with the ferocious judge in question. what followed he felt was being listened to as a chapter or autobiography, and nothing he could say could now clear his character of the awful stain that rested upon it. "a cruel judge condemned more than three hundred persons--" "you forgot to say his name, please, sir," they put in. "never mind his name; that is, i told you once, you should remember," stammered the hapless usher. "i remember it. jeffreys, wasn't it, mr jeffreys?" said one boy triumphantly. "he condemned more than--" "who, jeffreys?" what was the use of keeping it up? "yes; this wicked judge, jeffreys, condemned more than three hundred people to death, just because they had helped monmouth." there was a low whistle of horror, as every eye transfixed the speaker. "did he repent?" asked one. "it doesn't say so," said the wretched jeffreys, turning over to the next page in a miserable attempt to appear as if he was not involved in the inquiry. "how dreadful!" said another. "besides this, people were transported." "by jeffreys, sir?" "yes," replied the owner of the name, finally throwing off all disguise and giving himself up to his fate, "by this wicked jeffreys." "yes, sir; and what else did he do?" trimble, as he looked every now and then down the room, was astonished to notice the quiet which prevailed in the lower class, and the interest with which every boy was listening to the new master. he did not like it. he couldn't manage to interest his class, and it didn't please him at all that this casual newcomer should come and cut him out before his face. after a while he walked down the room and approached the assistant's desk. he was convinced this, unwonted order could not result from any legitimate cause. "you don't seem to be doing much work here, i must say," said he. "give me the book, mr jeffreys: i want to see what they know of the lesson. where's the place?" jeffreys handed the book, putting his finger on the place. trimble glanced through a paragraph or two, and then pointing to a boy, one of the least sharp in the class, said,-- "now, walker, what happened after monmouth's death?" "oh, if you please, sir, a cruel judge, called jeffreys, condemned--" "that will do. you, rosher, how many people did he condemn to death?" "more than three hundred, sir," answered freddy promptly. "what for, bacon?" "because they helped monmouth." trimble felt perplexed. he never had a class that answered like this. he tried once more. "pridger, what else did he do?" "he had transported, sir." trimble shut the book. it was beyond him. if pridger had said or , he could have made something of it. but it floored him completely to find the second class knowing the exact number of convicts in one given year of english history. "don't let me catch any of you wasting your time," he said. "farrar, what do you mean by looking about you, sir? stand on the form for half an hour." "farrar has been very quiet and attentive all the afternoon," said jeffreys. "stand on the form an hour, farrar," said trimble, with a scowl. jeffreys' brow darkened as he watched the little tyrant strut off to his class. how long would he be able to keep hands off him? the rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. an unconscious bond of sympathy had arisen between the new master and his pupils. his historical importance invested him with a glamour which was nearly heroic; and his kind word on farrar's behalf had won him an amount of confidence which was quick in showing itself. "we like you better than fison, though he was nice," said bacon, as the class was about to separate. "i hope trimble won't send you away," said another. "i wish you'd condemn young trimble to death, or transport him, mr jeffreys," said a third confidentially. "good-bye, mr jeffreys," said freddy, with all the confidence of an old friend. "did you like that parliament cake?" "awfully," said jeffreys. "good-bye." every one insisted on shaking hands with him, greatly to his embarrassment; and a few minutes later the school was scattered, and jeffreys was left to go over in his mind his first day's experience. on the whole he was cheerful. his heart warmed to these simple little fellows, who thought none the worse of him for being ugly and clumsy. with mrs trimble, too, he anticipated not much difficulty. young trimble was a rock ahead undoubtedly, but jeffreys would stand him as long as he could, and not anticipate the day, which he felt to be inevitable, when he would be able to stand him no longer. "well, mr jeffreys," said mrs trimble, as the dame and her two assistants sat down to tea, "how do you manage?" "pretty well, thank you, ma'am," replied jeffreys; "they are a nice lot of little boys, and i found them very good and quiet." "of course you would, if you let them do as they like," said jonah. "you'll have to keep them in, i can tell you, if you expect to keep order." it did occur to jeffreys that if they were good without being kept in, jonah ought to be satisfied, but he was too wise to embark on a discussion with his colleague, and confined his attentions to mrs trimble. the meal being ended, he said-- "will you excuse me, ma'am, if i go into the city for about an hour? i have to call at the post-office for letters." "look here," said jonah, "we don't let our assistants out any time they like. it's not usual. they ought to stay here. there's plenty of work to do here." "it's very important for me to get the letters, mrs trimble," said jeffreys. "well, of course, this once," said the matron, glancing uneasily at her son; "but, as jonah says, we like our young men to stay in, especially at night. we parted with mr fison because he was not steady." "thank you, ma'am," said jeffreys; "if the letters have come to-day i shall not have to trouble you again. can i do anything for you in town?" "that chap won't do," said jonah to his mother when at last jeffreys started on his expedition. "i think he will; he means well. it wouldn't do, jonah," said the good lady, "to have all the trouble again of finding a young man. i think mr jeffreys will do." "i don't," said jonah sulkily, taking up a newspaper. jeffreys meanwhile, in a strange frame of mind, hurried down to the post-office. the day's adventures seemed like a dream to him as he walked along, and poor forrester seemed the only reality of his life. would there be a letter? and what news would it bring him? during the last twelve hours a new hope and object in life had opened before him. but what was it worth, if, after all, at this very moment forrester should be lying lifeless at bolsover? "have you any letter for john jeffreys?" he asked; but his heart beat so loud that he scarcely heard his own voice. the man, humming cheerily to himself, took a batch of letters out of a pigeon-hole and began to turn them over. jeffreys watched him feverishly, and marvelled at his indifference. "what name did you say--jones?" "no, jeffreys--john jeffreys." again he turned over the bundle, almost carelessly. at length he extracted a letter, which he tossed onto the counter. "there you are, my beauty," said he. jeffreys, heeding nothing except that it was addressed in mr frampton's hand, seized the missive and hastened from the office. at the first shop window he stood and tore it open. "my dear jeffreys,--i was glad to hear from you, although your letter gave me great pain. it would have been wiser in you to return here, whatever your circumstances might be; wiser still would it have been had you never run away. but i do not write now to reproach you. you have suffered enough, i know. i write to tell you of forrester." jeffreys gave a gasp for breath before he dare read on. "the poor fellow has made a temporary rally, but the doctors by no means consider him out of danger. should he recover, which i fear is hardly probable, i grieve to say the injuries he has received would leave him a cripple for life. there is an injury to the spine and partial paralysis, which, at the best, would necessitate his lying constantly on his back, and thus being dependent entirely on others. if he can bear it, he is to be removed to his home in a day or two. he has asked about you, and on my telling him that i was writing to you, said, `tell him i know it was only an accident.' i am sure that this letter will grieve you; i wish i could say anything which will help you. may god in his mercy bring good to us all out of this sorrow! as for yourself, i hope that your guardian's resentment will be short-lived, and that you will let me hear of your welfare. count on me as a friend, in spite of all. "yours always,-- "t. frampton." "in spite of all!" groaned poor jeffreys, as he crushed the letter into his pocket. "will no one have pity on me?" chapter seven. what a day for jonah! the six months which followed jeffreys' introduction into the classical atmosphere of galloway house passed uneventfully for him, and not altogether unpleasantly. he had, it is true, the vision of young forrester always in his mind, to drag him down, whenever he dwelt upon it, into the bitterest dejection; and he had the active spite and insolence of jonah trimble daily to try his temper and tax his patience. otherwise he was comfortable. mrs trimble, finding him steady and quiet, treated him kindly when she had her own way, and indifferently when her son was with her. the boys of the second class maintained the mysterious respect they had conceived for him on the day of his arrival, and gave him wonderfully little trouble or difficulty. he had his evenings for the most part to himself, and even succeeded, after something like a battle-royal with the trimbles, in carrying his point of having one "evening out" in the week. it nearly cost him his situation, and it nearly cost jonah a bone-shaking before the question was settled. but jeffreys could be stubborn when he chose, and stood out grimly on this point. had it not been for this weekly respite, galloway house would have become intolerable before a month was over. he heard occasionally from mr frampton; but the one question which would have interested him most was generally passed over. mr frampton probably considered that any reference to forrester would be painful to his correspondent, and therefore avoided it. at last, however, in reply to jeffreys' entreaty to know where the boy was and how he was progressing, the head-master wrote:-- "i really cannot tell you what you want to know about forrester, as i have heard nothing of him. his father, as you know, is an officer in india, and his only relative in england was his grandmother, to whose house at grangerham he was removed on leaving here. the last i heard was a month after he had left here, when he was reported still to be lingering. his grandmother, so i heard, was very ill. he himself, as a last hope, was to be removed to a hospital (i could not hear which) to receive special treatment. since then--which is five months ago--i have heard nothing, and my last letter to grangerham was returned by the dead-letter office. i wish i could tell you more. you may depend on my doing so should i hear of him again," etc. it is hardly to be wondered at after this that poor jeffreys felt the weight upon him heavier than ever. as long as he had known where forrester was, and had the hope of hearing from time to time how he fared, he had been able to buoy himself up with the hope of some day making up to his victim for the injury he had inflicted; but when, suddenly, forrester dropped hopelessly out of his life, the burden of his conscience grew intolerable. he struggled hard, by devoting himself to his boys and by hard private study in his leisure hours, to drive the haunting memory away, but the effort succeeded only for a time. at night, as he lay in bed, unable to escape from himself, the vision of that pale face and that cry of terror hardly once left him till merciful sleep came to his rescue. and by day, when his small pupils vexed him, or the spiteful jonah tempted him to revenge, the thought of forrester cowed him into submission, and left him no choice but to endure what seemed to be his penance. "ma," said mrs trimble's hopeful, one afternoon after school had closed, "you've been nicely taken in over that jeffreys, i can tell you." "what!" said the lady. "he doesn't drink, does he?" "don't know. but there's something queer about him, and i mean to find it out. i'm not going to let it go on, i can tell you." "why, what's he been doing, jonah?" "doing? you must go about with your eyes shut if you don't see he's been sulking ever since he came here. i tell you there's something wrong." "oh, don't say that, jonah." "you never took a character with him, did you?" "no; he hadn't been in a place before." "depend on it, ma, he's skulking. he's done something, and finds this a convenient place to hide away in." "but, jonah, he's never shown any signs of not being all right. he's very kind to the boys, and keeps them in wonderful order, better than you do almost." jonah did not like this, because he knew it was true. his boys were neither fond of him nor obedient to his control, and the fact that jeffreys' boys were both was additional proof that there was something wrong. "do you suppose he can't manage to take you in, ma? of course, any one could." "but he makes himself very pleasant, and studies, and keeps very quiet out of school." "of course. isn't that what i tell you? he's hiding. what do you suppose he skulks away into town for once a week--eh?" "not to drink, i do hope?" said the lady. "whatever it is, i mean to get to the bottom of it, for the sake of the school," said jonah. "fancy the mess we'd get into if it got known we had a shady character here as a teacher!" "but, jonah, dear, it's only suspicion. he may be all right." "oh, anything _may_ be," retorted the philosophic jonah. "the thing is--is it?" as mrs trimble was unable to answer this question, she retired from the discussion, and hoped devoutly nothing was going to happen which would necessitate her doing more work about the school than she at present did. the unconscious jeffreys meanwhile was upstairs, washing himself before starting for his weekly "evening out." he had more than usual before him on this particular evening, as, besides calling at the post-office-- an errand he never missed--he had discovered another old bookshop across the river which kept open till seven o'clock. and after that he had promised freddy and teddy, with whom from the first he had kept up a warm friendship, to call up at their house and help them mend their tricycle. with this full programme before him, he lost no time in starting on his travels; little dreaming that the quick pace at which he strode along gave unwonted exercise to mr jonah trimble, who, animated by an amiable curiosity, dogged his footsteps at a respectful distance. it was about five o'clock when jeffreys reached the post-office. the clerk knew him by this time, and this evening handed him a letter without being asked. it was a short friendly line from mr frampton with no news--at any rate about forrester; and trimble, as he watched him emerge from the office, letter in hand, and haggard in face, chalked down in in his own mind a first clue as to the mystery that was exercising him. from the post-office jeffreys strolled leisurely down the streets toward the bridge, stopping to look into some of the shops by the way, and occasionally making trimble's heart jump by looking behind him. in due time he pulled up at the bookseller's shop. trimble saw the proprietor welcome his visitor with a nod which bespoke an acquaintance of some standing. he saw jeffreys turning over the contents of some of the trays, taking up a book now and then and examining it, and sometimes propping himself up against the doorpost and reading page after page. it was not very entertaining work for the spy; but curiosity is patient, and jonah as he watched the unconscious reader at a safe distance fortified himself by the conviction that he was watching the working-out of some deep-laid plot. presently he saw jeffreys disappear into the shop, and what was his amazement, when presently he "casually" passed the door, to see him seated with the bookseller at a table earnestly poring over and discussing a small faded sheet of paper which lay between them! trimble would have given worlds to know what the mysterious document was, and what villainy was brewing. had he known it, he might not have stood out there in the evening air quite as patiently as he did. for the mysterious document happened to be nothing but an old tattered and torn commonwealth tract which jeffreys had discovered folded up between the leaves of an ancient volume of poetry, and which he and his friend the bookseller were spending a very agreeable half-hour in piecing together and deciphering. about seven o'clock jeffreys rose to go, pocketing the precious relic, which his friend had given him; and trimble, having carefully noted down the name of the shop and the personal appearance of the suspicious bookseller, followed gingerly back across the bridge. the streets were getting less crowded, and jonah had increasing difficulty in keeping himself concealed as he crawled along on the opposite side of the way some thirty or forty yards in the rear of his man. just as jeffreys was crossing the space opposite the grand front of the minster a dog sprang forward to meet him with every token of joy. it was julius, and jeffreys knew that the master could not be very far away. he turned round for a moment, as though he meditated flight, and gave jonah a spasm by the unexpected movement. but before he could decide mr halgrove strolled pleasantly round the corner, and nodded to him as if he and his ward had not parted five minutes before. "ah, john, fine evening for a stroll. on your way home?" mr halgrove till that moment had not had the faintest idea that his ward was still in york. "no," said jeffreys, patting the dog's head and looking very much the reverse of comfortable. "they say the front of the minster is beginning to crumble at places," said mr halgrove, looking up at the noble pile before them; "i hope it's not true. are you much here?" "no. i live in another part of the town." "very odd my meeting you," said mr halgrove. "i was thinking of you only to-day. i had a letter from mr frampton." "indeed, sir--about forrester?" "about--oh, your little victim? oddly enough, it was not. it was to remind me that your last half-term's fees were not paid. don't you think it would be judicious to clear up this little score? looks bad, you know--to run away with score against you." jeffrey's face turned pale. he had at least supposed that up to the time of his expulsion from his guardian's house mr halgrove would have considered himself responsible for his maintenance. "i never dreamt," he faltered. "how much is it?" "quite a little sum, isn't it? come, you were last at school. too bad to pose me with compound division at my time of life. half a term at £ a year?" "seven pounds!" gasped jeffreys. "not quite, £ shillings, pence. fancy my being better at mental arithmetic than you!" "i haven't got any money. i only get a pound a month and my board." "my dear boy, i congratulate you. twelve pounds a year! now, wasn't it a pity you didn't take that £ note i offered you? suppose you take it now!" mr halgrove put his hand to his pocket and took out his purse. "no!" exclaimed jeffreys, in a tone that made trimble, who was busy engaged in inspecting the architecture of the minster from behind a deep buttress close to the speaker, jump--"i'd sooner die!" "don't do that, my dear fellow, don't do that," said mr halgrove, with a smile which belied the anger he felt at the refusal; "rather than that i'll keep the money. i have no wish to commit a murder. it's not in my line. that's one point in which you and i differ, isn't it?" jeffreys made as though he would spring upon him. what was it checked him? was it the solemn minster--was it a dread of his guardian's superior strength--was it fear of punishment? or was it a momentary glimpse of a pale face in a moonlit room far away, which took the spirit out of him and made his arm drop at his side? "well, i won't keep you," said mr halgrove, who had also for a moment looked uneasy. "i dare say you are in a hurry like myself. the fact is, i am going a trip to america next week and have a good deal to attend to. that makes me doubly glad to have met you. good-bye, my dear boy, good-bye. come, julius." julius as he slunk off at his master's heels, and heard the smothered oath which escaped mr halgrove's lips as soon as he found himself alone, looked round wistfully and pitifully, and wished he were allowed to go where he pleased. jeffreys walked on like a man in a dream. for six months he had been working out what had been to him a penance, hoping to live down his bad name, even if he could never win a good. but now in a moment it seemed as if the labour of those patient months had been dashed to the ground, and his guardian's bitter words branded themselves on his heart as he paced on out of the shadow of the noble minster into the dusk of the city. trimble, nearly bursting with excitement--for he had overheard all the latter part of the conversation--crept after him. what a time he was having! jeffreys bent his steps almost aimlessly out of the city into the country beyond. it was only half-past seven, and teddy and freddy were expecting him. he had not the heart to fail them, though he would gladly have remained solitary that evening. the roshers lived in a small cottage some distance down the lane in which six months ago jeffreys had first encountered the sunshine of their presence. how long ago it seemed now! ah! that was the very bank on which he sat; and there beyond was the railway embankment at which the navvies were working, now finished and with the grass growing up its sides. trimble's little heart jumped to his mouth as he saw the man he was following stop abruptly and begin to climb the bank. he was too close behind to be able to turn back. all he could do was to crouch down in the ditch and "lie low." he heard jeffreys as he gained the top of the bank sigh wearily; then he seemed to be moving as if in search of a particular spot; and then the lurker's hair stood on end as he heard the words, hoarsely spoken,-- "it was this very place." what a day jonah was having! after a quarter of an hour's pause, during which the patient jonah got nearly soaked to the skin in his watery hiding-place, jeffreys roused himself and descended into the lane. any one less abstracted could not have failed to detect the scared face of the spy shining out like a white rag from the hedge. but jeffreys heeded nothing and strode on to ash cottage. long before he got there, freddy and teddy, who had been on the look-out for him for an hour, scampered down to meet him. "hurrah, jeff!" shouted teddy (i grieve to say that these irreverent brethren had long ago fallen into the scandalous habit of calling their teacher by a familiar contraction of his proper name, nor had the master rebuked them). "hurrah, jeff! we were afraid you weren't coming." "the tricycle won't go," said freddy; "we've pulled it all to bits, and tried to make it right with a hammer, but it's very bad." "it's glorious you've come to do it. isn't jeff a brick, teddy?" "rather--and, oh, did you bring any oil? we used all ours up." "we've got a screw-driver, though!" said freddy. "and lots of string!" shouted teddy. "you _are_ a brick to come and do it," shouted both. where in the world is there a tonic equal to the laugh of a light- hearted grateful little boy? how could jeffreys help forgetting his trouble for a time and devoting himself heart and soul to the business of that tricycle? trimble, as he dodged along after them perplexed and puffing, could hardly believe his eyes as he saw his morose colleague suddenly throw off the burden that was on him and become gay. "come along, little chaps--let's see what we can do," said jeffreys, as the three strode out to the cottage. "where is he?" "in the shed. we've got a candle." trimble saw them disappear into the garden, and, guided by their cheery voices, soon discovered the back of the shed in which the momentous surgical operation was to take place. it backed on the road, and might have been built for trimble's purpose. for the woodwork abounded in most convenient cracks, through which a spy might peep and listen luxuriously. what a day jonah was having! the roshers conducted their friend into the place like anxious relatives who conduct a physician into a sick-chamber. the poor patient lay on the floor in a very bad way. two wheels were off, the axle was bent, the wire spokes were twisted, the saddle was off, and the brake was all over the place. jeffreys shook his head and looked grave. "it's a bad job," said he. "you see, we were giving mother a ride on it, and she's too heavy-- especially going downhill. she thought we were holding it, but it got away. we yelled to her to put on the brake, but she didn't, and it went bang into the wall." "and your mother?" inquired jeffreys, somewhat anxiously. "oh, her face is much better now. the doctor says there'll be hardly any marks left after all." it was a long business putting the unlucky tricycle in order. jeffreys was not a mechanic. all he could do was to put the parts together in a makeshift way, and by straightening some of the bent parts and greasing some of the stiff parts restore the iron horse into a gloomy semblance of his old self. the boys were as grateful and delighted as if he had constructed a new machine out of space; and when at last a trial trip demonstrated that at any rate the wheels would go round and the saddle would carry them, their hearts overflowed. "you are a real brick, jeff," said teddy; "i wish i could give you a hundred pounds!" "i don't want a hundred pounds," said jeffreys, with a smile; "if you and freddy and i are good friends, that's worth a lot more to me." "why?" demanded freddy; "are we the only friends you've got?" jeffreys looked out of the window and said,-- "not quite--i've got one more." "who--god?" asked the boy naturally. poor jeffreys! he sometimes forgot that friend, and it startled and humbled him to hear the little fellow's simple question. "of course, he's got him," interposed teddy, without giving him time to reply. "but who else, jeff?" "i saw him not long ago," said jeffreys. "his name's julius." "you don't like him more than us, do you?" asked teddy rather anxiously. "not a quarter as much, old chap," said jeffreys. there was a pause, during which trimble chuckled to think how little the speaker guessed into whose ears he was betraying the name of his villainous accomplice! presently, however, he started to hear the sound of his own name. "jeff," said teddy, "isn't mr trimble a beast?" "let's talk about something pleasant," suggested jeffreys, by way of begging the question. "let's talk about hanging him; that would be pleasant," said teddy. "would you be sorry if he was dead?" demanded teddy, in his matter-of- fact way. "i say, jeff, wouldn't it be jolly if we could kill everybody we hated?" "wouldn't it be jolly if every little boy who talked like a little donkey were to have his ears boxed?" said jeffreys. "i wish he'd been on the tricycle instead of mother," continued teddy, with a sigh of content at the bare idea. "teddy, you are not as nice a little boy as i thought when you talk like that," said jeffreys. "come and let's have one more turn on the machine, and then i must hurry back, or mrs trimble will think i'm lost." jeffreys got back to galloway house about ten o'clock, and found jonah sitting up for him. "so you _have_ come back," said that individual pompously. "i hope you've enjoyed your evening out." "yes," said jeffreys, "pretty well." "oh!" said jonah to himself, as he went up to bed, bursting with excitement. "if he only knew what i know! let me see--" and then he went over in his mind the events of that wonderful evening, the visit to the post-office and the horrified look as he came out letter in hand; the mysterious conference with the bookseller, doubtless over this very letter. and how artfully he had been pretending to look at the books outside till he saw no one was looking! then, the secret meeting with his accomplice in the minster yard--mr julius, yes, that was the name he had himself told the boys--and the altercation over the money, doubtless the booty of their crime, and mr julius's denunciation of jeffreys as a murderer! whew! then that lonely country walk, and that search on the bank, and that exclamation, "it was this very place!" whew! jonah had tied a bit of his bootlace on the hedge just under the spot, and could find it again within a foot. then the rencontre with the two boys and the strange, enigmatical talk in the shed, pointing to the plot of a new crime of which he--trimble--was to be the victim. ha, ha!--and the business over that tricycle too, in the candle-light. jonah could see through that. he could put a spoke in a wheel as well as jeffreys. two things were plain. he must get hold of the letter; and he must visit the scene of the crime _with a spade_! then-- jonah sat up half the night thinking of it, till at last the deep breathing of his colleague in the next room reminded him that now at any rate was the time to get the letter. he had seen jeffreys crush it into his side pocket after leaving the bookseller's and he had heard him before getting into bed just now hang his coat on the peg behind the door. and it was hot, and the door was open. what a day jonah was having! fortune favours the brave. it was a work of two minutes only. the pocket was there at his hand before he had so much as put a foot in the room. and there was the letter--two letters--and not a board creaked or a footstep sounded before he was safe back in his own room with the documentary evidence before him. there was only one letter after all. the other paper was a rubbishing rigmarole about general monk and the parliament . this jonah tossed contemptuously into the grate. but the other letter, how his flesh crept as he read it! it had no date, and was signed only in initials. "dear j. there is no news. i can understand your trouble and remorse, and this uncertainty makes it all the more terrible to you. i know it is vain to say to you, `forget,' but do not write about poor forrester's blood being on your head! your duty is to live and redeem the past. let the dead bury their dead, dear fellow, and turn your eyes forward, like a brave man. yours ever, j.f." do you wonder if jonah's blood curdled in his veins--"remorse," "uncertainty," "poor forrester," "his blood on your head," eh? "bury your dead"! whew! _what_ a day jonah had had, to be sure! chapter eight. i know a bank. jonah trimble may not have been a genius of the first water, but he was at least wise enough to know that he could not both have his cake and eat it. his discovery of jeffreys' villainy was a most appetising cake, and it wanted some little self-denial to keep his own counsel about it, and not spoil sport by springing his mine until all the trains were laid. another consideration, moreover, which prevented his taking immediate action was that jeffreys was extremely useful at galloway house, and could not be spared just yet--even to the gallows. in a few months' time, when the good name of the school, which had rapidly risen since he came upon the scene, was well established, things might be brought to a climax. meanwhile jonah trimble would keep his eye on his man, read his _eugene aram_, and follow up his clues. jeffreys awoke on the following morning with a feeling of oppression on his mind which for a little time he could not define. it was not his guardian's words, bitter as they had been; it was not the insolence of his fellow-usher, intolerable as that was becoming. when at last his wandering thoughts came in and gave the trouble shape, he found it took a much more practical form. he was in debt seven pounds to mr frampton. it never occurred to him to wonder whether mr halgrove had been telling him the truth or not, nor to his unbusinesslike mind did it occur that his guardian, as the trustee responsible for what money he once had, was liable for the debt, however much he might like to repudiate it. no; all he knew was that mr frampton was owed seven pounds, and that he himself had nothing, or next to nothing, to pay. by hard saving during the six months he had managed to save a sovereign, but of this only last week he had spent the greater part in boots and clothing. now his worldly wealth consisted of four shillings! he was down early that morning, and was relieved to find that mrs trimble was in the parlour alone, without her son. the good lady was in an amiable mood. the school was getting on, and something told her that it was not greatly due either to her own exertions or the influence of jonah. therefore, being a mathematical old lady, she subtracted herself and jonah from the present school staff, and came to the conclusion that jeffreys must have had a hand in the improvement. "young man," said she, in reply to her assistant's greeting, "you've been with me six months. are you comfortable?" "pretty well," said jeffreys. "i'm very fond of my boys, and i always get on comfortably with you." the mathematical dame once more went to work, and answered, "you and jonah don't hit it, i suppose. you don't know jonah, young man. he may not be easily satisfied, but he's a gentleman." "i'm sure," said jeffreys, to whom this tribute seemed the last he should expect to hear bestowed on his amiable fellow-usher, "i try to get on with him, and shall go on trying." "that's right," said mrs trimble, once more shuddering at the prospect of being left short-handed. "what i was going to say to you was, that now you've been here six months, and are not a forward young man, and don't drink, i shall raise your wages, and give you thirty shillings a month instead of twenty. how will that suit you?" "you are very kind," said the grateful jeffreys, with a tremble in his voice which quite moved the old lady's heart; "it will be very acceptable." "very good. you need not mention it to jonah," added she hurriedly, as that young gentleman's footsteps were heard that moment on the stairs. the only difference which the unconscious jeffreys was aware of in the conduct of jonah trimble towards himself was that the young gentleman was a trifle more hectoring and a trifle more facetious than before. but even to the little mind of jonah trimble it had been revealed that at present it would be extremely awkward for galloway house if jeffreys went "on strike." he was a good teacher and manager; and his boys were devoted to him. of course, when a boy goes home from school full of the praises of his teacher, his parents are pleased too, and think well of the school, and tell their friends what a nice place it is for boys, and so on. it is a good advertisement, in fact. besides, with mrs trimble so lazy, and jonah himself so unattractive, it would involve a great deal of trouble all round if jeffreys deserted it. they knew by experience that young fellows of good education did not as a rule jump at the situation of second usher in galloway house. and they knew, also, something of the horrors of a prolonged vacancy in their staff. jonah was rather relieved when jeffreys, immediately after school, shut himself up in his own room, and remained there studying for the rest of the evening. the proceeding favoured a little idea of his own, which was to revisit the spot where he had tied his bootlace the evening before, and see if an examination of that fatal spot would throw any fresh light on his investigation. accordingly after tea he sallied forth with a trowel in his coat pocket. it was rather a dismal expedition, for it rained, and there was a cool breeze. the lane was muddy even in the roadway, and on the banks it was a quagmire. still jonah was too full of his mystery seriously to mind the weather. he trudged up and down the lane, sharply scrutinising the hedge for his bootlace. for a long time his perseverance was unrewarded. at length, however, his eye detected the welcome flutter of a bright tag among the leaves, and he recognised the scene of last night's damp sojourn. he clambered up onto the bank, regardless of his garments, and commenced an anxious scrutiny. the bank itself showed no signs of a "mystery." even the traces of jeffreys' visit to it the night before were obliterated by the soaking rain. the field on the other side was equally unsuggestive. jonah trampled around in circles on the young corn, but never a pistol, or a rusty knife, or a bottle of poison, did he discover. yet he had heard the villain say distinctly,-- "this was the very place!" he scrambled back rather crestfallen on to the bank. it was getting dark, and the rain came down ceaselessly, yet so strong was his certainty that here he should discover the evidence he was looking for, that for another half-hour he plied his trowel diligently. sometimes when it struck on a stone or the roots of a bramble, he trembled with anticipation; and once, when, groping under a hedge, his hand suddenly encountered a dead rat, his hair literally stood on end. he began to get nervous and uncomfortable. the night became suddenly dark, and the wind whistled all sorts of weird tunes among the trees. jonah did not exactly believe in ghosts; still, if there were such things, this was just the night and just the place for the ghost he was looking for to take its walk abroad. he did not like it, and began to wish he was safe at home. the bushes round him began to rustle noisily, and a gate in the field swung to and fro with an almost human groan. he fancied he could descry wandering lights and white gleams in the darkness, and the vague consciousness of something coming nearer and nearer. at last, with a great effort, he roused himself from his moist seat, and leaped down from the bank into the lane. the instant his feet touched the road he was conscious of a low growl, and next moment found himself pinned, with his back to the bank, by a furious dog. his yell of terror had mingled with the wind for a couple of minutes before he became aware of the red glow of a cigar in front of him, and behind that the dim countenance of the man whose talk with jeffreys he had overheard the previous evening. "oh, mr julius!" he howled; "help me. call him off; i shall be torn to pieces." "and pray how come you to know the name of my dog?" said mr halgrove; "eh, my little highwayman?" "please, sir, i'm not a highwayman. i was only looking for something on the bank. oh, mr julius!" "my dog is not used to be called mr," replied mr halgrove. "oh, i--i thought that was your name," whimpered jonah, not daring to stir an inch for fear of incurring the resentment of the dog. "and pray how came you to think my name was julius?" said mr halgrove, becoming interested. "oh! please sir, wasn't it you that was talking to jeffreys last night in the minster yard?" it was too dark for jonah to see mr halgrove's eyebrows go up at this unexpected question. "julius, come in, sir. so you know the gentleman i was speaking to yesterday," said he, coolly. "what did you say his name was?" "jeffreys, sir. he's an--" jonah pulled up. this man, whatever his name was, was jeffreys' accomplice. jonah felt he must not commit himself. "i beg your pardon," said mr halgrove, noticing the abrupt pause. "i am saying--it's--it's rather a wet night, sir," said jonah, making a move to walk on. mr halgrove snapped his fingers to julius, and next instant the wretched jonah was pinned again to the bank. "what did you say he was?" asked mr halgrove, lighting a fusee. "oh, please, sir, please call him off. my assistant, sir." "oh! your assistant--in what? highway robbery?" "no, sir. in teaching a school. please, sir, call him off." mr halgrove paid no heed to the entreaty, but proceeded to extract numerous particulars as to his ward's conduct and mode of life at galloway house. "so he's taken to minding little boys, has he? and you are his employer? you are aware that you have a treasure of course?" even trimble was not so dense as to miss the sneer with which the inquiry was made. it emboldened him considerably. "i dislike him; so does ma. we consider him a dangerous character." mr halgrove laughed. "what makes you think that?" "there's a--oh, sir, please call off the dog--mystery about him. he's--" "is that the reason you spied on him yesterday?" "no, sir--that is--" for at that moment julius growled--"yes, sir. i thought if there was anything wrong it was my duty to the school to know it, sir." "exemplary pedagogue! and now you know it? eh?" "well, sir, i have my suspicions." "no! and what might your suspicions be?" "oh, sir," replied the wretched jonah, feeling like a blue-bottle on a pin, "i believe he's a murderer in hiding. i really do." "clever little ferret! you've found that out, have you?" "i feel no doubt about it," said jonah, plucking up a little confidence. "don't feel any. when and where did the interesting event take place?" "oh, you could tell me that better than i can tell you," stammered trimble. "indeed!" said mr halgrove, his eyebrows going up ominously in the dark. "of course i shouldn't--that is--i should never dream of getting _you_ into trouble, sir." mr halgrove took his cigar out of his mouth and stared at the speaker. "i'd wait till you were safe away in america, sir; and even then i wouldn't let your name be known, you know, as an accomplice." mr halgrove put his cigar back into his mouth, and changed his cane from his left hand to his right. "fetch him here, julius," said he, stepping back into the middle of the road. it was in vain the wretched jonah howled and called for mercy. "so you won't let my name be known as an accomplice! how very kind!" and he gave practical proof of his gratitude by caning jonah till both were tired. "now good-night," said mr halgrove when he had done, "and thank you for a pleasant evening. i dare say mr jeffreys will make up for any little deficiencies on my part if you ask him. ask him, with my compliments, to show you the little game he played with one of his old school- fellows. good-night, mr trimble. wish him good-night, julius." julius once more pinned his affrighted victim to the bank, and then following at his master's heels, left the bruised and bewildered jonah to limp home as best he could. the day he had had yesterday had been nothing in comparison with to-day! in the school, meanwhile, there was jubilation and thanksgiving over the fact that jonah had a bad headache. jeffreys, with the first and second classes merged for the occasion into one, amazed mrs trimble by the order and industry which he commanded. "the young man's worth his money," said the good lady, with a sigh of relief, for she had counted on losing her nap for that day at least, and was grateful beyond measure to find her fears disappointed. as for the first class, they got completely spoiled by their day's change of teacher, and vowed they would all become dunces in order to be put back in the second class. "i say, jeff," said teddy confidentially, as the school was being dismissed, "_is_ there any chance of his dying? it's been so ripping to-day without him." "hold your tongue, sir," said jeffreys, in a tone which astonished his bloodthirsty young confidant; "you're old enough to know better than talk like that." teddy looked very miserable at this rebuke. "don't be in a wax with me, jeff," he said appealingly. "whatever would i do if you got to hate me?" jeffreys was not proof against this, and walked home with his two young friends, beguiling the way with cheery talk, which effectually dispelled the cloud which his passing anger had roused. on his way back he felt impelled to climb for a moment on the bank at his favourite spot. it amazed him to see the ground all torn up, and to find a trowel lying half bedded in the turf at the top. still more did it surprise and perplex him to find a penknife, which he recognised at once as belonging to trimble, and which he distinctly recollected having seen in that hero's hand during school the afternoon of the preceding day. what did it all mean? chapter nine. a thunderstorm. it did not add to jonah's happiness to see the looks of evident disgust with which the first class greeted his reappearance in the schoolroom. their pleasant experience yesterday had demoralised them, and they settled down listlessly at jonah's bidding like voyagers who, after a day in still waters, put out once more to the rough sea. teddy especially felt the hardships of the mighty deep. jonah's eye transfixed him all day. if he spoke, if he fidgeted, if he looked about, the hand of the tyrant swooped down upon him. he spent the greater part of the day standing on the form. the contents of his pockets (including some priceless marbles) were impounded; he had two columns of dates to commit to memory before he could go home; and, hardest of all, because of a little blot, he was reduced to the ineffable humiliation of writing all his exercises on a slate! it took all the big heart of the little fellow to bear up against this mountain of calamity, and had it not been for an occasional glimpse of jeffreys' face, turned sympathetically in his direction, his courage might have failed him. school closed, and still his dates were unlearnt. his legs ached with standing hour after hour on the narrow form, and his head, lifted three feet higher than usual into the heated atmosphere of the room, swam ominously. freddy, after waiting about dismally for half an hour, had gone home alone. the voices of boys remaining to play or talk in the yard outside had one after another ceased. jeffreys had long since taken himself and his books elsewhere, and only jonah was left to keep watch over his prisoner. the boy made a tremendous effort to master the dates, but they went through him like water through a sieve. he could not even keep his eyes on the book, and when he turned them towards the master's desk, jonah seemed to be half hidden in mist. he edged cautiously to the end of the form nearest the wall, where at least he might get a little support. it was a perilous voyage, for he was two feet away, and scarcely dare move at a greater rate than an inch a minute. he got there at last, nearly done up, and with a sigh of relief leaned his head against the cold plaster. "rosher, stand at the other end of the form immediately, and learn twenty more dates for being idle." alas poor teddy! he had held out long, and braved much. but his heart quailed now. he seemed glued to the wall, and the form all of a sudden seemed to contract into a tight-rope over a chasm. "i'm so tired, sir, i--" "silence, sir! and do what you're told," thundered jonah. teddy staggered forward half a step, but shrank back before he had finished it to the friendly wall. trimble rose from his seat. "do you hear me?" he shouted furiously. "stand where i tell you." "please, sir, i can't. i--" here trimble advanced towards him, and teddy, fairly unnerved and almost fainting, slipped down from the bench and burst into tears. "that's it, is it?" said jonah; "we'll see whether you can or--" at that instant the door opened, and jeffreys entered the room. it did not require the boy's sobbing appeal, "oh, jeff, jeff!" to enable him to take in the situation at a glance. nor did it need a second glance at the face of the intruder to induce jonah to turn pale. jeffreys advanced without a word to the form, brushing jonah out of his way with a swing that sent him staggering six paces down the floor, and putting his arm round teddy, led him without a word from the room. "come along, little chap," said he, when they got outside; "come home." the sound of his voice revived teddy like a cordial. "do you hate me for blubbering?" he asked anxiously; "wasn't it like a baby?" "how long had you been up there?" asked jeffreys. "it was half-past one when he stood me up. i had only just been looking round to see where freddy was; and oh, jeff, i've got to write on a slate just because of a little blot. what's the time now?" "half-past five," said jeffreys, putting on his hat, and swinging teddy's satchel over his own arm. "are you coming with me jeff?" asked the boy eagerly. "of course you couldn't get home alone." great was the content of the little fellow as he left galloway house with his hand on the strong arm of his tutor. greater still were his surprise and content when, as soon as the streets were past, jeffreys took him up on his back and carried him the rest of the way to ash cottage. "thanks, awfully, old jeff," said the boy, as they parted at the gate of the cottage. "what makes you so kind to freddy and me?" "i'm not good at riddles, teddy. good-night," and he went. jonah, as he was not surprised to find, was expecting him, in a state of high ferment. jeffreys would fain have avoided an interview. for he was constantly discovering that he was still far from sure of himself. that afternoon his passion had been within an ace of mastering him; and at any time he dreaded something might happen which would undo all the penance of those last six months. he therefore resolved wisely in the present instance to avoid altercation as far as possible. "well, sir, and what have you got to say for yourself? where have you been?" demanded jonah, in tones of lofty bitterness. "i have just taken rosher home. after standing four hours on the form he wasn't fit to walk himself." "oh!" snorted jonah, nearly bursting with indignation; "and pray how--" "excuse me, trimble. if you and mrs trimble wish me to leave, i'll do so. if not, don't talk to me. i don't want it." poor jonah nearly had a fit. he, head man of galloway house, knowing what he did, to be spoken to like this by a stuck-up--murderer! he had prepared a scene, and had counted on coming to an understanding then and there. and lo and behold! before he had well opened his mouth, he had been ordered to shut it by the very being whom he had at his mercy. it passed jonah's comprehension. jeffreys waited a minute to give him a chance of accepting his former alternative. then, concluding he had decided on the latter, he betook himself to his own room and remained there. jonah, as soon as he could recover himself sufficiently to think at all, made up his mind that, come what would, he had had enough of this sort of life. with which conviction he crushed his hat on his head, and sallied forth into the open air. his feet almost instinctively turned in the direction of ash lane; but on this occasion they went past the fatal bank and brought their owner to a halt at the door of ash cottage. "is mr rosher at home?" inquired he of the servant. mr rosher was at home--a jovial, well-to-do farmer, with a hearty yorkshire voice and a good-humoured grin on his broad face. "well, lad, what is't?" he asked, as trimble, hat in hand, was shown into the little parlour. "man, it's the little school-maister." "yes, mr rosher," said trimble; "i should like five minutes' talk with you if you can spare the time." "blaze away, lad. a've nothin' else to do." "i'm rather anxious about your two dear little boys," began trimble. "thee needn't be that; they're tight lads, and learn quite fast enough." "it's not that, mr rosher, though i hope they do justice to the pains we take with them." "they nearly killed their mother t'other day on the tricycle," said mr rosher, laughing like a young bull. "was't thee or t'other young chap came to mend t'auld bone-shaker? twas a kindly turn to the little fellows, and i'm sorry thee didn't stay to tea, lad." "we always like to try to make them happy," said jonah. "indeed, that is what i came to see you about. i'm sorry to say--" "thee's come to tell me why teddy was blubbering when he got home. thee'd better tell that to his mother," said the father. "i'm so sorry to say," pursued jonah, beginning to wish he was over his task, "my assistant-master is disappointing me. i took him on half in charity six months ago, but lately he has been having a bad influence in the school, and i thought it, my duty--" "tut, tut! the lads have been cheerier this last six months than ever before--" "of course we try all we can to make them happy, and shield them from harm," pursued trimble, "and i am glad you think we have made school happy for them--" "and is that all thee's come to say?" said the bewildered parent. "no, sir. of course in school i can look after the boys and see they come to no harm; but after school hours of course they are out of my control, and then it is i'm afraid of their coming to mischief. my assistant, i hear, has been in the habit of walking home with them, and from what i know of him he is not a desirable companion for them, and i think it is my duty to put you on your guard, mr rosher. they should not be encouraged to see too much of him out of doors or bring him to the house." "it bothers me why you keep the man if he's that sort!" said mr rosher. "what's wrong with him?" "i'm afraid he's a bad character. i have only discovered it lately, and intend to dismiss him as soon as i get a new assistant." "what dost mean by a bad character? is he a thief?" trimble looked very grave. "i wish it was no worse than that." the farmer's jaw dropped. "what?" said he. "dost mean to tell me the man's a murderer?" jonah looked terribly shocked. "it's a dreadful thing to suspect any one," said he, "but it would not be right of me to let things go on without warning you. i shall keep your boys under my own eyes all school-time; and i advise you--" "i don't want thy advice. take thyself off!" jonah saw that to prolong the interview would only make matters worse. the good father was evidently roused; but whether against him, jonah, or against jeffreys, he could scarcely tell. he departed decidedly crestfallen, and more than half repenting of his amiable expedition. his misgivings were somewhat relieved next morning when freddy and teddy put in an appearance punctually at school-time. jonah considered it expedient under the circumstances not to refer to teddy's mutinous conduct on the preceding day--a determination which afforded great comfort to that young gentleman and which he put down by a mysterious process of reasoning to jeffreys' good offices on his behalf. jonah, however, on this particular morning felt far from comfortable. it may have been the hot sultry day, or it may have been the general oppression of his own feelings, which gave him a sense of something-- probably a thunderstorm impending. his class remarked that he was less exacting than usual, and even jeffreys became aware that his colleague for once in a way was not himself. the clock had just struck twelve, and the boys were beginning to look forward to their usual break in half an hour's time, when the schoolroom door suddenly opened, and disclosed the broad figure of mr rosher, followed at a timid distance by mrs trimble. jonah's face turned pale; freddy and teddy opened their eyes to their widest. jeffreys, on hearing freddy mutter "father," looked round curiously, to get a view of the father of his little friends. mr rosher recognised trimble with a nod. "i've coom, you see, lad. i want to have a look at this murderer fellow thee was talking about. where is he?" it was a thunderclap with a vengeance! only two persons in the room guessed all it meant. "coom, trot him out, man," repeated the farmer, noticing the hesitation in jonah's scared face. "is that the chap yonder thee was telling me of?" added he, pointing to jeffreys. it was all up with galloway house, and jonah knew it. "yes," said he. jeffrey's face became livid as he sprang to his feet. "stay where thou art," said the brawny farmer, motioning him back. "let's have a look at thee. so thee's a manslayer? thou looks it." a terrible pause followed--the pause of a man who struggles for words that will not come. he looked terrible indeed; with heaving chest and bloodless lips, and eyes like the eyes of a hunted wolf. at length he gasped-- "liar!" and advanced towards the affrighted jonah. but the sturdy yorkshire-man stepped between. "nay, nay," said he, "one's enough. stay where thou art, and let him give chapter and verse--chapter and verse. he came to me last night, and said thou wast a murderer, and i've coom to see if thou art. thou looks one, but maybe thou'rt right to call him a liar." "ask him," gasped jonah, "what he did to his old schoolfellow, young forrester, and then lot him call me a liar if he likes." "dost hear, lad? what was it thee did to thy old schoolfellow young forrester? that's a fair question. out with it." if jeffreys had looked terrible a moment ago, he looked still more terrible now, as he sank with a groan onto the bench, and turned a sickened look on his accuser. the dead silence of the room almost stunned him. he seemed to feel every eye that turned to him like a dagger in his heart, and there rose up in his mind a vision of that football field far away, and the senseless figure of the boy who lay there. everything came back. the howl of execration, the frightened faces, the cap lying where the boy had flung it, even the chill autumn breeze in his face. he knew not how long he sat there stupefied. the voice of mr rosher roused him. "coom, now, dost thou say liar still?" jeffreys struggled to his feet, no longer furious, but still more terrible in his dejection. "yes," snapped jonah, astonished at the effect of his accusation, and just wise enough to see that to add to or take away from the story would be to spoil it. "what did you do to your poor schoolfellow, young forrester? do you suppose we don't see through you?" "hold thy tongue, little donkey!" said the farmer; "let's hear what he has to say." for a moment it seemed as if jeffreys was about to take him at his word, and say something. but his tongue failed him at the critical moment, and he gave it up. he had caught sight of teddy's eyes fixed on his in mingled misery and terror, and the sight unmanned him. he moved slowly to the door. they watched him, spellbound, and in a moment he would have gone, had not teddy with a big sob made a spring forward and seized him by the arm. "oh, jeff it's a wicked he; we don't believe it. freddy, we don't believe it, do we? father, he's been good to us; he never did anything unkind. don't have him sent away!" this appeal fairly broke the spell. freddy was at his brother's side in an instant, and the rest of the school, had not mr rosher motioned them back, would have followed him. "teddy and freddy, my lads," said the farmer, "go to thy seats like good lads. let him say yea or nay to what this--little--peacher says." "say you didn't, jeff," implored the boys. jeffreys shook his head sadly. "i can't," he said. "if he's dead--" "oh, he's dead," put in jonah; "i can tell you that." jeffreys gave one scared look at the speaker, and then hurried from the room. mrs trimble followed him up to his room. "i don't believe it all," said she; "you never did it on purpose, you're not so bad as that. i won't believe it even if you tell me," said the good lady, bursting into tears. jeffreys put together his few books and garments. "you're going," said she, "of course. it's no use hoping you won't. here's two pounds you're owed--and--" jeffreys took the money, and kept her hand for a moment in his. "you are kind," said he hoarsely. "good-bye, mrs trimble." he kissed her hand and took up his bundle. at the foot of the stairs a boy's hand was laid on his arm. "oh, jeff," whispered teddy--he had stolen out of the schoolroom. "poor jeff! i know you aren't wicked. say good-bye, jeff. what shall we do? what shall we do?" "good-bye, little chap," said jeffreys, stooping down and kissing the boy's wet cheek. "but, jeff, where are you going? when will you--?" jeffreys was gone. in the schoolroom meanwhile the inevitable reaction had taken place. as the door closed behind jeffreys, jonah, hardly knowing what he did, gave vent to a hysterical laugh. it was the signal for an explosion such as he had little counted on. "thou little dirty toad!" said the farmer, rounding on him wrathfully; "what dost mean by that? hey? for shame!" "beast!" shouted freddy, choking with anger and misery. "beast!" echoed the school. some one threw a wet sponge across the room, but mr rosher intercepted it. "nay, nay, lads; don't waste your clean things on him. freddy and teddy, my lads--where's teddy?--come along home. you've done with galloway house." "why, sir--" expostulated the wretched jonah. "hold thy tongue again," roared the farmer. "coom away, lads. thee can take a half-holiday to-day, all of you, and if thy parents ask why, say farmer rosher will tell them." "i'll have you prosecuted," growled trimble, "for interfering with my--" "dost want to be shut up in yon cupboard?" roared the hot-headed farmer. and the hint was quite enough. galloway house on that day turned a corner. farmer rosher, who had sore doubts in his own mind whether he had done good or harm by his interference, spoke his mind freely to his neighbours on the subject of jonah trimble, a proceeding in which his two sons heartily backed him up. the consequence was that that worthy young pedagogue found his scholastic labours materially lightened--for a dozen boys are easier to teach than fifty--and had time to wonder whether after all he would not have served his day and generation quite as well by looking after his own affairs, as after the most unprofitable affairs of somebody else. chapter ten. tossed about. jeffreys, as the reader will have discovered, did not possess the art of doing himself common justice. he had brooded so long and so bitterly over his fatal act of violence at bolsover, that he had come almost to forget that accident had had anything to do with poor forrester's injuries. and now, when confronted with his crime, even by a despicable wretch like trimble, he had not the spirit to hold up his head and make some effort at any rate to clear himself of all that was charged against him. jeffreys was still a blunderer, or else his conscience was unusually sensitive. you and i, reader, no doubt, would have put a bold face on the matter, and insisted the whole affair was entirely an accident, and that we were to be pitied rather than blamed for what had happened. and a great many people would have pitied us accordingly. but jeffreys claimed no pity. he saw nothing but his own ruthless fault; and he chose to take the whole burden of it, and the burden of the accident besides, on his own shoulders. and so it was he left galloway house without a word, and cast himself and his bad name once more adrift on a pitiless world. but as he walked on he was not thinking of galloway house, or farmer rosher, or freddy or teddy. the last words of trimble rang in his ears, and deafened him to all beside. "he's dead--_i_ can tell you that!" it never occurred to him to wonder whence jonah had derived his information, or whether it was true or false. mr brampton's letter five months ago had left little hope of the boy's recovery, but not till now had jeffreys heard any one say, in so many words "he is dead." jonah apparently knew the whole story. how he had discovered it, it was useless to guess. and yet for a moment jeffreys was tempted to return and seize his accuser by the throat and demand the truth of him. but he dismissed the notion with a shudder. his steps turned, half mechanically, half by chance, towards his guardian's house. he had never been in that quarter of york since the night of his expulsion, and he did not know why of all places he should just now turn thither. his guardian, as he well knew, was even more pitiless and cynical than ever, and any hope of finding shelter or rest under his roof he knew to be absurd. he might, however, be out; indeed, he had spoken of going to america, in which case mrs jessop might be there alone. one clings to the idea of a home; and this place, such as it was, was the only place which for jeffreys had ever had any pretensions to the blessed name. his expectations--if he had any--vanished as he abruptly turned the corner of the street and stood in front of the house. the shutters on the lower floor were closed, and the windows above were curtainless and begrimed with dust. a notice "to let," stared out from a board beside the front door, and the once cosy little front garden was weed-grown and run to seed. jeffreys felt a stronger man as he walked out of york in the deepening twilight. he was in the way of old associations just now, for almost without knowing it he found himself quitting york by way of ash lane, every step of which by this time was familiar--painfully familiar ground. the bank on which he had last found jonah's knife had now new attractions for him. not so a garden shed, by the back of which he passed, and whence proceeded the glimmer of a light, and the sound of boys' voices. he could not help standing a moment, and motioning julius close to his heels, listening. "it's broken worse than ever now," said freddy. "it's no use trying to mend it." "jeff could have done it. i say, freddy, whatever did father mean?" "i don't know. all i know is i'll never forget dear old jeff; shall you?" "rather not. i'm going to pray for him once a day, freddy." "all serene--so shall i." jeffreys stole one hurried glance through the cracked timbers, and then walked away quickly and with a heart brim full. whenever in after days his soul needed music, he had only to call up the voices of those two little fellows in the shed as he last heard them. little heeded they what came of their childish words. little heeded they that they were helping to make a true man of the jeff they loved, and that whatever true strength he came to possess for fighting life's battles and bearing life's burdens, he owed it beyond any one to them! he walked on rapidly and steadily for two hours, until the last lingering glow of the summer light had faded from the sky, and the lights of york behind him were lost in the night. a field of new-mown hay provided him with the most luxurious bedroom man could desire. the thought uppermost in his mind when he awoke next morning was young forrester. he felt that it would be useless for him to attempt anything or hope for anything till he had ascertained whatever was to be known respecting the boy's fate. trimble's words, which rang in his ears, had a less positive sound about them. at least he would find out for himself whether they were true or false. grangerham, the small country town in which he had ascertained forrester lived, and to which he had been removed from bolsover, was far enough away from york. jeffreys had many a time sought it out on the map, and speculated on how it was to be reached, should a summons arrive to call him thither. it was seventy miles away as the crow flies. jeffreys had the way there by heart. he knew what time the trains left york, what were the junctions along the line, and how far the nearest railway station would take him to his journey's end. now, however, it was a question of walking, not riding. the two pounds in his pocket, all he possessed, scarcely seemed his at all as long as mr frampton's school bill was unsettled. at any rate, it was too precious to squander in railway fares for a man who could walk for nothing. it was a long, harassing journey, over moors and along stony roads. it was not till the evening of the second day that the footsore traveller read on a sign-post the welcome words, "four miles to grangerham." he had eaten little and rested little on the way, and during the last twelve hours a broiling sun had beaten down pitilessly upon him. if the journey of the two last days had been exhausting, the fruitless search of the day that followed was fully as wearisome. grangerham was a pretty big manufacturing town, and jeffreys' heart sank within him as soon as he entered it. for who among these busy crowds would be likely to know anything of an invalid old lady and her cripple grandson? in vain he enquired in street after street for mrs forrester's address. some had not heard the name. some knew a public-house kept by one tony forrester. some recollected an old lady who used to keep a costermonger's stall and had a baby with fits. others, still more tantalising, began by knowing all about it, and ended by showing that they knew nothing. at the police-office they looked at him hard, and demanded what he wanted with anybody of the name of forrester. at the post-office they told him curtly they could not tell him anything unless he could give the old lady's address. at length, late in the day, he ventured to knock at the door of the clergyman of that part of the town in which the only few residents' houses seemed to be, and to repeat his question there. the clergyman, a hard-working man who visited a hundred families in a week, at first returned the same answer as everybody else. no, he did not know any one of that name. "stay," he said; "perhaps you mean old mrs wilcox." jeffreys groaned. everybody had been suggesting the name of some old lady to him different from the one he wanted. "she had a nephew, i think, who was a cripple. the poor fellow had had an accident at school, so i heard. i almost think he died. i never saw him myself, but if you come with me, i'll take you to the wesleyan minister. i think he knows mrs wilcox." thankful for any clue, however slight, jeffreys accompanied the good man to the wesleyan minister. "mrs wilcox--ah, yes," said the latter, when his brother pastor had explained their errand. "she died in torquay five months ago. she was a great sufferer." "and her nephew?" inquired the clergyman. "her grandson, you mean." jeffreys' heart leapt. "what was his name?" he asked, excitedly. "forrester; a dear young fellow he was. his mother, who died out in india, was mrs wilcox's only daughter. yes, poor gerard forrester was brought home from school about six months ago terribly crippled by an accident. it was said one of his school-fellows had--" "but where is he now? tell me, for mercy's sake!" exclaimed jeffreys. "i cannot tell you that," replied the minister. "his grandmother was ordered to torquay almost as soon as he arrived home. he remained here about a month in charge of his old nurse; and then--" "he's not dead!" almost shouted jeffreys. "then," continued the minister, "when the news came of his grandmother's death, they left grangerham. from all i can hear, mrs wilcox died very poor. i believe the nurse intended to try to get him taken into a hospital somewhere; but where or how i never knew. i was away in london when they disappeared, and have never heard of them since." "isn't his father alive?" "yes. i wrote to him by mrs wilcox's request. he is an officer in india in the hussars. i have had no reply, and cannot be sure that the letter has reached him, as i see that his regiment has been dispatched to afghanistan." "did you never hear from the nurse?" asked jeffreys. "never." "and was it thought forrester would recover?" "i believe it was thought that if he got special treatment in a hospital his life might be spared." this then was all jeffreys could hear. jonah trimble might be right after all. how he abused himself for flying from york as he had done without extracting the truth first! it was too late now. he begged to be taken to see the house where forrester lived. it was occupied by a new tenant, and all he could do was to pace up and down in front of it, in a lonely vigil, and try to imagine the pale face which only a few months back had gazed wearily from those windows on the active life without, in which he was never more to take a share. he had not the courage to wait that night in grangerham, although the minister urged him and julius, tramps as they were, to do so. he felt stifled in these narrow streets, and longed for the fresh heath, where at least he could be alone. he accepted, however, the hospitality of his guide for half an hour in order to write a short note to mr frampton. he said:-- "i have come here hoping to hear something of forrester. but i can hear nothing more than what you told me four months ago. he has left here in charge of his old nurse, and has not been heard of since. you will wonder why i have left york. the story of what happened at bolsover reached the ears of my employer's son. he accused me of it before all the school, and added that he knew forrester was dead. i could not stand it, and came away--though i feel now i was foolish not to ascertain first how he had learned what you and i have not yet been able to hear. it is too terrible to believe! and i cannot believe it till i find out for myself. where i shall go next i do not know, and feel i do not care. my guardian has left york. i saw him two days before i came away, and he told me then he should refuse to pay my last half-term's bill, which came to £ . i enclose thirty shillings now--all i have; and you may depend on my sending the rest as soon as i can earn it; for i shall be miserable as long as i owe a farthing to bolsover." having written this dismal letter, and having posted it with its enclosure, he bade farewell to grangerham, and wandered forth with the sympathetic julius out on to the quiet heath, and there lay down--not to sleep, but to think. chapter eleven. wildtree towers. jeffreys spoke truly when he wrote to mr frampton that he did not know and did not care where he was going next. when he awoke in his heathery bed next morning, he lay indolently for a whole hour for no other reason than because he did not know whether to walk north, south, east or west. he lacked the festive imagination which helps many people under similar circumstances. it did not occur to him to toss up, nor was he aware of the value of turning round three times with his eyes closed and then marching straight before him. had he been an errant knight, of course his horse would have settled the question; but as it was, he was not a knight and had not a horse. he had a dog, though. he had found julius in possession of the caretaker at his guardian's house, and had begged her to let him have him. "which way are we going, julius?" inquired the dog's master, leaning upon his elbow, and giving no sign which the dog could possibly construe into a suggestion. julius was far too deep an animal not to see through an artless design like this. but for all that he undertook the task of choosing. he rose from his bed, shook himself, rubbed a few early flies off his face, and then, taking up the bundle in his teeth, with a rather contemptuous sniff, walked sedately off, in the direction of the north pole. jeffreys dutifully followed; and thus it was that one of the most momentous turns in his life was taken in the footsteps of a dog. let us leave him, reader, tramping aimlessly thus o'er moor and fell, and hill and dale, leaving behind him the smoke of the cotton country and the noisy shriek of the railway, and losing himself among the lonely valleys and towering hills of westmoreland--let us leave him, footsore, hungry, and desponding, and refresh ourselves in some more cheery scene and amidst livelier company. where shall we go? for we can go anywhere. that's one of the few little privileges of the storyteller. suppose, for instance, we take farewell of humble life altogether for a while, and invite ourselves into some grand mansion, where not by the remotest possibility could jeffreys or jeffreys' affairs be of the very slightest interest. what do you say to this tempting-looking mansion, marked in the map as wildtree towers, standing in a park of i should not like to say how many acres, on the lower slopes of one of the grandest mountains in the lake country? on the beautiful summer afternoon on which we first see it, it certainly looks one of the fairest spots in creation. as we stand on the doorstep, the valley opens out before us, stretching far to the south, and revealing reaches of lake and river, broad waving meadows and clustering villages, wild crags and pine-clad fells. we, however, do not stand on the doorstep to admire the view, or even to ask admission. we have the storyteller's latchkey and invisible cap. let us enter. as we stand in the great square hall, hung round in baronial style with antlers, and furnished in all the luxury of modern comfort, wondering through which of the dozen doors that open out of the square it would be best worth our while to penetrate, a footman, bearing a tray with afternoon tea, flits past us. let us follow him, for afternoon tea means that living creatures are at hand. we find ourselves in a snug little boudoir, furnished and decorated with feminine skill and taste, and commanding through the open french windows a gorgeous view down the valley. two ladies, one middle-aged, one young, are sitting there as the footman enters. the elder, evidently the mistress of the mansion, is reading a newspaper; the younger is dividing her time between needlework and looking rather discontentedly out of the window. it is quite evident the two are not mother and child. there is not the slightest trace of resemblance between the handsome aquiline face of the elder, stylishly-dressed woman, and the rounder and more sensitive face of her quietly-attired companion. nor is there much in common between the frank eyes and mock-demure mouth of the girl, and the half- imperious, half-worried look of her senior. "tell mr rimbolt, walker," says the mistress, as she puts down her paper, and moves her chair up to the tea-table, "and master percy." a handsome gentleman, just turning grey, with an intellectual and good- humoured face, strolls into the room in response to walker's summons. "i was positively nearly asleep," he says; "the library gets more than its share of the afternoon sun." "it would be better for you, dear, if you took a drive or a walk, instead of shutting yourself up with your old books." the gentleman laughs pleasantly, and puts some sugar in his tea. "you are not very respectful to my old friends," said he. "you forget how long we've been parted. where's percy?" "walker has gone to tell him." "i think he is out," said the young lady; "he told me he was going down to the river." "i consider," said mrs rimbolt rather severely, "he should tell _me_ what he is going to do, not you." "but, aunt, i didn't ask him. he volunteered it." "fetch your uncle's cup, raby." raby's mouth puckers up into a queer little smile as she obeys. walker appears in a minute to confirm the report of master percy's absence. "he's been gone this three hours, mem." "let some one go for him at once, walker." "i get so terrified when he goes off like this," says the mother; "there's no knowing what may happen, and he is so careless." "he has a safe neck," replies the father; "he always does turn up. but if you are so fidgety, why don't you send raby to look after him?" "if any one went with him, it would need to be some one who, instead of encouraging him in his odd ways, would keep him in hand, and see he did not come to any harm." "oh," says raby, laughing, "he wouldn't take me with him if i paid him a hundred pounds. he says girls don't know anything about science and inventions." "he is probably right," observes mrs rimbolt severely. "certainly, as regards the science _he_ practises," says her husband. "what was it he had in hand last week? some invention for making people invisible by painting them with invisible paint? ha! ha! he invited me to let him try it on me." "he _did_ try it on me," chimes in raby. "it is nothing to laugh about," says the mother; "it is much better for him to be of an inquiring turn of mind than--idle," adds she, looking significantly at her niece's empty hand. "it strikes me it is we who are of an inquiring turn of mind just now," said the father. "i fancy he'll turn up. he generally does. meanwhile, i will go and finish my writing." and he politely retires. "raby, my dear," says mrs rimbolt--raby always knows what is coming when a sentence begins thus--"raby, my dear, it does not sound nice to hear you making fun of your cousin. percy is very good to you--" "oh yes!" interrupts raby, almost enthusiastically. "which makes it all the less nice on your part to make a laughing-stock of him in the presence of his own father. it may seem unlikely that people should be rendered invisible--" mrs rimbolt stops, conscious she is about to talk nonsense, and raby gallantly covers her retreat. "i'm sure i wish i knew half what he does about all sorts of things." "i wish so too," replies the aunt, severely and ungratefully. several hours pass, and still master percy does not put in an appearance. as mrs rimbolt's uneasiness increases, half a dozen servants are sent out in various directions to seek the prodigal. it is an almost daily ceremony, and the huntsmen set about their task as a matter of course. no one can recollect an occasion on which master percy has ever come home at the right time without being looked for. if the appointed hour is four, every one feels well treated if his honour turns up at five. nor, with the exception of his mother, and now and then raby, does any one dream of becoming agitated for three or four hours later. when therefore, just as the family is sitting down to dinner at half- past six, walker enters radiant to announce that master percy has come in, no one thinks any more about his prolonged absence, and one or two of the servants outside say to one another that the young master must be hungry to come home at this virtuous hour. this surmise is probably correct, for percy presents himself in a decidedly dishevelled condition, his flannel costume being liberally bespattered with mud, and his hair very much in need of a brush and comb. you cannot help liking the boy despite the odd, self-willed solemnity of his face. he is between fourteen and fifteen apparently, squarely built, with his mother's aquiline features and his father's strong forehead. the year he has spent at rugby has redeemed him from being a lout, but it is uncertain whether it has done anything more. the master of his house has been heard to predict that the boy would either live to be hanged or to become a great man. some of his less diplomatic school- fellows had predicted both things, and when at the end of a year he refused point blank to return to school, and solemnly assured his father that if he was sent back he should run away on the earliest opportunity, it was generally allowed that for a youth of his age he had some decided ideas of his own. the chief fault about him, say some, is that he has too many ideas of his own, and tries to run them all together. but we are digressing, and keeping him from his dinner. "my dear boy, where have you been?" says the mother; "we have been looking for you everywhere." "oh, out!" replies percy, hastily taking stock of the bill of fare. "well, run and dress yourself, or dinner will be cold." "i'm too fagged," says percy, coolly taking a seat. "some soup, please." "i can't have you sit down in that state, percy," says mr rimbolt; "it is not polite to your mother and raby." "if the poor boy is tired," says mrs rimbolt, "we must excuse him this once." so mr rimbolt, as has happened more than once before, gives in, and percy does as he pleases. he does full justice to his dinner, and takes no part in the conversation, which is chiefly carried on by mr rimbolt, sometimes with his wife, sometimes with raby. at length, however, the first cravings of appetite being subdued, he shows a readiness to put in his oar. "how goes the invisible paint, percy?" asks his father, with a twinkle in his eye. "used up," replies the boy solemnly. "i'm sure it would answer. i painted hodge with it, and could scarcely see him at all from a distance." "i believe you paint yourself," says raby, laughing, "and that's why the men can't find you." percy is pleased at this, and takes it as a recognition of his genius. he has great faith in his own discovery, and it is everything to him to find some one else believing in it too. "if you like to come to the river to-morrow, i'll show you something," says he condescendingly. "it licks the paint into fits!" "raby will be busy in the village to-morrow," says her aunt. "what is it you are doing at the river?" "oh, ah!" solemnly responds the son, whose year at a public-school has not taught him the art of speaking respectfully to his parents; "wouldn't you like to know?" "i wish you'd play somewhere else, dear. it makes me so uneasy when you are down by the river." "play!" says percy rather scornfully; "i don't play there--i work!" "i fear you are neglecting one sort of work for another, my boy," says mr rimbolt; "we never got through virgil yet, you know--at least, you didn't. i've been through three books since you deserted our readings." "oh, virgil's jolly enough," replied the boy; "i'm going to finish it as soon as my experiments are over." "what experiments?" "oh, it's a dodge to--i'd show it you as soon as it's finished. it's nearly done now, and it will be a tremendous tip." this is all that can be extracted from the youthful man of science--at least, by the elders. to raby, when the family retires to the drawing- room, the boy is more confidential, and she once more captivates him by entering heart and soul into his project and entreating to be made a party in the experiments. "i'd see," says he; "but mind you don't go chattering!" mr rimbolt gravitates as usual to his library, and here it is that half an hour later his son presents himself, still in his working garb. "father," says the hopeful, "please can you give me some money?" "why, you have had ten shillings a week since you came home!" "aren't you a millionaire, father?" "some people say so." "doesn't that mean you've got a million pounds?" "that's what `millionaire' means." "ten shillings a week is only twenty-six pounds a year." "quite right, and few boys get such good pocket-money." "when i come into the property i shall allow my son more than that," says percy gravely. "not if you love him as much as i love my son," says mr rimbolt, with a pleasant smile. "good-night, father." "good-night! why, it's only half-past seven." "i know. i'm going to _get_ up early; i've got a lot of work to do. besides, i'm miserable." "why?" "because i can't get any money." "why not earn some? i want some one to catalogue my books for me. what do you say to doing it? i shall pay half a crown a shelf." percy hesitates a bit, and looks at the bookcases, and makes a mental calculation. "that will be about twelve pounds, won't it? have you got a book to write the names on?" "what! are you going to begin now?" "yes." and percy sits up till eleven o'clock, and succeeds in that time in cataloguing after a fashion, and not badly for a first attempt, two of the smallest shelves in the library, for which he receives then and there five shillings, much to his own comfort and to his father's amusement. mrs rimbolt comes into the library just as the business is concluded. "why, percy, not in bed--and so tired too!" "oh, i've been doing some work for father," says the boy, chinking the two half-crowns in his pocket. "but your father, i'm sure, would not wish you to injure your health." "certainly not. percy was hard up, and has just been earning five shillings." "what do you mean--earning five shillings?" "yes--father's been tipping me for cataloguing his books. jolly hard work, but he pays on the nail, don't you, father?" "my dear boy," said the mother, as she and her son walks across the hall, "why did you not tell me you wanted money? you know i do not grudge it. i don't like you to stay up so late to earn it, when you ought to be resting." "well, i wouldn't mind another five shillings, mother." the mother gives him a half-sovereign and kisses him. percy, as he walks up the stairs, ruminating on his good luck, feels considerably more self-respect when he looks at the two half-crowns than when looking at the half-sovereign. at the top of the stairs he shouts down to walker:-- "i say, wake me at six, will you? and leave my waterproof and top-boots on the hall table; and, i say, tell mason to cut me a dozen strong ash sticks about a yard long; and, i say, leave a hammer and some tacks on the hall table too; and tell appleby to go by the early coach to overstone and get me a pound of cork, and some whalebone, and some tar. here's five shillings to pay for them. don't forget. tell him to leave them at the lodge before twelve, and i'll fetch them. oh, and tell raby if she wants to see what i was telling her about, she had better hang about the lodge till i come. i'm sure to be there somewhere between twelve and four." with which the young lord of creation retires to his cubicle, leaving walker scratching his head, and regarding the five shillings in his hand in anything but a joyful mood. "he ought to be put on the treadmill a week or two; that's what would do him good," observed the sage retainer to himself; "one thing at a time, and plenty of it. a dozen ash sticks before six o'clock in the morning! what does he want with ash sticks? now his schoolmaster, if he'd got one, would find them particular handy." with which little joke walker goes off to agitate appleby and mason with the news of their early morning duties, and to put the servants' hall in a flutter by announcing for the fiftieth time that summer that either he or the young master would have to leave wildtree towers, because, positively--well, they would understand--a man's respect for himself demanded that he should draw the line somewhere, and that was just what master percy would not allow him to do. we have changed the scene once already in this chapter. just before we finish let us change it once more, and leaving beautiful wildtree and its happy family, let us fly to a sorry, tumbledown, desolate shed five miles away, on the hill-side. it may have once belonged to a farm, or served as a shelter for sheep on the mountain-slopes. but it now scarcely possesses a roof, and no sign of a habitation is anywhere visible. the night has come on rainy and dark, and a weary tramp with his dog has been thankful to crawl into its poor shelter and rest his limbs. the wind has risen and howls dismally round the shed, breaking every now and then through the loose planks, and stirring up the straw which carpets the place. but the traveller is too weary to heed it or the rain which intrudes along with it, and crouching with his dog in the darkest corner, curls himself up in true tramp fashion, and settles down to sleep. he has lain there two hours or more, and the mountain storm begins to abate. the dog has been uneasy for some time, and now in the midst of a peal of thunder awakens his master with a gruff yap. the sleeper sits up in an instant. it is not the thunder that has disturbed the dog, nor is it thunder that the tramp now listens to close at hand. it is the sound of voices, either inside the shed or just outside it. not a strange thing, perhaps, in a storm like this, for two wayfarers like himself to seek shelter--and yet the tramp seems startled by the sound, and signals to the dog to lie down and hold his peace. "will it do?" says one voice; and the tramp perceives that the speakers are standing outside the shed under the shelter of the projecting eaves. "no. no good. too well looked after, and the people about the wrong sort." "there's a pile of swag there--heaps." "know that. better wait till the family are away." "there's a child, isn't there?" "a boy--fourteen--only child." "might work it that way; eh? get a trifle for him eh?" "a thousand, and no questions asked. it's settled." "it is! why didn't you say so? how are you going to do it?" "never you mind. corporal and i have worked it out. it will be done to-night. moon's down at ten. you be here at midnight, and have your hay-cart handy. corporal and i will bring him here. we know where to find him in daylight, and can keep him quiet in the woods till dark." "what then? who's to keep him?" "wait till you've got him." "are you sure they'll go a thousand for him?" "probably two. sheer off now, and don't forget, twelve o'clock." the footsteps move away through the wet heather, and the tramp, waiting motionless till the last sound has faded away, draws a long breath and curls himself back into his roost. but not to sleep--to meditate a campaign. "julius," says he to the dog, who appears to be fully alive to the brewing storm, "you and i will have to stop this business. there'll be three to two, unless the boy fights too. we must be here at eleven, and tackle one of them before the other two come. what do you say to that?" julius looks only sorry the business is not to begin at once. then the tramp and he go carefully into the plan of their little campaign, and, as soon as day dawns, go out for a walk, julius taking care before quitting the shed to acquaint himself with the scent of the two gentlemen who had lately sheltered outside it. the tramp spends a quiet day on the mountain, reading homer, and admiring the view. towards nightfall he descends to overstone and spends a few of his remaining pence in a frugal meal. then, as the moon dips behind the shoulder of wild pike, he betakes himself, with the faithful julius close at his heels, to the shed on the mountain-side. chapter twelve. kidnapping. percy rimbolt, despite his unusual literary labours of the past evening, rose promptly when walker knocked at his door at six o'clock, and arrayed himself once more in his flannels. the storm of the night, which had disturbed jeffreys and his dog five miles away, had not spread as far as wildtree, and the early summer sun was already hot as he sallied forth with his waterproof over one arm, and his dozen ash sticks under the other in the direction of the river. kennedy, at the lodge, was considerably astonished to be awakened by a shower of gravel against his window, and to perceive, on looking out, the young master in full fishing order standing below, "kennedy, appleby's going to leave some things here for me about twelve o'clock. mind you're in, and wait till i come for them. and if raby comes, tell her i'll be up about then; tell her not to go away." "do you want me down at the river, sir?" asked the old keeper. "no, keep away; and don't let any one else come below rodnet bridge." with which injunction the youthful man of science went on his way, leaving kennedy to shake his head and wonder what little game the young master was up to now. percy plodded on a couple of miles down the stream, considerably beyond the park boundaries, till he reached rodnet bridge, under which the mountain torrent slipped in a swift, deep stream. just below the bridge, among the trees which crowded down to the water's edge, was a little hut, used by the wildtree keepers for depositing their baskets and nets, but now appropriated by the young heir of wildtree for far more important purposes. it was here, in fact, that during the last two days he had conceived, and begun to put into practice, the never-before-heard-of invention of a machine for enabling a swimmer to swim up-stream at the rate of eight to ten miles an hour! percy's recent career had been made up of a large number of magnificent projects, admirable in every respect but one--they never quite came off. just as they neared perfection they "gave out," and something new took their place. it would be treason, however, to hint that the "anti- current swimmer" was ever likely to give out. there certainly seemed no signs of it in the manner in which the inventor set about his task that morning. he had been provident enough to bring some sandwiches in his pockets (provided at the last moment by the much-enduring walker), and on the strength of these he laboured half the morning. it would puzzle me to explain on what scientific principle the wonderful apparatus was laid down, what mixture between the wing of a bird, the tail of a fish, and the screw of a steamer it embodied. i never was good at mechanics, and certainly percy rimbolt's mechanics were such as it is given but to few to follow. suffice it to say that by eleven o'clock the structure had reached a critical stage, and stood still for want of the cork which appleby had been charged to procure. the day was hot, and an hour at least must elapse before the messenger could return from overstone. percy, therefore, improved the shining hour by a bathe in the clear stream, with whose depths he was evidently familiar. he made no attempt, pending the completion of the machine, to oppose the swift current, but diving into it from the bridge, allowed himself luxuriously to be carried down into the shallows a hundred yards below, and without even the trouble of swimming. this refreshing performance ended, he returned to the hut and dressed. he was in the act of locking the door, preparatory to his journey up to kennedy's lodge, when a sack was suddenly thrown over his head from behind, and next moment he found himself pinned to the ground in the clutches of two men. before he was well aware of what had happened, his feet were tied together, and his arms firmly lashed to his sides. the sack was lifted from his mouth, but not long enough to enable him to shout, for a gag was roughly forced between his teeth; and then, while one of his captors held his head, the other bandaged his eyes so completely that, had he not known it, he could not have told whether it was mid-day or midnight. thus, in almost less time than it takes to narrate it, in broad daylight, and on the borders of his own father's estate, the unfortunate percy was made captive, without so much as being able to give an alarm or to see the faces of his assailants. he was deposited comfortably on the floor of his own hut, by the side, oh, cruel fate! of his own machine, and there left to work out any number of problems which might occur to him during the next six hours; while his custodians, having carefully padlocked the door, retired to a respectful distance among the trees, where they could smoke their pipes in peace, and at the same time keep an eye on the approaches to their young ward's dungeon. it did not take percy many minutes to convince himself that any attempt to struggle or extricate himself from his bonds would be labour thrown away. his captors were evidently well up to their business, and there was no wriggling out of their neatly-tied bonds. nor did the onslaught which the boy made with his teeth on the gag result in anything but disaster. it loosened at least two of his teeth, and gave him during the remainder of the day considerable pain in some of the others. as to his eyes, he rubbed his forehead and the side of his head on the floor, in the hopes of shifting the bandage, but all in vain. he got it over his ears as well as his eyes for his pains, and could scarcely hear a sound. as the afternoon went on, the sun slanted its rays cruelly through the little skylight on to the spot where he lay, and the flies, attracted by the rare chance, swarmed in under the door and through the cracks to make merry with their defenceless victim. had the sun been seven times as hot, or the flies venomous and deadly, he would have preferred it, for it would have shortened his misery considerably. when at last the sun got across the window, and left him at peace, he was scarcely in a position to appreciate his mercies. not long after the distant overstone chimes had sounded four, his heart (about the only unfettered portion of him) leapt to his mouth as he heard his name called in raby's voice outside. nor was his the only heart whom that cheery sound caused to palpitate. the two watchers in the wood above heard it, and prepared to decamp at a moment's notice, should the girl display any undue curiosity as to the contents of the hut. but she did not. she was used to seeing it padlocked, and to listen in vain for an answer to her call. percy was evidently abroad, probably waiting for her up at kennedy's lodge. so she hurried back. as soon as she had disappeared beyond the bridge, the two men put their pipes into their pockets. "if they've begun looking for him we'd best sheer off, corporal." "that's right," replied corporal--"at once." whereupon they descended from their perches, and having looked carefully up and down, unlocked the dungeon door. their prisoner was lying so still and motionless, that for an instant they had their misgivings as to whether the gag had not been a trifle too much for his respiration. but a moment's examination satisfied them the boy was alive--much to their relief. the sack was once more brought into requisition, and turned out to be a great deal larger than it looked, for it was found quite roomy enough to accommodate the whole of the person of percy rimbolt, who in this dignified retreat quitted the scene of his labours on the back of one of his captors. the hut having been once more carefully padlocked, the party travelled at least a mile into the depths of the lonely woods, where at least there was no lack of shade and seclusion. percy was deposited somewhat unceremoniously on the ground, and left in the sack (with just sufficient aperture in the region of his nose to allow of respiration) for some hours more, unheeded by his custodians except when he attempted to move or roll over, on which occasions he was sharply reminded of his duty to his company by an unceremonious kick. some time later--it may have been an hour or two, or only five minutes-- he was aware of a conversation taking place outside his sack. "risky," said one voice. "more risky not to do it," said the other. "what use would he be if he was a dead 'un? besides, how are we to carry him all that way?" "all right, have it your way," said the other surlily. then percy was conscious of some one uncording the mouth of the sack and uncovering his head. "young feller," said the gruffer of the two voices, "do you want your throat cut?" percy shook his head in mild deprecation of such a desire. "do you want your tongue cut out?" once more percy disclaimed any consuming anxiety in that direction. "then you won't move a step or speak a word unless you're told. do you mark that?" the boy nodded; he did mark it. thereupon, much to his relief, the gag was taken from his mouth, and he felt himself hauled out of the ignominious sack. "a drink!" he gasped. "there he goes; i said he'd do it. clap the gag on again." poor blindfolded percy could only wave his head appealingly. he would sooner have his throat cut than feel that gag back between his teeth. his captors let him off this once, and one of them untied the cords from his legs. he was too cramped to attempt to make any use of this partial liberty, even had he been so minded, and sank down, half fainting, to the ground. "give him a drink," said one of the voices; and in a moment or two he felt a cup of delicious water held to his parched lips, reviving him as if by magic. a few coarse pieces of bread were also thrust between his lips; these he swallowed painfully, for his jaws were stiff and aching, and his teeth had almost forgotten their cunning. however, when the meal was over he felt better, and would gladly have slept upon it for an hour or two, had he been allowed. but this was no part of his captors' programme. they had not relaxed his bonds to indulge any such luxurious craving. overstone church had already sounded eleven, and they were due in an hour at the mountain shed. "get up and step out," said one of them, pulling the boy roughly to his feet. "all very well," said percy to himself, as he stumbled forward on his cramped limbs; "they'll have to give me a leg up if they want me to go the pace. where are we going to next, i'd like to know?" "come, stir yourself," said the man again, accompanying his words by a rough shake. percy responded by toppling over on his face. he who knew the way to swim against stream ten miles an hour, was just now unable to walk half a dozen paces on solid ground. "best shove him in the sack again," growled the other man. the bare mention of that sack startled poor percy to his feet. if he might only have spoken he could easily have explained the trifling difficulty which prevented his "stepping out." as it was, all he could do was to struggle forward bravely for a few more paces, and then again fall. the men seemed to perceive that there was something more than mere playfulness in this twice-repeated performance, and solved the difficulty by clutching him one under each arm, and materially assisting his progress by dragging him. any of percy's acquaintances would have been greatly shocked had they been privileged to witness this triumphal midnight progress across the moors; his dragging legs feebly trying to imitate the motions of walking, but looking much more like kneeling, his head dropped forward on his chest, his shoulders elevated by the grip of his conductors under his pinioned arms, and his eyes bandaged as never a blind-man's-buff could bind them. it was a long weary march that; but to percy it was luxury compared with the morning among the flies on the hut floor. his conductors settled into a jog-trot, which the light weight of the boy did not much impede; and percy, finding the motion not difficult, and on the whole soothing, dropped off into a half-doze, which greatly assisted in passing the time. at length, however, he became aware of a halt and a hurried consultation between his captors. "is he there? whistle?" corporal gave a low whistle, which after a second or two was answered from the hill-side. "that's all right!" said the other, in tones of relief. "see anything of the cart?" corporal peered round in the darkness. "yes--all right down there." "come on, then. keep your eye on jim, though, he's a mighty hand at going more than his share." "trust me," growled corporal. then percy felt himself seized again and dragged forward. in about five minutes they halted again, and the whistle was repeated. the answer came from close at hand this time. "all square?" whispered corporal. "yes!" replied a new indistinct voice--"come on." "jim's screwed again," said the other man; "i can tell it by his voice; there's no trusting him. come on." they had moved forward half a dozen steps more, when corporal suddenly found his head enveloped in a sack--a counterpart of his own--while at the same moment the other man was borne to the ground with a great dog's fangs buried in his neckcloth. "hold him!" called jeffreys to the dog, as he himself applied his energies to the subjugation of the struggling corporal. it was no easy task. but jeffreys, lad as he was, was a young samson, and had his man at a disadvantage. for corporal, entangled with the sack and unprepared for the sudden onslaught, staggered back and fell; and before he could struggle to his feet jeffreys was on him, almost throttling him. it was no time for polite fighting. if jeffreys did not throttle his man, his man, as he perfectly well knew, would do more than throttle him. so he held on like grim death, till corporal, half smothered by the sack and half-choked by his assailant's clutch, howled for quarter. then for the first time jeffreys felt decidedly perplexed. if he let corporal go, corporal, not being a man of honour, might turn on him and make mincemeat of him. if, on the other hand, he called the dog off the other man to hold corporal while he bound him captive, the other man might abuse his opportunity in a like manner. the boy was evidently too exhausted to take any part in the encounter? what could he do? after turning the matter over, he decided that julius was the most competent individual to settle the business. the dog was having a very easy time with the abject villain over whom he was mounting guard, and could well undertake a little more than he had at present on his hands. "fetch him here, julius," called jeffreys, giving corporal an additional grip; "come here, you fellow, along with the dog." the fellow had nothing for it but to obey; and in a couple of minutes he was lying across the body of corporal, while julius stood fiercely over them both. "come here, boy," called jeffreys next to percy; "let me take off those cords." percy groped his way to him. "what are you going to do with me?" he gasped. "loose you; and if you're half a man you'll help me tie up these brutes. come on--watch them there, julius. why, you're blindfolded, too, and how frightfully tight you're corded!" "i've been like that since twelve o'clock." a few moments sufficed to unfasten the captive's arms and clear his eyes. "now you," said jeffreys, indicating the topmost of julius's captives with his toe, "put your hands behind your back!" the fellow obeyed hurriedly; he had had quite enough of julius's attentions already to need more. jeffreys and percy between them lashed first his wrists together, and then his elbows tightly to his sides. then they secured his feet and knees in the same manner. "he'll do--let him go, julius," and prisoner number was rolled over, to make room for number to undergo a similar process of pinioning. it was fortunate that the hay-cart below, of which and its owner jeffreys and julius had already taken possession at their leisure, had been liberally provided with cord, or their supply would have been inadequate to the strain put upon it. at last, however, corporal and his friend were as securely tied up as they themselves could have done it, and dragged into the shed. it was pitch dark, and they neither of them at first perceived a third occupant of the tenement in the person of their fellow-conspirator, who was lying, bound like themselves, on the floor, where for an hour at least he had been enjoying the sweets of solitary meditation. "now, julius," said jeffreys, when his three guests were duly deposited, "you'll have to watch them here till i come back. hold your tongues, all of you, or julius will trouble you. watch them, good dog, and stay here." "now," said he to the boy, when they found themselves outside, "what's your name?" "percy rimbolt." "where do you live?" "wildtree towers, five miles away." "we can be there in an hour. we may as well use this cart, which was meant to drive you in another direction. can you walk to it, or shall i carry you?" percy, as one in a dream, walked the short distance leaning on his rescuer's arm. then, deposited on the soft hay, too weary to trouble himself how he got there, or who this new guardian might be, he dropped off into an exhausted sleep, from which he was only aroused by the sound of his parents' voices as the cart pulled up at the door of wildtree towers. chapter thirteen. policeman julius. wildtree towers had been thrown into a state of unmistakable panic when, at the usual hour of retiring for the night, percy had not put in an appearance. his absence at dinner-time agitated no one but his mother; and the search instituted at her bidding began languidly, and with the usual assurance of a speedy discovery. but as hour passed hour and no tidings came, things began to look serious, and even walker pulled a long face. midnight came, and still no tidings. appleby came up to the house for a lantern, but had nothing to report beyond the fact that the search so far had been unsuccessful. the minutes dragged on for the unhappy watchers. it was harder far for them to sit there in the hall, listening to the unsympathetic tick of the clock and starting at every sound on the gravel without, than it was for the father to tramp through the woods and trace the footsteps along the river's bank. at last the clock struck two, and scarcely had the chimes ceased, when walker put up his finger, and exclaimed,-- "hist!" a moment of terrible silence ensued. then on their quickened hearing there came a distant rumble of wheels. almost at the same instant footsteps came tearing up the gravel drive. it was appleby, who rushed into the midst of the group assembled on the doorstep. "all right--he's found!" gasped the lad. "is he alive?" cried the mother. "on a cart!" exclaimed the panting appleby. mrs rimbolt gave a little shriek, and fell into her husband's arms. raby, nerved by the very agony of the suspense, rushed out and ran down the drive to meet the cart. "is percy there?" she cried. the cart stopped abruptly, and a strange voice replied,-- "yes--safe and well and fast asleep." the words fell like music on the girl's ears. it was too dark to see anything but the shadowy form of the cart and of a man walking at the horse's head. she darted back to the house with the joyful news, and in another minute the cart stood at the door. percy, who was decidedly enjoying his sleep, felt by no means as grateful as he should have been to find himself disturbed at this early hour of the night. "all serene! all serene!" he growled, in response to his mother's caresses and walker's effusive shaking of the hand. "i'm all right, mother; i want to go to bed." "get the hot bath ready," said mrs rimbolt to the servants. "my poor boy!" "i tell you i'm all serene; can't you let me go to bed?" said the half- awake percy. "i don't want anything except sleep." "walker, help master percy up to bed; let him take our room, and light a fire in it, and put hot bottles in the bed." percy, thankful to get back to his slumbers at any price, allowed walker to help him up stairs. at the door of his own room he stopped. "that will do; you can cut. walker." "but you're to have the best room and a fire--" "you be hanged!" exclaimed the boy, unceremoniously slamming the door in walker's face, and locking himself in. downstairs, meanwhile, jeffreys was being besieged with questions on all hands, which he endeavoured as best he could to answer. mr rimbolt, however perceiving that very little good was to be got out of this confused cross-examination, asked him to follow him into the library, once more suggesting to his wife and niece that they should go to bed. jeffreys was thankful to find himself in a serene atmosphere, and despite all the agitation and excitement of the day, his heart warmed as he looked round on the bookshelves and their friendly occupants. "now," said mr rimbolt, who had made no attempt to take part in the babel outside, "will you please tell me everything?" jeffreys obeyed, and told his story in a concise and intelligent manner, which convinced mr rimbolt he had not only an honest man but a gentleman to deal with. the master of wildtree was not an effusive man, and if jeffreys had looked to be overwhelmed with grateful speeches he would have been disappointed. but he had not looked for it, and valued far more the quiet confidential manner in which mr rimbolt entered into all the details of the narrative. "then," said the latter, when the story was ended, "as a matter of fact you have the three ruffians penned in the shed by your dog at this moment--an excellent piece of management." he rang his bell, and walker, who had felt quite out of it for the half- hour, appeared with great promptitude. "walker, are any of the men about still?" "appleby is holding this man's horse at the hall door, sir." "send appleby here, and take the horse and cart round to the farm." poor walker! this was a sad cut. the farm was half a mile away, across the park; and this order meant that for another hour at least he must be an outsider in the drama. "appleby," said mr rimbolt, when that jaunty youth appeared, "take benbow, and ride as quickly as you can, to the police-office at overstone. tell the inspector with my compliments, to meet me with three constables at rodnet bridge at six o'clock, that is, in three hours. come back as quickly as you can, and have the dog-cart at the door at five." "now," said he to jeffreys, when these various matters of business had been put in train, "we may as well occupy our time by getting something to eat, supper and breakfast in one--i dare say you are hungry." as jeffreys had scarcely eaten anything for three days--in fact, since his visit to grangerham--he could honestly admit being ready for a meal. "i'm afraid we must forage for ourselves, unless some one is about," said mr rimbolt, leading the way to the pantry. it was a curious spectacle that of the millionaire and the tramp together investigating the contents of the pantry shelves and lockers, lifting up dish-covers here, and critically testing the consistency of pie-crusts there. they made a fairly good selection of the good things which came nearest to hand, and retiring with them to the adjacent kitchen, accomplished a meal more luxurious to jeffreys' mind than any he had tasted since he left bolsover. this done, to his great satisfaction they adjourned once more to the library, where, while mr rimbolt took a brief nap, he regaled himself with the luxury of a prowl among the bookshelves, by the light of the dawning day. so absorbed was he in this occupation that he did not hear the sound of the dog-cart at the front door, or heed mr rimbolt's first summons to start. "you're fond of books, surely," said that gentleman, as the two got up into the trap and drove off, with appleby perched behind. "i love them," said jeffreys, in the same tone of sincerity which had attracted the york bookseller. "you're a reader, then?" "i would be if i had the chance," said jeffreys. "you are thinking of my library," said mr rimbolt; "but it doesn't follow, you know, that having a house full of books makes a reader. a man may often get more good out of one tattered volume than out of an entire russia-bound library." "i can quite believe that," said jeffreys. "probably you know what a favourite book is?" said mr rimbolt rather curiously. jeffreys replied by producing his well-worn copy of homer, and it would be hard to say which of these two foolish persons evinced the most enthusiasm in discovering that they both alike had a friend in the old greek bard. at any rate the discovery levelled at once the social differences which divided them; and in the discussion which ensued, i blush to say they forgot, for the time being, all about percy, and the shed on the mountain-side, and the three gentlemen there to whom the genial julius was doing the honours. the appearance of the inspector and three constables at rodnet bridge brought the two unpractical excursionists on mount olympus abruptly back to level ground. the business was soon explained. the police, of course, knew all about the "parties"--when do they not? they had been following them up for days, had had their suspicions of that mountain shed for weeks, and so on. they couldn't exactly say they had known all about the attempt to kidnap last night; but they knew all about it now, for appleby had let it out, and the "active and intelligent" in consequence had nothing to learn. half an hour brought them to the mountain-side. mr rimbolt and jeffreys dismounted, leaving appleby in charge of the trap, while they, followed in single file by the police, ascended the narrow track towards the shed. half-way up, jeffreys whistled; and a joyous bark from julius assured the party that their game was safe. "you'd better let me go first," said jeffreys to the inspector, who showed some anxiety to be foremost in the capture, "unless you want my dog to fly at you." the official fell back promptly, his native modesty getting the better of his zeal; and the party halted twenty yards from the shed while jeffreys advanced to reconnoitre. he saw at a glance that things were not exactly as he had left them. two out of the three prisoners remained securely bound, but the unlucky corporal had slipped his feet from the cords, and paid dearly for his folly. julius had him down on the ground, daring him to move a limb or even turn his head on pain of unheard-of laceration. the wretched fellow had cursed a thousand times his own artfulness. for three hours he had lain thus, not daring to stir a muscle; and if ever a night's experiences are enough to turn the hair grey, corporal should not have a single black lock left that morning. "come off, julius, and let them alone," said jeffreys. julius obeyed somewhat reluctantly, though the pleasant task of welcoming his master's return reconciled him somewhat to the abandonment of his sovereignty. jeffreys beckoned to the party to advance. "these are the three men, sir," said he to mr rimbolt. "yes, sir, these are the parties," said the inspector (who had never set eyes on the men before), advancing towards corporal as he slowly raised himself from the ground. julius, greatly to the officers' alarm, made a last attempt to assert his property in the captives, and in corporal in particular; and in so doing came very near doing a grievous injury to the arm of the law. but jeffreys' authoritative order to him to come in and he down allowed the arrest to proceed without any further protest than a few discontented yaps as the cords were removed from the prisoners' legs, and they were led off by the force. "we had better go to overstone, too," said mr rimbolt, "and see these ruffians safely quartered. the assizes are coming on in a week or two. do you live anywhere near here?" "no," said jeffreys. "julius and i are on a walking tour at present." mr rimbolt looked at his companion, and for the first time took notice of his travel-stained, shabby appearance. "you mean," said he, guessing the truth, "you have no particular address at present?" "quite so," replied jeffreys, flushing up uncomfortably. mr rimbolt said nothing more just then. they had a busy hour or two at overstone arranging for the comfortable housing of their three prisoners, until the law should decide as to their more permanent residence. then, having taken farewell of the police, and returning towards the dog-cart, jeffreys stopped abruptly and said, raising his hat,-- "good-bye, sir." mr rimbolt looked at him in surprise. "you are not going, surely!" said he. "you must come back to the house with me." "thank you; julius and i have a long journey before us, and must be starting." "you are only on a walking tour, you know. there is a great deal to see round here. the place is worth exploring," said mr rimbolt feeling almost as embarrassed as his companion. "we shall be back here for the assizes," said jeffreys. "nonsense, my friend!" said mr rimbolt, taking the bull by the horns; "i insist on your coming back with me now, if it's only to ask how percy is after his night's excitement. besides, you have not half explored the library." whether it was the cordiality of this delicate invitation, or the mention of the library, or both combined, i cannot say; but jeffreys, with some misgivings, yielded, and ascended the dog-cart. "the ladies would never forgive me," said mr rimbolt rather unwisely, "if i let you go without giving them an opportunity of thanking you for your goodness to percy." jeffreys was sorry he had yielded. had he only had mr rimbolt and the cool percy to deal with, he could have resigned himself to the ordeal. but the threat of being thanked by the ladies quite disconcerted him. "i'm--i'm afraid i'm not very--tidy," stammered he. "i'd really rather, if you don't object, go on. besides, julius--" mr rimbolt laughed good-humouredly. "julius is not shy, and wants breakfast and a rest after his night's work, don't you, julius?" julius could not deny that he was very ready for both. jeffreys gave it up, and with much sinking of heart awaited their arrival at wildtree towers. to his infinite relief, the ladies were not visible. mrs rimbolt, it was reported, was confined to her bed by the effects of her recent agitation, and miss atherton was out. master percy was still fast asleep. it broke the fall considerably to find himself left still to the gentlemanly and unembarrassing attentions of his host. julius was led with honour to the kitchen, there to be regaled in a baronial fashion, which it was well for his morals and digestion was not a daily festival. jeffreys, having seen him comfortably curled up on a mat, returned to the library. his host was pacing up and down the floor, evidently a little nervous, and jeffreys instinctively felt that the ordeal was upon him. mr rimbolt, however, began by a little fencing. "i recollect taking a very pleasant tour through this district with two college friends when i was at oxford. see, here is the map i had with me at the time, and the route marked. we were rather a rackety party, and boasted that we would go in a straight line from ambleside to the sea, and stick at nothing. here's the line, you see. that straight line took us over one or two places i wouldn't care to try now. but oxford men, they said in those days, had no necks to break. are you a university man?" jeffreys glanced up, half doubtful whether the question was asked in seriousness or ironically. "no, sir, unfortunately not." "well," said mr rimbolt, "it has its advantages and disadvantages. you would, i dare say, value it; but for the serious work of life it may sometimes be unsettling. is it fair to ask what your profession is, mr jeffreys?" "none at all just now. i was till lately usher in a private school," replied jeffreys, wincing. mr rimbolt observed the wince, and delicately steered away from the topic. "ah, that must be a monotonous calling, and you, with your love of books and literary tastes, would find it specially irksome. you must forgive me if i take an interest in your affairs, mr jeffreys. may i ask if you have any engagement in prospect?" "none at all," said jeffreys. "my reason for asking is a selfish one, quite, and has been suggested by the interest you take in my library. i have been inquiring for a month or two for some one who will assist me as a private librarian. the fact is, mr jeffreys," continued mr rimbolt, noticing the look of surprised pleasure in his listener's face, "with my time so much occupied in parliamentary and other duties, i find it quite impossible to attend to the care of my books as i should wish. i made up my mind most reluctantly some time ago that i should have to entrust the duty to some one else, for it was always my pride that i knew where every book i had was to be found. but my collection has grown beyond my control and wants a regular custodian. look here," said he, opening a folding door at the end of the room. jeffreys saw another room, larger than the one he was in, lined with shelves, and crowded on the floor with heaps of books in most admired disorder. "it was no use," said mr rimbolt half pathetically. "i cherished the hope as long as i was able of reducing this chaos to order, and putting away each one of these treasures (for they are no common volumes) in a place of its own. every day it grows worse. i've fought against it and put it off, because i could find no one who would undertake it as much for the love of the work as for the small salary to which a private librarian would be entitled. now you see the selfish reason i have for mentioning the matter to you, mr jeffreys. i offer you nothing to jump at; for it will need sheer hard work and a lot of drudgery to overtake the arrears of work, and after that i doubt if the keeping up of the library will leave you much leisure. you would incur no little responsibility either, for if i handed the care of the library to you, i should hold you responsible for every volume in it, and should expect you to know something of the inside of the books as well as the outside. you may think a salary of £ a year hardly adequate to this amount of work and responsibility; if so i must not press you further, for that is the sum i have arranged to give, and cannot see my way to offering more. it would include residence here, and board, of course." jeffreys felt almost dazzled by the prospect thus deprecatingly unfolded by mr rimbolt. had the offer been made in any less delicate way; had it savoured of charity to the outcast, or reward to the benefactor, he would have rejected it, however tempting. as it was, it seemed like the opening of one of the gates of providence before him. the work promised was what of all others he coveted; the salary, with the casually-thrown in addition of board and lodging, seemed like affluence; his employer was a gentleman, and the opportunities of study and self-improvement were such as fall to the lot of few. above all, in hard work among those quiet and friendly bookshelves he would find refuge from his bad name, and perhaps be able to establish for himself what he had hitherto striven for in vain--a character. "i am most grateful, sir," said he, "if you really think i should suit you." "i think you would," said mr rimbolt, in a tone which gratified jeffreys far more than if he had launched out into idle flattery and compliments. and so it was settled. jeffreys could scarcely believe what had happened to him when, half an hour later, mr rimbolt being called away on business, he found himself taking a preliminary survey of his new preserves, and preparing himself seriously for his duties as private librarian at wildtree towers. chapter fourteen. snob and snub. jeffreys was not long in finding out the best and the worst of his new lot at wildtree towers. to an ordinary thick-skinned fellow, with his love of books and partiality for boys, his daily life during the six months which followed his introduction under mr rimbolt's roof might have seemed almost enviable. the whole of each morning was devoted to the duties of the library, which, under his conscientious management, gradually assumed the order of a model collection. a librarian is born, not made, and jeffreys seemed unexpectedly and by accident to have dropped into the one niche in life for which he was best suited. mr rimbolt was delighted to see his treasures gradually emerging from the chaos of an overcrowded lumber-room into the serene and dignified atmosphere of a library of well-arranged and well-tended volumes. he allowed his librarian _carte blanche_ with regard to shelves and binding. he agreed to knock a third room into the two which already constituted the library, and to line it with bookcases. he even went the length of supporting a clever bookbinder at overstone for several months with work on his own volumes, and, greatest sacrifice of all, forebore his craze of buying right and left for the same space of time until the arrears of work should be overtaken, and a clear idea could be formed of what he already had and what he wanted. jeffreys revelled in the work, and when he discovered that he had to deal with one of the most valuable private collections in the country, his pride and sense of responsibility advanced step by step. he occupied his leisure hours in the study of bibliography; he read books on the old printers and their works; he spent hours with the bookbinder and printer at overstone, studying the mechanism of a book; he even studied architecture, in connexion with the ventilation and lighting of libraries, and began to teach himself german, in order to be able to master the stores of book- lore buried in that rugged language. all this, then, was congenial and delightful work. he was left his own master in it, and had the pride of seeing the work growing under his hands: and when one day mr rimbolt arrived from london with a great man in the world of old books, for the express purpose of exhibiting to him his treasures, it called an honest flush to the librarian's face to hear the visitor say, "upon my word, rimbolt, i don't know whether to congratulate you most on your books or the way in which they are kept! your librarian is a genius!" if all his life could have been spent in the shelter of the library jeffreys would have had little to complain of. but it was not, and out of it it needed no great discernment to perceive that he had anything but a friend in mrs rimbolt. she was not openly hostile; it was not worth her while to wage war on a poor domestic, but she seemed for all that to resent his presence in the house, and to be possessed of a sort of nervous desire to lose no opportunity of putting him down. after about a week, during which time jeffreys had not apparently taken her hint as to the arranging of his person in "respectful" raiment. walker waited upon the librarian in his chamber with a brown-paper parcel. "my lady's compliments," said he, with a grin--he was getting to measure the newcomer by his mistress's standard--"and hopes they'll suit." it was a left-off suit of mr rimbolt's clothes, with the following polite note: "as mr jeffreys does not appear disposed to accept mrs rimbolt's advice to provide himself with clothes suitable for the post he now occupies at wildtree towers, she must request him to accept the accompanying parcel, with the wish that she may not again have occasion to refer to so unpleasant a subject." jeffreys flushed scarlet as he read this elegant effusion, and, greatly to walker's astonishment crushed the letter up into a ball and flung it out of the window. "take that away!" he shouted, pointing to the parcel. "the mistress sent it for--" "take it away, do you hear?" shouted jeffreys, starting up with a face so terrible that walker turned pale, and evacuated the room with the offending parcel as quickly as possible. jeffreys' outburst of temper quickly evaporated, and indeed gave place to a much more prolonged fit of shame. was this like conquering the evil in his nature, to be thus thrown off his balance by a trifle? as it happened, he had ordered a suit of clothes in overstone some days back, and was expecting them that very afternoon. mr rimbolt, on the day after his engagement, had as delicately as possible offered him a quarter's salary in advance, which jeffreys, guessing the source which inspired the offer, had flatly refused. mr rimbolt's gentlemanly urging, however, and the consciousness that his present clothes were disreputable, as well as another consideration, induced him to accept a month's stipend; and on the strength of this he had visited the overstone tailor. but before doing so he had discharged his mind of a still more important duty. the sense of the debt still due to bolsover had hung round his neck night and day. it was not so much on mr frampton's account. he came gradually to hate the thought of bolsover, and the idea of being a defaulter to the place worried him beyond measure. it seemed like an insult to the memory of poor young forrester to owe money to the place which had witnessed that terrible tragedy; and the hope of washing his hands once for all of the school and its associations was the one faint gleam of comfort he had in looking back on the events of last year. it was therefore with a feeling of almost fierce relief that he procured a post-office order for the balance of his debt on the very afternoon of receiving the money, and enclosing it with merely his name added--for he wanted no receipt, and felt that even mr frampton's letters would now no longer be of service to him--he posted it with his own hands, and hoped that he was done with bolsover for ever. after that, with very different emotions, he visited the tailor. the clothes arrived on the same afternoon which had witnessed the summary rejection of mrs rimbolt's gift. that lady, from whom walker had considered it prudent to keep back some of the particulars of his interview with the librarian, merely reporting "that mr jeffreys was much obliged, but did not require the things," took to herself all the credit of his improved appearance when that evening mr rimbolt brought him in from the library to have coffee in the drawing-room. jeffreys, aware that he was undergoing inspection, felt very shy and awkward, but could not quite do away with the improvement, or conceal that, despite his ugly face and ungainly figure there was something of the gentleman about him. mrs rimbolt by no means approved of her husband bringing his librarian into the drawing-room. she considered it a slight to herself and dangerous to percy and raby to have this person added to their family circle; and she most conscientiously made a point of lessening that danger on every occasion, by reminding him of his place and rendering his temporary visits to exalted latitudes as uncomfortable as possible. mr rimbolt, good easy-going gentleman, shrugged his shoulders and felt powerless to interfere, and when, after a week or two, his librarian generally pleaded some pressing work as an excuse for not going in to coffee, he understood it quite well and did not urge the invitation. percy, however, had a very different way of comporting himself. what he liked he liked; what he did not like he most conveniently ignored. he was anything but a model son, as the reader has discovered. he loved his parents, indeed, but he sadly lacked that great ornament of youth--a dutiful spirit. he was spoiled, and got his own way in everything. he ruled wildtree towers, in fact. if his mother desired him to do what he did not like, he was for the time being deaf, and did not hear her. if he himself was overtaken in a fault, he changed the subject and talked cheerily about something else. if one of his great "dodges" came to a ridiculous end, he promptly screened it from observation by a new one. from the day of the kidnapping adventure he was a sworn ally of jeffreys. it mattered nothing to him who else snubbed the new librarian, or who else made his life uncomfortable. percy liked him and thought much of him. he established a claim on his afternoons, in spite of mrs rimbolt's protests and mr rimbolt's arrangements. even jeffreys' refusal to quit work at his bidding counted for nothing. he represented to his mother that jeffreys was necessary to his safety abroad, and to his father that jeffreys would be knocked up if he did not take regular daily exercise. he skilfully hinted that jeffreys read aeschylus with him sometimes; and once, as a crowning argument, produced a complete "dodge," perfected and mechanically clever, "which," he asserted, "jeff made me stick to till i'd done." mr rimbolt did not conceal the satisfaction with which he noticed the good influence on the boy of his new friend, and readily fell in with the arrangement that jeffreys' afternoons should be placed at his own (which meant percy's) disposal. as for mrs rimbolt, she groaned to think of her boy consorting with quondam tramps, yet consoled herself with the knowledge that percy had now some one who would look after him and keep him out of danger, even with a vulgar right arm. jeffreys accepted this new responsibility cheerfully, and even eagerly. it sometimes came over him with a shock, what would these people say if they knew about young forrester? yet was not this care of a boy given to him now as a means, if not of winning back his good name, at least of atoning in some measure by the good he would try to do him, and the patience with which he would bear with his exacting ways for what was past? it was in that spirit he accepted the trust, and felt happy in it. as the summer passed on, wildtree, the moors around which were famous for their game, became full of visitors. the invasion did not disturb jeffreys, for he felt that he would be able to retire into private life and avoid it. the company numbered a few boys of percy's age, so that even that young gentleman would not be likely to require his services for a while. he therefore threw himself wholly into his work, and with the exception of an hour each afternoon, when he took a turn on the hill-side, showed himself to no one. on one of these occasions, as he was strolling through the park towards the moor, he encountered miss atherton, very much laden with a camp- stool, a basket, a parasol, and a waterproof. shy as he was, jeffreys could hardly pass her without offering to relieve her of part of her burden. "may i carry some of those things?" said he. he had scarcely exchanged words with raby since the day of his first arrival; and though he secretly numbered her among his friends, he had an uncomfortable suspicion that she looked down on him, and made an effort to be kind to him. "thanks, very much," said she, really glad to get rid of some of her burdens; "if you wouldn't mind taking the chair. but i'm afraid you are going the other way." "no," said jeffreys, taking the chair, "i was going nowhere in particular. may i not take the waterproof and basket too?" "the basket is far too precious," said raby, smiling; "it has grapes in it. but if you will take this horrid waterproof--" "there is not much use for waterproofs this beautiful weather," said jeffreys, beginning to walk beside her. then, suddenly recollecting himself, with a vision of mrs rimbolt before his mind, he fell back, and said awkwardly,-- "perhaps i had better--i must not detain you, miss atherton." she saw through him at once, and laughed. "you propose to follow me with those things as if i was an eastern princess! perhaps i had better carry them myself if you are afraid of me." "i'm not afraid of you," said jeffreys. "but you are afraid of auntie. so am i--i hope she'll meet us. what were you saying about the weather, mr jeffreys?" jeffreys glanced in alarm at his audacious companion. he had nothing for it after this challenge but to walk with her and brave the consequences. there was something in her half-mutinous, half-confiding manner which rather interested him, and made the risk he was now running rather exhilarating. "percy seems to have forsaken you," said she, after a pause, "since his friends came. i suppose he is sure to be blowing his brains out or something of the sort on the moors." "percy is a fine fellow, and certainly has some brains to blow," observed jeffreys solemnly. raby laughed. "he's quite a reformed character since you came," said she; "i'm jealous of you!" "why?" "oh, he cuts me, now he has you! he used about once a week to offer to show me what he was doing. now he only offers once a month, and then always thinks better of it." "the thing is to get him to work at one thing at a time," said jeffreys, to whom percy was always an interesting study. "as soon as he has learned that art he will do great things." "i think percy would make a fine soldier," said raby, with an enthusiasm which quite captivated her companion, "he's so brave and honest and determined. isn't he?" "yes, and clever too." "of course; but my father always says a man needn't be clever to be a good soldier. he says the clever soldiers are the least valuable." "was your father a soldier?" "was? he is. he's in afghanistan now." "in the middle of all the fighting?" "yes," said raby, with a shade across her bright face. "it's terrible, isn't it? i half dread every time i see a letter or a newspaper. mr jeffreys!" added the girl, stopping short in her walk, "my father is the best and bravest man that ever lived." "i know he is," said jeffreys, beginning to wonder whether some of the father's good qualities were not hereditary. raby looked up curiously and then laughed. "you judge of him by seeing how heroic i am braving my aunt's wrath! oh dear, i do hope she meets us. it would be such a waste of courage if she doesn't." "i have benefited by your courage," said jeffreys, quite staggered at his own gallantry. "i expect you're awfully dull in that old library," said the girl; "you should hear how uncle praises you behind your back! poor auntie--" at that moment they turned a corner of the shrubbery leading up to the house, and found themselves suddenly face to face with mrs rimbolt with a gentleman and two or three of her lady guests. jeffreys flushed up as guiltily as if he had been detected in a highway robbery, and absolutely forgot to salute. even raby, who was not at all sure that her aunt had not overheard their last words, was taken aback and looked confused. mrs rimbolt bridled up like a cat going into action. she took in the situation at a glance, and drew her own inferences. "raby, my dear," said she, "come with us. colonel brotherton wishes to see rodnet force, and we are going there. oh, mr jeffreys," added she, turning frigidly upon the already laden librarian, "when you have carried miss atherton's things into the house, be good enough to go to kennedy and tell him to meet us at the upper fall. and you will find some letters on the hall table to be posted. by-the-way, colonel brotherton, if you have that telegram you want to send off, the librarian will go with it. it is a pity you should have the walk." to these miscellaneous orders jeffreys bowed solemnly, and did not fail to exhibit his clumsiness by dropping raby's waterproof in a belated effort to raise his hat. mrs rimbolt would hardly have been appeased had he not done so; and it was probably in a final endeavour to show him off as he departed that she added,-- "raby, give mr jeffreys that basket to take in; you cannot carry that up to the falls." "oh, aunt, i've told mr jeffreys i can't trust him with it. it has grapes in it. didn't i, mr jeffreys?" she said, appealing gaily to him with a smile which seemed to make a man of him once more. "i will undertake not to eat them," said he, with a twitch of his mouth, receiving the precious basket. after that he sacrificed even his afternoon constitutionals, and took to the life of a hermit until wildtree towers should be rid of its visitors. but even so he could not be quite safe. percy occasionally hunted him out and demanded his company with himself and a few choice spirits on some hare-brained expedition. jeffreys did not object to percy or the hare-brained expedition; but the "choice spirits" sometimes discomposed him. they called him "jeffy," and treated him like some favoured domestic animal. they recognised him as a sort of custodian of percy, and on that account showed off before him, and demonstrated to percy that he was no custodian of theirs. they freely discussed his ugliness and poverty within earshot. they patronised him without stint, and made a display of their own affluence in his presence. and when once or twice he put down his foot and interdicted some illegal proceeding, they blustered rudely, and advised percy to get the cad dismissed. it was like some of the old bolsover days back again, only with the difference that now he steeled himself to endure all patiently for young forrester's sake. it disappointed him to see percy, led away by his company, sometimes lift his heel against him; yet it suited his humour to think it was only right, and a part of his penance, it should be so. percy's revolt, to do that youth justice, was short-lived and speedily repented of. as soon as his friends were gone he returned to jeffreys with all his old allegiance, and showed his remorse by forgetting all about his recent conduct. perhaps the most trying incident in all that trying time to jeffreys was what occurred on the last day of the brothertons' visit. the colonel and his family had been so busy seeing the natural beauties of wildtree, that, till their visit was drawing to an end, they found they had scarcely done justice to the beautiful house itself, and what it contained. consequently the last evening was spent in a visit _en masse_ to the library where jeffreys was duly summoned to assist mr rimbolt in exhibiting the treasures it contained. as usual when the lady of the house was of the party, the librarian went through his work awkwardly. he answered her questions in a confused manner, and contrived to knock over one or two books in his endeavour to reach down others. he was conscious that some of the company were including him among the curiosities of the place, and that mr rimbolt himself was disappointed with the result of the exhibition. he struggled hard to pull himself together, and in a measure succeeded before the visit was over, thanks chiefly to mrs rimbolt's temporary absence from the library. the lady returned to announce that coffee was ready in the drawing-room, and jeffreys, with a sigh of relief, witnessed a general movement towards the door. he was standing rather dismally near the table, counting the seconds till he should be left alone, when mrs brotherton advanced to him with outstretched hand. imagining she was about to wish him good-evening in a more friendly manner than he had expected, he advanced his own hand, when, to his horror and dismay, he felt a half-crown dropped into it, with the half-whispered remark, "we are much obliged to you." he was too staggered to do anything but drop his jaw and stare at the coin until the last of the party had filed from the room, not even observing the look of droll sympathy which raby, the last to depart, darted at him. left to himself, one of his now rare fits of temper broke over him. he stormed out of the place and up into his room, where, after flinging the coin into the grate, he paced up and down the floor like an infuriated animal. then by a sudden impulse he picked the coin up, and opening a toolbox which he kept in the room, he took from it a hammer and bradawl. two or three vicious blows sufficed to make a hole in the centre of the queen's countenance. then with a brass-headed nail he pinned the miscreant piece of silver to the wall above the mantelpiece, and sat looking at it till the storm was over. it was a week or two before he quite recovered from this shock and settled down again to the ordinary routine of his life at wildtree towers. as the afternoons became shorter, and out-of-door occupations in consequence became limited, he found percy unexpectedly amenable to a quiet course of study, which greatly improved the tone of that versatile young gentleman's mind. percy still resolutely set his face against a return to school, and offered no encouragement to his perplexed parents in their various schemes for the advancement of his education. consequently they were fain to be thankful, until some light dawned on the question, that his education was not being wholly neglected, and mr rimbolt in particular recognised that under jeffreys' influence and tuition the boy was improving in more ways than one. the autumn passed uneventfully. mr rimbolt had occasion once or twice to go up to london, and on these occasions jeffreys was reminded that he was not on a bed of roses at wildtree. but that half-crown over the mantelpiece helped him wonderfully. raby continued to regard him from a distance with a friendly eye, and now and then alarmed him by challenging him to some daring act of mutiny which was sure to end in confusion, but which, for all that, always seemed to him to have some compensation in the fellow-feeling it established between the poor librarian and the dependent and kept-under niece. news arrived now and then from india, bringing relief as to what was past, but by no means allaying anxiety as to what might be in store for the soldier there. a week before christmas, raby told jeffreys, with mingled pride and trepidation, that her father had written to say he had been made major, and expected to be sent in charge of a small advance force towards kandahar, to clear the way for a general advance. by the same post another letter came for mrs rimbolt, the contents of which, as the fates would have it, also came to jeffreys' ears. "my dear," said the lady, entering the library that evening, letter in hand, and addressing her husband, who was just then engaged with his librarian in inspecting some new purchases, "here is a letter from my old friend louisa scarfe. she proposes to come to us for christmas, and bring with her her son, who is now at oxford. i suppose i can write and say yes?" "certainly," said mr rimbolt; "i shall be delighted." a chill went to jeffreys' heart as he overheard this hurried consultation. if this should be the scarfe he knew, he was not yet rid, he felt, of bolsover or of his bad name. chapter fifteen. fallen in a hole. mrs scarfe and her son arrived a day or two later at wildtree towers. jeffreys, who from the recesses of a bay window was an unseen witness of the arrival, saw at a glance that his forebodings were too true. scarfe had changed somewhat since we saw him at bolsover fifteen months ago. he was older and better-looking and wore a trim black moustache. his dress was in the best oxford style; and in his easy, confident carriage there remained no trace of the overgrown schoolboy. his mother, a delicate-looking widow lady, returned mrs rimbolt's greeting with the eagerness of an old friend, and introduced her son with evident pride. it was hopeless for jeffreys to think of avoiding a recognition for long. still, he anxiously put off the evil hour as long as possible. the first afternoon and evening this was not difficult, for the travellers had made a long journey and retired early. the following day he went through his work on tenterhooks. every time the library door opened he felt his heart sink within him, and every footstep he heard crossing the hall seemed to be the one he dreaded. in the evening he attempted to escape the inevitable by taking refuge in his room after dinner. but as it happened a messenger arrived from overstone with a parcel of books, which made it necessary for him to return to the library. and while there mr rimbolt as usual came in. as soon as the business matter had been arranged mr rimbolt said, "miss atherton has been asking to see blake's _songs of innocence_, jeffreys; will you kindly take the book to her in the drawing-room? i have one of my tenants to see here, but i shall be in shortly." there was no possible escape from this dilemma. with a groan he got the book down from its place and went. scarfe, as he entered the drawing-room, was engaged in turning over a book of prints with raby, and did not notice him. nor did mrs rimbolt, siting on the sofa beside her friend, heed his entrance till percy said,-- "hullo, jeff!" jeffreys became aware that the eyes of the whole party were suddenly centred on him--mrs rimbolt's from under lifted eyebrows, mrs scarfe's through raised eye-glasses, raby's with a veiled welcome, scarfe's in blank astonishment. he advanced awkwardly into the room. "close the door, please, mr jeffreys," said mrs rimbolt, in tones which left no manner of doubt in her visitors' minds as to the status of the librarian in the house. jeffreys obeyed, and advanced once more towards raby. "your uncle," stammered he, conscious of nothing but scarfe's stare, "asked me to bring you this book." then, turning with a desperate effort to his old schoolfellow, he said, "how are you, scarfe?" he scorned himself for the half-appealing tone in which the salutation was made. what was scarfe to him? nothing, save that scarfe and he had both looked down that october afternoon on the motionless form of one small boy in the bolsover meadow. and was that nothing? "how do you do, jeffreys?" said scarfe, stiffly extending his hand, and immediately afterwards returning to his examination of the prints with raby. "do you know jeff?" asked percy, who had witnessed the recognition. "yes. jeffreys and i have met," said scarfe, not looking up from his book. "who is that young man?" said mrs scarfe, in an audible whisper to her hostess. "the librarian here. mr jeffreys," added mrs rimbolt, as jeffreys stood irresolute, not knowing whether to remain in the room or go, "be good enough to tell walker he can bring the coffee, and tell mr rimbolt we are expecting him." "mr rimbolt asked me to say you are not to wait coffee for him. he may be detained with a tenant in the library." "jeff, i say, you should have been with us this afternoon. we had such larks. we got one or two pot shots, but didn't hit anything except the dog. so it's a good job we didn't borrow julius. kennedy says we're in for a ripping frost, so save yourself up, old man." "percy, you talk like a stable-boy. do remember you are in the drawing- room; and don't detain mr jeffreys from his work." under cover of this maternal exhortation jeffreys withdrew. "rum your knowing jeff, scarfe!" said percy, after he had gone; "was he at oxford?" "no," said scarfe. "it was at school. surely that must be one of hogarth's engravings, miss atherton, it is exactly his style." "it wasn't much of a school, was it?" persisted percy. "jeff told me he didn't care about it." "i don't think he did," replied scarfe with a faint smile. "i suppose you are very fond of oxford, are you not?" said mrs rimbolt; "every one who belongs to the university seems very proud of it." this effectually turned the conversation away from jeffreys, and the subject was not recurred to that evening, except just when scarfe was bidding his mother good-night in her boudoir. "i hope you won't be dull here," said she. "miss atherton seems a pleasant girl, but it is a pity percy is not older and more of a companion." "oh, i shall enjoy myself," said scarfe. "you don't seem very fond of that mr jeffreys." "no, i draw the line somewhere, mother," said the son. "what do you mean? is there anything discreditable about him? he looks common and stupid, to be sure. mrs rimbolt tells me percy is greatly taken up with him." "they appear to have curious ideas about the kind of companion they choose for their boy," said scarfe. "but it's no business of ours. good-night, mother." and he went, leaving mrs scarfe decidedly mystified. jeffreys and scarfe occasionally met during the next few days. jeffreys was rather relieved to find that his late schoolfellow seemed by no means anxious to recall an old acquaintance or to refer to bolsover. he could even forgive him for falling into the usual mode of treating the librarian as an inferior. it mattered little enough to him, seeing what scarfe already knew about him, what he thought of him at wildtree. on the whole, the less they met and the less they talked together, the less chance was there of rousing bitter memories. the scarfes would hardly remain more than a month. if for that time he could efface himself, the danger might blow over, and he might be left at the end of the time with the secret of his bad name still safe at wildtree towers. kennedy's prophecy of a hard frost turned out to have been a knowing one. all through christmas week it continued with a severity rare even in that mountainous region; and when on new year's day the report reached wildtree that a man had skated across the upper end of wellmere it was admitted to be a frost which, to the younger generation of the place at least, "beat record." percy was particularly enthusiastic, and terrified his mother by announcing that he meant to skate across wellmere, too. raby, though less ambitious, was equally keen for the ice; and scarfe, indolently inclined as he was, was constrained to declare himself also anxious to put on his skates. a day was lost owing to the fact that percy's skates, which had lain idle for two years, were now too small for him and useless. mrs rimbolt devoutly hoped the ironmonger in overstone would have none to fit him, and used the interval in intriguing right and left to stop the projected expedition. she represented to her husband that the head gardener was of opinion that the frost had reached its height two days ago. she discovered that scarfe had a cold, to which exposure might be disastrous. raby she peremptorily forbade to dream of the ice; and as for percy, she conjured him by the love he bore her to skate on nothing deeper than the rodnet marsh, whereat that young gentleman gibed. the overstone ironmonger had skates which fitted the boy to a nicety, and by way of business sent up "on inspection" a pair which mr rimbolt might find useful for himself. "you surely will not allow percy to go?" said the lady to her husband, on the morning after the arrival of the skates. "why not? he's a good skater, and we don't often have a frost." "but on wellmere! think of the danger!" "i often skated across wellmere when i was a boy. i would not object to do it again if i had the time to spare. i declare the sight of the skates tempted me." "i don't believe mr scarfe can swim. what would happen if there were an accident?" "i think you overrate the danger," said her husband; "however, if it pleases you, i will get jeffreys to go with them. he can swim, and i dare say he can skate, too." mrs rimbolt shied a little at the suggestion, but yielded to it as a compromise, being better than nothing. jeffreys would fain have evaded this unexpected service. "i have no skates," he said, when mr rimbolt proposed it. "yes; the ironmonger sent up a pair for me, and as i can't use them you are welcome to them." "did you not want the books from sotheby's collated before to-morrow?" "no, saturday will do. honestly, jeffreys, i would be more comfortable, so would mrs rimbolt, if you went. we have experience of the care you take of percy. so, you see, i ask a favour." it was useless to hold out. "i will go," said he; and it was settled. an hour later scarfe, percy, jeffreys, and julius stood at the hall door ready to start. "where's raby, i say?" cried percy; "she said she'd come." "i do not wish raby to go." "oh, look here, mother, as if we couldn't look after her; eh, scarfe?" "it will be no pleasure without miss atherton," said scarfe. "can't she come, father?" said percy, adroitly appealing to caesar. "i really think it would be a pity she should miss the fun." "huzzah! raby, where are you? look sharp! father says you can come, and we're waiting!" cried percy. raby, who had been watching the party rather wistfully, did not keep them long waiting. wellmere was a large lake some five miles long and a mile across. in times of frost it not unfrequently became partially frozen, but owing to the current of the river which passed through it, it seldom froze so completely as to allow of being traversed on skates. this, however, was an extraordinary frost, and the feat of the adventurer on new year's day had been several times repeated already. the wildtree party found the ice in excellent order, and the exhilarating sensation of skimming over the glassy surface banished for the time all the unpleasant impressions of the walk. it was several years since jeffreys had worn skates, but he found that five minutes was sufficient to render him at home on the ice. he eschewed figures, and devoted himself entirely to straightforward skating, which, as it happened, was all that percy could accomplish--all, indeed, that he aspired too. it therefore happened naturally that scarfe and raby, who cultivated the eccentricities of skating, were left to their own devices, while jeffreys, accompanied of course by julius, kept pace with his young hero for the distant shore. it was a magnificent stretch. the wind was dead, the ice was perfect, and their skates were true and sharp. "isn't this grand?" cried percy, all aglow, as they scudded along, far outstripping the perplexed julius. "better than smoking cigarettes, eh, old jeff?" jeffreys accepted this characteristic tender of reconciliation with a thankful smile. "i was never on such ice!" said he. "looks as if it couldn't thaw, doesn't it?" said percy. "it's better here in the middle than nearer the shore. i hope those two won't get too near the river, it looks more shaky there." "trust scarfe! he knows what's what! i say, aren't he and raby spoons?" "mind that log of wood. it must be pretty shallow here," said jeffreys, his face glowing with something more than the exercise. they made a most successful crossing. returning, a slight breeze behind them favoured their progress, and poor julius had a sterner chase than ever. as they neared their starting-point jeffreys looked about rather anxiously for scarfe and raby, who, tiring of their fancy skating, had started on a little excursion of their own out into the lake. "i wish they wouldn't go that way," said he, as he watched them skimming along hand-in-hand; "it may be all right, but the current is sure to make the ice weaker than out here." "oh, they're all serene," said percy. "i'll yell to them when we get near enough." presently, as they themselves neared the shore, they noticed scarfe turn and make for the land, evidently for something that had been forgotten, or else to make good some defect in his skates. raby, while waiting, amused herself with cutting some graceful figures and curvetting to and fro, but always, as jeffreys noted with concern, edging nearer to the river. percy shouted and waved to her to come the other way. she answered the call gaily and started towards them. almost as she started there was a crack, like the report of a gun, followed by a cry from the girl. jeffreys, with an exclamation of horror and a call to julius, dashed in an instant towards her. the light girlish figure, however, glided safely over the place of danger. jeffreys had just time to swerve and let her pass, and next moment he was struggling heavily twenty yards beyond in ten feet of icy water. it all happened in a moment. percy's shout, the crack, the girl's cry, and julius's wild howl, all seemed part of the same noise. percy, the first of the spectators to recover his self-possession, shouted to scarfe, and started for the whole. "i'm all right, don't come nearer," called jeffreys, as he approached; "there's a ladder there, where scarfe is. bring it." percy darted off at a tangent, leaving jeffreys, cool in body and mind, to await his return. to an ordinarily excitable person, the position was a critical one. the water was numbing; the ice at the edge of the hole was rotten, and broke away with every effort he made to climb on to it; even julius, floundering beside him, bewildered, and at times a dead weight on his arms and neck, was embarrassing. jeffreys, however, did not exhaust himself by wild struggles. he laid his stick across the corner of the hole where the ice seemed firmest, and with his arms upon it propped himself with tolerable security. he ordered the dog out of the water and made him lie still at a little distance on the ice. he even contrived to kick off one boot, skate and all, into the water, but was too numbed to rid himself of the other. it seemed an eternity while scarfe and percy approached with the ladder, with raby, terrified and pale, hovering behind. "don't come nearer," he shouted, when at last they got within reach. "slide it along." they pushed it, and it slipped to within a yard of him. julius, who appeared to have mastered the situation, jumped forward, and fixing his teeth in the top rung, dragged it the remaining distance. the remainder was easy. scarfe crawled along the ladder cautiously till within reach of the almost exhausted jeffreys, and caught him under the shoulder, dragging him partially up. "i can hold now," said jeffreys, "if you and percy will drag the ladder. julius, hold me, and drag too." this combined effort succeeded. a minute later, jeffreys, numbed with cold but otherwise unhurt, was being escorted on his one skate between percy and scarfe for the shore, where raby awaited him with a look that revived him as nothing else could. chapter sixteen. a brush near kandahar. while raby that night dreamed troublously of the events of the day, a soldier was sitting in his tent near kandahar, some four thousand or more miles away, reading a letter. he was an officer; his sword lay beside him on the table, his boots were off, and a flannel coat took the place of the regimental jacket which lay beside his saddle on the floor. if these signs were not sufficient to prove that for the time being he was off duty, his attitude as he lolled back in his camp-chair, with his feet on the table considerably above the level of his chin, reading his letter by the uncertain light of a lamp, would have left little doubt on the subject. so engrossed indeed was he that he was unaware of the presence of his native servant in the tent preparing supper, and read aloud to himself. the envelope of the letter, which lay on the table, was a foreign one with an english stamp, and addressed in a feminine hand. the soldier, having completed his first perusal, turned back to the beginning, reading partly to himself, partly aloud. "`october '--three months ago or more!--before she heard of this business. `you poor dull darling'--nice names to call one's father, true enough, though, at the time, it was brutally dull at simla--`i can fancy how you hate loafing about all day with nothing to do but try and keep cool and find a place to sleep in where the flies can't worry you.' hum! picture of a soldier's life! a little different from the usual impression, but not very wide of the mark after all." then he read to himself for a bit something which made his weather- beaten face soften, and brought a sparkle to his eyes. "bless the child!" he murmured; "she doesn't forget her old father! `how glad i shall be if you get sent to the front, for i know how you hate doing nothing. if you are, i shall be foolish, of course, and imagine all sorts of horrors whenever i see a letter.' that's the way girls back their fathers up! `oh, why couldn't i be a soldier too, and ride behind you into action, instead of dawdling here doing no good to anybody, and living like a fine young lady instead of a simple soldier's daughter?' whew! what a fine little colour-sergeant she'd make! wouldn't mrs grundy sit up if she read that? "hum!" he went on, after reading a little further. "`i oughtn't to grumble. uncle rimbolt is the kindest of protectors, and lets me have far too many nice things. aunt has a far better idea of what a captain's daughter should be. she doesn't spoil me. she's like a sort of animated extinguisher, and whenever i flicker up a bit she's down on me. i enjoy it, and i think she is far better pleased that i give her something to do than if i was awfully meek. it all helps to pass the time till my dear old captain comes home.' heigho! that means she's miserable, and i'm not to guess it! i had my doubts of charlotte rimbolt when i let her go to wildtree. poor little raby! she's no match for an animated extinguisher! "`percy,' continued the letter, `is as lively and full of "dodges" as ever. he soon got over his kidnapping adventure. indeed, the only difference it has made is that we have now one, or rather two, new inmates at wildtree, for uncle rimbolt has employed percy's rescuer as his librarian, and the dog has, of course, taken up his abode here too. he is a perfect darling! so handsome and clever! he took to me the first moment i saw him, and he would do anything for me.' really!" said the father; "that's coming it rather strong, isn't it, with the new librar-- oh, perhaps she means the dog! ha, ha! `aunt rimbolt gets some fine extinguisher practice with this newcomer, against whom she has a most unaccountable prejudice. he is very shy and gentlemanly, but i am sure percy never had a better friend. he has become ever so much steadier.' did you ever know such letter-writers as these girls are? which newcomer does she mean, the fellow who's a perfect darling, or the fellow who's shy and gentlemanly? and which, in the name of wonder, is the man and which the dog? upon my word, something awful might be going on, and i should be none the wiser! `julius nearly always escorts me in my walks. he is _such_ a dear friendly fellow, and always carries my bag or parasol. aunt, of course, doesn't approve of our being so devoted to one another, for she looks upon julius as an interloper; but it doesn't matter much to us. percy often comes with us, but julius rather resents a third person. he thinks--so do i, much as i like percy--that two are company and three are none.'" major atherton--for the soldier was no other--leaned back in his chair, and fanned himself with the letter. "how _on earth_ am i to know who or what she is talking about? if it's not the dog, upon my honour, aunt rimbolt-- it can't be the dog, though. she calls him julius; and why should she take the boy along with them if it wasn't the librarian puppy she walked with? rimbolt ought to look after things better than that! "`uncle rimbolt thinks very highly of his new _protege_. he is so quiet; it is quite painful sometimes talking to him. i'm sure he has had a lot of trouble; he has a sort of hunted look sometimes which is quite pathetic. aunt hardly ever lets him come into the drawing-room, and when she does it is generally in order to snub him. i fancy he feels his anomalous position in this house very much.'" "my patience! that's a mild way of putting it!" exclaimed the major; "the anomalous position of this hunted-looking, shy librarian who carries her parasol and escorts her about, and suggests to percy that two are company and three are none! all i can say is the sooner we get into kandahar and are paid off home the better!" "what's that you're saying about kandahar, old man?" said a voice at the door of the tent, and there entered a handsome jaunty-looking officer of about atherton's age. "that you, forrester? come in. i've just had a letter from my little girl." a shade crossed captain forrester's cheery face. "your luck, my dear boy. i haven't had a line." "perhaps there's a letter for you at head-quarters." "i doubt it. but don't talk about it. how's your girl flourishing?" "upon my honour, she seems to be a little too flourishing," said the major, taking up his letter with a look of puzzled concern. "you may be a better english scholar than i am, forrester, and be able to make head or tail of this. as far as i can make it out, raby is flourishing very decidedly. here, read this second sheet." captain forrester took the letter, and read the part indicated carefully. the major watched him anxiously till he had done. "well?" he asked, as his comrade handed it back. "it seems to be a case," said the latter. "that's what i thought. i don't like that carrying her parasol, and telling the boy that two are company--" captain forrester burst into a loud laugh. "why, you glorious old donkey, that's the dog!" "nonsense; she'd never say a dog was shy and gentlemanly, and looked as if he'd had a lot of trouble." "no," said the captain holding his sides, "that's the librarian." "who--the fellow julius she talks about?" asked the major, beginning to feel very warm. "the fellow julius! why, julius is the dog!" the major rose from his seat in agitation, and stood before his friend. "forrester," said he solemnly, "as soon as i see the joke i'll laugh. meanwhile tell me this. who in the name of mystery is it who feels his anomalous position at wildtree, the man or the dog?" captain forrester held gallantly on to his chair to prevent falling off; and the native without, hearing his shouts, looked in at the door to see what the sahib wanted. "my dear fellow," said he at last, "i begin to think i know more than you. can't you see this daughter of yours is decidedly interested in this young _protege_ of her uncle?" "most decidedly i see that." "and that in order to throw dust in your fatherly old eyes, she makes a great gush about the dog julius, and says hardly a word about the master, whose name does not appear." major atherton took up the letter again and glanced through it, and a light began to break on his puzzled countenance. "then," said he, "the fellow who's handsome and clever and a perfect darling is--" "is the bow-wow. and the fellow who's hunted-looking and not allowed in the drawing-room is his master." major atherton resumed his chair, and once more planted his feet on the table. "that is a way of putting it, certainly. if so, it's a relief." "my dear boy, keep your eye on that librarian, or he may change places with his dog in double-quick time." the major laughed, and a pause ensued. then forrester said-- "two or three days more, and we ought to be in kandahar." "we are to have a stiff brush or two before we get there," said the major; "any hour now may bring us to close quarters." there was another pause. captain forrester fidgeted about uneasily, and presently said-- "it's possible, old man, only one of us may get through. if i am the one who is left behind, will you promise me something?" "you know i will." "that boy of mine, atherton, is somewhere, i'm as sure of it as that i'm sitting here. he's vanished. my letters to grangerham cannot all have miscarried, and they certainly have none of them been answered. my mother-in-law, as i told you, died in the south of england. the boy may have been with her, or left behind in grangerham, or he may be anywhere. i told you of the letter i had from the school?" "yes; he had had an accident and gone home damaged--crippled, in fact." "yes," said captain forrester, with a groan, "crippled--and perhaps left without a friend." "you want me to promise to find him if you are not there to do it, and be a father to him. you needn't ask it, old man, for i promise." "i've nothing to leave him," said captain forrester, "except my sword and this watch--" "and the good name of a gallant soldier. i will, if it is left to me to do it, take the boy all three." "thanks, atherton. you know that i would do the same by you, old fellow." "you may have the chance. that girl of mine, you know," added the major, with a tremble in his voice, "would have what little i have saved, which is not much. she's a good girl, but she would need a protector if i was not there." "she shall have it," said his friend. "i'm not sure that she's happy at wildtree," continued the father, with a smile, "despite the dog and his master. rimbolt's a bookworm, and doesn't see what goes on under his nose, and her aunt, as she says, is an animated extinguisher. it always puzzled me how rimbolt came to marry charlotte halgrove." "halgrove? was she the sister of your old college friend?" "yes. rimbolt, halgrove, and i were inseparable when we were at oxford. did i ever tell you of our walking tour in the lakes? we ruled a bee- line across the map with a ruler and walked along it, neck or nothing. of course you know about it. we've sobered down since then. rimbolt married halgrove's sister, and i married rimbolt's. i had no sister, so halgrove remained a bachelor." "what became of him?" "i fancy he made a mess of it, poor fellow. he went in for finance, and it was too much for him. not that he lost his money; but he became a little too smart. he dropped a hundred or two of mine, and a good deal more of rimbolt's--but he could spare it. the last i heard of him was about twelve years ago. he had a partner called jeffreys; a stupid honest sort of fellow who believed in him. i had a newspaper sent me with an account of an inquest on poor jeffreys, who had gone out of his mind after some heavy losses. there was no special reason to connect halgrove with the losses, except that jeffreys would never have dreamed of speculating if he hadn't been led on. and it's only fair to halgrove to say that after the event he offered to take charge of jeffreys' boy, at that time eight years old. that shows there was some good in him." "unless," suggested captain forrester, "there was some money along with the boy." "well, i dare say if he's alive still, rimbolt will know something of him; so i may come across him yet," said the major; and there the conversation ended. major atherton's prophecy of a brush with the enemy was not long in being fulfilled. early next day the expeditionary force was ordered forward, the cavalry regiment in which the two friends were officers being sent ahead to reconnoitre and clear the passes. the march lay for some distance along a rocky valley, almost desolate of habitations, and at parts so cumbered with rocks and stones as to be scarcely passable by the horses, still less by the artillery, which struggled forward in front of the main body. the rocks on the right bank towered to a vast height, breaking here and there into a gorge which admitted some mountain stream down into the river below, and less frequently falling back to make way for a wild saddle-back pass into the plains above. along such a course every step was perilous, for the enemy had already been reported as hovering at the back of these ugly rocks, and might show their teeth at any moment. for an hour or two, however, the march continued uninterrupted. the few scattered afghans who had appeared for a moment on the heights above had fallen back after exchanging shots, with no attempt at serious resistance. the main body had been halted in the valley, awaiting the return of the scouts. the horses had been unharnessed from the guns, and the officers were snatching a hurried meal, when captain forrester at the head of a few troopers scampered into the lines. the news instantly spread that the enemy had been seen ahead, and was even then being chased by the cavalry up one of the defiles to the right. instantly, and without even waiting for the word of command, every man was in his place ready to go on. the guns, with captain forrester's troop as escort, dashed forward to hold the defile; while the main body, divided into two divisions--one to follow the guns, the other to reach the plain above by a nearer pass--started forward into action. the cavalry, meanwhile, with major atherton at their head, were already engaged in a hot scrimmage. following their usual tactics, the afghans, after exchanging shots at the entrance of the pass, had turned tail and dashed through the defile, with the english at their heels. then, suddenly turning as they reached the plain beyond, they faced round on their pursuers, not yet clear of the rocky gorge. in the present instance, however, when within about a hundred yards of the head of the column, they wheeled round again, and once more bolted into the open. a stern chase ensued over the rough broken ground, the enemy now and then making a show of halting, but as often giving way and tempting the cavalry farther out into the plain. the afghans numbered only about two hundred horsemen, but it was quite evident from their tactics that they had a much larger body in reserve, and major atherton was decidedly perplexed as to what he should do. for if he pursued them too far, he might be cut off from his own men; if, on the other hand, he made a dash and rode them down before they could get clear, he might cut them off from their main body, and so clip the enemy's wings. the enemy settled the question for him. just as he was looking round for the first sign of forrester and the guns in the pass, the plain suddenly swarmed with afghans. from every quarter they bore down on him, horse and foot, and even guns, seeming almost to spring, like the teeth of cadmus, from the earth. it was no time for hesitation or doubt. retreat was out of the question. equally hopeless was it to warn the troops who were coming up. there was nothing for it but to stand at bay till the main body came up, and then, if they were left to do it, fight their way out and join forces. the major therefore brought his men to a corner of the rocks, where on two sides, at any rate, attack would be difficult; and there, ordering them to dismount and form square, stood grimly. a cruel half-hour followed. man after man of that little band went down before the dropping fire of the enemy. had the guns been able to command the position, they would have fallen by tens and scores. major atherton, in the middle of the square, had his horse shot under him before five minutes were past. alas! there was no lack of empty saddles to supply the loss, for before a quarter of an hour had gone by, out of a dozen officers scarcely half remained. still they stood, waiting for the first boom of the guns at the head of the pass, and often tempted to break away from their posts and die fighting. for of all a soldier's duties, that of standing still under fire is the hardest. captain forrester, dashing up the defile at the head of the artillery, had been prepared to find a lively skirmish in progress between his own comrades and the handful of afghans who were luring them on. but when, on emerging on to the plain, he found himself and the guns more than half surrounded by the enemy, and no sign anywhere of atherton, he felt that the "brush" was likely to be a very stiff one. the afghans had set their hearts on those guns; that was evident by the wild triumphant yell with which they charged down on them. forrester had barely time to order a halt and swing the foremost gun into action when a pell-mell scrimmage was going on in the very midst of the gunners. the first shot fired wildly did little or no execution, but it warned atherton that his time was come, and signalled to the troops still toiling up the pass what to expect when they got through. that fight round the guns was the most desperate of the day. the afghans knew that to capture them as they stood, meant the certain annihilation of the british troops as they defiled into the plain. forrester knew it, too. unlike atherton, he had no protected sides. the enemy was all round him. the little troop at his command was barely able to cover one side of the square; and the gunners, obliged to fight hand to hand where they stood, were powerless to advance a step. every moment was golden. already a distant bugle-note announced that atherton's horse had broken loose, and were somewhere within reach--probably cutting their way through the guns. and within a few minutes the head of the column ascending the defile would also come upon the scene. hold the guns till then, and all might yet be safe. so decided captain forrester, as with a cheery smile on his handsome face he shouted to his men to hold out, and fought like a lion beside the foremost gun. the afghans, baffled by the stubborn resistance, and aware of the danger of delay, hurled themselves upon that devoted little bond with a fury before which nothing could stand. man after man dropped across his gun; but still forrester shouted to his men and swung his sabre. it was no time for counting heads. he hardly knew whether, when he shouted, thirty, or twenty, or only ten shouted back. all he knew was the enemy had not got the guns yet, and that was sufficient! a bugle! five minutes more, and they might still laugh at the foe. the bugle-note came from atherton's men, who at the first sound of the gun had vaulted with a cheer to their horses and dashed towards the sound. many a brave comrade they left behind them, and many more dropped right and left as they cut their way forward. atherton, at their head, peered eagerly through the dust and smoke. all he could see was a surging mass of human beings, in the midst of which it was impossible to discern anything but the flash of sabres, and at one spot a few british helmets among the turbans of the enemy. that was enough for major atherton. towards that spot he waved on his men, and ordered his bugler to sound a rousing signal. the bugler obeyed, and fell at the major's side before the note had well ceased! the struggle round the guns increased and blackened. one after another the british helmets went down, and the wild shouts of the afghans rose triumphantly above them. at length atherton saw a tall figure, bareheaded and black with smoke, spring upon a gun-carriage, and with the butt end of a carbine fell two or three of the enemy who scrambled up to dislodge him. atherton knew that form among a thousand, and he knew too that forrester was making his last stand. "cheer, men, and come on!" cried he to his men, rising in his stirrups and leading the shout. the head of the column, just then emerging from the gorge, heard that shout, and answered it with a bugle flourish, as they fixed bayonets and rushed forward to charge. at the same moment, a cheer and the boom of a gun on the left proclaimed that the other half of the column had at that moment reached the plain, and were also bearing down on the enemy's flank. but atherton saw and heeded nothing but that tall heroic figure on the carriage. at the first sound of the troopers' shout forrester had turned his head, smiling, and raised his carbine aloft, as though to wave answer to the cheer. so he stood for a moment. then he reeled and fell back upon the gun he had saved. chapter seventeen. an official report. scarfe, on the return of the skating party to wildtree, found himself the hero of the hour. whether the risk he ran in rescuing his old schoolfellow from his icy bath had been great or small, it had resulted in saving jeffreys' life, and that was quite sufficient to make a hero of him. percy, easily impressed by the daring of any one else, and quite overlooking his own share in the rescue, was loud in his praises. "how jolly proud you must feel!" said he. "i know i should if i'd saved a fellow's life. that's never my luck!" "you lent a hand," said scarfe, with the complacency of one who can afford to be modest. and, to do scarfe justice, until he heard himself credited with the lion's share of the rescue, he had been a little doubtful in his own mind as to how much of it he might justly claim. "oh," said percy, "a lot i did! you might as well say raby lent a hand by lending jeff her shawl." "i was the cause of it all," said raby. "but you forget dear old julius; i'm sure he lent a hand." "the dog was rather in the way than otherwise," said scarfe; "dogs always are on the ice." jeffreys, as he walked silently beside them, could afford to smile at this last remark. but in other respects he found little cause for smiling. he was not yet a purified being, and even the peril he had been in had not cast out the fires of pride and temper that lurked within him. it now stung him with an unspeakable misery to find that he was supposed to owe his life to one whom he so thoroughly mistrusted and dreaded as scarfe. he persuaded himself that it was all a delusion--that he could easily have extricated himself without anybody's aid but that of the faithful julius; that scarfe had run absolutely no risk in crawling out to him on the ladder; that, in short, he owed him nothing--if, indeed, he did not owe him resentment for allowing himself to be credited with a service which he had no right to claim. ungrateful and unreasonable, you will say, and certainly not betokening a proper spirit in one so recently in great danger. jeffreys, as he walked moodily along, was neither in a grateful nor reasonable mood, nor did he feel chastened in spirit; and that being so, he was too honest to pretend to be what he was not. to any one less interested, there was something amusing in the manner in which scarfe took his new and unexpected glory. at first he seemed to regard it doubtfully, and combated it by one or two modest protestations. then, becoming more used to the idea, it pleased him to talk a little about the adventure, and encourage the others to recall the scene. after that it seemed natural to him to be a little languid and done-up by his exertions, and, as a hero, to establish a claim on raby's admiration. and finally, being quite convinced he was a hero of the first water, he regarded jeffreys with condescension, and felt a little surprise that he should remain both silent and apparently disdainful. as raby was beforehand with her in blaming herself, the wind was taken out of mrs rimbolt's sails in that quarter, even had she been disposed to let out in that direction. but it was so much more convenient and natural to blame jeffreys, that the good lady was never in a moment's doubt upon the subject. "how excessively careless of him!" said she; "the very one of the party, too, whom we expected to keep out of danger. it is a mercy every one of you was not drowned." "it's a mercy he wasn't drowned himself," said percy; "so he would have been if it hadn't been for scarfe." "it was a very noble thing of mr scarfe," said mrs rimbolt. "i'm sure, louisa, my dear, you must be proud of your boy." "he jolly well deserves a royal humane medal, and i mean to write and get him one." "don't be a young duffer," said the hero, by no means displeased at the threat; "they would laugh at the notion." "would they? if they didn't give you one, we'd make them laugh on the wrong side of their faces. i know that," replied the boy. "you know, auntie, it was i broke the ice," said raby. "mr jeffreys did not come to that part till he heard it crack." "that is the ridiculously foolish part of it; he might have known that he ought to keep off when he heard it crack. any sensible person would." "perhaps," said raby, colouring, "he imagined i was in danger." "you are a foolish child, raby, to talk such nonsense, and should be thankful it was not you who fell in. i hope, mr scarfe," added she, "that mr jeffreys is grateful to you for your heroic service to him." "there is nothing to be grateful for," said scarfe, in an off-hand way; "indeed, i am afraid jeffreys is rather offended with me for what i have done than otherwise." "he could not be so base, my boy," said his mother, "when he owes you his life." "after all," said scarfe, with interesting resignation, "it really does not matter. all i know is, if it were all to happen over again i should do just the same thing." with which noble sentiment the hero was borne off to his room, where a hot bath, warm clothing, a rousing fire, and steaming cordials somewhat consoled him for his self-sacrificing exertions. after dinner mrs rimbolt could not resist the gratification of seeing honour done to her guest by the object of his devotion; a project which was the more easy of accomplishment as mr rimbolt was from home on that particular evening. jeffreys, just beginning to recover himself by the aid of a little hard work, was petrified by walker's announcement that "the mistress desired that mr jeffreys would step into the drawing-room." his good breeding was sorely taxed to find an excuse. he was indisposed, certainly; but if he could work in the library, he could bow and scrape in the drawing-room. mr rimbolt, too, was away, and to insult his lady in his absence seemed both cowardly and mean. "i'll come presently," said he to walker, and nerved himself desperately for the ordeal. for he knew what was coming, and was resolved on the part he would play. whatever he ought to feel, he knew exactly what he did feel; and he was determined he would not be hypocrite enough to pretend anything more. whereupon he walked defiantly forth and opened the drawing-room door, this time without knocking. "mr jeffreys," said mrs rimbolt, feeling that the present was an "occasion," and worked up accordingly, "i have sent for you, as i have no doubt you will wish to express to mrs scarfe the feelings you entertain with regard to her son's brave conduct on the ice to-day." "hear, hear, ma!" cried the irreverent percy, with mock-heroic applause. "i beg leave to second that." "percy, be silent, sir! louisa, my dear, this is mr jeffreys, whose life your son saved." mrs scarfe put up her glasses and inclined her head languidly in response to jeffreys' stiff bow. an awkward silence ensued--so awkward that percy began to whistle. mrs rimbolt having made a wrong start, had not the tact to mend matters. "mrs scarfe would be interested to hear, mr jeffreys," said she, after a minute or two, "your impressions of the accident." "the only impression i had," said jeffreys solemnly--and he too was worked up, and the master of his nervousness--"was that the water was very cold." percy greeted this with a boisterous laugh, which his mother instantly rebuked. "surely, mr jeffreys," said she severely, "this is hardly an occasion for a joke." "it was no joke," replied he with dismal emphasis. again percy enjoyed the sport. "i should rather think it wasn't by the looks of you when you were fished out!" said he; "you were as blue as salmon!" "percy, cease your vulgar talk in this room, please!" said mrs rimbolt, whose equanimity was beginning to evaporate. "mr jeffreys, as we are not likely to be amused by your levity--" "excuse me, madam, i am quite serious," said jeffreys, on whom the apparent jocularity of his last remark had suddenly dawned; "i had no intention of being rude, or treating your question as a joke." "then," said mrs rimbolt, slightly appeased in the prospect of gaining her object, "when i tell you mrs scarfe is kind enough to desire to hear about the accident from your own lips, perhaps your good manners will permit you to tell her about it." "get upon the chair and give us a speech, jeff," said the irrepressible percy; "that's what ma wants." jeffreys proceeded to give his version of the affair, distributing the credit of his rescue in the order in which he considered it to be due, and greatly disappointing both mrs rimbolt and her guest by his evident blindness to the heroism of scarfe. he acknowledged warmly percy's readiness to come to his help, and his promptitude in going for the ladder, and he did full justice to julius's share in the affair. as to scarfe's part, he stated just what had happened, without emotion and without effusiveness. he despised himself for feeling so chilly on the subject, and would have been glad, for mrs scarfe's sake, had he felt more warmly his obligations to her son. but he spoke as he felt. "you have had a narrow escape from a watery grave," said mrs scarfe, anxious to sum up in the hero's favour, "and my son, i am sure, is thankful to have been the means of saving your life." jeffreys bowed. "i am glad he escaped falling in," said he. "he had no thought of himself, i am sure," said mrs rimbolt severely, "and claims no thanks beyond that of his good conscience." "we're going to get him a royal humane medal, jeff," added percy; "a lot of fellows get it for a good deal less." "i hope he may get one," said jeffreys. "you and julius should have one, too. i thank you all." this was all that could be extracted from this graceless young man, and the unsatisfactory interview was shortly afterwards terminated by mrs rimbolt's requesting him to go and tell walker to bring some more coals for the fire. his conduct was freely discussed when he was gone. mrs rimbolt looked upon it as a slight put upon herself, and was proportionately wrathful. mrs scarfe, more amiable, imagined that it was useless to look for gratitude among persons of jeffreys' class in life. scarfe himself said that, from what he knew of jeffreys, he would have been surprised had he shown himself possessed of any good feelings. percy, considerably puzzled, suggested that he was "chawed up with his ducking." and raby, still more perplexed, said nothing, and hardly knew what to think. the next day, as scarfe was smoking in the park, jeffreys overtook him. a night's rest had a good deal softened the librarian's spirit. he was ashamed of himself for not having done his rescuer common justice, and had followed him now to tell him as much. "scarfe," said he, "you will have considered i was ungrateful yesterday." "you were just what i expected you would be." "i am sorry," said jeffreys, now beginning to feel he had better far have said nothing, yet resolved, now he had begun, to go through with it, "and i wish to thank you now." scarfe laughed. "it is i who should be grateful for this condescension," said he sneeringly. "so disinterested, too." "what do you mean? how could it be otherwise?" "you have a short memory, cad jeffreys. possibly you have forgotten a little event that happened at bolsover?" "i have not forgotten it." "i dare say you have not thought it worth while to mention it to your employer, mr rimbolt." "i have not mentioned it." "quite so. that is what i mean when i say it is disinterested in you to come and make friends with me." "that is false," said jeffreys glowing. "i neither want nor expect that." "kind again. at the same time you are not particularly anxious that people here should hear the tragical history of young forrester?" "for heaven's sake be silent, scarfe!" said jeffreys, to whom the mention of the name, after so many months, came like a blow. "i cannot bear it." scarfe laughed. "apparently not. all i want to say is, that i believe less in your gratitude than in your fear, and you can spare yourself the trouble of keeping up that farce." "i am not afraid of you," said jeffreys, drawing himself up. "of my own conscience i am; and of the memory of poor young forrester--" "hold your tongue. i have no wish to hear my friend's name on your lips." jeffreys turned to go. "look here," said scarfe, calling him back, "i want to say one word. i am sufficiently interested in percy rimbolt to dislike the influence you use upon him. your influence upon young boys is not to be trusted, and i warn you to let percy alone. you are doing him no good as it is." "is that all you want to say?" said jeffreys. "no. i have my own reason for choosing that you cease to offend miss atherton by your attentions. you are no fit companion for her; and she and i--" jeffreys turned on his heel, and did not hear the end of the sentence. he marvelled at himself that he had not struck the fellow contemptuously to the ground; and he absolutely smiled in the midst of his misery at the idea of scarfe taking upon himself the moral upbringing of percy and the protector-ship of raby! in the midst of these reflections he became aware of the presence of raby in the walk in front of him. the rencontre was unexpected on both sides, and promised to be embarrassing for jeffreys. raby, however, came to the rescue. "mr jeffreys," said she, holding out her hand, "i do hope you are none the worse for yesterday. i was greatly afraid you would catch cold." "you took the kindest possible way of preventing it," said jeffreys. "i never enjoyed a meal as much as the one walker brought me yesterday, and i thank the kind sender." raby blushed. "it was a shame no one else thought of it. but, mr jeffreys, you are thanking me, when it is i who ought to thank you for risking your life for me." "that is a new version of the story," said jeffreys. "it was somebody else who risked his life for me, and i know you despise me for appearing so churlish about it." "i was very sorry indeed for you in the drawing-room last night." "i deserved no sympathy." "i fancied you might have gushed a little when you saw how much auntie's heart and mrs scarfe's were set on it. it would not have hurt you." "i cannot gush, miss atherton; but i can value your kindness to me, and i do." raby smiled one of her pleasantest smiles. "i wish i had half your honesty, mr jeffreys. i am always pretending to be something here which i am not, and i get sick of it. i wish i were a man." "why? is honesty confined to the male sex?" "no; i suppose we can be honest too. but if i was a man i could go and be of some use somewhere; i'm no good to anybody here." jeffreys coloured up furiously, and looked as if he would run from the spot. then, apparently thinking better of it, he looked down at her and said-- "excuse me, you are." they walked on a little in silence, then raby said-- "i am so glad, mr jeffreys, you managed percy so well about that smoking yesterday; and how well he took it!" "of course; he's a gentleman and a fine fellow." "he forgets how much older mr scarfe is than he, and he imagines it is a fine thing to do whatever others do. but i think it is such a pity he should waste so much time as he does now in the billiard-room and over the fire. don't you think it is bad for him?" "i do. the day on the ice yesterday made a new man of him." "do try to coax him out, mr jeffreys, you always do him good; and you may be able to pull him up now before he becomes an idler." "i promise you i will do what i can." "he ought to be my brother, and not my cousin," said raby, "i feel so jealous on his account." "he is fortunate--may i say so?--in his cousin. here is mr rimbolt." mr rimbolt had papers in his hand, and looked rather anxious. raby, with a daughter's instinct, rushed to him. "uncle, have you news from the war? is anything wrong?" "nothing wrong," said her uncle reassuringly; "i brought you this paper to see. it reports that there has been an encounter with the afghans near kandahar, with complete success on the british side and comparatively trifling loss. particulars are expected almost immediately. i telegraphed to town to get the earliest possible details. meanwhile, raby, don't alarm yourself unduly." "i won't, uncle; but where exactly was the battle?" "you will see the names mentioned in the telegram. jeffreys can show you the exact spot in the atlas; we were looking at it the other evening." jeffreys thankfully accepted the task. he and raby spent an hour over the map, talking of the absent soldier, and trying, the one to conceal, the other to allay, the anxiety which the incomplete telegram had aroused. at the end of the hour scarfe walked into the library. his face darkened as he saw the two who sat there. "miss atherton," said he, looking not at her, but at jeffreys, "have you forgotten we were to have a ride this morning?" "i am so sorry, mr scarfe, but i have a headache, and don't feel as if i could ride to-day. you will excuse me, won't you?" "oh, certainly," replied scarfe; "don't you think a turn in the park will do you good? may i have the pleasure of escorting you?" raby said, "thank you." she was very sorry to disappoint any one, and had no valid excuse against a walk. "miss atherton," said scarfe, when they had gone some distance, chatting on indifferent topics, "i am anxious just to say a word to you, not in my own interest at all, but your own. will you forgive me if i do?" "what is it?" said raby, mystified. "i wish to put you on your guard against jeffreys, who, i see, presumes on his position here to annoy you. you may not perhaps know, miss atherton, that not two years ago--" "excuse me, mr scarfe," said raby quietly, stopping in her walk, "i hate talking of people behind their backs. mr jeffreys has never annoyed me; he has been kind to me. shall we talk of something else?" "certainly," said scarfe, startled at her decided tone. he had laid his plan for a little revelation, and it disconcerted him to see it knocked on the head like this. however, just then he was not in the humour for making himself obnoxious to miss atherton, of whom, being a susceptible youth, he was decidedly enamoured. it was a deprivation, certainly, to find his tongue thus unexpectedly tied with regard to jeffreys, of whose stay at wildtree he had calculated on making very short work. the one comfort was, that there was little enough danger of her seeing in the ill-favoured bolsover cad anything which need make him--scarfe-- jealous. doubtless she took a romantic interest in this librarian; many girls have whims of that sort. but the idea of her preferring him to the smart oxford hero was preposterous. jeffreys would still believe in the sword of damocles which hung above him, and the time might come when raby would cease to stand between him and his nemesis. chapter eighteen. wild pike. before breakfast on the following morning, scarfe, in fulfilment of a long-standing engagement with a college friend to spend a day with him, rode off to catch the train at overstone, and consequently was not present when the post arrived, and with it a telegram from london for mr rimbolt. raby, who had been on the watch, could scarcely allow her uncle time to examine its contents before claiming it; and had it contained bad news, the chance of breaking them would have been out of the question. but it did not contain bad news. on the contrary, as raby devoured the few official lines she became radiant with pride and happiness. the telegram was a copy of a dispatch received the evening before at the war office:-- "news is to hand of a sharp brush with the afghans on the th inst. at ---, two days' march from kandahar. about mid-day the--hussars, commanded by major atherton, in advance of the main body, encountered and dislodged from a defile on the right bank of the river a considerable body of the enemy, who fled to the plain. it becoming evident the enemy was at hand in force, a battery of field guns was pushed forward, under the escort of a troop of hussars; and the main body followed in two columns. the cavalry meanwhile, having cleared the defile and chased the enemy into the plain beyond, became involved in a desperate scrimmage, the afghans having descended in full force into the plain with the evident intention of cutting them off from the main body. major atherton, completely hemmed in, made a desperate stand, in which upwards of twenty of his men perished, the gallant officer himself having his horse shot under him. the guns meanwhile, escorted by captain forrester, of the--hussars, gained the head of the defile, where they were immediately surrounded by the enemy. a brilliant resistance here ensued, in which more than half of the escort were killed in their effort to save the guns. towards the end, captain forrester nearly single-handed kept the enemy at bay until the cavalry, breaking through, and joining forces with the two columns of the main body as they emerged on the plain, effectually turned the position and saved the guns. the loss of the enemy was very considerable, and it is considered that this action clears the way to kandahar, which the troops are expected to occupy in two days without further resistance. our loss, considering the perilous position of the cavalry and gunners, was comparatively slight. captain forrester at the last moment fell after a resistance as heroic as any witnessed in the course of the campaign. major atherton received a scratch on the wrist; which, however, is not likely to disable him even temporarily. the main body never came into action at all, and suffered no casualties. a full list of the killed and wounded is appended." jeffreys, who found himself almost as eager for news as if he had been personally interested, found it difficult to wait patiently until mr rimbolt came after breakfast to the library. "is there news from the war?" he asked. "yes--good news, miss atherton has the telegram. her father took part in a very brilliant engagement a day or two ago, which appears to have cleared the way to kandahar. he was scratched, but not seriously." jeffreys received this good news with great satisfaction. it was a relief to him to hear it in the first instance not from raby's lips, for he never knew what to do or say on such occasions. "miss atherton must be very proud," said he, returning to his work. he was not, however, destined to remain long undisturbed. raby, radiant and excited, entered the library a few minutes later. "mr jeffreys," said she, "such splendid news. has uncle told you? i thought you would like to read the telegram; here it is." jeffreys looked his congratulations as he took the paper. "read it aloud, mr jeffreys," said the happy girl, "i should like to hear how it sounds." jeffreys smiled and began to read; raby, who knew it all by heart, seeming to check off every word. suddenly, however, in the middle of the narrative the reader started and changed colour, and became unaccountably breathless. "the guns meanwhile, escorted by--" he had got so far. "`captain forrester of the--hussars.' go on," said raby. it needed all his self-command to finish the reading, and when he came to the end and handed back the paper, raby perceived that his hand shook and his face was deadly pale. "why, what is the matter, mr jeffreys?" said she, suddenly alarmed herself; "it is good news, isn't it? and he has only got a scratch!" "yes, it is good news; and i congratulate you." "but you look--perhaps you know some one who has been killed. you never told me you had any friend out there." "i have not. i think i must be not quite well; will you excuse me?" and he went out into the open air, leaving raby very much perplexed and concerned. she was relieved, however, to see him half an hour later starting off with percy for what, to judge by their mountain boots and the luncheon box strapped across jeffreys' shoulders, promised to be a long walk. jeffreys' first sensations on finding himself alone had been those of stupefaction. although all that he knew of forrester's father was that he had been in india, it never occurred to him now for a moment that the gallant officer mentioned in the telegram could be any other than the father whom he had so cruelly and irreparably wronged. and now once more he seemed suddenly face to face with his crime. he saw before him that fatal scene in the bolsover meadow; he heard his comrades' howl of execration and saw the boy's white face on the grass turned up to meet his. it seemed but yesterday. nay, it seemed all to be there that moment; he could feel the keen breeze on his cheek; his eye rested on the boy's cap where he had flung it; he was conscious of mr freshfield's look of horror--he could even see twenty yards away the football lying idle between the goals. strange, that the doubtful mention of an officer's name should call it all up thus! but so it was. he even seemed half guilty of that gallant death in afghanistan. had he not wronged him worse than death? and now if anywhere the friendless boy, whose whole hope was in his father, should read those lines and find himself orphaned as well as crippled! jeffreys in his misery groaned aloud. "hullo," said percy, in the path before him, "you in the blues too! what a jolly sell! here am i as miserable as an owl, and everybody i meet's miserable too. scarfe's gone to sharpfield, and won't be back till late. raby's so taken up with her precious telegram that she won't look at me. ma and mrs scarfe, have bagged the pony trap and appleby, and now you're looking as if you'd just been hung." "what are you in the blues about?" said jeffreys, brightening up a bit. "oh, everything. it's so slow here, nothing to do. can't play games all day, and you won't let me smoke, and the library hasn't a single story worth reading, and it's beastly cold; and upon my word," said the boy, who was genuinely miserable, "i'd as soon go and sit on the top of wild pike as fool about here." "the best thing you could do--i'll go and sit with you," said jeffreys. "what!" said the boy, "do you mean it? will you come?" "of course i will; i have nothing special to do to-day, and i've never been up a mountain in winter before." "we shall get a splendid view. sure it won't grind you?" said the boy, who, under scarfe's influence, had come to look upon every exertion as a thing to be shirked. "my dear fellow, i shall enjoy it, especially with you," said jeffreys. "hurrah--bring julius too--and i'll get some grub to take. it's only ten now, and it's not dark till after four, so we have a good six hours." a few minutes later they started, percy leaving word for his mother that they were going for a long tramp, and would be back for dinner. it was a perfect winter's day. the air was keen and frosty and promised magnificent views. the wind was not strong enough to be benumbing, and the sun overhead was cheering and now and then even warm. "hadn't we better take overcoats, in case it comes on cold at the top?" said jeffreys as they were starting. "oh no--they're a frightful grind to carry, and we are sure to be baked before we get up." "i think i will take mine," said jeffreys, "and it will be no bother to carry yours." percy protested, but, luckily for them, jeffreys carried his point. wild pike was one of those mountains, not uncommon in that district, which are approached from the back by a long gradual slope, but on the front present a scooped-out precipitous face, as if broken in half on that side. it was this steeper side which faced wildtree, and percy would have scorned to approach the monster from any other quarter. from where they stood the narrow path zigzagged for about one thousand feet onto one of the upper shoulders of the mountain. following this, the track brought them to what seemed like the basin of some old volcano hollowed out under the summit. it was necessary to cross this depression, and by a narrow ledge at the foot of the great cliff gain the other side, where another zigzag ascent brought them onto the rocky slope leading over a quarter of a mile of huge boulders to the summit. the passage across the face of the mountain was the most difficult part of the ascent. it lay along a narrow ledge hanging, so it seemed, half- way down the perpendicular cliff which rose out of the hollow, crater- like basin sheer up to the summit. it was tolerably level, but the narrowness of the track and the precipitous height above and below called for a cool head and a steady foot. in frosty weather like the present it needed special caution, and every step had to be carefully judged on the treacherous path. however, they passed it safely. julius alone seemed to find it difficult. the dog was strangely awkward to-day. he slid about where the others walked steadily, and whimpered at obstacles which they seemed scarcely to heed. "now for the grub," cried percy, as they landed safely on the other side. "i say, jeff, i call that something like a mountain, don't you? i'm quite sorry we're over the worst of it, aren't you?" "we've got the view to see yet," responded jeffreys. "we shall be up in half an hour." "and it will take us as long to come down as to go up to-day," said jeffreys, "so we ought not to lose much time." off they started again after a hurried but highly appreciated meal, in which the dog took only a very moderate share. the remaining portion of the ascent was simple enough. the zigzag onto the top shoulder was if anything less steep than the lower one, and the path, being rougher underfoot, was less treacherous. the scramble over the loose rocks at the top onto the cairn was not altogether plain sailing. in summer it was easy enough, but now, with the surface of the great boulders as slippery as glass, it was hardly to be traversed except on the hands and knees. poor julius floundered about pitifully, unable to keep his feet, and disappearing bodily now and then among the interstices of the rocky way. even percy and jeffreys stumbled once or twice awkwardly, and reached the summit with bruised limbs. but _finis coronat opus_, especially on a mountain. as they sprang up the cairn a view unequalled in grandeur broke upon them. the frosty air was without haze in any quarter. the scotch hills beyond the border and the broad heaving sea lay apparently equally within reach, and on the farthest western horizon even the fairy-like outline of the distant irish hills, never visible except in the clearest winter weather, shone out distinctly. "isn't it scrumptious?" exclaimed percy, as he flung himself breathless onto the cairn. "if we had waited a year we couldn't have picked out such a day. why, that must be snowdon we see over there, and the high ground out at sea, holyhead?" thus they went on, delightedly recognising the landmarks north, south, east, and west, and forgetting both the hour and the rising breeze. "why, it's two o'clock!" cried percy presently, looking at his watch, and shivering at the same time. "put on your coat," said jeffreys; "the wind's getting up a bit, and we shall have it in our faces going down." as they started to descend they became aware of a sudden change in the hitherto cloudless day. the western horizon, which had just now been unfolding its distant beauties, seemed lost in a fine haze, which spread north and south, blotting out one after another the glories of landscape on which they had scarcely ceased to feast their eyes. "there's a mist out there," said percy, as they scrambled down the boulders; "i hope to goodness it will keep away from us." "the wind is a little north-west; it may drive it south of us, but it is spreading at a great rate." "never mind; it will be rather a joke if it comes. i could find the way down with my eyes shut, and i've often wanted to be in a regular fog up here," said percy. "i don't know what you feel," responded jeffreys; "but i'm rather glad we brought our coats. isn't it cold?" the wind which met them seemed charged with cold, and after a while began to scatter a feathery sleet in their faces. percy whistled. "we didn't bargain for that, i say," said he. "i hope it shuts up before we cross over the ledge down there." julius howled dismally. he, too, guessed what this blinding shower-bath foreboded, and stumbled along, miserable and shivering. the higher zigzag, which had seemed easy enough two hours ago, tried them sorely now. the sleet half blinded them, and the fresh moisture, freezing as it fell, caused them to slip and slide at every step. still they got down it somehow, and turned to face the narrow track along the cliff. percy, much as he repined at the change in the elements, felt no doubt as to the possibility of getting over. "we may have to crawl a bit of the way if this sort of thing goes on," said he, "but it's straight enough sailing." "would it be better," suggested jeffreys, "to go to the top again and get down by the sharpenholme track?" "we shouldn't get home till midnight if we did; besides, i don't know the way. we're all right this way if we look sharp." the wind had now increased to a tempest, and beat against the side of the great cliff with a sound like the sea breaking on an iron-bound shore. they could scarcely hear one another speak; and poor julius's whines were drowned in the great clamour. "do you mind my going first?" said percy; "i know the path better than you." jeffreys nodded, and they started. the first step they took on that ledge threatened for a moment to be their last. the wind, gathering fury every moment, beat percy to his knees, and nearly sent jeffreys staggering over the ledge. "we shall have to crawl," said percy. "it's no use waiting. the wind and sleet are going to make a night of it, and we shall gain nothing by waiting." the start was begun again--this time cautiously and on all-fours. even so the wind seemed once or twice as if it would sweep them from the ledge. yard by yard they crawled on. the driving mist fell like a pall over the mountain, and in a few minutes they could not even see a yard in front of them. had the wind blown crosswise, or in any other way than that in which it came, they would have been swept off before twenty yards were accomplished. as it was, they were almost pinned to the cliff by the fury of the blast. they must have proceeded a quarter of the way across, and had reached a spot where the ledge rose slightly. even up this slight incline, with the mist freezing under them, it was impossible to crawl; and percy, drawing himself cautiously to his feet, attempted to stand. as he did so, the wind, gathering itself into a furious blast, caught him and hurled him against the rocky wall. he recoiled with a sharp cry of pain, and next moment would have fallen into the abyss beneath, had not jeffreys' strong arm caught him and held him. his legs were actually off the ledge, and for a moment it seemed as if both he and his protector were doomed. but with a tremendous effort the prostrate jeffreys swung him back onto the track. "are you hurt?" he called. "my arm," said percy. "i'm afraid i can't get on. i'll try." but the attempt only called up a fresh exclamation of pain. "we must wait," said jeffreys. "try to sit up, old fellow. i'll help you." it was evident that the boy's arm, if not broken, was so severely damaged as to render it powerless. "i could stay here, i think," said he, "if you went on, jeff." "nonsense!" said jeffreys; "we'll send julius to fetch help. here, julius, good dog," said he, patting the dog's head and pointing down to the valley, "go and fetch them here. fetch appleby, and walker, and mr rimbolt. go along, good fellow." the dog, who had been crawling behind them, looked wistfully at his master and licked the hand that caressed him. then, stepping carefully across them as they sat with their backs to the rock and their feet beyond the edge of the path, he departed. he was out of sight almost a yard away, but they heard him whine once as the wind dashed him against the cliff. "julius, good dog, fetch them!" shouted jeffreys into the mist. a faint answering bark came back. next moment, through the storm, came a wild howl, and they heard him no more. jeffreys guessed only too well what that howl meant; but he never stirred, as with his arm round percy, and his cloak screening him from the wind, he looked hopelessly out into the night and waited. chapter nineteen. scarfe promises to remember. "jeff," said percy, after a minute or two, "it's nonsense your staying here to get frozen; do go on." "no, old fellow; i prefer your company to my own." "but, jeff, we may not last out till the morning." "we won't give it up yet, though." jeffreys had great faith in the caloric of hope, especially for a boy of percy's temperament. for himself he saw enough to guess that their position was a desperate one. the ledge on which they sat was narrow and slanting, and the wind, shifting gradually to the west, began to get round them menacingly, and cause them now and then to grip at the stones while some specially furious gust blew past. add to that, percy's arm was probably broken, and, despite a makeshift bandage and sling, adjusted at imminent peril of being swept away in the operation, increasingly painful. the mist wrapped them like a winding-sheet, and froze as it fell. "how long will julius take getting down?" asked the boy. "not long," said jeffreys, with a shudder, not wholly caused by the cold. "an hour? he could bring them up in three hours, couldn't he?" "less, perhaps. we can hold out for three hours." "jeff, old fellow, do go; what _is_ the use of you staying?" "harder work for the wind to lift two of us than one. it can't last long, i'm certain; it's chopping already." they relapsed into silence, and listened to the storm as it dashed on the cliffs above them. a quarter of an hour passed. then jeffreys felt the boy's head drop on his shoulder. "percy, old man, no sleeping," said he, raising his head. "i'm not sleeping; only wondering where julius is." but his voice was drowsy, and the words drawled out slowly and dreamily. "perhaps he's down the lower zigzag now," said jeffreys, giving his companion a shake, under pretext of readjusting the wraps. "i guess he'll go to raby first," said percy. "won't she be scared?" "she will probably go to your father, and he'll get appleby and kennedy and some of the men, and they'll--percy! hold up your head!" "scarfe would like to get engaged to raby, but she would sooner--" "percy, old man, you're talking rubbish. unless you sit up and keep awake we shall both come to grief." "i'll try," said the boy, "but i don't know how." "tell me something about your year at rugby. i want to hear about it so much. what form were you in?" then followed a desperate half-hour of cross-examination, jeffreys coming down with a question at the slightest symptom of drowsiness, and percy, with all the cunning of a "somno-maniac," taking time to think before each answer, and even shirking a syllable here or there in order to snatch a wink. the daylight slowly faded out of the mist, but still the wind howled and shook them on their narrow perch at every gust. jeffreys, with dismay, found his limbs growing cramped and stiff, boding ill, unless relief soon came, for the possibility of moving at all. surely, though, the wind was abating. the dash overhead sounded a trifle less deafening; and the driving sleet, which an hour ago had struck on their faces, now froze their ears. yes, the wind was shifting and falling. in the half-minute which it took jeffreys to make this discovery percy had once more fallen asleep, and it required a shake more prolonged than ever to arouse him. "what!" said he, as he slowly raised his head, "are they here? is father there?" "no, old boy, but the wind is going down, and we may be able to move soon. where did you field in that cricket match you were telling me of?" "short leg, and i made two catches." "bravo! were they hard ones? tell me." so for another half-hour this struggle with sleep went on. jeffreys had more to do than keep his companion awake. he accompanied every question with a change of position of his knees and arms, that he might be able when the time came to use his limbs. it was little enough scope he had for any movement on that narrow ledge, but he lost no chance, and his self-imposed fidgets helped not only himself but percy. at last the roar on the cliffs changed into a surly soughing, and the gusts edged slowly but surely round behind the great buttress of the mountain. "percy," said jeffreys, "we must try a move. can you hold yourself steady while i try to get up?" percy was wide awake in an instant. "i can hold on, but my other arm is no good for scrambling." "i'll see to that, only hold on while i get up." it was a long and painful operation; every joint and muscle seemed to be congealed. at length, however, by dint of a terrible effort, he managed to draw up his feet and even to stand on the path. he kicked up the earth so as to make a firm foothold, and then addressed himself to the still more difficult task of raising the stiff and crippled percy. how he did it, and how he half dragged, half carried him back along the ledge to the firmer ground of the upper zigzag path, he never knew. he always counted it as one of the miracles of his life, the work of that stronger than human arm which had already helped him along his path, and which in this act showed that it still was with him. to stand even on that steep mountain path was, after the peril of that fearful ledge, like standing on a broad paved road. "where next?" said percy. "over the top and down by the sharpenholme track. do you see the moon is coming out through the mist?" "all serene!" the heroism of that night's adventure was not all absorbed by the elder traveller. the boy who with indomitable hopefulness toiled up that steep ascent with a broken arm bandaged to his side, making nothing of his pain, was a type of english boy happily still to be met with, giving promise of men of the right stuff yet to come to maintain the good name of their country. they were not much in the humour for admiring the wonderful beauty of the scene as the mist gradually cleared and above them rose the full white moon flooding the mountain and the hills beyond with its pure light. they welcomed the light, for it showed them the way; but they would have sold the view twenty times over for a pot of hot coffee. at the top they met the tail end of the gale spending its little remaining force on the mountain's back. it seemed like a balmy zephyr compared with the tempest of a few hours ago. the descent down the broad grass track with its slight covering of snow towards sharpenholme had little difficulty; but the jolting tried percy's arm as the steep climb with all its exertion had not done. jeffreys noticed the boy's steps become more unsteady, and felt him lean with increasing heaviness on his arm. "percy, old boy, you are done up." "no--i--suppose we rest a minute or two; i shall be all right." but while he spoke he staggered faintly and would have fallen but for jeffreys' arm in his. "i think if you went on," said he, "i could rest a bit and follow slowly." jeffreys' answer was curt and decisive. he took the boy up in his arms as if he had been a baby, and, despite all protestations, carried him. on level ground and under ordinary circumstances it would have been a simple matter. for jeffreys was brawny and powerful; and the light weight of the slender, wiry boy was nothing to him. but on that slippery mountain-side, after the fatigue and peril of the afternoon, it was as much as he could do to stagger forward under the burden. yet--was it quite unnatural?--a strange sort of happiness seemed to take possession of him as he felt this helpless boy's form in his arms, the head drooped on his shoulder, and the poor bruised arm tenderly supported in his hand. there seemed hope in the burden; and in that brotherly service a promise of expiation for another still more sacred service which had been denied him! he tramped down that long gradual slope in a contented dream, halting often to rest, but never losing heart. percy, too exhausted to remonstrate, yielded himself gratefully, and lay only half conscious in his protector's arms, often fancying himself at home in bed or lolling idly in the summer fields. it may have been midnight, or later still, when jeffreys, looking beyond the shadows projected by the moon in front of him, perceived a gleam of light far down in the valley. "probably," thought he, "some honest shepherd, after his day's work, is happily going to rest. think of a bed, and a pillow, and a blanket!" but no, the light--the lights, there were two--were moving--moving rapidly and evenly. jeffreys stood still to listen. the wind had long since dropped into rest, and the clear night air would have carried a sound twice the distance. yes, it was a cart or a carriage, and he could even detect the clatter of the horses on the hard road. possibly some benighted wagoner, or a mail cart. he raised a shout which scared the sleeping rabbits in their holes and made the hill across the valley wake with echoes. the lights still moved on. he set percy down tenderly on the grass with his coat beneath him. then, running with all his speed, he halved the distance which separated him and the road, and shouted again. this time the clatter of the hoofs stopped abruptly and the lights stood still. once more he shouted, till the night rang with echoes. then, joyful sound! there rose from the valley an answering call, and he knew all was safe. in a few minutes he was back again where percy, once more awake, was sitting up, bewildered, and listening to the echoes which his repeated shouts still kept waking. "it's all right, old fellow; there's a carriage." "they've come to look for us. i can walk, jeff, really." "are you sure?" "yes, and they'd be so scared if they saw me being carried." so they started forward, the answering shouts coming nearer and nearer at every step. "that's appleby," said percy, as a particularly loud whoop fell on their ears. it was, and with him mr rimbolt and scarfe. when darkness came, and no signs of the pedestrians, the usual uneasiness had prevailed at wildtree, increased considerably by walker's and raby's report as to the mountaineering garb in which the missing ones had started. the terrible tempest which had attacked the face of wild pike had swept over wildtree too, and added a hundredfold to the alarm which, as hour passed hour, their absence caused. scarfe, arriving at home about ten o'clock, found the whole family in a state of panic. mr rimbolt had been out on the lower slopes of the mountain, and reported that a storm raged there before which nothing could stand. the only hope was that they had been descending the back of the mountain, and taken refuge somewhere in the valley for the night. the carriage was ordered out, and mr rimbolt and scarfe started on what seemed a forlorn hope. for an hour or two they passed and repassed the valley road, inquiring at every cottage and farm without result. at last, just as they were resolving to give it up for the night, appleby pulled up the horses suddenly, and said he had heard a shout. instantly they jumped out and shouted back; and now, following the direction of the voice, far up the great slope, they _met_ jeffreys, with the boy leaning on his arm safe, but almost exhausted. neither of them retained a vivid recollection of that drive home. jeffreys was vaguely conscious of them calling on the way for the doctor, and taking him along in the carriage. he also heard scarfe say something to mr rimbolt in tones of commiseration, in which something was added about the inconsiderateness and untrustworthiness of jeffreys. but for the rest he reclined back in his seat, scarcely conscious of anything but the rest and warmth. at wildtree, the now familiar scene of the whole household gathered panic-struck an the threshold drove him precipitately to his room. he knew what to expect if he stayed there. jeffreys dropped asleep with the dog's howl ringing weirdly in his ears. in his dreams it seemed to change into that still more terrible howl which had stunned him long ago on the bolsover meadow. it followed him as he carried young forrester in his arms across that fatal ledge. it was pitch dark; and on the ledge scarfe stood to drive him back. then suddenly a new bright path seemed to open at his side, into which he stepped with his precious burden. and as he did so he saw, far off, raby standing at the end of the way. it was ten o'clock when he awoke; but the house was still asleep. only a few servants were stirring; and even walker had taken advantage of the occasion to "sleep in." jeffreys was tough and hardy; and the night's rest had done more for him than twenty doctors. he got up, shook himself, and behold his limbs were strong under him, and his head was clear and cool. he dressed himself quietly and descended to the kitchen, where he begged an early breakfast of the servants. then he sallied forth with his stick towards wild pike. the grand pile on this bright winter's morning looked almost hypocritically serene and benignant. the sunlight bathed the stern cliff which yesterday had buffeted back the wind with a roar as fierce as itself; and in the quiet spring-like air the peaceful bleating of sheep was the only sound to be heard on the steep mountain-side. but jeffreys did not turn his steps upward. on the contrary, he kept to the lowest track in the valley, and took the path which led him nearest to the base of that terrible wall of rock. a hard scramble over the fallen stones brought him to a spot where, looking up, the top of the wall frowned down on him from a sheer height of five hundred feet, while half-way down, like a narrow scratch along the face of the cliff, he could just detect the ledge on which last night they had sat out the storm. there, among the stones, shattered and cold, lay all that remained of the brave julius. his fate must have overtaken him before he had gone twenty yards on his desperate errand, and almost before that final howl reached his master's ears all must have been over. jeffreys, as he tenderly lifted his lost friend in his arms, thought bitterly and reproachfully of the dog's strange conduct yesterday--his evident depression and forebodings of evil--the result, no doubt, of illness, but making that last act of self-devotion all the more heroic. he made a grave there at the base of that grand cliff, and piled up a little cairn to mark the last resting-place of his friend. then, truly a mourner, he returned slowly to wildtree. at the door he encountered mrs rimbolt, who glared at him and swept past. "how is percy this morning?" he inquired. "no thanks to you, mr jeffreys," said the lady, with a double venom in her tones, "he is alive." "his arm, is it--?" "go to your work, sir," said the lady; "i have no wish to speak to you." jeffreys bowed and retreated. he had expected such a reception, and just now it neither dismayed nor concerned him. on the staircase he met raby. she looked pale and anxious, but brightened up as she saw him. "mr jeffreys," said she, "are you really up, and none the worse?" "i am well, thank you," said he, "but very anxious to hear about percy." "he has had a bad night with his arm, but the doctor says he is going on all right. what a terrible adventure you had. percy told me a little of it. oh, mr jeffreys, it is all my fault!" jeffreys could not help smiling. "by what stretch of ingenuity do you make that out?" "it was i suggested your coaxing percy out, you know; i might have been the death of you both." "you did not send the wind, did you, or the mist? if you did, of course you are quite entitled to all the credit." "don't laugh about it, please. percy was telling me how if it had not been for you--" "he would never have been in any danger. perhaps he is right. by the way. miss atherton, is there any chance of seeing him?" "he has asked for you already; but auntie, i believe, would have a fit if you went near him. she seems to consider you are his evil genius; instead of being just the opposite. tell me how julius is--he went with you, did he not?" "i have been out this morning to bury julius at the place where he fell." raby, already unduly excited by the events of the past few days, broke into tears, and at the same moment scarfe, descending the stairs, stood before them. he looked first at jeffreys, next at the girl. then, taking her arm, he said-- "what is the matter? may i take you downstairs?" "oh no," she cried, pushing away his hand, and dashing the tears from her eyes. "mr jeffreys, i am so sorry, do forgive me!" and she ran upstairs to her own room. jeffreys and scarfe stood facing one another. "what is the meaning of this?" said the latter wrathfully. "it would not interest you. i was telling miss atherton about my dog." "hang your dog! did not i tell you that i did not choose for you to obtrude yourself on raby?" "you did, and i should be sorry to obtrude myself on any one, whether you choose it or not." "you appear to forget, cad jeffreys--" "i forget nothing--not even that i am keeping you from your breakfast." and he quitted the scene. later in the morning, as he was working in the library, mr rimbolt entered and greeted him cordially. "jeffreys, my dear fellow, you are constantly adding new claims on my gratitude. what can i say to you now to thank you for your heroism yesterday, about which percy has just told us?" "pray say nothing, and discount percy's story heavily, for he was the hero. with his broken arm and in all the danger he never lost heart for a moment." "yes, he is a brave boy, too. but i came now to tell you he is asking for you. will you come and see him?" jeffreys followed the father gratefully to the sick-chamber. at the door he encountered mrs rimbolt, who, having evidently been present at the boy's narrative, was pleased to regard him almost graciously, and, delightfully ignoring the previous encounter, to wish him good morning. percy looked hot and feverish, but brightened up at once as he caught sight of his protector. "hullo, old jeff," said he, "isn't this all nonsense? they say i'm in for a mild congestion, and shall have to stick in bed for a fortnight. just sit down; do you mind, and stay with me. you've pulled me through so far; you may as well finish the job." thus informally, and without consulting anybody, jeffreys was constituted nurse-in-chief in the sick-chamber. the boy would tolerate no discussion or protest on the part of the authorities. he must have old jeff. bother a hospital nurse, bother the doctor, bother scarfe, bother everybody. he wanted jeff; and if jeff couldn't come he didn't mean to take his medicine or do anything he ought to do. walker had better put up a chair-bed in the dressing-room for jeff, and jeff and he (percy) could have their grub together. of course all the others could come and see him, especially raby--but he meant to have jeff there for good, and that was flat. thus this selfish young invalid arranged for his own pleasure, and upset all the sober arrangements of his friends. jeffreys delightedly accepted his new duty, and faced the jealousy of mrs rimbolt and scarfe unflinchingly. it was certainly an unfortunate position for the fond mother; and little wonder if in her mind jeffreys' brave service should be blotted out in the offence of being preferred before herself in the sick-chamber. she readily lent an ear to the insinuations which scarfe, also bitterly hurt, freely let out, and persuaded herself miserably that her boy was in the hands of an adventurer who had cajoled not only the boy but the father, and in short personated the proverbial viper at the fireside. so the fortnight passed. percy turned the corner; and the time for the departure of mrs scarfe and her son drew near. percy on the evening before they went had been less bright than usual, and had alarmed jeffreys by a slight return of feverishness. he had just dropped off to sleep, and seemed about to settle quietly for the night, when the door opened and scarfe came in. jeffreys was there in an instant with his hand raised in warning. "hush, please," said he, "he has just gone over." "whom are you telling to hush? you canting brute!" said scarfe, raising his voice in a passion unusual for him. "let me come in, do you hear?" and he moved forward, as if to force his way into the room. jeffreys caught him by the two elbows and lifted him bodily out into the landing, and then stood with his back to the door. scarfe, livid with rage, made no attempt to get back into the room. turning on his adversary, he said between his teeth-- "i shall remember this," and departed. chapter twenty. a polite letter-writer. scarfe descended to the drawing-room, where he found mrs rimbolt alone. "i am so sorry you are going," said she. "your visit has been greatly spoiled, i fear. you must come to us at easter, when we shall be in london, you know." "thank you; i shall be glad to come. i hope to find percy well again. i went to wish him good-bye just now, but was pretty abruptly denied admission, so i must ask you to say good-bye for me." "dear me, it is very annoying. i cannot understand the craze the boy has taken for this companion of his. i am so sorry you should have been annoyed." "i assure you i am far more annoyed on percy's account than my own. i happen to know something of jeffreys before he came to wildtree. to tell you the truth, mrs rimbolt, i don't think he is a safe companion for percy at all." "i have long felt the same; but what is to be done, mr scarfe? mr rimbolt has almost the same craze as percy for this librarian of his, and i have really no voice in the matter. he contrives to leave nothing definite to lay hold of; i should be thankful if he did. but it is most uncomfortable to feel that one's own son is perhaps being ruined under this roof." "it must be. it is no business of mine, of course, except that i am fond of percy, and should be sorry to see harm come to him; and knowing what i do--" at that moment mr rimbolt, with mrs scarfe, entered the room. "what secrets are you two talking?" said the latter. "your son was just telling me how fond he is of percy; and i am sure it will be a great loss to percy when he is gone. he has promised me to come to see us in town at easter." "it is a satisfaction that you can leave with the assurance that percy is virtually well again," said mr rimbolt. "really, i do not know how we should have got on without mr jeffreys to nurse him. i never knew such devotion. he has never wanted for a thing all the time; and jeffreys' influence is of the highest and manliest sort. percy will be able to reckon this illness among the blessings of his life." mr rimbolt spoke feelingly and warmly. scarfe and mrs rimbolt exchanged glances; and the conversation shortly afterwards turned to the journey before the travellers. scarfe had come down to the drawing-room resolved, cost what it would, to settle scores with jeffreys there and then by denouncing him to the family on whose favour he was dependent; and had mr rimbolt's entrance been delayed a few minutes, mrs rimbolt would have known all about young forrester. once again, however, he was stopped in time, and a few moments' reflection convinced him it was as well. raby, he knew, whatever she might think of jeffreys, would never forgive the informant who should be the means of turning him out of wildtree, still less would percy. nor was mr rimbolt likely to esteem his guest more highly in the capacity of tale-bearer; and he decidedly wished to "keep in" with all three. and there was another reason still. scarfe was at the bottom of his heart not quite a villain, and much as he detested jeffreys, and longed to be revenged--for what injury do certain minds feel half so much as that which one man commits in being better than another?--he had an uncomfortable suspicion in his mind that after all jeffreys was not quite the miscreant he tried to imagine him. that he was guilty in the matter of young forrester there was no doubt; but much as he should have liked to believe it, he could not be quite sure that the accident at bolsover was the result of a deliberate murderous design, or indeed of anything more than the accidental catastrophe of a blundering fit of temper--criminal, if you like, and cowardly, but not fiendish. and his conscience made coward enough of him just now to cause him to hesitate before plunging into ruin one who, hateful as he was to him, was after all a poor wretch, miserable enough for any one. not having done what he intended to do, scarfe felt decidedly virtuous, and considered himself entitled to any amount of credit for his forbearance! it seemed a pity raby should not know of this noble effort of self-denial. "miss atherton," said he, just as they were about to separate for the night, "i'm afraid you will have forgotten all about me when you see me next." "you are very uncomplimentary, mr scarfe." "i do not mean to be; and i'm sure i shall not forget you." "thank you. this has been a very eventful visit." "it has; but i shall never regret that day on the ice, although i fear i made one enemy by what i did." "you don't understand mr jeffreys; he is very shy and proud." "i understand him quite well, and wish for percy's sake every one here did too. but i am not going to disobey you, and talk of people behind their backs, miss atherton. i am sure you will approve of that." "i do; i never like it unless it is something nice of them." "then i certainly had better not talk to you about mr jeffreys," said scarfe with a sneer, which did him more damage in raby's eyes than a torrent of abuse from his lips. "do you know you have never yet shown me the telegram you had about your father's last battle? it came the morning i was away, you know." "yes. i fancied perhaps you did not care to see it, as you never asked me," said raby, producing the precious paper from her dress, where she kept it like a sort of talisman. "how could you think that?" said scarfe reproachfully, who had quite forgotten to ask to see it. he took the paper and glanced down it. "hullo!" said he, starting as jeffreys had done. "captain forrester! i wonder if that's poor young forrester's father?" "who is poor young forrester?" inquired raby. scarfe read the paper to the end, and then looked up in well-simulated confusion. "poor young forrester? oh--well, i dare say jeffreys could tell you about him. the fact is, miss atherton, if i am not allowed to talk of people behind their backs it is impossible for me to tell you the story of poor young forrester." "then," said raby, flushing, as she folded up the paper, "i've no desire to hear it." scarfe could see he had gone too far. "i have offended you," said he, "but really i came upon the name so unexpectedly that--" "do you expect to be working hard this term at oxford?" said raby, doing the kindest thing in turning the conversation. it was hardly to be wondered at if she retired that night considerably perplexed and disturbed. there was some mystery attaching to jeffreys, which, if she was to set any store by scarfe's insinuations, was of a disgraceful kind. and the agitation which both scarfe and jeffreys had shown on reading the telegram seemed to connect this captain forrester, or rather his son, whom scarfe spoke of as "poor young forrester," with the same mystery. raby was a young lady with the usual allowance of feminine curiosity, which, though she was charity itself, did not like to be baulked by a mystery. she therefore opened a letter she had just finished to her father, to add the following postscript:-- "was this brave captain forrester who saved the guns a friend of yours? tell me all about him. had he a wife and children? surely something will be done for them, poor things." early next morning mrs scarfe and her son left wildtree. jeffreys, from percy's window, watched them drive away. "very glad you must be to see the back of them," said percy. "i am glad," responded jeffreys honestly. "i'm not so frightfully sorry," said percy. "scarfe's a jolly enough chap, but he's up to too many dodges, don't you know? and he's dead on raby, too. quite as dead as you are, jeff." "percy, a fortnight's congestion has not cured you of the bad habit of talking nonsense," said jeffreys. "all very well, you old humbug, but you know you are, aren't you?" "your cousin is very good and kind, and no one could help liking her. everybody is `dead on her,' as you call it, even walker." percy enjoyed this, and allowed himself to be led off the dangerous topic. he was allowed to sit up for the first time this day, and held a small _levee_ in his room. jeffreys took the opportunity to escape for a short time to the library, which he had scarcely been in since the day on the mountain. he knew mrs rimbolt would enjoy her visit to the sick-chamber better without him, and he decidedly preferred his beloved books to her majestic society. percy, however, was by no means satisfied with the arrangement. "where's old jeff?" said he presently, when his mother, raby, and he were left alone. "raby, go and tell jeff, there's a brick. you can bet he's in the library. tell him if he means to cut me dead, he might break it gently." "raby," said mrs rimbolt, as her niece, with a smile, started on his majesty's errand, "i do not choose for you to go looking about for mr jeffreys. there is a bell in the room, and walker can do it if required. it is unseemly in a young lady." "one would think old jeff was a wild beast or a nigger by the way you talk," said percy complainingly. "all i know is, if it hadn't been for him, you'd all have been in deep mourning now, instead of having tea up here with me." "it is quite possible, percy," said his mother, "for a person--" "person!" interrupted the boy. "jeff's not a person; he's a gentleman. as good as any of us, only he hasn't got so much money." "i fear, percy, your illness has not improved your good manners. i wish to say that mr jeffreys may have done you service--" "i should think he has," interrupted the irrepressible one. "but it by no means follows that he is a proper companion for a good innocent boy like you." percy laughed hilariously. "really, ma, you are coming it strong. do you see my blushes, raby?" "you must make up your mind to see a great deal less of mr jeffreys for the future; he is not the sort of person--" "look here, ma," said percy, terrifying his parent by the energy with which he sprang to his feet. "i'm jolly ill, and you'd be awfully sorry if i had a fit of coughing and brought up blood, wouldn't you? well, i shall if you call jeff a person again. where _is_ jeff, i say? i want jeff. why don't you tell him, raby?" after this, for a season at any rate, percy was allowed to have his own way, and jeopardised his moral welfare by unrestricted intercourse with the "person" jeffreys. they spent their time not wholly unprofitably. for, besides a good deal of reading of history and classics (for which percy was rapidly developing a considerable taste), and a good deal of discussion on all sorts of topics, they were deep in constructing the model of a new kind of bookcase, designed by percy, with some ingenious contrivances for keeping out dust and for marking, by means of automatic signals, the place of any book which should be taken from its shelf. this wonderful work of art promised to eclipse every bookcase ever invented. the only drawback to it was that it was too good. percy insisted on introducing into it every "dodge" of which he was capable, and the poor model more than once threatened to collapse under the burden of its own ingenuity. however, they stuck to it, and by dint of sacrificing a "dodge" here and a "dodge" there, they succeeded in producing a highly curious and not unworthy model, which percy was most urgent that his father should forthwith adopt for his library, all the existing bookcases being sacrificed for firewood to make way for the new ones. mr rimbolt diplomatically promised to give the matter his consideration, and consult authorities on the subject when next in london, and meanwhile was not unsparing in his compliments to the inventor and his coadjutor. so the time passed happily enough for jeffreys, until about three weeks after the scarfes' departure, when the following amiable letter reached him with the oxford post-mark on the envelope:-- christ church, _february th_. "jeffreys,--you may have supposed that because i left wildtree without showing you up in your proper character as a murderer and a hypocrite, that i have changed my opinions as to what is my duty to mr rimbolt and his family in this matter. it is not necessary for me to explain to you why i did not do it at once, especially after the blackguardly manner in which you acted on the last evening of my stay there. you being mr rimbolt's servant, i had to consider his convenience. i now write to say that you can spare me the unpleasant duty of informing the wildtree household of what a miscreant they have in their midst by doing it yourself. if, after they know all, they choose to keep you on, there is nothing more to be said. you are welcome to the chance you will have of lying in order to whitewash yourself, but either i or you must tell what we know. meanwhile i envy you the feelings with which i dare say you read of the death of poor young forrester's father in afghanistan. how your cowardly crime must have brightened his last hours! "yours,-- "e. scarfe." jeffreys pitched this elegant specimen of polite billingsgate contemptuously into the grate. he was not much a man of the world, but he could read through the lines of a poor performance like this. scarfe, for some reason or other, did not like to tell the rimbolts himself, but he was most anxious they should know, and desired jeffreys to do the dirty work himself. there was something almost amusing in the artlessness of the suggestion, and had the subject been less personally grievous, jeffreys could have afforded to scoff at the whole business. he sat down on the impulse of the moment and dashed off the following reply:-- "dear scarfe,--would it not be a pity that your sense of duty should not have the satisfaction of doing its own work, instead of begging me to do it for you? i may be all you say, but i am not mean enough to rob you of so priceless a jewel as the good conscience of a man who has done his duty. so i respectfully decline your invitation, and am,-- "yours,-- "j. jeffreys." having relieved himself by writing it, he tore the note up, and tried to forget all about it. but that was not quite so easy. scarfe's part in the drama he could not forget, but the question faced him, not for the first time. had he any right to be here, trusted, and by some of the family even respected? was he not sailing under false colours, and pretending to be something he was not? true, he had been originally engaged as a librarian, a post in which character was accounted of less importance than scholarship and general proficiency. but he was more than a librarian now. circumstances had made him the mentor and companion of a high-spirited, honest boy. was it fair to percy to keep a secret what would certainly shut the doors of wildtree against him for ever? was it fair to mr rimbolt to accept this new responsibility without a word? was it fair to raby, who would shrink from him with detestation, did she know the whole story? scarfe would have been amply satisfied had he been present to note the disquietude which ensued for some days after the arrival of his letter. jeffreys felt uncomfortable in his intercourse with mr rimbolt; he avoided raby, and even with percy he was often unaccountably reserved and pensive. "what are you in the blues about?" demanded that quick-sighted young gentleman on the first day out of doors after his illness. "are you sorry i'm all serene again?" "rather," said jeffreys; "it's not been a bad time." "no more it has; but i must say i don't mind feeling my legs under me. i shall soon be ready for the top of wild pike again. but, i say, aren't you well? i expect you've been knocking yourself up over me?" "not a bit of it; i'm as well as anything." percy, however, was not satisfied. he had a vague idea that young gentlemen in love were as a rule sickly, and by a simple process of reasoning he guessed that jeffreys and raby "had had a row." he therefore took an early opportunity of mentioning the matter to his cousin, greatly to that young lady's confusion. "raby, i say, look here!" he began, a day or two afterwards, as he and his cousin were walking together. "what makes you so jolly down on jeff?" "i down on mr jeffreys? what do you mean?" "well, he's so dismal, i'm certain he's eating his heart out about you! why don't you back him up? he's a good enough chap and no end of a brick, and say what you will, he meant to fish you out that day on the ice. he went off like a shot directly after the ice cracked." "percy, you ridiculous boy!" said raby, biting her lips; "how can you talk such nonsense?" "oh! but he did," persisted the boy. "i'm not talking about the ice," said she. "mr jeffreys and i are very good friends; chiefly on your account, too," added she, with a vague idea of qualifying her admission. "oh, ah, that won't wash, you know," said percy. "anyhow, it's nonsense you being so precious stiff with him; i'm sure he's as good as scarfe." "percy, if you cannot talk sense," said raby, nearly crying with vexation, "i shall not listen to you." "oh, all serene!" responded percy. "of course you're bound to make out it's all humbug, but i know better. come, don't be in a rage, raby; you forget i'm an invalid." so they made it up on the spot, and percy flattered himself he had done a great deal to make things right for jeffreys. jeffreys, however, was still harassed by perplexity, and was gradually veering round to the conclusion that he must at all costs relieve his mind of his secret to mr rimbolt. he put the task off day after day, shrinking from the wrench of all the ties which made his life happy. one day, however, finding himself alone with mr rimbolt in the library, he suddenly resolved then and there to speak out. "oh, jeffreys," began mr rimbolt, "i am very anxious to get those books from the wanley abbey sale looked through and catalogued within the next few days if you can manage it. we all go up to london, you know, next week, and i should be glad to have all square before we start." "i have no doubt they can all be gone through before then." "i should like you to come to town, too," said mr rimbolt. "percy sets great store by your companionship; besides which, there are some very important book sales coming on in which i shall want your help." "i had been going to ask you--" began jeffreys, feeling his temples throbbing like two steam-engines. "oh, by the way," interrupted mr rimbolt, taking a letter from his pocket, "did not you tell me you were at a school called bolsover?" "yes," faltered jeffreys, wondering what was coming. "it's very odd. i have a letter from an old oxford acquaintance of mine, called frampton, who appears to be head-master there, and whom i have never heard of for about sixteen years. he is fond of books, and writes to ask if he may come and see the library. i've asked him to stay a night, and expect him here to-morrow. i dare say you will be glad to meet him. perhaps he knows you are here?" "no, i don't think so," said jeffreys. "ah, then i dare say you will be glad to see one another again." jeffreys was considerably staggered by this unexpected announcement, but it relieved him of all present perplexity as to speaking to mr rimbolt of young forrester. he would at least wait till mr frampton came, and put himself in his hands. mr frampton came, as young and fresh as ever. he was taking a three days' run in the lake country during a term holiday, and, determined to do and see all he could, had decided to visit his old college friend, and look over the now famous wildtree library. his surprise at meeting jeffreys was very considerable; and at first it seemed to the quondam pupil that his old master was shy of him. this, however, was explained as soon as they were alone, and had to do with the seven pounds, which had burned holes in mr frampton's pockets ever since he received them, but which, not knowing jeffreys' address, he had never been able to return. "i was never more pained than when i received this money," said he. "your guardian was written to by the clerk in ordinary course, but i never imagined the bill would be passed on to you." jeffreys had nothing for it but to take the money back, much as he disliked it. until he did so, mr frampton was too fidgety to be approachable on any other subject. the morning after his arrival, they went up wild pike together--the first time jeffreys had been on the mountain since the death of julius. they had a fine day and no difficulty; but the long talk which beguiled the way amply made up to jeffreys for the lack of adventure. mr frampton told him much about bolsover, and of how it was at last beginning to thrive and recover from the dry-rot; how this winter the football team had got up a name for itself; how the school discussion society was crowded with members; how the cricket prospects were decidedly hopeful; and how two fellows had lately gained scholarships at oxford. then he began to ask jeffreys about himself, and got from him a full account of all that had befallen him since he left school. mr frampton was a most sympathetic listener, and the poor "dog with a bad name," who had almost forgotten the art of speaking his mind fully to any one, warmed insensibly to this friend as they talked, and reproached himself for the pride and shortsightedness which had induced him to shut himself out so long from his friendship. then they talked of young forrester. mr frampton made no attempt to gloss over the wickedness of that unhappy act of passion. but he showed how fully he made allowances for the poor blundering offender, and how he, at least, saw more to pity than to upbraid in it all. he knew nothing of young forrester's fate. he had seen in the papers the notice of captain forrester's death, from whom, months before, he had had a letter of inquiry as to his son's whereabouts, and to whom he had written telling all he knew, which was but little. then jeffreys unfolded his present uncomfortable dilemma, and his intention of speaking to mr rimbolt, and they talked it over very seriously and anxiously. at last mr frampton said,-- "let me speak to mr rimbolt." "most thankfully i will." so mr frampton spoke to mr rimbolt, and told him frankly all there was to tell, and mr rimbolt, like a gentleman who knew something of christian charity, joined his informant in pitying the offender. "jeffreys," said he, the day after mr frampton's departure, "your friend has told me a story about you which i heard with great sorrow. you are now doing all that an honest man can do, with god's help, to make up for what is past. what i have been told does not shake my present confidence in you in any way, and i need not tell you that not a single person in this house beyond yourself and me shall know anything about this unhappy affair." chapter twenty one. "going it." jeffreys started for london with a lighter heart than he had known since he first came to wildtree. when he contrasted his present sense of relief with the oppression which had preceded it, he marvelled how he could ever have gone on so long, dishonestly nursing his wretched secret under mr rimbolt's roof. now, in the first reaction of relief, he was tempted to believe his good name was really come back, and that mr rimbolt having condoned his offence, the memory of bolsover was cancelled. it was a passing temptation only. alas! that memory clung still. nothing could alter the past; and though he might now feel secure from its consequences, he had only to think of young forrester to remind him that somewhere the black mark stood against his name as cruelly as ever. yet, comparatively, he felt light-hearted, as with the rimbolt family he stood at last on the london platform. it was new ground to him. some years ago mr halgrove had lived several months in the metropolis, and the boy, spending his summer holidays there, and left entirely to his own devices, had learned in a plodding way about as much of the great city as a youth of seventeen could well do in the time. the rimbolts' house in clarges street was to jeffreys' mind not nearly so cheerful as wildtree. the library in it consisted of a small collection of books, chiefly political, for mr rimbolt's use in his parliamentary work; and the dark little room allotted to him, with its look-out on the mews, was dull indeed compared with the chamber at wildtree, from which he could at least see the mountain. nor did he by any means enjoy the constant round of entertainments which went on in london, at which he was sometimes called upon in a humble way to assist. he had been obliged, in deference to mrs rimbolt's broad hints, to buy a dress suit, and in this he was expected on occasions to present himself at the end of a grand dinner-party, or when mr rimbolt required his professional attendance. for, there being no books to take care of here, mr rimbolt availed himself of his librarian's services as a private secretary in some important political business, and found him so efficient and willing, that he proposed to him a considerable increase in his salary, in consideration of his permanently undertaking a good share of his employer's ordinary correspondence. the chief portion of jeffreys' time, however, still belonged to percy, and it was a decided relief to him that that young gentleman scoffed at and eschewed the endless hospitalities and entertainments with which his mother delighted to fill up their life in london. "i don't see the fun of gorging night after night, do you, jeff? a good spread's all very well now and again, but you get sick of it seven nights a week. makes me sleepy. then all these shows and things! i've a good mind to get laid up again, and have a real good time. there's to be no end of a crowd here to-night--everybody. i shall cut it if i can; shan't you?" "mr rimbolt wants me to come into the drawing-room after dinner," said jeffreys. "all serene! that won't be till nine. come up to putney, and have a row on the river this afternoon." percy was an enthusiastic oarsman, and many an afternoon jeffreys and he, flying from the crowd, had spent on the grand old thames. jeffreys enjoyed it as much as he, and no one, seeing the boy and his tutor together in their pair-oar, would have imagined that the broader of the two was that ungainly lout who had once been an object of derision in the bolsover meadows. the party that evening was, as percy predicted, a very large one, and jeffreys had the discomfort of recognising a few of the guests who last autumn had helped to make his position so painful. they, to do them justice, did not now add to his discomfort by recognising him. even the lady who had given him that half-crown appeared wholly to have forgotten the object of her charity. what, however, made him most uncomfortable was the sight of mrs scarfe, and hearing her say to percy, "edward is coming on saturday, percy; he is looking forward with such pleasure to taking you about to see the university sports and the boat race. your dear mamma has kindly asked two of his college friends to come too, so you will be quite a merry quartette." jeffreys had nearly forgotten scarfe's existence of late. he no longer dreaded him on his own account, but on percy's he looked forward to saturday with dismay. he would have liked to know also, as a mere matter of curiosity of course, what raby thought about the promised visit. his own communications with that young lady had not been very frequent of late, although they continued friendly. percy's nonsense gave them both a considerable amount of embarrassment; for although jeffreys never for a moment supposed that mr rimbolt's niece thought twice about him except as a persecuted dependant and a friend to percy, to have anything else suggested disturbed his shy nature, and made him feel constrained in her presence. "you'll have to mind your eye with raby now that scarfe's coming," said percy that night. "you bet he'll try to hook her. i heard his mother flying kites with ma about it, to see how the land lies." jeffreys had given up the formality of pretending, when percy launched out on this delicate subject, not to know what he was talking about. "whatever scarfe does," said he, "is nothing to me." "what i don't you and raby hit it off, then?" "hit what off?" "i mean aren't you dead on her, don't you know?--spoons, and all that sort of thing?" "i am not aware that i entertain feelings towards anybody which could be described by any article of cutlery at all." "well, all i can say is, when i blowed her up for being down on you, she blushed up no end, and cried too. i should like to know what you call that, if it isn't spoons?" "i think it would be kinder, percy, if you did not talk to your cousin about me; and i fancy she would as soon you did not talk about her to me." "well, that's rather what i should call a shut-up," said percy. "it bothers me how people that like one another get so precious shy of letting the other fellow know it. i know i shan't. i'll have it out at once, before any other chap comes and cuts me out." with which valiant determination percy earned jeffreys' gratitude by relapsing into silence. he was, however, destined to have the uncomfortable topic revived in another and more unexpected quarter. on the day before scarfe's proposed visit, walker accosted him as he was going out, with the announcement that my lady would like to speak to him in the morning-room. this rare summons never failed to wring a groan from the depths of the librarian's spirit, and it did now as he proceeded to the torture- chamber. the lady was alone, and evidently burdened with the importance of the occasion. "mr jeffreys," said she, with a tone of half conciliation which put up jeffreys' back far more than her usual severe drawl, "kindly take a seat; i wish to speak to you." "it's all up with me!" groaned the unhappy jeffreys inwardly, as he obeyed. mrs rimbolt gathered herself together, and began. "i desire to speak to you, mr jeffreys, in reference to my niece, miss atherton, who, in her father's absence, is here under my protection and parental control." jeffreys flushed up ominously. "it does not please me, mr jeffreys, to find you, occupying, as you do, the position of a dependant in this house, so far forgetting yourself as to consider that there is anything in your respective positions which justifies you in having communications with miss atherton other than those of a respectful stranger." jeffreys found himself frivolously thinking this elaborate sentence would be an interesting exercise in parsing for the head class at galloway house. he barely took in that the remarks were intended for him at all, and his abstracted look apparently disconcerted mrs rimbolt. "i must request your attention, mr jeffreys," said she severely. "i beg your pardon. i am all attention." "i am quite willing to suppose," continued she, "that it is ignorance on your part rather than intentional misconduct which has led you into this; but from henceforth i wish it to be clearly understood that i shall expect you to remember your proper station in this house. miss atherton, let me tell you, has no need of your attentions. you perfectly understand me, mr jeffreys?" jeffreys bowed, still rather abstractedly. "you do not reply to my question, mr jeffreys." "i perfectly understand you, madam." "i trust i shall not have to speak to you again." "i trust not," said jeffreys, with a fervour which startled the lady. he left the room, outraged, insulted, sorely tempted to shake the dust of the place once and for all from off his feet. the evil temper within him once more asserted itself as he flung himself into his room, slamming the door behind him with a force that made the whole house vibrate. the narrow room was insupportable. it stifled him. he must get out into the fresh air or choke. on the doorstep he met mr rimbolt, alighting from his brougham. "oh, jeffreys, so glad to have caught you. look here. i find i must be in the house to-night and to-morrow, and i intended to go down to exeter to attend that four days' sale of lord waterfield's library. i must get you to go for me. you have the catalogue we went through together, with the lots marked which i must have. i have put an outside price against some, and the others must be mine at any price--you understand. stick at nothing. take plenty of money with you for travelling and expenses. do things comfortably, and i will give you a blank cheque for the books. mind i must have them, if it comes to four figures. go down by the flying dutchman to-night, and send me a telegram at the end of each day to say what you have secured." the proposal came opportunely to jeffreys. he was in the humour of accepting anything for a change; and this _carte blanche_ proposal, and the responsibility it involved, contained a spice of excitement which suited with his present mood. he went down to exeter that night, trying to think of nothing but lord waterfield's books, and to forget all about raby, and percy, and mrs rimbolt, and scarfe. the last-named hero and his two friends duly presented themselves at clarges street next day. scarfe was in great good-humour with himself, and even his antipathies to the world at large were decidedly modified by the discovery that jeffreys was out of town. his two friends were of the gay and festive order--youths who would have liked to be considered fast, but betrayed constantly that they did not yet know the way how. percy, with his usual facile disposition, quickly fell into the ways of the trio, and rather enjoyed the luxury of now and then getting a rise out of the undergrads by showing that "he knew a thing or two" himself. they spent their first few days together in "going it"--that is, in seeing and doing all they could. scarfe's friends began shyly, feeling their way both with their host and hostess and with their son. but then they saw that mr rimbolt was far too engrossed to think of anything beyond that they should all enjoy themselves and do as they liked--when they saw that mrs rimbolt swore by scarfe, and, to use the choice language of one of them, "didn't sit up at anything as long as the necktie was in it"--and when they saw that percy was a cool hand, and, whatever he thought, did not let himself be startled by anything, these two ingenuous youths plucked up heart and "let out all round." they haunted billiard saloons, but failed to delude any one into the belief that they knew one end of a cue from another. they went to theatres, where the last thing they looked at was the stage. they played cards without being quite sure what was the name of the game they played. they smoked cigars, which it was well for their juvenile stomachs were "warranted extra mild"; and they drank wine which neither made glad their hearts nor improved their digestions; and they spiced their conversation with big words which they did not know the meaning of themselves, and would certainly have never found explained in the dictionary. percy, after a few days, got sick of it. he had never "gone it" in this style before; and finding out what it meant, he didn't see much fun in it. late hours and unwholesome food and never-ending "sport" did not agree with him. he had looked forward to seeing a lot of the boat practice on the river, and hearing a lot about university sport and life. but in this he was disappointed. the "boats" were voted a nuisance; and whenever the talk turned on oxford it was instantly tabooed as "shop." scarfe sneered to him in private about these two fools, but when with them he "went it" with the rest, and made no protest. "percy," said raby, two or three days after this sort of thing had been going on, "you look wretchedly pale and tired. why do you stay out so late every night?" "oh," said percy wearily, "i don't know--we humbug about. nothing very bad." "if it makes you ill and wretched, i say it is bad, percy," said the girl. "oh, i don't know. scarfe goes in for it, you know." "i don't care a bit who goes in for it. it's bad." "you don't mean to say you think scarfe is a bad lot?" "don't speak to me of mr scarfe. i hate him for this!" percy whistled. "hullo, i say! here's a go!" he cried. "then you're really spoons on jeff after all? how awfully glad he'll be when i tell him!" "percy i shall hate _you_ if you talk like that!" said the girl. "i hate any one who is not good to you; and it is certainly not good to you to lead you into folly and perhaps wickedness." this protest had its effect on percy. the next day he struck, and pleaded an excuse for accompanying the precious trio on an expedition to windsor, to be consummated by a champagne supper at the "christopher." they urged him hard, and tempted him sorely by the prospect of a row on the river and any amount of fun. he declined stubbornly. he was fagged, and not in the humour. awfully sorry to back out and all that, but he couldn't help it, and wanted to save up for the sports and boat race on friday and saturday. they gave him up as a bad job, and started without him. he watched them go without much regret, and then, putting on his hat, walked off towards paddington to meet jeffreys, who was due in about an hour. the quiet walk through the streets rather revived him; and the prospect of seeing jeffreys again was still more refreshing. of course he knew he should have to tell him of his folly, and jeff would "sit on him" in his solemn style. still, that was better than getting his head split open with cigars, and having to laugh at a lot of trashy jokes. jeffreys was delighted to see him; and the two were leaving paddington arm-in-arm when scarfe and his two friends, alighting from a cab, suddenly confronted them. chapter twenty two. the bad name. percy was riotously greeted by scarfe's two friends. "hullo, old man!" cried one of them; "then you thought better of it, after all, and mean to join us! that's the style!" "bring your handsome friend with you. more the merrier. there'll be champagne enough for the lot." "look alive," said percy; "you'll lose your train. jeff and i aren't coming." "why not?" said they. "because we're going the other way," replied percy, who, when his mind was made up, did not appreciate anybody's importunity. "i've not seen jeff for a week." "who is this precious jeff?" said one of scarfe's friends, pointing over his shoulder to the librarian. "he's a gentleman employed by the month to look after percy's morals," said scarfe, with a sneer. "a parson! what a game! no wonder percy draws in his horns a bit when he comes home. anyhow, we must save him from the paws of the lion if we can. i say, percy, you must come, old man. we made all the arrangements for four, boat and everything; and if you don't want to stay late we'll give up the supper. only don't spoil our day, there's a good fellow. you'll be able to see lots of your friend when we've gone." "you be hanged," observed percy, now in an uncomplimentary mood; "haven't i told you i'm not coming? what more do you want?" "oh, of course, if you're so taken up with this reverend thing of beauty," said one of them sulkily, "we're out of it. i should have thought he could have snuffled to himself for a day without wanting you to help him." scarfe all this time stood by in a rage. the sight of jeffreys was to him like the dead fly in the apothecary's ointment. it upset him and irritated him with everybody and everything. he had guessed, on receiving no reply to his recent polite letter, that he had exposed his own poor hand to his enemy, and he hated him accordingly with a double hatred. he contrived, however, to keep up an appearance of scornful indifference. "you are still reaping the rewards of virtue, pious homicide," he sneered. "i still envy the upright man who does his duty," replied jeffreys, scarcely less bitterly. "what do you mean, you--" "i mean what i say," said jeffreys, turning on his heel, and taking percy's arm. they walked home, and before clarges street was reached percy had told his friend an unvarnished story of the follies of the last few days, and enlisted his support in his determination to pull up. there was something touching in the mingled shame and anger of the proud boy as he made his confession, not sparing himself, and full of scorn at those who had tempted him. jeffreys was full of righteous wrath on his behalf, and ran up a score against scarfe which would have astonished that worthy, listlessly loafing about at windsor, had he guessed it. "i've promised to go and see the boat race with them," said percy; "but you must come too. i know you'll hate it, and so will they; but somehow i can't do without a little backing up." "i'll back you up, old fellow, all i can, i only wish," added he, for the boy's confidence in him humiliated him, "i had a better right to do it." "why, jeff, i don't suppose you ever did a bad thing in your life." "don't say that," said jeffreys almost appealingly, "i have!" the boy looked up at him, startled for a moment by his tone. then he said, with a return of his old look of confidence-- "poor old jeff! that's what makes you so blue sometimes. if it weren't for you, i'd have a precious good right to be in the blues too." jeffreys, who had not entered the house since his interview with mrs rimbolt, felt anything but comfortable as he again set foot within it; and had it not been for percy's countenance, he would have felt it still more of an ordeal. he had, however, plenty to occupy his mind during the hour or two which followed. mr rimbolt was waiting for him eagerly, to hear all about the sale and the purchases which had been made. "you've done a capital stroke of business for me, jeffreys," said he, when the report had been concluded. "those three caxtons i would not have missed for anything. i am quite glad that business will take me north next week, as i shall be able to run over to wildtree and see some of the treasures unpacked. i shall, however, leave them for you finally to arrange when we all go back in june. you've seen percy? i fancy he has been racketing rather too much with these friends of his; but i imagine scarfe would see he went into no mischief. however, i am glad you have come back, for the boy's sake, as you understand him. this summer i think you should take him a little run in normandy or switzerland. it would do him good, and you, too, to knock about abroad for a week or two. however, there's time enough to talk about that. and i dare say you will be glad now to get a little rest after your journey." jeffreys returned to his room very contentedly. the confidence mr rimbolt reposed in him was soothing to his spirits, and went far to obliterate the memory of that hideous interview last week. percy was out when, after washing and changing his travelling garb, he came down to the morning-room, which he usually occupied during the afternoon. to his surprise, and even consternation, raby was there, writing. she rose, brightly, almost radiantly, as he entered. "oh, mr jeffreys, how glad i am to see you back! poor percy has been in such want of you! these oxford friends of his, i am certain, have not been doing him any good. have you seen him? i am so happy you have come back!" jeffreys was not made of adamant, and a greeting like this, even though it was offered on some one else's behalf, was enough to drive mrs rimbolt completely out of his head. "i am very fortunate to be able to make you happy so easily," said he. "yes, i have seen percy, and heard all his troubles. how could any one help being grateful for a confidence like his? you know, miss atherton, i would do anything for him." "i believe you," said she warmly. "you are good and unselfish." "do you mind my saying," said jeffreys, colouring, "that it is an additional pleasure to do what i can for percy if it makes you happy?" "i don't mind your saying it if it is true. it does make me happy." and her face was the best witness to her sincerity. jeffreys was not the only person who saw that bright smile. mrs rimbolt, entering the room at that moment, saw it too, and heard the words which it accompanied. she glared round witheringly on jeffreys. "so, mr jeffreys, _you_ are here. what brings you here?" "mr jeffreys--" began raby, feeling and looking very confused. "silence, raby, i asked mr jeffreys." "i came here not knowing the room was occupied. it was a pleasant surprise to find miss atherton here, and she has been making me happy by talking to me about percy." "mr jeffreys," said the lady, "allow me to say i do not believe you." "auntie!" exclaimed raby, firing up in a manner unusual to her; "it is true. mr jeffreys always tells the truth!" "raby, my dear, you had better leave the room." "no, auntie!" exclaimed the girl. "you have no right to charge mr jeffreys with saying what is not true. it's not fair--it's wrong--it's wicked!" "you forget, my dear, of all persons you should not address me like this." "no," said the girl, going to the door, which jeffreys opened for her. "i don't forget, and i shall not forget. you have no right to say it. i wish father was home again, and would take me away!" in the midst of his own indignation, jeffreys could not help admiring this outbreak of righteous indignation on the part of the spirited girl. mrs rimbolt little guessed how much she herself was doing to defeat her own ends. "mr jeffreys," said she, after raby had gone, "after our interview last week, your conduct is both disgraceful and dishonourable. i should not have believed it even of you." "pardon me, madam. you have charged me with telling you a lie just now. is that so?" his tone was strangely peremptory. mrs rimbolt had never seen him like this before--and for the moment it disconcerted her. "what i heard as i entered the room had no reference to percy," said she. "excuse me--it had. miss atherton--" "if it had, i must believe you. i wish to hear no more about it. but after your promise last week--" "i made no promise, and should decline to do so. i am quite aware of my position here, and am ready to give it up when called upon. but while i stay here and do my work, mrs rimbolt, i claim to be protected from insult." "it is useless to prolong this interview, mr jeffreys," said mrs rimbolt, half-scared by the turn things had taken. "i never expected to be addressed in this way in my own house by one who is dependent on my husband for his living. you can leave me, sir." jeffreys bowed, and retired to his room, where he awaited as calmly as he could what appeared to him the inevitable end of the scene--a notice to quit. but it did not come. mrs rimbolt knew herself to be in the wrong. her husband, she knew, if she laid the case before him, would judicially inquire into its merits, and come to the same conclusion. in that case her dominion would be at an end. even the mrs rimbolts have an eye to the better half of valour sometimes, and so jeffreys was left sitting for an ultimatum which did not come. raby had a still worse ordeal before her. at first her indignation had reigned supreme and effaced all other emotions. gradually, however, a feeling of vague misery ensued. she longed to be away in india with her dear soldier father; she wished jeffreys had never come under the wildtree roof to bring insult on himself and wretchedness to her. she dreaded the future for her boy cousin without his protector, and half wished him dead and safe from temptation. in due time her brave spirit came back. she despised herself for her weakness, and, resolved boldly to face her aunt and every one, she came down to dinner. it was strictly a family party, with mrs scarfe added; for the other three visitors had not yet returned from windsor. raby sought protection from her aunt by devoting herself to mrs scarfe, and quite delighted that good lady by her brightness and spirit. mrs scarfe took occasion in the drawing-room afterwards to go into rhapsodies to her young friend regarding her son; and when about ten o'clock the holiday- makers arrived home, in high spirits and full of their day's sport, she achieved a grand stroke of generalship by leaving the two young people together in the conservatory, having previously, by a significant pressure of her son's arm, given him to understand that now was his time for striking while the iron was hot. scarfe was in an unusually gay mood, and still a little elevated by the festivities of the day. "i'm sure you missed us," said he, "didn't you?" "the house was certainly much quieter," said raby. "do you know," said he, "it's rather pleasant to feel that one is missed?" raby said nothing, but began to feel a desire to be safely back in the drawing-room. "do you know we drank toasts to-day, like the old knights, to our lady loves?" continued scarfe. "indeed," replied raby, as unconcernedly as she could. "yes--and shall i tell you the name i pledged? ah, i see you know, raby." "mr scarfe, i want to go back to the drawing-room; please take me." scarfe took her hand. his head was swimming, partly with excitement, partly with the effects of the supper. "not till i tell you i love you, and--" "mr scarfe, i don't want to hear all this," said raby, snatching her hand away angrily, and moving to the door. he seized it again rudely. "you mean you don't care for me?" asked he. "i want to go away," said she. "tell me first," said he, detaining her; "do you mean you will not have me--that you don't love me?" "i don't," said she. "then," said he, sober enough now, and standing between her and the door, "there is another question still is the reason because some one else in this house has--" "mr scarfe," said raby quietly, "don't you think, when i ask you to let me go, it is not quite polite of you to prevent me?" "please excuse me," he said apologetically. "i was excited, and forgot; but, raby, do let me warn you, for your sake, to beware of this fellow jeffreys. no, let me speak," said he, as she put up her hand to stop him. "i will say nothing to offend you. you say you do not care for me, and i have nothing to gain by telling you this. if he has--" "mr scarfe, you are quite mistaken; do, please, let me go." scarfe yielded, bitterly mortified and perplexed. his vanity had all along only supposed one possible obstacle to his success with raby, and that was a rival. that she would decline to have him for any other reason had been quite beyond his calculations, and he would not believe it now. jeffreys may not have actually gone as far as to propose to her, but, so it seemed, there was some understanding between them which barred scarfe's own chance. the worst of it all was that to do the one thing he would have liked to do would be to spoil his own chance altogether. for raby, whether she cared for jeffreys or not, would have nothing to say to scarfe if he was the means of his ruin. the air during the next few days seemed charged with thunder. mrs rimbolt was in a state of war with every one, mrs scarfe was poorly, the two oxford visitors began to vote their visit slow, scarfe was moody, raby was unhappy, jeffreys felt continually half-choked, percy alone kept up his spirits, while mr rimbolt, happiest of all, went up north to look at his old books. no one was particularly sorry when the visits came to an end. even the sports and boat race had failed to revive the drooping spirits of the oxonians, and on the monday following it was with a considerable stretch of politeness that they all thanked mrs rimbolt for a very pleasant visit. scarfe, taking farewell of raby, begged that some time, later on, he might come to see her again, but was quite unable to gather from her reply whether she desired it or not. jeffreys wisely kept out of the way while the departures were taking place, despite mrs rimbolt's suggestion that he should be sent for to help the cabman carry out the boxes. the first evening after they were all gone the house seemed another place. even jeffreys felt he could breathe, despite mr rimbolt's absence, and the hostile proximity of his lady. as to raby and percy, they made no concealment of the relief they felt, and went off for a row on the river to celebrate the occasion. jeffreys judiciously excused himself from accompanying them, and went a long walk by himself. two days later, after lunch, just as percy and raby had departed for a ride in the park, and jeffreys had shut himself up in mr rimbolt's study to write, a letter was delivered by the post addressed to mrs rimbolt, bearing the oxford post-mark. it was from scarfe, and mrs rimbolt opened her eyes as she perused it:-- "christchurch, _april_ ." dear mrs rimbolt,--i reached here from home this morning, and hasten to send you a line to thank you for the very pleasant visit i spent in london last week. i should have written sooner, but that i was anxious to write you on another and less pleasant subject, which i felt should not be done hurriedly. you will, i dare say, blame me for not having told you earlier what i now feel it my duty to tell, and i trust you will understand the feelings which have prevented my doing so. john jeffreys, who is in mr rimbolt's employment, is, as you know, an old schoolfellow of mine. i was surprised to see him at wildtree last christmas, and took the trouble to inquire whether he had come to you with a character, or whether you had any knowledge of his antecedents. i imagined you had not, and supposed that, as he was only engaged as a librarian, inquiries as to his character were not considered necessary. but when i saw that he was being admitted as a member of your household, and specially allowed to exercise an influence on percy, i assure you i felt uncomfortable, and it has been on my mind ever since to tell you what i feel you ought to know. jeffreys ran away from school after committing a cruel act which, to all intents and purposes, was murder. his victim was a small boy whom we all loved, and who never did him harm. the details of the whole affair are too horrible to dwell upon here, but i have said enough to show you what sort of person it is who is at present entrusted with the care of your own son, and allowed to associate on a footing of equality with your niece, miss atherton. i can assure you it is very painful to me to write this, for i know how it will shock you. but i feel my conscience would not give me peace till i told you all. may i now ask one special favour from you? it is well known, and you probably have noticed it yourself, that jeffreys and i naturally dislike one another. but i want you to believe that i write this, not because i dislike jeffreys, but because i like you all, and feel that percy particularly is in peril. what i ask is that if you think it right to take any action in the matter, my name may not be mentioned. it would be considered an act of spite on my part, which it is not; and perhaps i may mention to you that i have special reasons for wishing that miss atherton, at least, should not think worse of me than i deserve. she would certainly misunderstand it if my name were mentioned. i feel i have only done my duty, and i assure you it will be a great relief to me to know that you are rid of one who cannot fail to exercise a fatal influence on the pure and honest mind of my friend percy. "believe me, dear mrs rimbolt, most sincerely yours,-- "e. scarfe." the shock which this astounding communication gave to mrs rimbolt can be more easily imagined than described. it explained everything--her instinctive dislike of the man from the first, his moroseness and insolence, and the cunning with which he had insinuated himself first into her husband's and then into percy's confidence! how blind she had been not to see it all before! she might have known that he was a villain! now, however, her duty was clear, and she would be wicked if she delayed to act upon it a moment. if mr rimbolt had been at home, it would have fallen on him to discharge it, but he was not, and she must do it for him. whereupon this worthy matron girded herself for the fray, and stalked off to the study. jeffreys was busy transcribing some bibliographical notes which he had brought away with him from exeter. the work was not very engrossing, and he had leisure now and then to let his mind wander, and the direction his thoughts took was towards mr rimbolt's little plan of a run on the continent for percy and himself this summer. jeffreys had been afraid to acknowledge to himself how much the plan delighted him. he longed to see the everlasting snows, and the lakes, and the grand old mediaeval cities, and the prospect of seeing them with percy, away from all that could annoy or jar-- he had got so far when the door opened, and mrs rimbolt stood before him. the lady was pale, and evidently agitated beyond her wont. she stood for a moment facing jeffreys, and apparently waiting for words. the librarian's back went up in anticipation. if it was more about raby, he would leave the room before he forgot himself. "mr jeffreys," said the lady, and her words came slowly and hoarsely, "i request you to leave this house in half an hour." it was jeffreys' turn to start and grow pale. "may i ask why?" he said. "you know why, sir," said the lady. "you have known why ever since you had the meanness to enter wildtree on false pretences." "really, mrs rimbolt," began jeffreys, with a cold shudder passing through him, "i am at a loss--" "don't speak to me, sir! you knew you had no right to enter the house of honest, respectable people--you knew you had no right to take advantage of an accident to insinuate yourself into this family, and impose upon the unsuspecting good-nature of my husband. no one asked you for your character; for no one imagined you could be quite so hypocritical as you have been. you, the self-constituted friend and protector of my precious boy--you, with the stain of blood on your hands and the mark of cain on your forehead! leave my house at once; i desire no words. you talked grandly about claiming to be protected from insult in this house. it is we who claim to be protected from a hypocrite and a murderer! begone; and consider yourself fortunate that instead of walking out a free man, you are not taken out to the punishment you deserve!" when jeffreys, stunned and stupefied, looked up, the room was empty. mechanically he finished a sentence he had been writing, then letting the pen drop from his hand, sat where he was, numbed body and soul. mrs rimbolt's words dinned in his ears, and with them came those old haunting sounds, the yells on the bolsover meadows, the midnight shriek of the terrified boy, the cold sneer of his guardian, the brutal laugh of jonah trimble. all came back in one confused hideous chorus, yelling to him that his bad name was alive still, dogging him down, down, mocking his foolish dreams of deliverance and hope, hounding him out into the night to hide his head indeed, but never to hide himself from himself. how long he sat there he knew not. when he rose he was at least calm and resolved. he went up to his own room and looked through his little stock of possessions. the old suit in which he had come to wildtree was there; and an impulse seized him to put it on in exchange for the trim garments he was wearing. of his other goods and chattels he took a few special favourites. his homer--julius's collar--a cricket cap--a pocket compass which percy had given him, and an envelope which raby had once directed to him for her uncle. his money--his last quarter's salary--he took too, and his old stick which he had cut in the lanes near ash cottage. that was all. then quietly descending the deserted stairs, and looking neither to the right hand nor the left, he crossed the hall and opened the front door. a pang shot through him as he did so. was he never to see percy again, or _her_? what would they think of him? the thought maddened him; and as he stood in the street he seemed to hear their voices, too, in the awful clamour, and rushed blindly forth, anywhere, to escape it. chapter twenty three. a plunge downward. a chill october squall was whistling through the trees--in regent's park, stirring up the fallen leaves on the footpaths, and making the nursemaids, as they listlessly trundled their perambulators, shiver suddenly, and think of the nursery fire and the singing kettle on the hob. the gathering clouds above sent the park-keeper off to his shed for a waterproof, and emptied the carriage-drive of the vehicles in which a few semi-grand people were taking an afternoon airing at half a crown an hour. a little knot of small boys, intently playing football, with piled-up jackets for goals, and an old parti-coloured "bouncer" for a ball, were the last to take alarm at the lowering sky; nor was it till the big drops fell in their midst that they scattered right and left, and left the park empty. no; not quite empty. one young man sat on through the rain on the seat from which he had been watching the boys' game. a shabby, almost ragged young man, with a disagreeable face and an almost contemptuous curl of the lips, as the rain, gathering force every second, buffeted him in the face and drenched him where he sat. there were a hundred seats more sheltered than that on which he sat, and by walking scarcely fifty yards he could have escaped the rain altogether. but he sat recklessly on, and let the rain do its worst, his eyes still on the empty football field, and his ears ringing still with the merry shouts of the departed boys. my reader, had he chanced to pass down that deserted walk on this stormy afternoon, would hardly have recognised in the lonely occupant of that seat the john jeffreys he had seen six months ago at clarges street. it was not merely that he looked haggard and ill, or that his clothes were ragged. that was bad enough, but the reader has seen him in such a plight before. but what he has not seen before--or if at all, only in passing moments--is the bitter, hard look on his face, changing it miserably. a stranger passing him that afternoon would have said-- "there sits a man who hates all the world." we, who know him better, would have said-- "there sits our poor dog with a bad name, deserted even by hope." and so it was. jeffreys had left clarges street smarting under a sense of injury, but still resolved to keep up the fight for his good name, in which for so many months past he had been engaged. not by appealing to mr rimbolt. although he knew, had mr rimbolt been at home, all this would not have happened, his pride forbade him now to take a single step to reinstate himself in a house from which he had been so ignominiously expelled. no, not even when that house held within its walls percy and raby. the idea of going back filled him with horror. on the contrary, he would hide himself from them, even though they sought to find him; and not till his name was as good as theirs would he see them again or come near them. which surely was another way of resolving never to see them again; for the leopard cannot change his spots or the ethiopian his skin! a bad name is a stain which no washing can efface; it clings wherever you go, and often men who see it see nothing else in you but the scar. so thought poor jeffreys as he slowly turned his back on all that was dear to him in life, and went out into the night of the unsympathetic city. at first, as i said, he tried to hold up his head. he inquired in one or two quarters for work. but the question always came up-- "what is your character?" "i have none," he would say doggedly. "why did you leave your last place?" "i was turned away." "what for?" "because i am supposed to have killed a boy once." once indeed he did get a temporary job at a warehouse--as a porter--and for a week, a happy week, used his broad back and brawny arms in carrying heavy loads and lifting weights. hope sprang again within him as he laboured. he might yet, by beginning at the lowest step, rise above his evil name and conquer it. alas! one day a shilling was lost from the warehouseman's desk. jeffreys had been seen near the place and was suspected. he resented the charge scornfully at first, then savagely, and in an outbreak of rage struck his accuser. he was impeached before the head of the firm, and it was discovered that he had come without a character. that was enough. he was bundled out of the place at five minutes' notice, with a threat of a policeman if he made it six. and even when a week later the shilling was found in the warehouseman's blotting-paper, no one doubted that the cashiered rogue was as cunning as he was nefarious. after that he had given up what seemed the farce of holding up his head. what was the use, he said, when, as sure as night follows day, that bad name of his dogged him wherever he went? so jeffreys began to go down. in after years he spoke very little of those six months in london, and when he did it was about people he had met, and not about himself. what he did, where he lodged, how he lived, these were matters he never mentioned and never liked to be asked about. i am quite sure myself that the reason of this silence was not shame. he was not one of those fellows who revenge themselves on fate by deliberately going to the bad. at his worst, he had no taste for vice or any affinity for it. he may have sunk low, not because he himself was low, but because in his miserable feud with all the world he scorned not to share the lot of others as miserable as himself. his money--he had a few pounds when he left clarges street--soon failed him. he made no great effort to keep it, and was relieved to see the end of it. his companions in misery soon helped him away with it, and he let them. but when it was gone the old necessity for work came back. by day he hardly ever ventured out of his court, for fear of being seen by some one who would attempt to rescue him from his present condition. at night he wandered restlessly about in the narrow streets picking up an early morning job at covent garden or in the omnibus stables. he moved his lodgings incessantly, one week inhabiting a garret in westminster, another sharing a common room in whitechapel, another doing without lodgings altogether. he spoke little or not at all to his fellow-miserables, not because he despised them, but because they fought shy of him. they disliked his superior ways and his ill-concealed disgust of their habits and vices. they could have forgiven him for being a criminal in hiding; that they were used to. but a man who spoke like a gentleman, who took no pleasure in their low sports, and sat dumb while they talked loud and broad, seemed to them an interloper and an intruder. once--it was about the beginning of august--in a lodging-house across the river, he met a man to whom for a day or two he felt drawn. his story was a sad one. his father had been a gentleman, and the boy had been brought up in luxury and virtue. while at school his father had died, and before he had left school his mother had been married again to a brute who not only broke her heart, but, after setting himself to corrupt his stepson, had at last turned him adrift without a penny in the world. the lad, with no strong principle to uphold him, had sunk deep in vice. yet there lurked about him occasional flashes of something better. "after all," he would say to jeffreys, as the two lay at night almost on bare boards, "what's the odds? i may be miserable one day, but i'm jolly the next. now you seem to prefer to be uniformly miserable." "hardly a case of preference," said jeffreys; "but i'm not sure that it wouldn't be more miserable to be jolly." "try it. you'd give a lot to forget all about everything for an hour, wouldn't you?" "it would be pleasant." "you can do it." "by dropping asleep?" "sleep! that's the time i'm most miserable. i remember the old days then, and my mother, and--i say, jeffreys, i was once nearly drowned at eton. just as i was going down for the last time i put up my hand, and a fellow saw it and came in and fished me out. what a born fool i was to do it! i was grateful to the fellow at the time. i hate him now!" and the poor fellow, with all the manhood out of him, cried himself to sleep; and jeffreys in mercy said not a word to stop him. a pitiful sort of friendship sprung up between the two--the bitter strong one, and the vicious weak one. it kept a soft corner in jeffreys' heart to find some one who held to him even in this degradation, and to the poor prodigal it was worth anything to have some one to talk to. coming home one wet morning from one of his nocturnal expeditions, jeffreys found his fellow-lodger up, with a bottle in his hands. "my boy, my boy," cried the lad, "you're in luck, and just in time. who says i'm lost to all decency after this? why, i might have hidden it away when i heard you coming up. no. there's something of the nobleman left in me yet. half of this is yours, jeffreys; only help yourself quickly, man, or i may repent." he held out the bottle tremblingly and with a wince that spoke volumes. "take it. i never went halves before, and perhaps i never shall again." jeffreys took the bottle. it was brandy. "half a tumbler of that, jeffreys, will make another man of you. it will send you into dreamland. you'll forget there is such a thing as misery in the world. don't be squeamish, old fellow. you're cold and weak, you know you are; you ought to take it. you're not too good, surely--eh? man alive, if you never do anything worse than take a drop of brandy, you'll pass muster. come, i say, you're keeping me waiting." jeffreys sunk on a chair, and raised the bottle half-way to his lips. what was it, as he did so, which flashed before his eyes and caused him suddenly to set it down and rise to his feet? nothing real, it is true, yet nothing new. just a momentary glimpse of a boy's pale face somewhere in the dim gloom of that little room, and then all was as before. yet to jeffreys the whole world was suddenly altered. he set the bottle down, and neither heeding nor hearing the expostulations of his companion, he left the house never to return. that night he slept in another part of the town; and the poor bewildered prodigal, deserted by his only friend, cried half the night through, and cursed again the eton boy who had once saved his life. jeffreys, hidden in another part of the great city, sunk to a lower depth of misery than ever. to him it seemed now that his bad name had taken form in the face of young forrester, and was dogging him in adversity more relentlessly even than in prosperity. it comforted him not at all to think it had saved him from a drunkard's ruin. he despised himself, when he came to himself, for having been scared so weakly. yet he avoided his old quarters, and turned his back on the one friend he had, rather than face his evil genius again. his evil genius! was he blinded then, that he saw in all this nothing but evil and despair? was he so numbed that he could not feel a father's hand leading him even through the mist? had he forgotten that two little boys far away were praying for him? had he ceased to feel that young forrester himself might be somewhere, not far away, ready to forgive? he was blinded, and could see nothing through the mists. he half envied his new fellow-lodgers in the den at ratcliff. four of them, at least, stood a chance of being hanged. yet they managed to shake off care and live merrily. "come, old gallus," said one young fellow, who in that place was the hero of a recent "mystery" in the west end, "perk up. you're safe enough here. don't be down. we're all in the same boat. save up them long faces for eight o'clock in the morning at old bailey. don't spoil our fun." it was half pathetic, this appeal; and jeffreys for a day tried to be cheerful. but he could not do it, and considerately went somewhere else. how long was it to go on? a time came when he could get no work, and starvation stared him in the face. but a dying boy bequeathed him a loaf, and once again he was doomed to live. but a loaf, and the proceeds of a week's odd jobs, came to an end. and now once more, as he sits in the rain in regent's park, he faces something more than the weather. he has not tasted food for two whole days, and for all he knows may never taste it again. so he sits there, with his eyes still on that football ground, and his ears ringing still with the merry shouts of the departed boys. the scene changes as he stays on. it is a football field still, but not the brown patch in a london park. there are high trees, throwing shadows across the green turf, and in the distance an old red school- house. and the boys are no longer the lively london urchins with their red, white, and blue bouncer. they are in flannels, and their faces are familiar, and the names they call each other he knows. nor is the game the same. it, like the london boys' game, has ended suddenly, but not in a helter-skelter stampede in the rain. no. it is a silent, awe- struck group round something on the ground; and as he, jeffreys, elbows his way among them, he sees again a boy's face lying there pallid and perhaps lifeless. then instinctively he lifts his hands to his ears. for a howl rises on all sides which deafens him, stuns him. after all, it is only the last effort of the october squall in regent's park buffeting him with a fusillade of rain and withered leaves. he takes his hands from his ears, and with a sigh gets up and walks away, he cares not whither. his steps lead him round the park and into the long avenue. the rain and the wind are dying down, and already a few wayfarers, surprised by the sudden storm, are emerging from their shelters and speeding home. the park-keeper boldly parades the path in his waterproof, as if he had braved the elements since daybreak. a nursemaid draws out her perambulator from under the trees and hastens with it and its wailing occupant nursery-wards. and there, coming to meet him, sheltered under one umbrella, are two who perhaps have no grudge against the storm for detaining them in their walk that afternoon. it is long since jeffreys has seen anything to remind him of the world he has left, but there is something about these two as they advance towards him, their faces hidden by the umbrella, which attracts him. the youth is slim and well-dressed, and holds himself well; his companion's figure reminds him of a form he knew--can it be only six months ago?--light, gentle, courageous, beside which he has walked in the wildtree park and on the london pavements. ah, how changed now! where, he wonders, is _she_ now? and what is she thinking of him, if she thinks of him at all? they meet--the tramp and the young couple. they never heed him; how should they? but a turn of the umbrella gives him a momentary glimpse of them, and in that glimpse poor hapless jeffreys recognises raby and scarfe! surely this blow was not needed to crush him completely! scarfe! how long he stood, statue-like, looking down the path by which they had gone neither he nor any one else could tell. but it was dark when he was roused by a harsh voice in front of him. "come, sheer off, young fellow! it's time you was out of the park!" "yes, i'll go," said he, and walked slowly to the gate. it was ridiculous of him, of course, to writhe as he did under that chance meeting. what else could he have expected? a hundred times already he had told himself she had forgotten all about him, or, worse still, she remembered him only to despise him. and a hundred times, too, he had seen her in fancy beside the enemy who had stabbed him. for scarfe might have spared his precaution in begging mrs rimbolt not to name him as jeffreys' accuser. jeffreys needed no telling to whom he owed his ruin, and he needed no telling the reason why. that reason had made itself clear this afternoon, at any rate, and as the wretched outcast wandered out into the night, it seemed as if the one ray of light which yesterday had glimmered for him, even across the darkness, was now quenched for ever, and that there was nothing left either to hope or dread. he could not quit the park, but wandered round and round it, outside its inhospitable palings, covering mile after mile of wet pavement, heedless of the now drenching rain, heedless of his hunger, heedless of his failing limbs. the noisy streets had grown silent, and a clock near at hand had struck two when he found himself on the little bridge which crosses the canal. it was too dark to see the water below, but he heard the hard rain hissing on its surface. he had stood there before, in happier days, and wondered how men and women could choose, as they sometimes did, to end their misery in that narrow streak of sluggish water. he wondered less now. not that he felt tempted to follow them; in his lowest depths of misery that door of escape had never allured him. yet as he stood he felt fascinated, and even soothed, by the ceaseless noise of the rain on the invisible water beneath. it seemed almost like the voice of a friend far away. he had been listening for some time, crouched in a dark corner of the parapet, when he became aware of footsteps approaching. imagining at first they were those of a policeman coming to dislodge the tramp from his lurking-place, he prepared to get up and move on. but listening again he remained where he was. the footsteps were not those of a policeman. they approached fitfully, now quickly, now slowly, now stopping still for a moment or two, yet they were too agitated for those of a drunkard, and too uncertain for those of a fugitive from justice. as they drew near to the bridge they stopped once more, and jeffreys, peering through the darkness, saw a form clutching the railings, and looking down in the direction of the water. then a voice groaned, "oh my god!" and the footsteps hurried on. jeffreys had seen misery in many forms go past him before, but something impelled him now to rise and follow the footsteps of this wanderer. the plashing rain drowned every sound, and it was with difficulty that jeffreys, weak and weary as he was, could keep pace with the figure flitting before him, for after that glance over the bridge the fugitive no longer halted in his pace, but went on rapidly. across the bridge he turned and followed the high banks of the canal. then he halted, apparently looking for a way down. it was a long impatient search, but at last jeffreys saw him descend along some railings which sloped down the steep grass slope almost to the towing- path. jeffreys followed with difficulty, and when at last he stood on the towing-path the fugitive was not to be seen, nor was it possible to say whether he had turned right or left. jeffreys turned to the right, and anxiously scanning both the bank and the water, tramped along the muddy path. a few yards down he came upon a heap of stones piled up across the path. any one clambering across this must have made noise enough to be heard twenty yards away, and, as far as he could judge in the darkness, no one had stepped upon it. he therefore turned back hurriedly and retraced his steps. the sullen water, hissing still under the heavy rain, gave no sign as he ran along its edge and scanned it with anxious eyes. the high bank on his left, beyond the palings, became inaccessible from below. the wanderer must, therefore, be before him on the path. for five minutes he ran on, straining his eyes and ears, when suddenly he stumbled. it was a hat upon the path. in a moment jeffreys dived into the cold water. as he came to the surface and looked round there was nothing but the spreading circles of his own plunge to be seen; but a moment afterwards, close to the bank, he had a glimpse of something black rising for an instant and then disappearing. three strokes brought him to the spot just as the object rose again. to seize it and strike out for the bank was the work of a moment. the man--for it was he--was alive, and as jeffreys slowly drew him from the water he opened his eyes and made a faint resistance. "let me go!" he said with an oath; "let me go!" but his head fell heavily on his rescuer's shoulder while he spoke, and when at last he lay on the path he was senseless. jeffreys carried him to the shelter of an arch, and there did what he could to restore animation. it was too dark to see the man's face, but he could feel his pulse still beating, and presently he gave a sigh and moved his head. "what did you do it for?" he said piteously. jeffreys started. he knew the voice, hoarse and choked as it was. "what's your name?" he said, raising the form in his arms and trying to see the face. "who are you?" "i've got no name! why couldn't you let me be?" "isn't your name trimble--jonah trimble?" the poor fellow lifted his head with a little shriek. "oh, don't give me up! don't have me taken up! help me!" "i will help you all i can, trimble." "why, you know me, then?--you're--who are you?" "i'm john jeffreys." chapter twenty four. an angel unawares. in a wretched garret of a house in storr alley, near euston, at the sick-bed of his old enemy, jeffreys reached a turning-point in his life. how he conveyed the half-drowned jonah on the night of the rescue from the canal bank to his lodgings he scarcely knew. the hand of a friend is often near when it is least expected. so jonah had found, when he believed all hope and life to be gone; and so jeffreys had found, when, with his poor burden in his arms, he met, beside a barge at daybreak, a dealer in vegetables for whom he had sometimes worked at covent garden, and who now, like a good samaritan, not only gave the two a lift in his cart, but provided jeffreys with an opportunity of earning a shilling on the way. this shilling worked marvels. for both trimble and jeffreys were on the verge of starvation; and without food that night rescue would have been but a farce. it was soon evident that jonah had far more the matter with him than the mere effects of his immersion. he was a wreck, body and soul. the dispensary doctor who called to see him gave him a fortnight to live, and the one or two brave souls who penetrated, on errands of mercy, even into storr alley, marked his hollow cough and sunken cheeks, and knew that before long one name more would drop out of their lists. it was slowly, and in fragments only, that jeffreys heard his story. jonah was for ever reproaching him with what had happened on the canal bank. "why couldn't you have left a fellow alone? i know, you wanted to gloat over me. go on, be as happy as you like. enjoy your revenge. i did you a bad turn; now you've done me one, so we're quits!" here a fit of coughing would shake the breath out of the sufferer, and it would be a minute or two before he could proceed. jeffreys wisely avoided all expostulations or self-excuse. he smoothed the poor fellow's pillow, and supported him in his arms till the cough was over and he could proceed. "it was a bad day you ever came to our school, john"--jonah had adopted the name by which jeffreys was known in storr alley--"i hated you the first time i saw you. you've got the laugh on your side now; but i can tell you you wouldn't have had it then if you knew the way i followed you up. yes"--and here came a shadow of his own sinister smile--"i made it all fit in like a puzzle. did you never miss a letter you had that day you called at the york post- office--a letter about the dead burying their dead, and young forrester? oh yes, you may start; i know all about it. i took that letter out of your pocket. and i know where you buried his body; do you suppose i didn't see you throw yourself on the very place and say, `it was here'? you held your nose in the air, didn't you, in the school, and palmed yourself off on freddy and teddy for a model? but i bowled you out. i showed you up. that was the day of my laugh. now you've got yours." the cough again stopped him; and when he recovered his breath jeffreys said quietly-- "don't talk, jonah; you bring on your cough. let me read to you." then for the remainder of that day the story would rest; till later on jonah would abruptly return to it. "mother believed in you, and cried a whole day after you had gone. yes, and you'll be glad to hear the school broke up all to pieces. farmer rosher took away his boys and spread a report about us; and at the end of a month we had scarcely a dozen urchins. mother and i lived like cat and dog. i struck work, and she had to do everything, and it broke her up. it would never have happened if you hadn't come into the place. i couldn't live there any longer. mother had a little bit saved, fifty pounds or so, and one night, after we had had a terrible row, i took every penny of it out of her money-box and came up to london. now are you pleased? hadn't she something to bless you for? i say, john, get us some water quick, i'm parched!" on another day jeffreys heard the rest. "i came up to london, but it wasn't the fun i expected. everybody i met i thought was a detective, and all night long i dreamed of my mother. i tried to drown it, and lived as wild a life as you like till my money was done. then it would have been worth your while to see me. everybody was against me. fellows i'd stood treat to kicked me out into the street, and fellows who owed me money laughed in my face. i thought i'd go back to york after all and get mother to take me back; but when i came to start i couldn't face it. that's all. i stood it as long as i could. i pawned everything, and when that was done i stole--and got three months on the treadmill. how do you like that? when i got out, a city missionary heard of me and found me a job; but i stole again, and ran away. you wouldn't have thought i had it in me at york, would you? i was a respectable young fellow there. but it was all there; and it was you brought it all out. last week i made up my mind to put an end to it all. it took me a struggle to face it; but i was settled to do it--and then, as if you hadn't done enough harm, you come and spoil my last chance." "not your last chance, jonah." "no. i've a week more to live. then you'll be rid of me. who's to save me then?" "some one, jonah. we have both forgotten him, but he's not forgotten us." "oh yes, i know," said jonah; "but it's all very well for you, who've got years to get right in. it's too short notice for me to begin all that over again. i don't want to hear about it." he lingered on day after day, and it was absolutely necessary for jeffreys to go and seek work in order to keep even that wretched roof above their heads. one evening when he returned with a few coppers, jonah met him with a face brighter than any that he had yet seen. "i've had some one here to-day. a better sort than you. one that's got a right to talk about what's better. a lady, john, or else an angel. did _you_ send her?" "i? no; i know no ladies." "i don't know how it was, i could tell her anything--and, i say, john, it would make you cry to hear her voice. it did me. _you_ never made me cry, or saw me; i hate to hear _you_ preach; but she--why, she doesn't preach at all, but she says all you've got to say a hundred times better." he was excited and feverish that night, and in his sleep murmured scraps of the gentle talk of his ministering angel, which even from his lips fell with a reflected sweetness on the trouble-tossed spirit of the watcher. jeffreys had succeeded in getting a temporary job which took him away during the next two days. but each night on his return he found his invalid brighter and softened in spirit by reason of his angel's visits. "she'll come to-morrow, john. there's magic in her, i tell you. i see things i never saw before. you've been kind to me, john, and given up a lot for me, but if you were to hear her--" here the dying youth could get no farther. he seemed much the same in the morning when jeffreys started for work. the last words he said as his friend departed were-- "she's coming again to-day." when jeffreys came home in the evening the garret was silent, and on the bed lay all that remained on earth of the poor wrecked life which had been so strangely linked with his own. as he stood over the lifeless body his eyes fell on a scrap of paper lying on the pillow. it was folded and addressed in pencil, "to the fellow-lodger." jeffreys caught it eagerly, and in a turmoil of agitation read the few lines within. "your friend was not alone when he died, peacefully, this afternoon. he left a message for you. `tell him he was right when he told me i had a chance. if it had not been for him i should have lost it.' he also said, `some day he may see mother and tell her about me. tell her i died better than i lived.' dear friend, whose name i do not know, don't lose heart. god is merciful, and will be your friend when every one else is taken from you." it was not the words of this touching little message from the dead which brought a gasp to jeffreys' throat and sent the colour from his cheeks as he read it. the writing, hasty and agitated as it was, was a hand he had seen before. he had in his pocket an envelope, well-worn now, addressed to him months ago in the same writing, and as he held the two side by side he knew raby had written both. he quitted the garret hurriedly, and entered the room of a family of five who lived below him. "mrs pratt," said he to the ragged woman who sat nursing her baby in the corner, "did you see who trimble had with him when he died?" "he's dead, then, sir"--these fellow-lodgers of jeffreys called him "sir" in spite of his misery. "i knew that cough couldn't last. my annie's begun with it: she'll go too. it's been hard enough to keep the children, but it will be harder to lose them!" she cried. jeffreys went to the bed where the little consumptive girl lay in a restless sleep, breathing heavily. "poor little annie!" said he; "i did not know she was so ill." "how could you? yes, i saw the lady come down--a pretty wee thing. she comes and goes here. maybe when she hears of annie she'll come to her." "do you know her name?" "no. she's a lady, they say. i heard her singing upstairs to trimble; it was a treat! so trimble's dead. you'll be glad of some help, i expect? if you'll mind the children, mr john, i'll go up and do the best we can for the poor fellow." and so jeffreys, with the baby in his arms, sat beside the little invalid in that lonely room, while the mother, putting aside her own sorrows, went up and did a woman's service where it was most needed. next day he had the garret to himself. that letter--how he treasured it!--changed life for him. he had expected, when jonah's illness ended, to drift back once more into the bitterness of despair. but that was impossible now. he made no attempt to see the angel of whose visits to the alley he now and again heard. indeed, whether he was in work or not, he left early and came back late on purpose to avoid a meeting. he had long been known by his neighbours only as john, so that there was no chance of her discovering who he was. sometimes the memory of that october day in regent's park came up to haunt him and poison even the comfort of the little letter. yet why should she not have forgotten him? and why should not scarfe, the man with a character, be more to her than he, the man with none? yet he tried bravely to banish all, save the one thought that it _was_ she who bade him hope and take courage. he worked well and patiently at the temporary manual labour on which he was employed, and when that came to an end he looked about resolutely for more. meanwhile--do not smile, reader--he made an investment of capital! in other words, he spent threepence in pen, ink, paper, and a candle, and spent one night in his lonely garret writing. it was a letter, addressed to a stranger, on a public question. in other words, it was an article to a london paper on, "life in a slum, by one who lives there." it was a quiet, unsensational paper, with some practical suggestions for the improvement of poor people's dwellings, and a few true stories of experiences in which the writer himself had taken a part. he dropped it doubtfully into the editor's box and tried to forget about it. he dared not look at the paper next day, and when two days passed and he heard nothing, he concluded that the bolt had missed fire. but it was not so. a week later, the postman entered storr alley--an unheard-of event--and left a letter. it contained a money order for ten shillings, and read:-- "the editor encloses ten shillings for the letter on slum life, contributed by mr john to the paper of the rd. he can take two more on the same subject at the same terms, and suggests that mr john should deal specially with--" and here the editor gave an outline of the topics on which the public would be most likely to desire information. with overflowing heart, and giving raby the credit, he sat down and wrote the two articles. his first half-sovereign went in a deed of mercy. little annie lay dead in her bed the night it arrived. jeffreys that morning, before he started to work, had watched the little spark of life flicker for the last time and go out. the mother, worn-out by her constant vigils, lay ill beside her dead child. the father, a drunkard, out of work, deserted the place, and the two other children, the baby, and the sister scarcely more than baby, wailed all day for cold and hunger. what could he do but devote the first-fruits of his pen to these companions in distress? the half-sovereign sufficed for the child's funeral, with a little over for the sick mother. for the rest, he took the baby to his own garret for a night or two, and tended it there as best he could. the two fresh letters to the paper in due time brought a sovereign; but at the same time a chilling notification to the effect that the editor did not need further contributions, and would let mr john know if at any future time he required his services. it was the abrupt closing of one door of promise. still jeffreys, with hope big within him, did not sit and fret. literary work might yet be had, and meanwhile bodily labour must be endured. towards the beginning of december, any one taking up one of the london penny papers might have observed, had he been given to the study of such matters, three advertisements. here they are in their proper order:-- "should this meet the eye of john jeffreys, late private secretary to a gentleman in cumberland, he is earnestly requested to communicate with his friend and late employer." readers of the agony column were getting tired of this advertisement. it had appeared once a week for the last six months, and was getting stale by this time. the next advertisement was more recent, but still a trifle dull:-- "gerard forrester. "if gerard forrester (son of the late captain forrester, of the-- hussars) who was last heard of at bolsover school, in october, --, where he met with a serious accident, should see this, he is requested to communicate with messrs. wilkins & wilkins, solicitors, blank street, w.c., from whom he will hear something to his advantage. any person able to give satisfactory information leading to the discovery of the said gerard forrester, or, in the event of his death, producing evidence of his decease, will be liberally rewarded." the third advertisement, in another column, appeared now for the first time:-- "a young man, well educated, and a careful student of bibliography, is anxious for literary work. searches made and extracts copied.--apply, j., a, storr alley, w.c." it would have puzzled any ordinary observer to detect in these three appeals anything to connect them together. jeffreys, however, glancing down the columns of the borrowed paper for a sight of his own advertisement, started and turned pale as his eye fell first on his own name, then on forrester's. it was like a conspiracy to bewilder and baffle him at the moment when hope seemed to be returning. he had convinced himself that his one chance was to break with every tie which bound him to his old life, and to start afresh from the lowest step of all. and here, at the outset, there met him two calls from that old life, both of which it was hard to resist. mr rimbolt, he decided to resist at all hazards. he still shuddered as he recalled the stiff rustle of a certain silk dress in clarges street, and preferred his present privations a hundredfold. even the thought of percy, and the library, and mr rimbolt's goodness, could not efface that one overpowering impression. the other advertisement perplexed and agitated him more. who was this unknown person on whose behalf messrs. wilkins & wilkins were seeking information respecting young forrester? it might be scarfe, or mr frampton, or possibly some unheard-of relative, interested in the disposal of the late gallant officer's effects. he could not assist the search. the little he knew was probably already known to the lawyers, yet it excited him wildly to think that some one besides himself was in search of the lad whose memory had haunted him for so many months, and whom, even in his most despairing moments, he had never quite given up for lost. true, he had long since ceased to believe that he was really to be found by searching. everything combined to baffle search, almost to forbid it, and yet he had constantly lived in a vague expectation of finding or hearing of him some day accidentally and unawares. but this advertisement filled him with self-reproach. what right had he to do anything, to rest a day, till he had found this lost boy--lost by his fault, by his sin? no wonder he had not prospered. no wonder the bad name had haunted him and dragged him down! one thing was certain-- whether what he knew was known to others or not, it was his duty to aid now in this new search. so he wrote as follows to messrs. wilkins & wilkins:-- "_private and confidential_. "the writer of this knew gerard forrester at bolsover school two years ago, and was responsible almost wholly for the accident referred to. the writer left bolsover in consequence, and has not seen forrester since. in may of the following year he made inquiries at grangerham, forrester's native place, where he ascertained that the boy had been removed there from bolsover and had remained for some time with his grandmother, mrs wilcox. mrs wilcox, however, was ordered to the south for her health, and died at torquay. forrester, who appears to have been a cripple, and unable to help himself, was then left in charge of his old nurse, who left grangerham shortly afterwards, it is said, in order to take the boy to a hospital--where, no one could say. that is the last the writer heard. messrs. w. & w. might do well to apply to the clergyman and wesleyan minister at grangerham, who may have some later news. the writer would be thankful to be of any service in helping to find one whom he has so terribly wronged; and any letter addressed `j., at jones's coffee-house, drury lane,' will find him. "it should be said that when forrester was last seen, only faint hopes were held out as to his recovery, even as a cripple." an anxious time followed. it was hard to work as usual--harder still to wait. the idea of forrester being after all found took strange possession of his mind, to the exclusion of all else. the prospect which had seemed to open before him appeared suddenly blocked; he could think of nothing ahead except that one possible meeting. so preoccupied was he, that his own advertisement for work was forgotten the day after it appeared; and when two days later he found a letter pushed under the door, his heart leaped to his mouth with the conviction that it could refer to nothing but the one object before him. it did not; it was a reply to his advertisement. "j-- is requested to call to-morrow, at a.m., on mr trotter, , porson square, in reference to his advertisement for literary work." with some trepidation, and no particular expectations, jeffreys presented himself at the appointed time, and found himself face to face with a testy little gentleman, with by no means large pretensions to literary authority. he took in the shabby-looking advertiser at a glance, and suited his tone accordingly. "so you're the chap, are you? you're the nice educated literary chap that wants a job, eh?" "i am." "what can you do? write poetry?" "i never tried." "write 'istory, or 'igh hart, and that sort of thing?" "i have not tried. i know mostly about bibliography." "bibli--who? you'll turn your 'and to anything for a crust, i suppose. do you ever do anything in the puff line?" jeffreys admitted he had not. "'cos i want a chap to crack up my `polyglot pickle' in proper literary style. none of your commonplace maunderings, but something smart and startling. what do you say? can you do it or not?" jeffreys heart sank low. "i'll try--" "can you do it?" demanded the proud inventor. "yes," said jeffreys desperately. "all right," said mr trotter, greatly relieved. "i want a book of twenty pages. write anything you like, only bring the pickles in on each page. you know the style. twenty blood-curdling ballads, or aesop's fables, or something the public's bound to read. something racy, mind, and all ending in the pickle. it's a good thing, so you needn't be afraid of overdoing it. you shall have a bob a page, money down, or twenty-five bob for the lot if you let me have it this time to- morrow. remember, nothing meek and mild. lay it on thick. they're the best thing going, and got a good name. polyglot, that's many tongues; everybody tastes 'em." jeffreys, with a dismal sense of the humour of the situation, accepted his noble task meekly, and sat down in mr trotter's back room with a bottle of the pickles on the table before him. the reader shall be spared the rubbish he wrote. to this day he flares up angrily if you so much as mention the polyglot pickle to him. the public, who laughed next week over the ridiculous bathos of those twenty loud-sounding ballads, little guessed the misery and disgust they had cost their author. the one part of the whole business that was not odious was that in six hours jeffreys had twenty-five shillings in his pocket; and to him twenty-five shillings meant a clear week and more in which to devote himself to the now all-absorbing task of seeking young forrester. on his way back to storr alley that evening he called as usual at the coffee-house, and found a further letter awaiting him:-- "messrs. wilkins & wilkins will be much obliged if the writer of the letter of the sixth inst. will favour them with a call on wednesday forenoon, as he may be able to assist them materially in the search in which they are engaged. messrs. w. & w. will treat an interview as confidential." chapter twenty five. high dudgeon. things had not been going well with percy rimbolt since we saw him last, six or eight months ago, just before jeffreys' expulsion from the house in clarges street. mrs rimbolt had some reason to modify her self- congratulations on that occasion, when percy and raby, who, it will be remembered, had been out riding at the time, returned home. percy returned in high spirits; his new horse had turned out a beauty, and the canter in the park had acted like a tonic. "hullo, mother!" he said, as his parent came into the hall to meet him. "we've had a grand time, raby and i. we saw the prince of wales and w.g. grace, and the queen, and everybody, and i gave raby two hundred yards from the corner and ran her down before we were off knightsbridge, and nearly got hauled up for furious riding. i say, i mean to make father get a horse for old jeff, and we'll go out early in the mornings, when the row's empty, and try handicaps, eh, raby? where's jeff, i say?" and he ran whistling upstairs. his mother, with some premonitory misgivings followed him. "where are you, jeff?" she heard him shout. "i say, mother," he added, as mrs rimbolt approached, "where's jeff? is he out?" "he is," said mrs rimbolt solemnly. "i want to speak to you, percy." "all right. but i say, when will he be in? he said he couldn't leave his work this afternoon. i want him to see bendigo before he goes round to the stables." "you had better tell the groom he need not wait, and then please come to my room, percy," said mrs rimbolt. percy shouted down to walker to send away the horse, and followed his mother into her boudoir. "percy, my dear boy," began the lady, "i am sorry to say i have just had to perform a very unpleasant duty. you can hardly understand--" "what about--anything about jeff?" interrupted the boy, jumping at the truth. "it is. it has been necessary, for everybody's sake, that he should leave here." "what!" thundered percy, turning pale and clutching the back of his chair; "you've sent jeff away--kicked him out?" "come, percy, don't be unreasonable. i--" "when did he go--how long ago?" exclaimed the boy, half frantic. "percy, you really--" "how long ago?" "it is more than an hour since--" percy waited to hear no more; he dashed down the stairs and shouted to walker. "did you see jeffreys go? which way did he go?" "i didn't see--" "come and help me look for him, he's sure to be about. tell appleby, do you hear? raby, i say," he exclaimed, as his cousin appeared in the hall, "jeff's been kicked out an hour ago! i'm going to find him!" and the poor lad, with a heart almost bursting, flung open the door and rushed out into the street. alas! it was a fool's errand, and he knew it. still, he could not endure to do nothing. after two weary hours he gave it up, and returned home dispirited and furious. walker and appleby had taken much less time to appreciate the uselessness of the search, and had returned an hour ago from a perfunctory walk round one or two neighbouring streets. our young achilles, terrible in his wrath, would see no one, not even his mother, not even raby. once or twice that evening they heard the front door slam, and knew he once more was on the look-out. mrs rimbolt, alarmed at the storm which she had raised, already repented of her haste, and telegraphed to mr rimbolt to come to london. raby, bewildered and miserable, shut herself up in her room and was seen by no one. it was a wretched night for everybody; and when next morning mrs rimbolt, sitting down to breakfast, was met with the news that neither master percy nor miss raby wanted breakfast, she began to feel that the affair was being overdone. when mr rimbolt arrived, though he concealed his feelings better, he was perhaps the most mortified of all at the wretched misadventure which during his absence had turned jeffreys adrift beyond recall. he had known his secretary's secret, and had held it sacred even from his wife. and watching jeffreys' brave struggle to live down his bad name, he had grown to respect and even admire him, and to feel a personal interest in the ultimate success of his effort. now, a miserable accident, which, had he been at home, could have been prevented by a word, had wrecked the work and the hopes of years, and put beyond mr rimbolt's power all further chance of helping it on. about a week after mr rimbolt's return, when all but percy were beginning to settle down again into a semblance of their old order of things, raby knocked at her uncle's door and inquired if he was busy. she looked happier than he had seen her since his return. the reason was easy to guess. the post had brought her a letter from her father. "i thought you would like to see it," said she. "he has got leave at last, and expects to be home at the end of september. will you read the letter?" added she, colouring; "there's something else in it i should like you to see." the letter was chiefly about the prospects of coming home. towards the close lieutenant-colonel atherton (for he had got promotion) wrote: "you ask me to tell you about poor forrester and his family." "he had no wife alive, and when he died did not know what had become of his only son. the boy was at school in england--bolsover school--and met with an accident, caused, it is said, by the spite of a schoolfellow, which nearly killed him, and wholly crippled him. he was taken home to his grandmother's, but after she died he disappeared, and poor forrester had been unable to hear anything about him. it is a sad story. i promised forrester when i got home i would do what i could to find the boy and take care of him. you will help, won't you?" raby watched her uncle as he read the passage, and then asked,-- "i asked father to tell me something about the forresters, uncle, because some one--it was mr scarfe--had told me that he believed captain forrester was the father of an old schoolfellow of his at bolsover who had a bad accident." "is that all he told you?" asked her uncle. "no," said raby, flushing; "he told me that mr jeffreys had been the cause of the accident." "that was so," said mr rimbolt. "sit down, child, and i'll tell you all about it." and her uncle told her what he had heard from mr frampton, and what jeffreys had suffered in consequence; how he had struggled to atone for the past, and what hopes had been his as to the future. raby's face glowed more and more as she listened. it was a different soldier's tale from what she was used to; but still it moved her pity and sympathy strangely. "it's a sad story, as your father says," concluded mr rimbolt; "but the sadness does not all belong to young forrester." raby's eyes sparkled. "no, indeed," said she; "it is like shipwreck within sight of the harbour." "we can only hope there may be some hand to save him even from these depths," said mr rimbolt; "for, from what i know of jeffreys, he will find it hard now to keep his head above water. of course, raby, i have only told you this because you have heard the story from another point of view which does poor jeffreys injustice." "i am so grateful to you," said the girl. mr rimbolt let her go without saying more. even the man of books had eyes that could see; and raby's face during this interview had told a tale of something more than casual sympathy. the season dragged on, and nothing occurred to mend matters at clarges street. percy moped and could settle down to nothing. he spurned his books, he neglected his horse, and gave up the river entirely. it was vain to reason or expostulate with him, and after a couple of months his parents marked with anxiety that the boy was really ill. yet nothing would induce him to quit london. even his father's offer to take him abroad for a few weeks did not tempt him. raby herself made the final appeal the day before they started. "percy, dear, won't you come for my sake?" said she. "if i came for anybody i would for you," replied he, "but i can't." "but i had so looked forward to you seeing father." "i'll see him as soon as he gets to town." "it will spoil my pleasure so much," said she. "i shall be miserable thinking of you." "you're an awful brick, raby; but don't bother about me. you'd all be ever so much more miserable if i came, and so should i." "but what good can it do?" pleaded his cousin. "i don't know--he might turn up. i might find him after all. if it hadn't been for your father coming, raby--i'd have begged you to stay too. he'd be more likely to come if he knew _you_ were here." raby flushed. between percy and his cousin there was no hypocrisy. "oh, percy," she said, "do you want to make me fifty times more miserable?" and she gave up further attempt to move him. the travellers were away a month, during which time percy kept his lonely vigil at clarges street. as the reader knows, it was useless. jeffreys was never near the place, and the lad, watching day after day, began slowly to lose hope. but that month's experience was not wholly wasted. memories of bygone talks with his friend, of good advice given, and quiet example unheeded at the time, crowded in on percy's memory now; adding to his sense of loss, certainly, but reminding him that there was something else to be done than mope and fret. what would jeffreys have had him do? he often asked himself; and the answer was plain and direct--work. that had always been jeffreys' cure for everything. that is what he would have done himself, and that is what percy, chastened by his loss, made up his mind to now. he got out his old books and his tools, and doggedly took up the work where he had left it. it was uphill, cheerless work, but he was better for it, and the memory of his lost friend became none the less dear for the relief it brought him. only one incident marked his solitary month at clarges street--that was a visit from scarfe about a fortnight after the travellers had gone. percy had a very shrewd guess, although he had never heard it in so many words, who was responsible for jeffreys' disgrace and dismissal; and that being so, it is not to be wondered at that his welcome of the visitor was not very cordial. "look here," said he, as scarfe entered, and making no movement to return his greeting, "is it true you were the fellow who told mother about jeff, and had him sent away from here?" "my dear percy--" "i'm not your dear percy! did you tell mother that story about jeffreys?" "why, percy, you don't mean to say--" "shut up! you can yes or no, can't you?" "i did my duty, and it's a mercy you're all rid of him!" said scarfe, losing temper at being thus browbeaten by a boy of percy's age. "very well, you can go! you're a cad, and you're not wanted here!" said percy. "you young prig!" began the visitor; but percy stopped him. "look here," said he, "if you want to fight, say so, and come on! if you don't, go! you're a cad!" scarfe was staggered by this outbreak; he never suspected the boy had it in him. he tried to turn the matter off with a laugh. "come, don't be a muff, percy! you and i are old friends--" "we're not; we're enemies!" "you mean to say," said scarfe, with a snarl, "you're going to throw me up for the sake of a--" "don't say a word about jeff!" said percy, white-hot, and springing to his feet; "if you do i'll have you pitched neck and crop into the street! hook it! no one asked you here, and you're not wanted!" "i came to see your mother," said scarfe. "i can't congratulate you, percy, on your hospitality, but i can hope you'll be better next time i come." percy went out after him, and called down the staircase to walker, "walker, give mr scarfe a glass of wine and some grub before he goes." the taunt about hospitality had stung him, and this was how he relieved his conscience on that point. scarfe was not the only visitor percy had. the evening before the travellers were expected home walker announced that a gentleman had called inquiring for mr rimbolt, but hearing he was from home, desired to speak with his son. percy, ready to clutch at any straw of hope, and jumping at once to the conclusion that the only business on which any one could possibly call at the house was about jeffreys, told walker to show the gentleman up. he was a dark, handsome man, with a few streaks of grey in his hair, and a keen, cold look in his eye which percy mistrusted. "we're old friends, i fancy," said he, nodding to the boy as he entered. "at least, i fancy i saw you sixteen or seventeen years ago." "i must have been jolly young then," said percy. "you were--about a week. your father and i were college friends. i gave him up as a deserter when he married, and might have cut his acquaintance altogether, only as he happened to marry my sister, i was bound to keep up appearances and come and inspect my nephew when he made his appearance." "you're my uncle halgrove, then? i thought you were dead." "i sympathise keenly with your disappointment. i am alive and well, and hoped to find my brother-in-law at home." "they'll be back to-morrow," said percy. "have you dined, my boy?" "no, not yet." "that's well; they can lay for two. i'll sleep here to-night." percy scrutinised his uncle critically. "look here, uncle," he said, rather nervously, "it may be all right, you know, and i'd be awfully sorry not to be civil. but i never saw you before, and didn't know you were alive. so i think you'd better perhaps stay at your hotel to-night and come to-morrow, when they all come home. do you mind?" "mind?" said mr halgrove. "i'm delighted if you are. you prefer solitude, so do i. or perhaps you've been a naughty boy, and are left behind for your sins." "i've stayed behind because i didn't want to go," said percy. "well," said mr halgrove, "i am sure your relatives are the sufferers by your decision. by the way, one of the things i came to see your father about was to ask him to help me out of a money difficulty. i've just landed from america, and my remittances are not here to meet me. consequently i am in the ridiculous position of not being able to pay for the luxury of an hotel. but i understand there are nice clean railway-arches at victoria, and that crusts are frequently to be met with in the gutters if one keeps his eye open." percy was perplexed. "do you mean you're really hard up?" said he, "because if you really are, of course you'd better put up here." "but i may be a fraud, you know. i may rob the house and murder you in your bed," said his uncle, "and that would be a pity." "i'll take my chance of that," said percy. and so it happened that the house in clarges street had a visitor on the last night of percy's lonely month. the boy and his uncle began the evening with a great deal of suspicion and mutual aversion. but it wore off as the hours passed. mr halgrove had a fund of stories to tell, and the boy was a good listener; and when at last they adjourned to bed they were on friendly terms. percy, however, took the precaution to take away the front-door key, so that the visitor could not abscond from the house during the night without his knowledge. the precaution was unnecessary. mr halgrove rang his bell for shaving water at ten next morning with the confidence of one who had lived in the house all his life. a few hours later the travellers arrived in london. chapter twenty six. hide and seek. percy was in considerable difficulty as to the ceremonies to be observed in welcoming his family home. for he had no notion of leaving the house in possession of his suspicious uncle while he went down to the station. nor could he bear the idea of not being at the station to meet them. so he compromised matters by taking his complaisant relative with him, much to that gentleman's amusement. it relieved him considerably, when the train arrived, to see that his mother recognised the stranger, though not effusively, as her veritable brother. he was thus able to devote his whole attention to his other uncle, whom he found considerably more interesting. colonel atherton arrived in high spirits, like a schoolboy home for a holiday. he struck up an alliance with percy at once, and insisted on taking him off to the apartments near regent's park which were to be his and raby's home for the next few months. as he was saying good-bye to the rimbolts, he caught sight for the first time of mr halgrove. "why, bless me, is that you, halgrove?" he said. "why, i've worn mourning for you, my boy. this is a bit of sharp practice. where did you spring from?" "perhaps i'm a ghost, after all. so many people have told me lately i'm dead, that i begin to believe it." "never fear. if you were a ghost we should be able to see through you-- that's more than anybody ever did with halgrove, eh, rimbolt?" "halgrove is coming home with us," said mr rimbolt, "so when you and raby come to-morrow we can talk over old times." "who would have thought of him turning up?" said the colonel to his daughter as with percy they drove off in their cab. "why, i've not heard of him since that affair of poor jeffreys, and--" "jeffreys!" exclaimed percy, with a suddenness that startled the gallant officer; "did you say jeffreys?" "yes, what about him? it was long before your time--a dozen or fourteen years ago." "why, he couldn't have been more than eight then; what happened to him, uncle, i say?" the boy asked his question so eagerly and anxiously that it was evident it was not a case of idle curiosity. "you must be meaning the son; i'm talking about the father. wait till we get home, my boy, and you shall hear." it required all percy's patience to wait. the very mention of his friend's name had excited him. it never occurred to him there were hundreds of jeffreys in the world, and that his uncle and he might be interested in quite different persons. for him there was but one jeffreys in the universe, and he jumped at any straw of hope of finding him. the reader knows all colonel atherton was able to tell percy and raby-- for raby was not an uninterested listener--of the story of mr halgrove's partner. percy in turn told what he knew of his jeffreys; and putting the two stories together, it seemed pretty clear it was a history of parent and son. early next morning the colonel was at clarges street, seated in the study with his two old college friends. "well," said he, "here's a case of we three meeting again with a vengeance. and what have you been up to, halgrove, these twenty years? no good, i'll be bound." "i have at least managed to keep clear of matrimony," said mr halgrove, "which is more than either of you virtuous family men can say." "ah, well," said the colonel, with a sigh, "that's not all misfortune-- witness my sweet daughter and rimbolt's fine boy. what have you got to show against that?" "nothing, i confess." "by the way, though, haven't you? the last i heard of you was in the papers; a record of a generous act on your part. you had adopted the son of an unfortunate partner of yours who had died. is he still with you?" "no," said mr halgrove; "that turned out an unfortunate speculation in every way." "did the boy bolt?" "not exactly. i sent him to a first-rate school, where he distinguished himself in a way of his own by an act of homicide." "what?" exclaimed the colonel; and mr rimbolt suddenly became attentive. "yes. he either quite or very nearly did for a young schoolfellow in a fit of the tantrums, and found it convenient to quit the place rather abruptly." "what was the name of the school?" asked mr rimbolt quietly. "bolsover, in --shire." "singular!" exclaimed the colonel. "i had a chum in india who had a boy at that very school." here the speaker became aware of a sharp kick under the table and a significant look from mr rimbolt. the old soldier was used to obey the word of command at a moment's notice and pulled up now. "i should think a thing like that would be very bad for the school," said mr rimbolt quietly, and in an off-hand way. "fatal," said mr halgrove. "i believe bolsover went to the dogs after it." "and so you had--you had young--what was his name?" "jeffreys." "young jeffreys on your hands?" "scarcely. we parted company. as i told him, i never was particular, but a man must draw the line somewhere, and i drew it at manslaughter." "what became of him?" "well, before i went abroad he was usher in a dame school in york. he may be there still, unless by this time all his pupils are devoured." "very unpleasant business for you," said mr rimbolt. "and," asked the colonel, with a wink at his brother-in-law, "did he, like the prodigal, take his portion of goods with him? i mean what his father left him." mr halgrove for a moment raised his brows uncomfortably. "no," said he; "benjamin jeffreys was an eccentric man, and invested his money in eccentric securities. his son's money, like the lad himself, went to the dogs, and left me decidedly out of pocket by my term of guardianship. i really advise neither of you to indulge your philanthropy in adopting somebody else's sons; it doesn't pay." "yours certainly was not a lucky experience," said mr rimbolt; "however, when you were last heard of, fame reported that you could afford to drop a little." "_fama volat_, and so does money. no one could repeat the libel now with truth. the fact is, this visit to an old college friend is a trifle interested. my journey to the west has turned out badly, and, greatly as i should like it, i could not offer to lend either of you fellows a hundred pounds at this present moment. so i hope you won't ask me." the talk here took a financial turn, and mrs rimbolt presently joining the party, she and her brother were left to themselves while mr rimbolt and the colonel took a short stroll. mr rimbolt took the opportunity of telling his brother-in-law what he knew, not only of jeffreys but of young forrester, and the colonel told him of his obligation to find if possible the child of his dead companion-in-arms. "it's a mixed-up business altogether," said he, "and from all i can judge something of a family matter. my little girl, rimbolt, whom you've been so good to, seems to me more interested in this librarian of yours than she would like any one to suspect--eh?" "i have fancied so," said mr rimbolt, "sometimes." "pleasant to come home and find everybody in the dumps about some person one has never seen. the sooner the rascal comes to light, the better for everybody and for my holiday. by the way, rimbolt, that struck me as fishy about jeffreys' money, didn't it you?" "it did. i had never heard anything about halgrove having a partner." "i had. he went out of his mind and died by his own hand; but from what i knew of halgrove then, i should say it was _he_ who had a weakness for eccentric speculations. however, the money's gone; so it's all the same for young jeffreys." raby found her life at regent's park very different from that either at wildtree or clarges street. colonel atherton was a man who hated ceremony of any kind, and had a great idea of letting everybody do as they chose. raby consequently found herself her own mistress in a way she had never experienced before. it was not altogether a delightful sensation; for though she loved her father's companionship and the care of looking after his wants, she often felt the time hang heavy on her hands. the colonel had a number of old friends to look up, and a great deal of business to do; and raby, used to company of some sort, found his absences lonely. percy was often at the house, but he in his present dismal mood was poor company. his one topic was jeffreys; and that to raby was the last topic on which she felt drawn to talk to any one. when, therefore, a neighbour suggested to her one day to give an hour or two a week to visiting the poor of the district, raby hailed the proposal gladly. it was work she had been used to at wildtree, and to which she had already had yearnings in london, though mrs rimbolt had opposed it. "mind? not a bit," said her father, when she broached the subject to him, "as long as you don't get small-pox or get into mischief. i should like to be a denizen of a slum myself, for the pleasure of getting a visit from you." and so the girl began her work of charity, spending generally an hour a day, under the direction of her friend, in some of the closely packed alleys near. as she made a point of being home always to welcome her father in the afternoon, her visits were generally paid early in the day, when the men would be away at work and when the chief claimants on her help and pity would be the poor women and children left behind, with sometimes a sick or crippled man unable to help himself. it was often sad, often depressing work. but the brave girl with a heart full of love faced it gladly, and felt herself the happier for it day by day. it was on an afternoon shortly after this new work had been begun that she was overtaken by a sudden october squall as she was hurrying back through regent's park towards home. the morning had been fine, and she had neither cloak nor umbrella. no cab was within sight; and there was nothing for it but to stand up under a tree till the rain stopped, or walk boldly through it. she was just debating this question with herself when she became aware of an umbrella over her, and a voice at her side saying,-- "this is most fortunate. miss atherton. who would have thought of meeting you here?" it was scarfe; and raby would sooner have met any one else in the world. "thank you," said she, "i shall be quite sheltered under this tree. don't let me detain you." "nonsense!" said he; "you know i am delighted to be detained so pleasantly. won't you come farther under the trees?" "no, i must be home, thank you. i don't want to be late." but just then the rain came down in such a deluge that she had nothing for it but to give in and stand up for shelter. "it seems ages since we met," began scarfe. raby had a vivid enough recollection of that evening in the conservatory, but did not contradict him. "i called at clarges street last month, hoping to see you, but you were away." "yes, we were abroad--all but percy." "i saw percy. poor fellow, he did not seem himself at all. miss atherton, you must not blame me if i remind you of something we were talking about when i last saw you--" "please don't, mr scarfe; i have no wish to refer to it." "but i must. do you know, raby, i have thought of no one but you ever since?" raby said nothing, and wished the rain would stop. "is it too much to ask whether, perhaps once or twice, you have thought of me?" raby began to get angry. was it not cowardly to get her here at a disadvantage and begin to talk to her about what she had no wish to hear? "yes--i have thought once or twice of you," she said. "how good of you, raby!" said he, trying to take her hand. "may i hope it was with something more than indifference--with love?" "certainly not," said she, drawing back her hand, and, in spite of the rain, starting to walk. bitterly crestfallen, he walked at her side and held his umbrella over her. "you are harsh with me," said he reproachfully. "i am sorry. you should not have provoked me. i asked you not to talk about it." "i am afraid, miss atherton," said he, "some one has been prejudicing you against me. percy, perhaps, has been talking about me." raby walked on without replying. "percy is very angry with me for doing what it was only my duty to do as his friend--and yours. he misunderstands me, and, i fear, so do you." "i do not misunderstand you at all," said raby boldly. "but i am afraid you do not thank me." "no. i have nothing to thank you for." "i did my duty, at any rate. i stated the truth, and nothing more, and should have been wrong to allow things to go on without at least trying, for the sake of those for whom i cared, and still care, miss atherton, to set them right. do i understand you blame me for that?" "mr scarfe, you have done a cruel thing to one who never did you harm-- and i see nothing to admire in it." scarfe sneered. "jeffreys is fortunate in his champion. perhaps, at least, miss atherton, you will do me the credit of remembering that on one occasion your hero owed his life to me. i hope that, too, was not cowardly or cruel." "if he had known the ruin you had in store for him, he would not have thanked you." raby spoke with downcast eyes, and neither she nor scarfe perceived the poor tramp on the path, who, as they brushed past him, glanced wistfully round at their faces. "he never thanked me," said scarfe. they walked on some distance in silence. then scarfe said, "miss atherton, you are unfair to me now. you think i acted out of spite, instead of out of affection--for you." "it is a kind of affection i don't appreciate, mr scarfe; and as the rain has nearly stopped i need not trouble you any more. thank you for the shelter, and good-bye." "you really mean that you reject me--that you do not care for me?" "i do not. i am sorry to say so--good-bye." and she left him there, bewildered certainly, but in no manner of doubt that she had done with him. she told her father all about it that evening, and was a good deal reassured by his hearty approval of her conduct. "the kindest thing you could have done, instead of letting him dangle after you indefinitely. rough on him, perhaps; but that sort of fellow doesn't deserve much letting down." the reader has heard already how in the course of her visits of mercy raby happened to find jonah trimble very near his end, and how she was able to cheer and lighten his dying hours. little dreamed she, as she sat by the death-bed that morning, and wrote those few dying words, into whose hands her little letter would fall, or what a spell they would work on the life of him who received them. from the other neighbours she heard not a little about "john," and sometimes wished she might chance to see him. but he was away from early morning till late at night, and they never met. mrs pratt in the room below, and her little dying daughter, had many a tale of kindness and devotion to tell about him; and when presently the little life fled, she heard with grateful tears of his act of mercy to the poor overwrought mother, and thanked god for it. the time passed on, and one day early in december, when she returned home, she found her father in an unwonted state of excitement. "there's a clue, raby, at last!" he said. "a clue, father--you mean about young forrester?" "about both. it's the most mixed-up affair i was ever in. who do you suppose has written in answer to our advertisement about forrester?" "has he replied himself?" asked raby disingenuously; for she guessed the truth. "not a bit of it. the letter's from jeffreys. he doesn't sign his name, of course; but he writes to say that he was at bolsover, and was responsible for the accident, and repeats what rimbolt knows already about his trying to hear of them in his native place. there's nothing very fresh about forrester; but it may lead to our finding jeffreys." "of course," said raby, finding it hard to conceal her emotion, "he has written to the lawyers. does he give an address, then?" "no--only a coffee-house in drury lane. he's evidently on his guard against a trap. he writes private and confidential; but you can see he is ready to do anything to find forrester." "what shall you do?" "well, rimbolt says leave it to the lawyers. of course we've no right to trap him, and rimbolt thinks wilkins & wilkins had better not mention our names, but let him know they are acting for forrester's executors. if he's not scared during the first visit or two, he may consent to see me, or percy--and among us we may be able to help him out of his present condition, which, to judge by his letter, i should fancy is rather reduced. he has been asked to call at wilkins' on wednesday, and they have promised to treat the matter as confidential--and we shall just have to trust they will manage to talk him round." chapter twenty seven. a brand from the burning! little suspecting the interest which his movements were causing elsewhere, jeffreys, on the appointed wednesday, presented himself at messrs. wilkins & wilkins' office. he was so much changed by eight months' misery and privation that no ordinary acquaintance would have recognised in the broken-down, haggard man who entered the office the once robust and stalwart librarian of wildtree. even percy would have had to look at him twice to make sure. mr wilkins looked up curiously at his visitor. "ah," said he, "you have called in reference to that advertisement about gerard forrester. quite so. let me see. i have your letter here, mr --" "it is not necessary to know my name," said jeffreys. "just as you please. of course, as you say you were at bolsover school with forrester, and were the cause of his accident, it is hardly worth while making a mystery of it." "i forgot that. my name is john jeffreys." "thank you. it is a very proper thing of you to offer to assist us in our search, and i shall be glad if in the end you should become entitled to the reward which has been offered." "i would not touch a farthing of it," said jeffreys, with a scorn that astonished the lawyer. "well, that's your affair. i can understand you have some remorse for what has occurred, and would be glad to help, reward or no reward." "i would give my life to find young forrester. has anything been heard of him?" "not much, though we have been able to trace him rather farther than you did. we found a day or two ago a mention of the case of a lad suffering from the results of an accident such as he appears to have met with in one of the medical papers at the time. the case was reported as having been treated at middlesex hospital, and i find on inquiry there that in the december of that year gerard forrester was a patient under treatment for some months, and in the may following was discharged as incurable. that, you see, was more than eighteen months ago." jeffreys felt his heart thump excitedly as he listened. it was little enough, but it seemed at least to bring him six months nearer to the object of his search. "after that," said mr wilkins, "we are unable to discover anything. the address entered against his name in the hospital books, which was probably that of his old nurse, cannot now be found, as the street has been pulled down a year ago, and no one recollects him. i saw the surgeon at the hospital, who remembered the case, and he explained to me that the boy when he left there might have lived a month or twenty years. in any case he would always have to lie on his back. it would be possible, he said, for him to use his hands--indeed, he believed during the last week or two of his stay in the hospital he had amused himself with drawing." "he was considered good at drawing at bolsover," put in jeffreys. "so he may possibly have been able to earn a living of some sort. the strange thing is that he does not appear to have written to any one. he might have communicated with his former head-master, or some of his grandmother's friends at grangerham, but he has not. according to colonel--to my client's account, he does not even appear to have written to his father, though it is possible a letter may have miscarried there. you have heard, no doubt, that his father died in action in afghanistan in january?" "yes, i heard that--very gallantly." "yes; in fact, the boy would, i believe, if he could be found, be entitled to a pension, besides what little property his father left. the account of the action, as well as our advertisements, have been in the papers. if gerard is alive, he is probably somewhere beyond the reach of the press, and for my own part i cannot see how he can be in any but destitute circumstances." this was all there was to say. but mr wilkins' task was not yet done. he had been instructed to ascertain, if possible, something of jeffreys' present condition, and to sound him as to his willingness to see again some of the friends of his old life. "i am afraid," said he, "you too have had reverses, mr jeffreys." "never mind me, please," replied he. "you are living near here?" "no." "you must excuse me if i take an interest in you--as a former schoolfellow of young forrester's. you have come through much since then?" "not more than i deserve," said jeffreys, fidgeting. "my client, i think, would have been glad to see you; but as you made a point of this interview being confidential, i was not justified in asking him to be present." "oh no. i don't want to see any one." "it would be a great help to my client, who is a stranger in london, if you, who know forrester, would assist him." "who is your client, may i ask?" "my client," said mr wilkins, resolved to make the venture, "is a colonel atherton, an old comrade of captain forrester, who has undertaken to try and find the boy and provide for him." jeffreys started, and replied-- "no; i will do anything to help by myself, but i do not wish to meet him." "you know him, then?" "no, i have never seen him." "he would, i can promise, respect your confidence, mr jeffreys." "i know, but i cannot meet him or any one. i will do anything he wants about searching for forrester--he cannot be more anxious about it than i am--but i have every reason for wishing to remain unknown." "you forget that it is hardly possible he can fail to know your name; and he has friends, some of whom i believe are deeply interested in your welfare." jeffreys shuddered. "i can't say more," said he. "i will do all i can, but i want to see nobody but you." "i may, of course, report this interview to my client?" "of course; i can't prevent that." "and i must tell him you definitely refuse to meet him." "yes. i cannot see him." "or tell him your address?" "no; you know where a letter would find me." "well, will you call again--say this day week?" "yes; to see you alone." thus the unsatisfactory interview ended. mr wilkins was a man of honour, and felt he had no right to insist on jeffreys opening communications with the colonel; still less had he the right as he might easily have done, to track his footsteps and discover his hiding-place. jeffreys, alive to a sense of insecurity, evidently expected the possibility of some such friendly ruse, for he returned to his work by a long and circuitous course which would have baffled even the cleverest of detectives. he seriously debated with himself that night the desirability of vacating his garret at storr alley and seeking lodgings somewhere else. his old life seemed hemming him in; and like the wary hare, he felt the inclination to double on his pursuers and give them the slip. for, rightly or wrongly, he had convinced himself that the one calamity to be dreaded was his recapture by the friends in whose house his bad name had played him so evil a revenge. yet how could he leave storr alley? had he not ties there? was it not worth worlds to him to hear now and then, on his return at night, some scrap of news of the ministering angel whose visits cheered the place in his absence? he shrank more than ever from a chance meeting; but was it not a pardonable self-indulgence to stay where he could hear and even speak of her? nor was that his only tie now. mrs pratt, in the room below, had never recovered yet from the illness that had prostrated her at little annie's death; and night by night jeffreys had carried the two babies to his own attic in order to give her the rest she needed, and watch over them in their hours of cold and restlessness. he became an expert nurse. he washed and dressed those two small brethren--the eldest of whom was barely three--as deftly and gently as if he had been trained to the work. and he manipulated their frugal meals, and stowed them away in his bed, with all the art of a practised nurse. how could he desert them now? how indeed? that very night, as he sat writing, with the little pair sleeping fitfully on the bed, a head was put in at the door, and a voice said in a whisper, "poor mrs pratt's gone, john." "what," he said, "is she dead?" "yes--all of a sudden--the 'art done it--i know'd she was weak there. poor dear--and her husband such a bad 'un too, and they do say she was be'ind with her rent." so the woman chattered on, and when at last she went, jeffreys glanced at his two unconscious charges and went on writing. no, he could not leave storr alley. in the morning, as usual, he performed their little toilets, and announced to the elder that his mother was gone away, and they might stay upstairs. whereat the little orphan was merry, and executed a caper on the bare floor. a fresh dilemma faced the newly made father. he must work if he and his family were to eat. the thirty shillings he had earned last week could not last for ever. indeed, the neighbours all seemed to take it for granted he would see to mrs pratt's burial; and how could he do otherwise? that meant a decided pull on his small resources. for a day or two he might live on his capital, and after that-- he put off that uncomfortable speculation. the baby began loudly to demand its morning meal; and the three-year-old, having run through its mirth, began to whimper for its mother. altogether jeffreys had a busy time of it. so busy that when, about mid-day, tim, who had been perched upon a box at the window to amuse himself at the peril of his neck by looking out into the court below, suddenly exclaimed--"there she is!" he bounded from his seat like one electrified, and for the first time realised that _she_ might come and find him! there was barely a chance of escape. she had already entered the house; and he became aware of the little flutter which usually pervaded the crowded tenement when she set foot in it. she had many families to visit, and each grudged her to the next. the women had yards of trouble to unroll to her sympathy; and the children besieged her for stories and songs. the sick lifted their heads as they heard her foot on the steps; and even the depraved and vicious and idle set their doors ajar to get a glimpse of her as she passed. what could he do? wait and face her, and perhaps meet her look of scorn, or worse still, of forgiveness? or hide from her? he debated the question till he heard her enter the chamber of death below. then there came over him a vision of her as he had last seen her that october afternoon with scarfe in regent's park. with a groan he gathered together his papers, and bidding tim mind the baby till he returned, seized his hat and hurried from the room. on the dark, narrow staircase he brushed against a dress which he knew must be hers. for a moment he was tempted to pause, if only for a look at her face; but she passed on, and was gone before he could turn. he went out miserably into the street, and waited within view of the entrance to the alley till she should come out. she was long before she appeared--he guessed how those two friendless little orphans would detain her. when she came her veil was down, and in the crowd on the pavement he lost sight of her in a moment. yet he knew her, and all his resolution once more wavered, as he reflected that he was still within reach of her voice and her smile. he returned anxiously to the attic. the baby lay asleep on the bed, and tim, perched on his window seat, was crooning over a little doll. there was a flower on the table; the scanty furniture of the room had been set in order, and his quick eye even noticed that a rent in tim's frock which had caused him some concern in the morning had been neatly mended. tim came and put the little doll into his hands. "she gave it me. will she soon come again?" said the child. "yes; she's sure to come again." "you ran away; you was afraid. i wasn't." in a strange turmoil of emotions jeffreys resumed his writing. the flower in the cup beside him was only a half-withered aster, yet it seemed to him to perfume the room. after dark the neighbour put her head into the room. "then you didn't see the lady?" said she. "no; i was out." "it's a pity. she's a angel, john. the way she sat with them poor childer would do you good to see. i told 'er you 'ad took them, and, bless you, 'er eyes filled with tears to think of a man doing it when you might let them go to the work'us. not that i wouldn't do it, john, if i 'adn't six of my own and the mangle and not room to turn round. and mrs parkes was a-saying the childer would be welcome in 'er room, only the smells is that bad in 'er corner that there's no living in it except for seasoned bodies. there's my polly, you know, john, is eight, and she would look after them now and again, when you're busy. she's a good child, is polly, and can write on a slate beautiful." jeffreys thanked her, and promised to come to an arrangement with polly, and went on with his work. in due time the claims of hunger created a diversion, and he and his infants--one on each knee--partook of a comfortable repast of bread and milk. he had hard work to induce the baby, after it was over, to resume his slumbers. that young gentleman evidently had a vivid recollection of some one having walked about with him and sung him to sleep in the middle of the day, and he resented now being unceremoniously laid on his back and expected to slumber without persuasion. jeffreys had to take him up finally and pace the room for an hour, and about ten o'clock sat down to his interrupted work. till midnight he laboured on; then, cold and wearied, he put out his little candle and lay himself beside the children on the bed. he had scarcely done so when he became aware of a glare at the window, which brought him to his feet in an instant. it was a fire somewhere. his first panic that it might be in the house was quickly relieved. it was not even in storr alley, but in one of the courts adjoining. he looked down from his window. the alley was silent and empty. no one there, evidently, had yet had an alarm. quickly putting on his boots, he hurried down, and made his way in the direction of the flames. from below they were still scarcely visible, and he concluded that the fire, wherever it was, must have broken out in a top storey. driver's court, which backed onto storr alley, with which it was connected at the far end by a narrow passage, was an unknown land to jeffreys. the jews in storr's had no dealings with the samaritans in driver's; for storr alley, poor as it might be, prided itself on being decent and hard-working, whereas driver's--you should have heard the stories told about it. it was a regular thieves' college. a stranger who chanced into driver's with a watch-chain upon him, or a chink of money in his pocket, or even a good coat on his back, might as soon think of coming out by the way he had entered as of flying. there were ugly stories of murders and mysteries under those dark staircases, and even the police drew the line at driver's court, and gave it the go-by. jeffreys had nothing to apprehend as he rushed down the passage. he had neither watch, chain, nor money, nor good coat. his footsteps echoing noisily in the midnight silence brought a few heads to their windows, and almost before he stood in the court there was the cry of "fire!" terrible anywhere, such a cry in a court like driver's was terrible indeed. in a moment the narrow pavement swarmed with people, shouting, cursing, and screaming. although even yet the flames scarcely appeared from below, a panic set in which it was hopeless either to remove or control. chairs, tables, mattresses were flung, it seemed at random, from the windows. mothers, not venturing out on the stairs, cried down to those below to catch their children. drunken men, suddenly roused, reeled fighting and blaspheming into the court. thieves plied their trade even on their panic-stricken neighbours, and fell to blows over the plunder. still more terrible was the cry to others who remained within. children, huddled into corners, heard that cry, and it glued them where they stood. the sick and the crippled heard it, and made one last effort to rise and escape. even the aged and bedridden, deserted by all, when they heard it, lay shouting for some one to help. the flames, pent-up at first and reddening the sky sullenly through the smoke, suddenly freed themselves and shot up in a wild sheet above the court. the crowd below answered the outburst with a hideous chorus of shrieks and yells, and surged madly towards the doomed house. there was no gleam of pity or devotion in those lurid, upturned faces. to many of them it was a show, a spectacle; to others a terrible nightmare, to others a cruel freak of providence, calling forth curses. the flames, spreading downwards, had already reached the second floor, when a window suddenly opened; and a woman with wild dishevelled hair, put out her head and screamed wildly. the crowd caught sight of her, and answered with something like a jeer. "it's black sal," some one shouted; "she's kotched it at last." "why don't you jump?" shouted another. "booh?" shouted a third. "who skinned the cripple?" the woman gave a scared look up and down. the flames at that moment wrapped round the window, and, with a wild howl, the crowd saw her disappear into the room. jeffreys all this time had been standing wedged in the crowd, a spectator of that hideous scene, and now a witness of this last tragedy. with a desperate effort he fought his way to the front, hitting right and left to make himself a passage. it was a minute before he got through. then the crowd, realising as if by intuition his purpose, staggered back, and raised a howl as he dashed into the door of the half-consumed building. the first flight of steps was still intact, and he was up it in a moment; but as he dashed up the second the smoke whirled down in his face and half-choked him. he groped--for it was impossible to see--in search of the door; and guided partly by the roar of the crowd without, and partly by the shrieks within, he found the room. it was full of flame as he entered it, and to all appearance contained nothing else. the wretched woman, finding the stairs worse to face than the window, had rushed back there and flung herself desperately onto the heads of the crowd below. as he turned to save himself, jeffreys, amid the roar of the flames, caught the sound of a shout from the corner of the room which he had imagined to be empty. rushing towards it, he caught sight of a figure of a lad on the floor, blackened with smoke, and evidently unable to move. yet he was not senseless, for he called, "i can't walk--help me." jeffreys caught him in his arms in a moment, and only just in time. he had literally to wade through flame to the door; and when he reached the stairs outside, the dense smoke, reddening every instant, burst upon him well-nigh overwhelmingly. how he struggled down that awful flight with his burden he knew not. more than once he stumbled; and once a shower of fallen embers all but stunned him. it was all done in a minute. those who watched without marvelled how soon he returned; and when they perceived that he bore in his arms a living creature, even driver's court swayed back to let him pass, and cheered him. happily a cry of "engines!" at the other end of the court diverted the crowd still further, and enabled him to stagger forward clear of danger. "drop him, he's a dead 'un!" shouted some one who stopped a moment to peer into the face of the senseless lad. "i'll give you a shilling to help me with him out of this," said jeffreys. it was a shilling well spent. unaided he could never have done it, but with the sturdy gladiator to clear the way he was able at last to reach the comparative seclusion of storr alley. the offer of another shilling prevailed on the man to carry the lad to the attic. then for the first time left to himself, he looked in the face of this unexpected guest. and as he did so the room seemed to swim round him. he forgot where he was or what he was. he looked down on an upturned face, but one not blackened with smoke. it was white and livid, with green grass for a background--and the roar he heard was no longer the distant yell of a panic-stricken mob, but boys' voices--voices shouting at himself! yes, for the last time that vision rose before him. then with a mighty effort he shook off the dream and looked once more in the face of the boy who lay there on the floor of the storr alley garret. and as he did so young forrester slowly opened his eyes. chapter twenty eight. come back. raby had come home with a strange story from storr alley that afternoon. she was not much given to romance, but to her there was something pathetic about this man "john" and his unceremonious adoption of those orphan children. she had not seen anything exactly like it, and it moved both her admiration and her curiosity. she had heard much about "john" from the neighbours, and all she had heard had been of the right sort. jonah had talked bitterly of him now and then, but before he died he had acknowledged that john had been his only friend. little annie had never mentioned him without a smile brightening her face; and even those who had complaints to pour out about everybody all round could find nothing to say about him. yet she seemed destined never to see him. the next day, at her usual time, raby turned her steps to storr alley. groups of people stood about in the court, and it was evident, since she was last there, something untoward had happened. a fireman's helmet at the other end of the alley, in the passage leading to driver's court, told its own tale; and if that was not enough, the smell of fire and the bundles of rags and broken furniture which blocked up the narrow pathway, were sufficient evidence. the exiles from driver's stared hard at the young lady as she made her way through the crowd; but the people of storr alley treated her as a friend, and she had no lack of information as to the calamity of the preceding night. raby paid several visits on her way up. then, with some trepidation, she knocked at the door of the garret. there was no reply from within till she turned the handle, and said-- "may i come in?" then a voice replied,-- "yes, if you like," and she entered. it was a strange scene which met her eyes as she did so. a lad was stretched on the bed, awake, but, motionless, regarding with some anxiety a baby who slumbered, nestling close to his side. on the floor, curled up, with his face to the wall, lay a man sleeping heavily; while tim, divided in his interest between the stranger on the bed and the visitor at the door, stood like a little watchdog suddenly put on his guard. "may i come in?" said raby again timidly. "here she is!" cried tim, running to her; "john's asleep, and he,"-- pointing to the figure on the bed--"can't run about." "correct, timothy," said the youth referred to; "i can't--hullo!" this last exclamation was caused by his catching sight of raby at the door. he had expected a lodger; but what was this apparition? "please come in," said he, bewildered; "it's a shocking room to ask you into, and--timothy, introduce me to your friend." raby smiled; and how the crippled lad thought it brightened the room! "tim and i are friends," said she, lifting up the child to give him a kiss. "i'm afraid you are very badly hurt. i heard of the fire as i came up." "no, i'm all right; i'm never very active. in fact, i can only move my hands and my head, as timothy says. i can't run, i'm a cripple. i shouldn't be anything if it wasn't for jeff. hullo, jeff! wake up, old man!" raby started and turned pale as she raised her hand to prevent his waking the sleeper. "no, please, don't wake him; what did you say his name was?" "jeffreys--john jeffreys--commonly called jeff. he hauled me out of the fire last night, and guessed as little at the time who i was as i guessed who he was. i can't believe it yet. it's like a--" "you haven't told me your name," said raby faintly. "gerard forrester, at your service. hullo, i say, are you ill? hi! jeff, wake up, old man; you're wanted." raby had only time to sink on a chair and draw tim to her when jeffreys suddenly woke and rose to his feet. "what is it, forrester, old fellow? anything wrong?" said he, springing to the bedside. "i don't know what's the matter--look behind you." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "why did she cry?" asked tim presently, when she had gone. "i know; because of that ugly man," added he, pointing to forrester. "excuse me, young man, i have the reputation of being good-looking; that cannot have been the reason. but, jeff, i'm all in a dream. who is she? and how comes she to know you or me? and, as timothy pertinently remarks, `whence these tears?' tell us all about it before the baby wakes." jeffreys told him. the story was the history of his life since he had left bolsover; and it took long to tell, for he passed over nothing. "poor old man!" said forrester, when it was done; "what a lot you have been through!" "have i not deserved it? that day at bolsover--" "oh, for goodness' sake, don't go back to that. you know it was an accident, and what was not an accident was the fault of my own folly. that night i awoke and saw you standing at the door, i knew that you had already suffered as much as i had." "that was the last time i saw you. you forget i have still to hear what happened to you afterwards." "it's pretty easily told. but i say, jeff, what did you say her name was?" "raby atherton," said jeffreys, smiling. this was about the twentieth time the boy had broken in with some question about her. "she is the daughter of your guardian, colonel atherton, who was your father's comrade in afghanistan. some day she will tell you the story of a battle out there which will make you proud of being captain forrester's son. but i want to hear about you." "i was taken home to grangerham, you know. my grandmother was ill at the time, and just starting south, so i was left in charge of my old nurse. she was an awful brick to me, was that old soul, and i don't believe i know yet all she did and put up with for me. "the doctors at grangerham couldn't make anything of me. one said i'd be cutting about again in a few weeks, and another said i'd be buried in a few days. it's hard to decide when doctors disagree at that rate, and old mary gave it up, and did what was the best thing--kept me quietly at home. of course we thought that my grandmother had written to my father, but she hadn't, so he can't have heard for ages. we heard of my grandmother's death presently, and then made the pleasant discovery that she had died in debt, and that the furniture of the house was hired. that pulled mary and me up short. she had saved a little, and i believe she spent every penny of that to get me up to london to a hospital. i didn't have a bad time of it there for a month or two. i was considered an interesting case, and had all sorts of distinguished fellows to come and look at me, and i lived like a fighting-cock all the time. i found, as long as i lay flat, and didn't get knocked about, i was really pretty comfortable, and what was more, i could use my hands. that was no end of a blessing. i had picked up a few ideas about drawing you know, at bolsover, and found now that i could do pretty well at it. i believe some of my sketches at the middlesex were thought well of. mary came to see me nearly every day. i could see she was getting poorer and poorer, and when at last i was discharged, the little rooms she took me to were about as poor as they could be to be respectable. "i'd hardly been back a week, when one day after going out to try to sell some of my sketches, she came home ill and died quite suddenly. i was all up a tree then--no money, no friends, no legs. i wrote to frampton, but he can't have got my letter. then i got threatened with eviction, and all but left out in the street, when the person old mary had sold my sketches to called round and ordered some more. i didn't see him, but a brute of a woman who lived in the house did, and was cute enough to see she could make a good thing out of me. so she took possession of me, and ever since then i've been a prisoner, cut off from the outside world as completely as if i had been in a dungeon, grinding out pictures by the dozen, and never seeing a farthing of what they fetched, except in the food which black sal provided to keep me alive. now and then, in an amiable mood, she would get me a newspaper; and once i had to illustrate a cheap edition of cook's _voyages_, and of course had the book to go by. but she never let me write to anybody or see anybody, and mounted guard over me as jealously as if i had been a veritable goose that laid golden eggs. "you know the rest. we got turned out when they pulled down the old place, and took refuge in driver's alley, a nice select neighbourhood; and there you found me, old man." "think of being near one another so long," said jeffreys, "and never knowing it." "ten to one that's exactly what my guardian's daughter is observing to herself at this moment. i say, jeff, compared with driver's court, this is a palatial apartment, and you are a great improvement on black sal; but for ah that, don't you look forward to seeing a little civilisation--to eating with a fork, for instance, and hearing an `h' aspirated; and--oh, jeff, it will be heavenly to wear a clean collar!" jeffreys laughed. "your two years' trouble haven't cast out the spirit of irreverence, youngster," said he. "it _is_ jolly to hear myself called youngster," said the boy, in a parenthesis; "it reminds me of the good old days." "before bolsover?" said jeffreys sadly. "look here! if you go back to that again, and pull any more of those long faces, jeff, i'll be angry with you. wasn't all that affair perhaps a blessing in the long run? it sent me to a school that's done me more good than bolsover; and as for you--well, but for it you'd never have had that sweet visitor this morning." "don't talk of that. that is one of the chief drawbacks to my going back into civilisation, as you call it." "a very nice drawback--if it's the only one--" "it's not--there's another." "what is that?" "my babies!" it was a strange, happy night, that last in the storr alley garret. jeffreys had begged raby to let them stay where they were in peace for that day; and she considerately kept their counsel till the morning. then she told her father the strange story. "two birds with one stone, and such a stone!" ejaculated the bewildered colonel. "four birds, father--there are two babies as well." "whew!" said the colonel, "what a holiday i am having!" "poor father," said the girl, "it's too bad!" "oh, well. the more the merrier. what's to be done now? we'd better charter a coach and four and a brass band and go and fetch them home in state. if they'd wait till to-morrow we would have up a triumphal arch too." "how frivolous you are, father! we must get them away with as little fuss as possible. i arranged with mr jeffreys that he would bring mr forrester here in a cab this morning." "and the babies?" "he will go back for them afterwards." "well, as you like; but what about percy and the rimbolts?" "percy was to go out of town to-day, you know, and will not be back till to-morrow. by that time we shall be able to find out what mr jeffreys would like best." "oh, very good. we'll wait till his royal highness signifies his pleasure, and meanwhile our relatives and friends must be avoided-- that's what you mean." "no," said raby, colouring; "but you know how easily frightened he is." the colonel laughed pleasantly. "all right, raby; they shall be let down as easily as you like. now shall i be in the way when they come, or shall i make myself scarce? and, by the way, i must go at once and get a perambulator, and feeding- bottles, and all that sort of thing. how many times a day am i to be sent out to take them walks?" "you're too silly for anything," said raby dutifully. she was grateful to him for making things so easy, and for covering her own ill-disguised embarrassment by this adroit show of frivolity. there was no frivolity in the manner in which the gallant soldier welcomed his old comrade's son, when an hour later he entered the house, borne in the strong arms of his friend. a couch was ready for him, and everything was made as simple and homelike as possible. jeffreys stayed long enough to help the boy into the civilised garments provided for him, and then quietly betook himself once more to storr alley. the curiosity roused by the departure of `black sal's forrester' in a cab was redoubled when, late that afternoon, jeffreys was seen walking out of the alley with the baby in one arm and tim holding onto the other. he had considered it best to make no public announcement of his departure. if he had, he might have found it more difficult than it was to take the important step. as it was, he had to run a gauntlet of a score of inquisitive idlers, who were by no means satisfied with the assurance that he was going to give the children an airing. the general opinion seemed to be that he was about to take the children to the workhouse, and a good deal of odium was worked up in consequence. some went so far as to say he was going to sell or drown the infants; and others, driver's alley refugees, promised him a warm reception if he returned without them! he neither returned with nor without them. they saw him no more. but it was given to the respectable inhabitants of a crescent near regent's park, about half an hour later, to witness the strange spectacle of a big young man, carrying a small baby in his arms and a big one on his shoulder--for tim had turned restive on his hands-- walk solemnly along the footpath till he reached the door of colonel atherton's, where he rang. the colonel and raby had a queer tea-party that evening. when the meal was ended, jeffreys was called upon to put his infants to bed, and a wonderful experience to those small mortals was the warm bath and the feather-bed to which they were severally introduced. jeffreys was thankful that the baby was restless, and gave him an excuse for remaining in retirement most of the evening. at length, however, silence reigned; and he had no further excuse. entering the parlour, he perceived almost with a shock that mr rimbolt was there. he had called in accidentally, and had just been told the news. "my dear fellow," said he, as he took his old librarian's hand, "how we have longed for this day!" raby and her father were occupied with forrester, and jeffreys and his old employer were left undisturbed. what they talked about i need not repeat. it chiefly had reference to storr alley and to percy. "he is down at watford seeing a friend to-night. we expect him back to- morrow morning. how happy he will be! by the way," added mr rimbolt, a moment afterwards, "now i remember, there is a train leaves euston for overstone at : , half an hour after percy's train comes in. how should you like to meet him, and run down with him for a week or two to wildtree? he sadly wants a change, and my books sadly want looking after there. you will have the place to yourselves, but perhaps you won't mind that." jeffreys flushed with pleasure at the proposal. it was the very programme he would have selected. but for a moment his face clouded, as he glanced towards forrester. "i don't know whether i ought to leave him?" "he is with his guardian, you know, and could not be in better quarters." "then--you know i have--that is, you know--there are two--babies." raby, however, when the question was subsequently discussed, expressed herself fully equal to the care of these promising infants until a home could be found for them; and forrester, for his part, declared that jeffreys must and should go to wildtree. "can't you see i don't want you any more?" said he. "this sofa's so comfortable, i'm certain i shall sleep a fortnight straight away, and then my guardian and i have no end of business to talk over, haven't we, guardian? and you'd really be in the way." so it was settled. the whole party retired early to bed after their exciting day. jeffreys slept for the last time between the babies, and could scarcely believe, when he awoke, that he was not still in storr alley. still less could tim when he awoke realise where he was. for the john he was accustomed to stood no longer in his weather-beaten, tattered garments, but in the respectable librarian's suit which he had left behind him at clarges street, and which now, by some mysterious agency, found itself transferred to his present room. tim resented the change, and bellowed vehemently for the space of an hour, being joined at intervals by his younger brother, and egged on by the mocking laughter of young forrester, who was enjoying the exhibition from the adjoining chamber. for once jeffreys could do nothing with his disorderly infants, and was compelled finally to carry them down one under each arm, to the sitting- room, where raby came to the rescue, and thus established her claim on their allegiance for a week or so to come. in a strange turmoil of feelings jeffreys at mid-day walked to euston. mr rimbolt was there with percy's travelling bag and the tickets, but he did not remain till the train from watford came in. "i may be running down to the north myself in about a fortnight," said he, as he bade good-bye; "we can leave business till then--good-bye." the train came in at last. jeffreys could see the boy pacing in a nonchalant way down the platform, evidently expecting anything but this meeting. his eyes seemed by some strange perversity even to avoid the figure which stood waiting for him; nor was it till jeffreys quietly stepped in front of him, and said "percy," that they took him in and blazed forth a delighted recognition. "jeff," he said, "you've come back--really?" "yes, really." "to stay--for good?" "for good--old fellow." percy heaved a sight of mighty content as he slipped his arm into that of his friend. and half an hour later the two were whizzing northwards on their way to wildtree, with their troubles all behind them. chapter twenty nine. a fresh start. it is supposed to be the duty of every well-conducted author, after the curtain has fallen on the final tableau of his little drama, to lift it, or half lift it, for a momentary last glimpse at the principal actors. i am not quite sure whether this is not an encouragement to laziness on the part of the reader. in most respects he is as well able to picture the future of jeffreys, and raby, and percy, and tim as i am. i cannot show them to you in all the dignity of an honoured old age, because they are only a year or two older to-day than they were when percy and jeffreys took that little run together down to cumberland. nor can i show them to you, after the fashion of a fairy tale, "married and living happily ever afterwards," because when i met jeffreys in the strand the other day, he told me that although he had just been appointed to the control of a great public library in the north, it would still be some months, possibly a year, before he would be able to set up house on his own account. however, he seemed contented on the whole to wait a bit; and in a long talk we had as we walked up and down the embankment i heard a good many scraps of information which made it possible to satisfy the reader on one or two points about which he may still be anxious. jeffreys and percy stayed at wildtree for a month, and the time was one of the happiest both of them ever spent. they did nothing exciting. they read some aristophanes, and added some new "dodge" to their wonderful automatic bookcase. they went up wild pike one bright winter's day and had a glorious view from the top. and on the ledge coming back they sat and rested awhile on a spot they both remembered well. julius's grave was not forgotten when they reached the valley below; and the "j" upon the stone which marks the place to this day was their joint work for an hour that afternoon. as for the books, jeffreys had sprung towards them on his first arrival as a father springs towards his long-lost family. they were sadly in want of dusting and arranging, as for a month or two no one had been near them. on the floor lay the parcels, just as they had arrived from the sale in exeter; and altogether jeffreys had work enough to keep him busy, not for one month only, but for several. he was not sorry to be busy. for amid all the happiness and comforts of his new return to life he had many cares on his mind. there was forrester. he had imagined that if he could only find him, all would be right, the past would be cancelled and his bad name would never again trouble him. but as he thought of the helpless cripple, lying there unable to move without assistance, with all his prospects blighted and his very life a burden to him, he began to realise that the past was not cancelled, that he had a life's debt yet to pay, and a life's wrong for which, as far as possible, to make amends. but he bravely faced his duty. forrester's letters, which came frequently, certainly did not much encourage melancholy reflections. "i'm in clover here," the boy wrote about a week after jeffreys had gone north. "one would think i'd done something awfully fine. my guardian is a trump--and is ever tired of telling me about my father. do you know i'm to have a pension from a grateful country? what wouldn't black sal say to get hold of me now? what i value quite as much is his sword, which i keep by my couch like a knight templar. so mind what you're up to when you come back. "here am i writing about myself, when i know you are longing to hear about (turn over-leaf and hide your blushes)--the babies! they are tip- top. timothy, ever since i got my sword, has shown great respect for me, and sits on the pillow while i sketch. by the way, do you recognise enclosed portrait? it's my first attempt at a face--rather a pleasant face too, eh? oh, about the babies. the young 'un's cut a tooth. the whole house has been agitated in consequence, and the colonel is as proud as if he'd captured a province. so are we all. they are to go to an orphanage, i believe, in a week or two; but not till you come back and give your parental benediction. my guardian is going to write you all about it. he promises military openings for both when they arrive at the proper age; and tim is practising already on a drum which _she_ has given him. "she, by the way, never mentions you, which is an excellent sign, but rather rough on me when i want to talk about you. she occasionally is drawn out to talk about a certain mr john at storr alley; but, as you know, she only knew about him from hearsay. how's that boy who has got hold of you down in cumberland? are he and i to be friends or enemies? tell him i'm game for either, and give him choice of weapons if the latter. but as long as he lets me see you now and then and treats you well, we may as well be friends. i'm flourishing and awfully in love. stay away as long as you can; you're not wanted here. the lady of clarges street came to see me yesterday. she sent you really a kind message; so even in that quarter you may yet look for a friend. good- bye--remember me to that chap. tim sends his duty; and _she_ when i mentioned i was writing to you and asked if there was any message, did not hear what i said.--g.f." there was plenty in this bright letter to give comfort to jeffreys. he rejoiced humbly in its affectionate tone towards himself. he treasured the portrait. he was gratified at the unenvious references to percy, and he was relieved at the prospect before his babies. the part that referred to raby left him less room for jubilation. forrester evidently thought, as percy did, that in that quarter everything was plain sailing. they neither of them realised the gulf between the two, and they neither of them knew of that miserable october afternoon in regent's park. forrester's jocular reference to raby's silence and reserve seemed to jeffreys but a confirmation of what he believed to be the truth. he was to her what any other friend in distress might be, an object of sweet pity and solicitude. but that was all. he had a bad name, and much as she would brave for him to help him, she did not--how could she?--love him. at the end of a month mr rimbolt wrote to say he was coming down to wildtree, and would be glad if percy and jeffreys would meet him with the carriage at overstone. they did so, and found that he was not alone. mr halgrove stepped pleasantly out of the train at the same time and greeted his quondam ward with characteristic ease. "ah, jeffreys--here we are again. i'm always meeting you at odd places. how fresh everything looks after the rain!" "mr halgrove is my brother-in-law, you know, jeffreys," said mr rimbolt, in response to his librarian's blank look of consternation. "i brought him down, as he wanted to see you and have a talk. if you two would like to walk," added he, "percy and i will drive on, and have dinner ready by the time you arrive." "good-hearted fellow, rimbolt," said mr halgrove, as they started to walk, "he always was. that's wild pike, i suppose?" "yes," said jeffreys, greatly puzzled at this unexpected meeting. "yes, rimbolt's a good fellow; and doesn't mind telling bad fellows that they aren't. you'll smile, jeffreys; but he has actually made me uncomfortable sometimes." "really?" said jeffreys, thinking it must have been some very remarkable effort which succeeded in accomplishing, that wonder. "yes. i told him once casually about an unpleasant ward i once had, whom i rather disliked. i thought he would sympathise with me when i related how delicately i had got rid of him and sent him adrift when it did not suit me to keep him any longer. would you believe it, rimbolt wasn't at all sympathetic, but asked what had become of my ward's money! do take warning, jeffreys, and avoid the bad habit of asking inconvenient questions. you have no idea of the pain they may cause. mr rimbolt's question pained me excessively. because my ward's money, like himself, had gone to the bad. that would not have been of much consequence, were it not that i was responsible for its going to the bad. it was most inconvenient altogether, i assure you. it made me feel as if i had behaved not quite well in the matter; and you know how depressing such a feeling would be. still more inconvenient at the time when i had this talk with rimbolt about six months ago, i had just come back from america with my finances in not at all a flourishing condition, so that if even i had been disposed to refund my ward, i could not have done it. happily he was lost. it was an immense relief to me, i can assure you. "two months ago my finances looked up. i had news that some of my yankee speculations were turning out well, and i unexpectedly found myself a man of means again. rimbolt, who certainly has the knack of making ill-timed suggestions, proposed that that would be a good opportunity for making good what properly belonged to my ward. i urged in vain that my ward was lost, and that the money properly belonged to me as a reward for the trouble i had had in the matter. he actually insisted that i should deposit with him, as trustee for my ward, the full amount of what belonged to him, with interest added to date, promising if by any unfortunate accident the fellow should be found, to see it came into his hands. one's obliged to humour rimbolt, so i did what he wanted, and that's how it stands. if ever this unprofitable ward turns up, he'd better keep his eye on rimbolt. "there, you see, jeffreys, that's just a little anecdote to show you how easy it is, by being inconsiderate, for one person to make another uncomfortable. but now tell me how you like cumberland. you must be quite a mountaineer by this time." jeffreys admitted he was pretty good, and had the tact to suit his humour to that of his guardian, and not refer further to the lost ward or his money. mr halgrove stayed two days, and then departed for the great west, where it is possible he may to-day carry a lighter heart about with him for his latest act of reparation. before the trio at wildtree returned to london, jeffreys, greatly to percy's terror, asked leave to go for two days to york. the boy seemed still not quite sure that he had got back his friend for good, and highly disapproved now of putting the temptation to "bolt again," as he called it, in his way. however, jeffreys "entered into recognisances" to come back, and even offered to take percy with him on his journey. the offer was not accepted, for percy knew jeffreys would sooner go alone. but it allayed the boy's uneasiness. jeffreys had much trouble to discover mrs trimble. galloway house was still an educational establishment, but its present conductor knew nothing of the lady whose "goodwill and connection" he had purchased so cheaply two years ago. finally jeffreys decided to call at ash cottage. the walk up that familiar lane recalled many a strange memory. the bank whereon he had sat that eventful early morning was unchanged, and had lost all traces of jonah's excavations. the railway embankment he had half thought of helping to construct was already overgrown with grass, and thundered under the weight of trains every few minutes. ash cottage had not changed a plank or a tile since he last saw it. there were the same cracks in the wall of the shed, the same bushes on either side of the gate--nay, he was sure those wisps of hay clinging to the branches of the holly had been there two years ago. as he walked somewhat doubtfully towards the house--for he could hardly forget under what circumstances he had last seen farmer rosher--he heard a boy's shout behind him, and looking round, perceived freddy and teddy giving chase. "it _is_ jeff!" shouted freddy. "i knew him a mile away." "i saw him first. we knew you'd come back, jeff; huzzah!" "that tricycle wants looking to awful bad. our feet touch the ground on it now, jeff." "come on to the shed, i say, and put it right. _how_ brickish of you to come back, jeff!" a long afternoon the happy jeff spent over that intractable tricycle. it was past all repair; but no feat of engineering was ever applauded as were the one or two touches by which he contrived to make it stand upright and bear the weight of a boy. before the work was over farmer rosher had joined them, well pleased at his boys' delight. "thee's paid oop for thy sin, lad," said he. "i did thee and the lads more harm than i meant; but thee's a home here whenever thee likes, to make up for it; and come away and see the missus and have a drop of tea." from the farmer, who may have had good reason for knowing, jeffreys learned that mrs trimble was comfortably quartered in an almshouse; and there, next morning--for there was do escaping from ash cottage that night--he found her, and soothed her with the news he had to tell of her poor prodigal. "well, well," she said, "god is merciful; and he will reward you, john, as he had pity on the lad. and now will you be sure and take a mother's blessing to the sweet lady, and tell her if she ever wants to make an old woman happy, he has only to come here, and let me see her and kiss her for what she has done for me and mine?" that message he delivered a week later as he walked with raby one afternoon in regent's park. it was not exactly a chance walk. they had both been up to the orphanage at hampstead with the reluctant tim and his brother, to leave them there in good motherly hands till the troubles of infancy should be safely passed. it was tim who had insisted on having the escort of both his natural guardians on the occasion; and at such a time and on such an errand tim's word was law. so they had gone all four in a cab, and now raby and jeffreys returned, and with a sense of bereavement, through the park. "i will certainly go and see mrs trimble when next i am north," said raby, "though i wish i deserved half her gratitude." "you deserve it all. you were an angel of light to that poor fellow." they walked on some way in silence. then she said-- "storr alley is so different now, mr jeffreys. a family of seven is in your garret. you would hardly know the place." "it would be strange indeed if i did not, for i too saw light there." "how wonderful it all was!" said raby. "when jonah was telling me about his good protector, john, how little i dreamed it was you!" "and when you wrote this little letter," said he, showing her the precious scrap of paper, "how little you dreamed who would bless you for it!" "the blessing belonged, did it not, to him who has been leading us all, in mercy, in his own way?" again they walked in silence. was it accident, or what, which brought them, without knowing it, to a spot which to each was full of painful memories? raby was the first to stop abruptly. "let us go another way, mr jeffreys, if you don't mind. i don't like this avenue." "no more do i," said jeffreys, who had stopped too. "why?" she asked. "need i say?" "not if you don't like." "i have not walked down here since an afternoon last october. there was a sudden storm of rain--" "what! were you here then?" "i was. you did not see me." "you saw me then. i was with mr scarfe." "yes. you were--" "miserable and angry," said she, her face kindling at the recollection. he darted one glance at her, as brief as that he had darted on the afternoon of which they spoke. then, he had read nothing but despair for himself; now, though her eyes were downcast and her voice angry, he thought he read hope. "suppose," said he, in a little while, "instead of running away from the path, we just walk down it together. would you mind? are you afraid?" "no," she said, smiling. and they walked on. the end. ernest bracebridge, school days, by william h g kingston. ________________________________________________________________________ a very well-written book--one of kingston's best. it is about various events and personalities in a victorian school. the boy after whom the book is named is such a heroic character that one can't help wondering if he is really either kingston's own son, or maybe the son whom kingston would have liked to have. in one of the last chapters it so happens that some of the boys pay a visit to another school, which happens to be the one your reviewer was at. it was astonishing to me to read of institutions and customs at that school just exactly as they were in my day, seventy years and more later. it makes a very good audiobook. ________________________________________________________________________ ernest bracebridge, school days, by william h g kingston. chapter one. the school, the master, and his boys. it was a half-holiday. one of our fellows who had lately taken his degree and passed as senior wrangler had asked it for us. he had just come down for a few hours to see the doctor and the old place. how we cheered him! how proudly the doctor looked at him! what a great man we thought him! he was a great man! for he had won a great victory,--not only over his fellow-men, not only over his books, by compelling them to give up the knowledge they contained,--but over his love of pleasure; over a tendency to indolence; over his temper and passions; and now henry martin was able to commence the earnest struggle of life with the consciousness, which of itself gives strength, that he had obtained the most important of all victories--that over self. there he stood, surrounded by some of the bigger boys who had been at school with him; a pleasant smile on his countenance as he looked about him on the old familiar scenes. then he shook hands with the fellows standing near him, and we all cheered again louder than ever. he thanked us, and said that he hoped he should often meet many of us in the world, and that he should always look back with pleasure to the days he had spent in that place. at last he once more waved his hand and went back into the house. the instant dinner was over, out we all rushed into the playground. those were happy times when, directly after it, we could stand on our heads, play high-cock-o'lorum, or hang by our heels from the cross-bars of our gymnastic poles without the slightest inconvenience. our school was a good one; i ought to speak well of it. i have, indeed, a very small opinion of a boy who does not think highly and speak highly of his own school, and feel thoroughly identified with it, provided it is a good one. our school, at all events, was first-rate, and so was our master. we were proud of him, and believed firmly that there were very few men in england, or in the world, for that matter, who were equal to him. he won the affections of all of us, and as it seemed, with wonderful ease. how he did it we did not trouble ourselves to consider. i have since, however, often thought over the subject, and have had no difficulty in guessing the cause of his influence. he was a ripe scholar, and thoroughly understood what he professed to teach: then he was always just, and although he was strict, and could be very severe on occasions, he was one of the kindest-hearted men i ever met. we all thought so; and boys are not bad judges of their elders. he was a tall, fine man, with a florid complexion. his eyes were large and clear, and full of intelligence and expression. and then his voice!--how rich and mellow it sounded when he exerted it. his smile, too, was particularly pleasing; and, old as he was, at least as we thought him, he entered heartily into many of our games and amusements; and it was a fine thing to see him stand up with a bat in his hand, and send the ball flying over the hedge into the other field. he had been a great cricketer at college, and had generally been one of the eleven when any university match was played, so we heard; and that made him encourage all sorts of sports and pastimes. he pulled a capital oar; and we heard that he had been very great at football, though he had long since given up playing: indeed, i doubt if there was any game which he had not played well, and could not still play better than most people, had he chosen. such was doctor carr--the doctor, as we called him--of grafton hall. grafton hall was a fine old place, situated on a healthy spot, and surrounded by good-sized grounds: indeed, no place could be more admirably fitted for a first-rate gentleman's school. the house was a large elizabethan building, with a number of good-sized airy rooms, and passages, and staircases. the hall served, for what it was originally intended, as a dining-hall. the doctor had built a wing, in which was situated our school-room, and a lofty, well-ventilated room it was. we had several lecture-rooms besides; and then the large old courtyard served as a capital playground in wet weather, as well as a racket-court; and in one corner of it we had our gymnasium, which was one of the many capital things belonging to the school. a fine wide glade in the park, which had been thoroughly drained, served us as a magnificent cricket-ground; and there was, not far from it, a good-sized pond, through which ran a stream of clear water, where we bathed in the summer. it was kept clean and free from weeds, and even in the deepest parts we could, on a sunny day, see the bright pebbles shining at the bottom. i need not now give a further description of the dear old place. we were most of us as fond of it as if it had been our father's property. i do not mean to say that it was a perfect paradise. i do not fancy such a place exists in the world; and if it did, i must own that schoolboys are not, as a rule, much like angels. still the doctor did _his_ best to make it a happy place, and an abode fit for boys of refined minds and gentlemanly habits and ideas. it was generally our own faults if anything went wrong. when a new boy arrived, the doctor took him into the school-room, and lecture-rooms, and dining-hall, and through the sleeping-rooms, and playground, and gardens; indeed, all round the place. "now, my lad," he used to say, "you will remark that everything is well arranged, and clean, and neat. i trust to your honour to refrain from injuring anything in any way, and to do your best to keep the place in the good order in which you see it." on no occasion had he ever to speak again on the subject; for we all took a pride in the handsome, gentlemanly appearance of the house and grounds, and effectually prevented any mischievously inclined boy from injuring them. all the other arrangements of the establishment were equally good with those i have described. the doctor's wife was a first-rate person; so kind, and gentle, and considerate. we were all very fond of her; and so we were of the good matron, mrs smith, who kept all the people under her in such excellent order. the ushers, too, were all very good in their way, for the doctor seldom made a mistake in selecting them. they were good scholars and gentlemen, and generally entered with zest into most of our sports and games. but it is time that i should return to that memorable half-holiday. the doctor had not long before erected a gymnasium, which was at this time all the rage among us. we never grew tired of practising on it. the moment we came out of the dining-hall the greater number of us assembled round it. some swarmed up the poles; others the ropes which hung from the bars above; several performed various exercises on the parallel bars; while four seized the ropes which hung from a long perpendicular pole, and were soon seen, with giant strides, rotating round it, till they scarcely touched the ground with their feet. numbers were likewise hanging on to the horizontal bar; sitting on it, swinging by it, circling it, kicking it, hanging to it by the legs or the feet, performing, indeed, more movements than i can well describe. there were also several wooden horses, or rather logs of wood on legs, on which the boys were mounting and dismounting, vaulting on to them, leaping along them or over them, kneeling on them, jumping off them, and, indeed, going through a variety of movements which might give them confidence on horseback. several swings were in full action. very few boys were sitting on them; most of them were standing upright; some were holding on with two hands, others only with one; some standing on one foot, and holding on by one rope; others leaning with perfect composure against one rope; but all were moving rapidly in one way or another; indeed, the effect to a person unaccustomed to the scene must have been very curious. one of the most active fellows we had at that time was richard blackall. he was not quite the cock of the school, though, for his size, he was very strong; but at all gymnastic feats he beat nearly everybody. his chief rival was miles lemon, who could perform most of the exercises he could, and did some of them better. lemon was not so strong as blackall, but he had a more correct eye, and a calmer temper; both very important qualifications, especially in most athletic exercises. he was, in consequence, a better cricketer, and a still better fencer. even at the broadsword exercise, although at first it might appear that blackall was far superior to miles, the latter had more than once given proof that it was hard work for any one to gain a victory over him. blackall's great fault was a strong inclination to bully. he was a tyrant, and utterly indifferent to the feelings of others. if he wanted a thing done, he did not consider what trouble and annoyance it might give others, but, confiding in his strength, he made all the smaller boys do what he wanted. if they refused, he thrashed them till they promised to obey him. he was a great talker, and a never-ceasing boaster of what he had done, and of what he could do and would do. as he certainly could do many of the things he talked about, it was believed that he could do everything. some believed in him, but others did not. such a person was, however, sure to have a number of followers and ardent admirers, who quoted him on all occasions,--stuck by him through thick or thin, right or wrong, and looked upon him as one of the finest fellows in existence. among the most constant of his followers was robert dawson--bobby dawson he was always called. he was not a badly inclined little fellow, but he had no confidence in himself, and, consequently, wanted to lean on somebody else. unfortunately he chose blackall as his supporter. among the smaller boys who aspired to be considered something above the common was tommy bouldon. he was a determined, independent little fellow. he was very active, and could perform more feats of activity than any other boy of his size. he was a fair cricketer, and was sometimes chosen by some of the bigger fellows to play in their matches. this made tommy rather cocky at times; but he was a good-natured chap, and managed to live on good terms with everybody. tommy, like blackall, was rather apt to boast of what he had done, or he purposed doing; but in one respect he was different;--he never exaggerated in his descriptions of his past exploits, and seldom failed to perform whatever he undertook to do. the boys i have described were among the many who were exercising away with all their might and main on the gymnastic poles. blackall was going up a ladder hand over hand, without using his feet, while lemon was swarming up a pole. when they reached the top, giddy as was the height, they crossed each other and descended, one by the pole and the other by the rope, head foremost; then, without stopping, each climbed on some horizontal bars. lemon first hung by his hands to the bar he had seized, and then he drew himself up until his chest touched the bar; then, lowering himself, he passed one of his feet through his hands, and hitched his knee over the bar; then he swung backwards, and came up sitting on the bar with one leg; it was easy enough to draw the other leg after him. throwing himself off, he caught the bar again by his hands, and curled his body over it. "that's all very fine," exclaimed blackall, who had been sitting on a bar observing him; "but, old fellow, can you do this?" blackall, as he spoke, threw himself off the bar, grasping it with both hands; then he passed the left knee through the right arm, so as to let the knee rest in the elbow; then he passed the right knee over the instep of the left foot, and letting go his left hand, he grasped his right foot with it. thus he hung, suspended by his right hand, and coiled up like a ball. after hanging thus for a couple of minutes, he caught the bar by his other hand, and, uncoiling himself, brought his feet between his arms and allowed them to drop till they nearly touched the ground. then he turned back the same way. once more lifting himself up, he threw his legs over the bar, and dropping straight down, hung by his bent knees, with his head towards the ground. a little fellow passing at the moment, he called him, and lifted him off the ground; a feat which called forth the loud applause of all his admirers. this excited him to further efforts, and he was induced to continue still longer when he found that lemon did not seem inclined to vie with him. while the exercises i have described were going forward, the doctor made his appearance at the door of the yard, accompanied by a boy who looked curiously round at what was taking place. after waiting a minute or so, the doctor led him on through the grounds. "i wonder who that chap is!" observed tommy bouldon. "he looks a regular-built sawney." "oh, don't you know? he's the new fellow," answered bobby dawson. "i heard something about him from sandon, who lives in the same county, ten or a dozen miles from his father's house. the families visit,--that is to say, the elders go and stay at each other's houses,--but sandon has never met this fellow himself, so he could only tell me what he had heard. one thing he knows for certain, that he has never been at school before, so he must be a regular muff, don't you see. his father is a sort of philosopher--brings up his children unlike anybody else; makes them learn all about insects and flowers, and birds and beasts, and astronomy, and teaches them to do all sorts of things besides, but nothing that is of any use in the world that i know of. now i'll wager young hopeful has never played football or cricket in his life, and couldn't if he was to try. those sort of fellows, in my opinion, are only fit to keep tame rabbits and silkworms." master bobby did not exactly define to what sort of character he alluded; and it is possible he might have been mistaken as to his opinion of the new boy. "well, i agree with you," observed tommy bouldon, drawing himself up to his full height of three feet seven inches, and looking very consequential. "i hate those home-bred, missy, milk-and-water chaps. it is a pity they should ever come to school at all. they are more fit to be turned into nursery-maids, and to look after their little brothers and sisters." this sally of wit drew forth a shout of laughter from bobby dawson, who forthwith settled in his mind that he would precious soon take the shine out of the new boy. "but, i say, what is the fellow's name?" asked tommy. "oh, didn't i tell you?" answered bobby. "it's bracebridge; his christian name is--let me see, i heard it, i know it's one of your fancy romantic mamma's pet-boy names--just what young ladies put in little children's story-books. oh, i have it now--ernest--ernest bracebridge." "i don't see that that is so very much out of the way either," observed bouldon; "i've known two or three ernests who were not bad sorts of fellows. there was ernest hyde, who was a capital cricketer, and ernest eastgate, who was one of the best runners i ever met; still from what you tell me, i fully expect that this ernest bracebridge will turn out no great shakes." while the lads were speaking, the subject of their remarks returned to the playground. an unprejudiced person would certainly not have designated him as a muff. he was an active, well-built boy, of between twelve and thirteen years old. he had light-brown hair, curling slightly, with a fair complexion and a good colour. his mouth showed a good deal of firmness, and he had clear honest eyes, with no little amount of humour in them. he was dressed in a dark-blue jacket, white trousers, and a cloth cap. dawson and bouldon eyed him narrowly. what they thought of him, after a nearer scrutiny, they did not say. he stood at a little distance from the gymnasium, watching with very evident interest the exercises of the boys. he had, it seemed, when he first came in with the doctor, been attracted with what he had seen, and had come back again as soon as he was at liberty. he drew nearer and nearer as he gained more and more confidence, till he got close up to where dawson and bouldon were swinging lazily on some cross-bars. blackall was at that moment playing off some of his most difficult feats, such as i have already described. "i say, young fellow, can you do anything like that?" said tommy, addressing ernest, and pointing at blackall. "dawson here swears there isn't another fellow in england who can come up to him." "i beg your pardon, did you speak to me?" asked ernest, looking at tommy as if he considered the question had not been put in the most civil way. "yes, of course, young one, i did. there's no one behind you, is there?" answered tommy. "what's more, too, i expect an answer." "perhaps i might, with a little practice," answered the new boy carelessly. "i'm rather fond of athletic exercises." "i'll be content to see you get up that pole, young 'un," observed tommy, putting his tongue in his cheek. "take care you don't burn your fingers as you come down." "i'll try, if i may," replied the new boy quietly. he advanced towards the pole, but another boy got hold of it--rather a bungler he seemed; so ernest left him to puff and blow by himself in his vain efforts at getting up, and went on to one of the swinging ropes. he seized it well above his head, and pressing his knees and feet against it, steadily drew himself up, to the surprise of bouldon and dawson and several other lookers-on, till he reached the lofty cross-bar. was he coming down again? no. he sprang up and ran along the beam with fearless steps till he came to the part into which the top of the pole was fixed. most of the boys thought that he would come down by the ladder; but, stooping down, he swung himself on to the pole and slid down head first to the ground. there he stood, looking as cool and unconcerned as if he had not moved from the spot. the feat he had performed, though not difficult, was one which neither dawson nor bouldon had yet attempted. it raised him wonderfully in the opinion of those young gentlemen. "very well, young one," exclaimed tommy in a patronising tone. "i did not think you'd have done it half as well. however, i suppose it's _the_ trick you have practised. you couldn't do, now, what that big fellow there, blackall, is about?" "oh, yes," said ernest quietly. "i can kick the bar, or swing on it, or circle it, or do the grasshopper, or hang by my legs, or make a true lover's knot, or pass through my arms, or hang by my feet. you fancy that i am boasting, but the fact is this, my father won't let us do anything imperfectly. if we do it at all, he says, we must do it well." "oh, i dare say that's all right, young one," observed tommy, turning away with dawson. "i see how it is. he has been coached well up in gymnastics, but when he comes to play cricket or football it will be a very different affair. a fellow may learn one thing or so at home very well, but he soon breaks down when he comes to practice work." a few only of the boys had remarked ernest's performances. most of them were too much engaged in their own exercises to think of him. he felt rather solitary when left to himself, and wished that dawson and bouldon would have stopped to talk to him, not that he particularly admired their manners. he was well prepared, however, to meet all sorts of characters. school and its inner life had been described to him by his father with faithful accuracy. although at the time few, if any, private schools were to be found superior to grafton hall, ernest did not expect to find it as happy a place as his own home, much less a paradise. a number of little boys were playing a game of ring-taw in a corner of the yard. ernest walked up to them. no one took any notice of him, but went on with their game. "knuckle down," was the cry. a sturdy little fellow, with a well-bronzed hand, was peppering away, knocking marble after marble out of the ring with his taw, and bid fair to win all that remained. ernest had long ago given up marbles himself, but he did not pretend to forget how to play with them. he thought that if he offered to join them it might serve as an introduction. "if you will let me, i shall like to play with you," he said quietly, catching the eye of the sturdy player. "with all my heart," was the answer. "thank you. but i must buy a taw and some marbles," said ernest. "i did not think of bringing any." "oh, i will lend you some," answered the boy. "here, this taw is a prime one; it will win you half the marbles in the ring if you play well." ernest thanked his new friend, and took the taw and a dozen marbles with a smile. he was amused at finding himself about to play marbles with some boys most of whom were so much younger than himself. his new friend had cleared the ring, and a fresh game was about to begin. he put down eight of his marbles, and, as there were several players, a large number were collected. the first player had shot out four or five marbles, when his taw remaining in the ring, he had to put them all back and go out. ernest was kneeling down to take his turn, when blackall, tired of his gymnastic exercises, came sauntering by. "what are you about there, you fellows? i'll join you," he exclaimed. "how many down? eight. oh, very well." without more ado he was stooping down to shooting from the offing, when ernest observed that he had taken his turn. "who are you, i should like to know, you little upstart?" cried blackall, eyeing the new-comer with great disdain. "get out of my way, or i will kick you over." "indeed i shall not," exclaimed ernest, who had never been spoken to in that style before, but whose whole spirit rose instantly in rebellion against anything like tyranny or injustice. without speaking further, he stooped down and shot his taw with considerable effect along the edges of the ring of marbles. it knocked out several, and stopped a little way outside. "didn't you hear me?" exclaimed blackall furiously. "get out of my way, i say." ernest did not move, but took his taw and again fired, with the same effect as before. blackall's fury was now at its highest pitch. he rushed at ernest, and lifting him with his foot sent him spinning along the ground. ernest was not hurt, so he got up and said, "i wonder you can treat a stranger so. however, the time will come when you will not dare to do it." "shame! shame!" shouted several of the little fellows, snatching up their marbles and running away, for they were accustomed to be treated in that way by blackall. ernest was left with his first acquaintance standing by his side, while the bully walked on, observing-- "very well; you'll catch it another time, let me promise you." "that's right!" exclaimed ernest's companion. "i'm glad you treated him so. it's the only way. if i was bigger i would, but he thrashes me so unmercifully whenever i stick up against him that i've got rather sick of opposing him." "help me," said ernest, "and we'll see what can be done." the other boy put out his hand, and pressing that of the new-comer, said, "i will." the compact was then and there sealed, not to be broken; and the boys felt that they understood each other. "what is your name?" said ernest. "it is curious that i should not know it, and yet i feel as if i was a friend of yours." "my name is john buttar," answered the boy. "i have heard yours. you are to be in our room, for the matron told me a new boy was coming to-day, though i little thought what sort of a fellow he was to be. but come along, i'll show you round the bounds. we may not go outside for the next three weeks, for some of the big fellows got into a row, and we have been kept in ever since." so johnny butter, as he was called, ran on. he let ernest into the politics of the school, and gave him a great deal of valuable information. ernest listened attentively, and asked several questions on important points, all of which buttar answered in a satisfactory way. "this is a very jolly place altogether, you see," he remarked; "what is wrong is generally owing to our own faults, or rather to that of the big fellows. for instance, the doctor knows nothing of the bullying which goes forward; if he knew what sort of a fellow blackall is he would very soon send him to the right-about, i suspect. we might tell of him, of course, but that would never do, so he goes on and gets worse and worse. the only way is to set up against him as you did to-day. if everybody did that we should soon put him down." ernest was very much interested in all he saw. notwithstanding the example he had just had, he thought that it might be a very good sort of place. buttar introduced him to several boys, who, he said, were very nice fellows; so that before many hours had passed ernest found himself with a considerable number of acquaintances, and even dawson and bouldon condescended to speak rationally to him. a number of boys having collected, a game of prisoners' base was proposed. ernest did not know the rules of the game, but he quickly learnt them, and soon got as much excited as any one. his new friend john buttar was captain on one side, while tommy bouldon was leader of the opposite party. each chose ten followers. a hedge formed their base, two plots being marked out close to it, one of which was occupied by each party. two circles were formed, about a hundred yards off, for prisons. "chevy, chevy, chevy!" shouted buttar, rushing out. bouldon gave chase after him. they were looked upon as cocks of their set, and the chase was exciting. bouldon was very nearly catching buttar, when ernest darted out to his rescue. now, tommy, you must put your best leg foremost or you will be caught to a certainty. what twisting and turning, what dodging there was. now bouldon had almost caught up buttar, but the latter, stooping down, was off again under his very hands, and turning suddenly, was off once more behind his back. "'ware the new boy; 'ware young bracebridge," was the shout from bouldon's side. tommy was in hot chase after buttar, and there seemed every probability of his catching him. on hearing the cry, he looked over his shoulder and saw ernest close to him. he had now to think of his own safety. from what he had observed of the new boy, he saw, that though he was a new boy, and had never been at school before, he was not to be despised. he had therefore to imitate buttar's tactics, and to dodge away from his pursuer. ernest had evidently been accustomed chiefly to run straight forward; he was very fleet of foot, but had not practised the art of twisting and turning. another boy of bouldon's side now ran out in pursuit of ernest, who, having executed his purpose of rescuing buttar, returned in triumph to his base, while one of his side ran out, and, touching the boy who had gone out against him, carried him off to the prison. several others were taken; bouldon at length was caught, so was buttar, but he was quickly rescued by ernest, whose side was at length victorious, having committed every one of the others to prison. ernest, who had contributed very largely to this success, pronounced it a capital game. he gained also a good deal of credit by the way he had played it, especially when it was known that it was for the first time, and that he had never been at school before. the way in which his companions treated him put him in very good spirits, and he became sufficiently satisfied with himself and with everything around him. he felt that he could do a number of things, but he was diffident from not knowing of what value they might be considered by other boys. he had heard that some savages despised the purest pearls, while they set a high value on bits of glittering glass, and so he thought that some of his accomplishments might be very little thought of by other boys. however, by the time the tea-bell rang, he had fully established himself in the good opinions of most of the younger boys; even two or three of the elder ones pronounced him to be a plucky little chap. the evening was spent in a fine large hall which had been fitted up for playing. before each breaking-up a platform was raised at one end, and speeches were delivered from it, and more than once it had been fitted up as a theatre, and the boys had got up, with some effect, some well-selected plays. there were some tables and desks at one end, and rows of shelves on which were placed boxes and baskets, and cages with birds and tame mice, and indeed all sorts of small pets. a few of the quieter boys went in that direction, but the greater number began to play a variety of noisy games. "i say, who's for a game of high-cock-o'lorum?" exclaimed bouldon. "i, i, i," answered several voices. "come along, bracebridge, try your hand at it." ernest declined at first, for he did not much admire having a number of fellows jumping over his head and sitting on his shoulders, but tommy pressed him so hard that at last he consented to try. his side was to leap. "go on, go on!" shouted buttar. ernest had for some time practised vaulting; he ran, measuring his distance, and sprang over the heads of all the boys right up to the wall. "bravo!" cried buttar, delighted, "you'll do, i see; there's no fear of you now." ernest felt much pleased by the praise bestowed on him by his new friend, and turning round he waved to the other boys to come on. the last boy failed, and his side had to go under. he proved as staunch, however, with two heavy boys on his shoulders, as any of the most practised players, and his side were much oftener riders than horses. "i say, though, you don't mean to say, bracebridge, that you have never been to school before?" said buttar, as they were summoned away to their bedrooms. "i should have thought, from the way you do things, that you were an old boy." ernest assured him that he had never been in any school whatever, and that he had associated very little with any boys, except his own brothers. "i'll tell you how it is," he continued; "my father says we should do everything on principle. he has made us practise all sorts of athletic exercises, and shown us how we can make the best use of our muscles and bones. the balls of the foot and toes are given us, for instance, as pads from which we may spring, and on which we may alight, but clumsy fellows will attempt to leap from their heels or jump down on them; however, i'll tell you what i know about the matter another time. he has us taught to row and swim, and climb and ride. he says that they are essential accomplishments for people who have to knock about the world, as all of us will have to do. he has always told us that we must labour before we can be fed; it is the lot of humanity. if we by any chance neglected to do what he ordered, we had to go without our dinner or breakfast, as the case might be; so you see we have learned to depend a good deal upon ourselves, and to feel that if we do not try our best to get on, no one else will help us." "oh, yes! i understand now why you are so different to most new boys," answered buttar. "well, your father is a sensible man, there's no doubt of it. i got on pretty well when i first came, much from the same reason. my mother never let us have our own way, always gave us plenty to do, and taught us to take care of ourselves without our nurses continually running after us. now i have seen big fellows come here, who cried if they were hit, were always eating cakes and sweet things, and sung out when they went to bed for the maid-servant to put on their night-caps; these sort of fellows are seldom worth much, either in school or out of it. they fudge their lessons and shirk their work at play; regular do-nothing molly milksops, i call them." and the two boys laughed heartily at the picture buttar had so well drawn. off each room was a washing-place, well supplied with running water, and a bath for those boys who could not bathe in the pond. ernest's bed was pointed out to him. approaching it, he knelt down, and while most of the boys were washing, said his prayers. only one boy in a shrill voice cried out in the middle of them, amen. when ernest rose up he looked round to try and discover who had used the expression. all were silent, and pretended to be busily employed in getting into bed; two or three were chuckling as if something witty had been said. "i will not ask who said, amen," remarked ernest in a serious voice. "but remember, school-fellows, you are mocking, not a poor worm like me, but god almighty, our maker." saying this, he placed his head on his pillow. "a very odd fellow," observed two or three of the boys; "i wonder how he will turn out." chapter two. ernest's first days at school. the next morning, when he got up, ernest was told, after prayers, to take his seat on a vacant bench at the bottom of the school, till the doctor had time to examine him. he felt rather nervous about his examination, for he had been led to suppose it a very awful affair. at last the doctor called him up and asked him what books he had read. ernest ran through a long list; sir walter scott's novels, and locke on the human understanding, were among them. the doctor smiled as he enumerated them. "i fear that they will not stand you in good stead here, my man; the books i mean are greek and latin books. what have you read of them?" "none, sir, right through. i know a great number of words, and can put them together, and papa and i sometimes talk latin and greek together, just as easily as we do french and german and italian." "i have no doubt that you will do in the end," observed doctor carr. "i make a rule, however, to put boys who have not read certain books in the class in which those books are about to be read, and let them work their way up. i reserve the power of removing a boy up as rapidly as i think fit, so that if you are diligent i have no doubt that you will rapidly rise in the school." ernest thanked the doctor, and in the forenoon went up with his new class. he felt rather ashamed at finding himself among so many little boys, and still more at the bungling, hesitating way in which they said their lessons. they were just beginning caesar. he found that he could quickly turn it into english, but he took his dictionary that he might ascertain the exact meaning of each word. the doctor called up his class that day, though he generally heard only the upper classes. ernest began at the bottom, but before the lesson was over he had won his way to the top of the class. "very good indeed, bracebridge," said the doctor with an approving smile; "you may read as much caesar as you like every day. i will beg mr johnson to hear you, and when you have got through it you shall be moved into the next class." many of the boys thought this a very odd sort of reward, and were much surprised to hear ernest thank the doctor for his kindness. they would have considered it a greater reward to be excused altogether from their lessons. much more surprised were they to find ernest working away day after day at his caesar, and translating as much as mr johnson had time to listen to. he read on so clearly and fluently that most of the boys declared that he must have known all about it before. a few felt jealous of him, and tried to interrupt him; but he went steadily working on, pretending to take no notice of these petty annoyances launched at him. in the course of a fortnight he was out of the class and placed in the next above it. this he got through in less than a month, and now he found himself in the same with buttar, dawson, and bouldon. they welcomed him very cordially, though they could not exactly understand how he managed so quickly to get among them. the two latter, however, were especially indignant when they discovered his style of doing his work. "it's against all school morality," exclaimed tommy, with a burst of virtuous anger. "how should we be ever able to get through half our lessons if we were to follow your plan? you must give it up, old fellow; it won't do." "i am sorry that i cannot, to please you," answered ernest. "you see, i want to read through all these books, that i may get to higher ones which are more interesting; and then i want to get to college as soon as possible, that i may begin life. our days in this world are too short to allow us to waste them. if i get through school twice as fast as any of you, i shall have gained so many years to my life. that is worth working for--is it not?" "my notion is, that we should do as few lessons and amuse ourselves as much as we can," answered tom bouldon. "when we are grown up there will be time enough to think of employing time; i do not see any use in looking forward to the future, which is so far off." "what are we sent into this world for, do you think?" asked ernest. "i'm sure i don't know," answered bouldon. "to spend the money which is left us, or to go into professions to make our fortunes," observed dawson. "i should think rather to prepare for the future," remarked ernest. "so my father has always told me, and i am very sure that he is right. we are just sent into this world to prepare for another, and that preparation is to be made by doing our duty to the best of our power in that station of life in which we are placed. it is our duty when we are boys to prepare for being men, by training our minds and bodies, and by laying in as large a share of knowledge as we can obtain." "oh, that's what the saints say!" exclaimed dawson, with a laugh. "we shall very soon christen you the saint, bracebridge, if you talk in that way." "i don't mind what you may call me," said ernest, quietly; "i only repeat what a sensible man has told me; i am very certain that he has only said what he knows to be the truth." neither dawson nor bouldon would be convinced that ernest was talking sense, but buttar, who was listening, drank in every word he said. he had at first felt an inclination to patronise the new boy, but he now tacitly acknowledged him as his superior in most respects, except perhaps a small amount of the details of school knowledge. ernest, however, had been too carefully trained by his father to presume on this superiority. he, of course, could not help feeling that he did many things better than most of his companions, but then he was perfectly conscious that if they had possessed the advantages his father had given him, they would probably have done as well. with the ushers he was a favourite, especially with his own master, who was under the impression that the rapid progress he made was owing to his instruction; while doctor carr soon perceived that he was likely to prove a credit to the school. ernest, however, was not perfect, and he had trials which were probably in the end good for him. some of the elder boys were jealous of the progress he made, and called him a conceited little puppy. blackall, who was only in the third class, and had from the first taken a dislike to him, did not like to see him catching him up, as he called it. with mere brute force ernest could not contend, so that he got many a cuff and kick from the ill-disposed among the elder boys, which he was obliged to take quietly, though he might have felt the inclination to resent the treatment he received. at length he began to prefer the hours spent in school, because he was there certain of being free from the annoyances in the playground. the bigger boys did not condescend to play with hoops, but ernest was very fond of all games played with them. buttar and he were generally on one side, opposed to dawson and bouldon. "who's for prisoners' base?" exclaimed buttar coming out from school into the playground with his hoop in his hand. plenty of boys were ready to join, and soon there was a tremendous clattering away with hoop-sticks and hoops, while ernest was seen with a light thin hoop, dodging in noiselessly among them. his hoop-stick was as light as his hoop, which he never beat. he merely pressed the stick against it, and in an instant, by placing the stick on the top, could either stop or turn, while he kept it under the most perfect command. the sides were soon arranged. out he darted with his swift hoop towards the enemy's prison, which he circled round; and though tom bouldon was on the watch to catch him, he kept dodging about till another of his own side ran out, in the hope of knocking down bouldon's hoop. bouldon was in honour bound to follow ernest till he touched his hoop, or drove him back to his base. ernest drove on his hoop to a considerable distance, with tommy after him. jones, one of ernest's side, pursued tommy, dawson pursued jones, and dawson, in his turn, was followed by buttar, and so on, till every one playing was out with the double work of having to try and make a prisoner, and, at the same time, to escape from the boy pursuing him. to a spectator not knowing the game, it might have appeared as if all was confusion: but those playing knew exactly what they were about, and felt that all their energies and science were required to enable them to play well. ernest's great aim was to lead bouldon into such a position that jones might catch him. this he at last succeeded in doing, and tommy and his hoop were sent into prison, and as no one was at the base, there he had every chance of remaining some time. meantime, ernest rushed to the base, to be ready to capture any one who might get back on the opposite side and endeavour to rescue bouldon. he was joined speedily by jones, who had only to look out so as to escape from dawson. dawson might have caught him, but, being himself pursued, he had to take care of his own safety. when dawson saw that jones had escaped him, he could with honour return to his camp; but his pursuer was nimble of foot, and had a light hoop, and just before he reached his base, he, or rather his hoop, was touched, and he had to take up his place in the prison. thus the game continued with great animation, victory appearing now to lean to one side, now to the other; but on each occasion when their side got the worst of it, ernest and buttar made such well-directed efforts that they speedily restored the day. now, all but three on their side were captured. out sprung ernest with his hoop, flying like the wind; and while his opponents were looking on at the rapidity of his movements, buttar, who had thrown himself on the ground, as if exhausted, leaped up, and dashing along, had recovered a prisoner before any one could overtake him. ernest in like manner regained another, and wheeling round as soon as he had entered the base, he was off again, and had sent an opponent to prison, and rescued another friend, without for a moment stopping. sometimes he would tell buttar exactly what he was going to do, and so well were his plans laid, that he seldom failed to accomplish his design. this gave him confidence in himself, and gained him the perfect confidence of his companions. at length ernest and buttar succeeded in putting every one of their opponents in prison, and loud shouts from their side proclaimed that they had won the well-contested victory. the game was over; the light hoops were laid aside, and dawson proposed that they should play at english and french. their chargers, as they called their heavy hoops, were brought out from the play-room, and the two parties, joined by a good many more, drew up on opposite sides of the field. even some of the bigger fellows condescended to join in the game. it was generally supposed to depend more on strength than skill. the strongest hoops were used, and if a hoop was once down, the owner was obliged to retire from the field. just as they were about to begin, blackall passed by. dawson instantly called to him-- "i say, blackall--there's a good fellow--do come and be our captain. here's my biggest hoop--it's a stunner! under your guidance it is sure to gain us the victory." "well, i don't mind helping you," answered blackall, carelessly, eyeing, however, ernest and buttar, for both of whom he had an especial dislike. "that won't do," observed buttar, who was one of the captains of his party. "stay, i'll get lemon to join us. he won't mind taking a hoop-stick to help us; and he, and you, and i, together with a few other good fellows and true, will be able to hold our own against dawson and tommy, even though they have bully blackall with them." buttar soon found miles lemon, who, though he was reading an interesting book, jumped up with the most good-natured alacrity, and undertook to act as the leader of their party. "oh, you fellows were afraid to take care of yourselves!" exclaimed blackall, when he saw lemon and buttar approaching. "well, we will see what we can do." there were full thirty boys on each side--nearly half the school. none of the bigger boys, of course, condescended to play with hoops. blackall and lemon, indeed, made it understood that they only joined as leaders, and on no account for their own amusement, while there were a good many small boys who were considered too weak to take part in so rough a sport. the armies were drawn up in double line, one at each end of the gravel playground. at a signal given, they rushed forward to the deadly strife, some striking away at their heavy hoops with all their might, and using clubs rather than hoop-sticks. ernest offered a great contrast to those heavy chargers. he entered the battle with his light hoop and hoop-stick, and when the signal was given, rushed forward in the van to commence the strife. on came blackall, highly indignant to see a new boy taking the lead in so prominent a way. he struck his hoop with a force sufficient to overthrow not only ernest's hoop, but ernest himself; but the young champion knew well what he was about. instead of waiting for the blow, by a dexterous turn he brought the edge of his light hoop against the side of blackall's, which went reeling away among the following crowd, and was instantly upset. ernest was in time to treat another hoop of the second line in the same fashion, and then he sprang on with a shout of victory to the end of the ground. several times the two parties changed sides, and each time five or six hoops went down, sometimes more. it was a regular tournament, such as was fought by the knights of old, only hoops were used instead of horses, and hoop-sticks in lieu of lances; but the spirit which animated the breasts of the combatants was the same, and probably it was enjoyed as keenly. blackall stood on one side, eyeing with revengeful feelings the success which attended ernest wherever he moved. backwards and forwards he went; and although constantly charged and marked out for destruction by the biggest fellows on the opposite side, always avoiding them, and seldom failing to strike down one or more hoops in every course. blackall could not understand how it was. he was not aware what a well-practised eye, good nerves, and a firm will could accomplish. ernest's father had instilled into him the principle, that whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing as well as it can be done. so, when he took a hoop in his hand, he considered how he could use it to the best advantage; and from the first, he never played with it without endeavouring to perfect himself in some method of turning it here or there, of stopping it suddenly, or of twirling it round. a second time that day did ernest's party come off victorious. some said that it was owing to lemon having joined them: but lemon himself confessed that he had not done half as much execution as had young bracebridge. from that day lemon noticed ernest in a very marked way, and when he spoke to him treated him as an equal in age. some of his first companions declared that, to a certainty, bracebridge would be very much cocked up by the attention shown him; but they were mistaken, for he pursued the even tenor of his way without showing that he by any means thought himself superior to his companions. the easter holidays arrived. those who lived near enough to the school went home; but as the boys were generally collected from widely separated parts of england, scotland, and ireland, the greater number remained. they had greater liberty than at any other time, and were allowed to make long excursions with one of the masters, or with some of the bigger boys who, from their good principles and steadiness, were considered fit to be entrusted with them. lemon was high enough in the school to have that honour, and so ernest and buttar always endeavoured to belong to his party. lemon was very glad to have them, as he found them more companionable than many of the bigger fellows, and he had no difficulty in keeping them in order. tom bouldon was also frequently of their party. he had tried others, but after some experience he found their society by far the most satisfactory. blackall, although a bully, stood pretty well with the masters. he had cleverness sufficient to get through his lessons with credit, and he had sense enough to keep himself out of mischief generally. doctor carr now and then had uncomfortable feelings about him. he was not altogether satisfied with his plausible answers; nor did he like the expression of his countenance, that almost sure indicator of the mind within. still the doctor hoped that he might be mistaken, and did not forbid blackall, who was appointed to the office by one of the masters, to take out a party of youngsters. far better would it have been for the boys had they been kept shut up within the walls of the school-room on the finest days of the year than have been allowed to go out with such an associate. blackall wanted to be considered a man, and he thought the sure way to become so was to imitate the vices and bad habits of men. too well do i remember the poison he poured into the ears of his attentive and astonished hearers. about five miles off there was a village with a few small shops in it. one of them contained books and stationery, and cigars and snuff. it was much patronised by blackall, not for the former, but for the latter articles. he thought it very manly not only to have his cigar-case, but his snuff-box. lemon never failed to ridicule him to the other boys for his affectation of manliness. he did this to prevent them from following so pernicious an example. "see that fellow, now, making a chimney of his mouth and a dust-hole of his nose," observed lemon, when one day he and his party passed him, with several of his companions, lying on the grass on a hill side, three or four miles from the school. blackall had a huge cigar in his mouth, and a small boy sat near him, looking pale as death, and evidently suffering dreadfully. "what's the matter, eden?" asked lemon, kindly, as he passed him. "oh--oh! it's that horrid tobacco! i thought i should like it; but i'm going to die--i know that i am. oh dear! oh dear!" answered the little fellow. "i hope that you are not going to die," said lemon; "but you will not get well sitting there in the hot sun. jump up, and come with us. bracebridge and buttar and i will help you along. there's a stream of clear cold water near here; a draught of that will do you much good. think how pleasant it will be trickling down your throat, and putting out the fire which i know you feel burning within you." the picture that lemon thus wisely drew was so attractive, that the little fellow got slowly up, and tried to walk along with him. "where are you going to take eden to?" shouted blackall, when he saw what was occurring. "out of mischief," answered lemon. "we are going to the seaside, and-- some fresh air will do him good." "he is under my charge, and you have no business to take him away from me," said blackall. lemon had become much interested in poor little eden, who was a promising boy, and who he saw would be ruined if left much in blackall's society. he therefore, like a true-hearted, conscientious person, resolved by all means to save him. he did not say, like some people, after a few slight efforts, "i have done my duty. i warned him of the consequences, and i am not called on to do any more." when he wanted to draw a boy out of danger, he made him his friend; he worked and worked away; he talked to him; he showed him the inevitable result of his folly; he used arguments of all sorts; he worked on all the better feelings the boy might possess; and what was of still more avail, he did not trust to his own strength for success--he prayed earnestly at the throne of grace--at that throne where such prayers are always gladly heard--that his efforts might avail: and others wondered, more than lemon himself, how it was when lemon took a fellow in hand that he always turned out so well. for this important object he struggled hard to obtain popularity in the school, and succeeded; for no boy of his age and size was so popular among all the right-thinking and well-disposed boys as he was. on this occasion he resolved not to leave eden in blackall's power. "if he wishes to come, i shall certainly allow him," said lemon. "he was committed to my charge by mr ogilby, and you have no business to take him away," cried blackall, still leaning lazily on his arm, and continuing to smoke. "to make him sick and wretched; to teach him to smoke and to drink beer and spirits, and to listen to your foul conversation--you reprobate!" answered lemon calmly, as he stopped and faced blackall. "by god! i'll thrash you for that as soundly as you ever were in your life," exclaimed blackall, taking his cigar out of his mouth, and rising to his feet. earnest's heart rose to his mouth; buttar clenched his fists tightly. putting eden behind them, they sprang to lemon's side, and looked defiantly at the approaching bully. none of the other boys of either party stirred. blackall did not like the aspect of affairs. he knew that though, from his greater strength and weight, he could thrash lemon, he could not hope at any time to gain an easy victory; and from what he had observed of ernest, he suspected that if he did strike, he would strike very hard and sharp. buttar also, when once he was attempting to thrash him, had given him such a hit in the eye that the mark had remained for a fortnight at least, to the no small satisfaction of those whom he had been accustomed to bully. he therefore stopped just before he got up to lemon. "come," he said, "i don't want to quarrel. let eden remain, and i'll cry _pax_." "certainly not, blackall, you've let eden do what is forbidden; you are setting him a bad example. i shall therefore be glad to take him away from you. he wishes to accompany me, and i shall let him do so," was the answer. "oh, you're a puritanical saint, lemon,--all the school knows that," said blackall with a sneer with which he hoped to cover his own retreat. he had been telling the fellows around him that he felt very seedy, and as he looked at the firm front of his three antagonists he had no fancy to commence a desperate fight with them. "i wish to deserve the good opinion of my schoolfellows, and i do not believe that they will agree with you," said lemon. "if hating vice and despising the low practices in which you indulge will make me a saint, i am ready to acknowledge the impeachment, and i can only say that i hope the poor little fellows may see the hideousness of sin, and loathe it as much as they do the vile tobacco-leaves you give them to suck, and the spirits and beer which you teach them to drink. stop! hear me out. there is nothing immoral in drinking a glass of beer or in smoking, but in our case they are both forbidden by the doctor, whom we are bound to obey. both become vices when carried to excess, as you, blackall, carry them, and would teach your pitiable imitators to carry them; and i warn you and them that such practices can only bring you disgrace and misery at last." lemon, without saying another word, turned on his heel, and, accompanied by his two sturdy supporters, was walking away. "do you mean to say that i drink?" shouted blackall, with an oath, as soon as he could recover from the astonishment into which this unusual style of address had thrown him. lemon turned round, looked him full in the face, and said, "i do." then he went on the way he had been going. blackall did not say another word, but staggered back to the bank on which he had been sitting, and endeavoured to re-light the end of the cigar he had dropped when he got up. he knew that lemon had spoken the truth. already he had that day stopped at more than one road-side ale-house and drunk several glasses of beer. "_in vino-veritas_," is a true saying. blackall when sober might pass for a very brave fellow: his true character came out when he was drunk, and he showed himself an arrant coward, as he had done on this occasion. the boys who remained with him looked very foolish, and some of them felt heartily ashamed of their leader. some resolved to break from him altogether, but he had thrown his chains too firmly over others to allow them to hope or even to wish to get free from him. lemon, ernest, buttar, and their companions continued their walk, carrying poor little eden along with them. he confessed to having chewed a piece of the cigar and swallowed it, before he discovered that it was not intended to be eaten. happily for him, he became violently sick, and then, having washed his face in a brook and taken a draught of cold water, he was able to enjoy the beautiful coast scenery the party ultimately reached. "is not this much better than sitting smoking and boozing with that thick-headed fellow, blackall, and his set?" said ernest, addressing young eden. "indeed it is," was the answer. "i'm sure if lemon will let me come with him, i will gladly promise never to go out with blackall any more." "stick to that resolution, my boy," replied ernest. "i'll undertake that lemon will let you accompany him; and now let us go down on the beach. these sands look very tempting." the whole party were soon on the sands, strolling along and picking up the various marine curiosities they found in their way. most of the party wondered at the odd-shaped things they picked up, but had not the slightest notion of their names, or even whether they were animal or vegetable. ernest knew very little on the subject, though he had read a book or so about the wonders of the sea-shore; but lemon was able to give his party nearly all the information they required. one of their number was called john gregson. he was looked upon by the school generally as rather stupid. he seldom joined in any of their games; and when he did, played them very badly, unless they were such as required more judgment than practice. now, however, he showed that he possessed some knowledge which the others did not. ernest had picked up a roundish object with a hole through it, and partly covered with spines, which tom bouldon stoutly declared to be a fish's egg. "it must have been a very large fish, then," observed ernest. "those prickles, too, are puzzling. perhaps they grew after the egg was laid." the general opinion was that gregson knew something about all sorts of out-of-the-way matters. "i say, gregson, this is a regular-built _egg_; isn't it?" said bouldon, as soon as he could be found. he was discovered up to his knees in a pool among the rocks, with a hammer and chisel in hand, working perseveringly under water. "no; you first make a statement totally at variance with the truth, and then ask a question," answered the young naturalist, looking up from his occupation, but apparently not well pleased at being interrupted. "that is the _echinus esculentus_, or sea-urchin. just let me finish knocking off this magnificent anemone, and i'll tell you all about it." "anemone! oh, i know--one of those curious coloured sea-weedy things i've seen girls collect at watering-places," observed bouldon, whose knowledge of natural history was not very extensive. "i'd save you all that trouble; let me cut it off with my knife." "not for the world; you'd kill it, to a certainty," exclaimed gregson. "see, i have knocked off a piece of the rock to which it is sticking, and i may now put it into my jar. now i could cut off any portion of it, and the part cut off will turn into a new anemone, but if i were to injure the base the animal would quickly die. they belong to the class scientifically called _anthozoa_ or living flowers, because from their external appearance they seem to partake of the vegetable nature. just look into that part of the pool which i have left undisturbed. see, there are two of them feeding. look how they stretch out their long tentacles to catch hold of their food. ah! that one has got hold of a tiny shrimp, and is tucking it into his hungry maw, which is just in the middle of its flower-like body. is he not a handsome fellow? what beautiful colours he presents! ah! i thought that i should see something else in the pool that you would think curious. look down close. there are three or more little globular bodies floating about like balloons. the animal is the berve. it has ciliated bands round it, like the marks on a melon. what a beautiful iridescent light plays over them! they enable it to move over the water, while with its long tentacles it fishes for its food. at night those cilia shine with a phosphorescent light, and have a very beautiful appearance. stop! oh, don't go away without looking more particularly at this submarine forest. the woods of america in autumn do not present more gorgeous colours. that beautiful pink weed is the _delesseria sanguinea_. let us pull up some and take it with us to dry it. it will keep its colour for years and its smell for months. see, those are shrimps cruising in and about those delicate branches, and crabs crawling round their stems, and sandskippers darting about; ah, and there comes a goby! did any of you ever see a goby? look at him!--what bright eyes he has got! he is hardly bigger than a shrimp, but he is their deadly enemy. he eats up their eggs and the young shrimps, as well as sandhoppers, and indeed anything living which he can get into his big mouth. in his way he is just as terrific a fellow as the shark. he is very hardy, too, and will live in an aquarium with perfect contentment provided he can get enough to eat." "well, i had no notion that so many curious things were to be found in a little pool of water," observed bouldon. "i've looked into hundreds, but never found anything that i know of." "oh, i have not mentioned a quarter of the things to be found even in this pool," answered gregson. "ah, look at that soldier-crab now! he has just come out from among the sea-weed with his stolen shell in which he has stowed away his soft tail. i'll tell you all about him--" "not now, greggy, thank you," exclaimed bouldon, who was getting somewhat tired of the naturalist's accounts. when gregson once began on his favourite subject he was never inclined to stop. nor was that surprising, for no subject is more interesting and absorbing to those who once take it up--nothing affords more pure or unmixed delight. "but i say, greggy, you promised to tell us about this sea-egg, or whatever it is called," said buttar. "come, i want to hear." "well, look at this starfish," answered gregson, drawing a five-fingered jack from his jar. then, taking the echinus in his hand,--"these two fellows are first cousins, very nearly related, though you may not be inclined to believe the fact. the thing you call an egg was as much a living being, capable of feeding itself and producing young, as this starfish. if i was to bend round the rays of the starfish and fill up the interior, i could produce an animal very like the echinus. both of them have also a mouth at the lower part, and their internal structure is very similar. it is curious that as the echinus grows he continually sends forth a substance from the interior which simultaneously increases the sides of all the plates which form his shell, and thus he never finds his coat too small for him. the spines which appear so rigid when he is dead, he can move when alive in any direction, and they are an excellent substitute for feet; while he can put forth tentacles from the centre orifice, which serve him as hands. did you ever see a starfish walk? well, he can get very rapidly over the ground and up steep rocks. he can bend his body into any shape, and the lower surface is covered with vast numbers of tentacles, with which he can work his onward way; and it is extraordinary what long journeys he is able to accomplish by perseverance." gregson wound up his lecture by promising to commence a salt-water aquarium, and most of his companions undertook to make another excursion with him for the purpose of conveying back a sufficient supply of salt-water and living curiosities to stock it. they all agreed that they had mightily enjoyed their day's excursion. ernest, for the first time since he had come to school, felt rather ashamed of himself that he knew so little about natural history, especially of the sea, and he resolved to take every opportunity of making himself acquainted with the subject. just before they reached home they passed through the field where they had left blackall and his party. most of the boys had gone away; but they saw three or four collected together at the bank where the bully had been sitting. he was there; and his companions were bending over him endeavouring to rouse him up. several empty porter bottles lay near, which plainly told what was the matter with him--he was helplessly tipsy. lemon, and ernest, and buttar went forward to help to drag him along. he looked a picture of imbecility and brutishness. he knew none of them; and only grinned horribly when they spoke to him. though they felt he richly deserved punishment, it was a point of honour to endeavour to save a school-fellow from disgrace, so they hauled him along and got him into his room and put to bed without meeting any of the masters or the matron--an undertaking they could not have performed except in the holidays. nearly all his companions next day looked very wretched and complained of headaches--a pretty strong proof of the ill effects of drinking. alas, how many youths have been hopelessly ruined by the example and counsels of a wretch like blackall!--and how many, in consequence of habits such as his, have sunk into an early and unhonoured grave, after continuing for a time a trouble and shame to all belonging to them! let masters and parents watch carefully against the first steps taken, often through folly and idleness, towards so vile a habit; and most earnestly do i pray that none of my young readers may be tempted to adopt so destructive a practice. chapter three. our grand hare hunt. "who's for a jolly good game of hare and hounds?" exclaimed tom bouldon, rushing into the play-room, where a number of boys were assembled, soon after breakfast, on a lovely day during the easter holidays. nearly everybody replied, "i am, i, i, i." "that's right; we couldn't have finer weather, and it's sure to last. i've been talking to young bracebridge, and he has undertaken to do hare," observed bouldon. "i know what some of you will say: he's a new fellow, and isn't fit for the work; but there isn't such a runner in the school. you see how he enters into all the games, though he has never played them before. i'll bet he'll make as good a hare as we've ever had, if not a better. that's my opinion." this oration of tommy's had the desired effect. with but few dissentient voices, ernest was elected to the honour of acting hare. tommy hurried out to inform him of the fact. ernest was not well prepared for the undertaking. he had only entered two or three times before into the sport, but still he sufficiently understood what was required of him, to feel that he should make a very creditable hare. he, however, thought that it would be more satisfactory if he was to consult with bouldon and buttar, as to what line of country he should take. they told him that if they knew, it would spoil their fun; so they went and found lemon, who gladly undertook to give him his advice on the subject. in the meantime, all hands were busily employed in making scent; that is, tearing into the smallest possible pieces all the bits of paper they could lay hands on. ernest's consultation with lemon was soon over. having put on his across-country boots, a short pair of loose trousers, and taken in his belt a hole or so, grasping a trusty stick in his hand, he set off by himself to have a look over the country. the whole party of hounds numbered upwards of forty. there were some very good runners among them; and, what was of more consequence, several who knew the country thoroughly; so that ernest knew that he must put forth all his energies. this, however, was what he took delight in doing. no people but those who have played at hare and hounds, can fully appreciate the excitement, the interest, and the pleasure of the game; or the proud feeling of the hare, who finds that he is successfully baffling his pursuers when he is distancing them by the rapidity of his pace, or by the artfulness of his dodges; still all the time, whatever twists and turns he may make, knowing that he is bound to leave traces of his scent sufficiently strong to lead on the hounds. the greater part of the day was consumed in preparations for the hunt. everybody engaged looked out their easiest shoes, and their thickest worsted socks. still a huntsman and a whipper-in were to be chosen: buttar proposed asking lemon, and bouldon seconded the motion. but then it was suggested, that ernest had consulted him as to the course he should pursue. one or two cried out for blackall. "no, no; let us ask lemon," said buttar again; "if he knows too much about the course bracebridge is to take, he will not go; but if he thinks it is right, he will. we can always trust lemon's honour, you know." no one dissented from this opinion. probably lemon himself was scarcely aware how popular he really was; and certainly he would have been fully satisfied with the grounds on which his popularity was founded. at last, lemon was met coming into the playground. several voices assailed him with "will you be huntsman?" "will you be huntsman, lemon?" "i must take time to consider; it is a serious undertaking," he answered, laughing. "i will see what tommy and buttar have to say." they expressed their own opinions, and mentioned all that had been said. "very well, i can take the part very conscientiously," he added; "i merely advised bracebridge in a general way, what course to take; and when he knows that i am to be huntsman, he will deviate sufficiently to prevent me from being able to follow him, unless i get hold of the scent." in the evening, when ernest came back, he expressed his perfect readiness to have lemon as huntsman. bouldon was chosen as whipper-in. "and i'll try to be one of the fleetest hounds," said dawson, "since i'm neither hare, nor huntsman, nor whipper-in." lemon possessed many qualifications for his office; and, among others, a capital horn, on which he could play very well. we always got up our games of hare and hounds in first-rate style. the huntsman, besides his horn, was furnished with a white flag, fastened to a staff shod with iron; while the whipper-in had a red flag. the hare had as large a bag as he could carry of white paper, torn into very small pieces. frequently, too, the hounds dressed in blue or red caps and jackets, which gave the field a very animated appearance; far better in one respect than a real hunt with harriers, because we were certain that the hare was enjoying the fun as much as the hunters, and whether he was caught or escaped, would sit down afterwards to a capital dinner or tea with them, and "fight his battles o'er again." the morning for the hunt arrived. it broke, bright and beautiful! with just enough frost in the air to give it freshness and briskness. the boys were up soon after daybreak, and had breakfast at once, that they might be ready to start at an early hour, and have the whole day before them. they assembled, just outside the school-grounds, in a small wood, which would conceal the hare from them, when he broke cover, and enable him to get a good start. the hunt was to be longer than any that had ever been run, and as there was every probability that all the scent would be expended, it was arranged that buttar should accompany ernest to carry an additional bag of paper. the huntsman sounded his horn cheerily, and all the hounds came pouring into the woodland glade, accompanied by the doctor, who seemed as eager as any one to see the sport. "now, buttar, are you all ready?" said ernest, as they buckled up their waist-belts, and grasped their leaping-poles. "too--too--too," went the huntsman's horn. "off hare, off hare," cried the doctor. "ten minutes law will give you a fine start; you'll make play with it--away, away!" he clapped his hands. off flew ernest and buttar, fleet as greyhounds, and very unlike the timid hares they pretended to represent. the doctor held his watch in his hand. the hounds meantime were getting ready to start; one pressing before the other, taking a last look at shoe-strings, tightening in their belts, rubbing their hands, in their eagerness to rush out of the wood and commence the pursuit. they kept looking up at the doctor's countenance, to endeavour to ascertain by the expression it wore whether time was nearly up. those who had watches were continually pulling them out for the same object. at last the doctor was seen to put his into his pocket. lemon gave a cheerful sound with his horn. "away, lads, away!" cried the doctor, full of animation. the instant the order was issued, the hounds made a magnificent burst out of the wood, in full cry, led on by the huntsman, waving his flag, and followed by tom bouldon, as whipper-in; an office he performed most effectually. the doctor stalked after them, enjoying the sport as much as anybody; and, i have no doubt, longing to enter more fully into it, and to run along with them. away went the pack, cheering each other on, across a field in which they had found the scent. at the bottom of it ran a rapid brook, as they all well knew. there were stepping-stones across it. it required a firm foot and a steady eye not to fall in. it was a clever dodge of the hare to gain time, for only one could cross at a time. there was scent on each stone, to show he had crossed. two or three slipped in, but were speedily picked out again by their companions; and forming rapidly, continued the chase on the other side, up a long green lane, with high hedges on either side. they had to keep their eyes about them to ascertain whether he had gone through the hedge, or kept up the lane. on, on they went! at last a pathway, over a stile, appeared on the right, leading through a thick copse. they dashed into it, but soon found that the pathway had not been kept; and through briar and underwood they had to force a passage; now losing the scent, now catching it again; a wide, dry, sunny field lay before them; along it, and two or three others of a similar character they had to go; and then across another brook, over which, one after the other, they boldly leapt. once more they were in a green lane, with deep cart ruts in it. before them was a mud cottage, with thatched roof, and a small, fully cultivated garden, enclosed by rough palings, in front of it. an old couple looked out, surprised at the noise. "oh, they be the young gentlemen from grafton hall. what can they be after?" they observed to one another. "i say, good dame, have you seen a couple of hares running along this way?" exclaimed tom bouldon, striking his staff into the ground, for the hounds had lost the scent. "no; but we seed two young gentlemen a scampering along here, and up that there lane. bees they demented? we didn't like to stop them, though somehow we thought as how we ought." "lucky you didn't; they'd have kicked up a great row, let me tell you," answered tommy, laughing heartily. he had not time to say more. the shout of "tally ho!" and the merry sound of the huntsman's horn, put all the pack in motion. the lane led up hill, and then widened out on some wild open rounded downs, with here and there a white chalk-pit, showing the character of the soil. up it they tore--for the scent was strong, and they were eager to make up for the time they had lost. every one was well warmed up now, and would have leaped across a chasm or down a precipice, or performed any other desperate achievement which they would not have attempted to do in their cooler moments. they breasted the steep downs in magnificent style. the scent led up some of the most difficult parts. for half a mile or more it led along the very summit of the ridge, but a fresh sweet breeze came playing around them, invigorating their muscles, and making them insensible to fatigue. the scent led over a high mound, along the edge of a chalk cliff. as they reached the summit, two figures were seen on the top of a similar height. all were of opinion that they were ernest and buttar. they looked scarcely half a mile off. the figures took off their caps, and waved them: this act dispelled all doubts on the subject. some began to fear that they should catch the hares too easily, but lemon assured them that there was no fear of that, and so they soon found. down the steep they dashed, till he shouted to them to stop, and to turn off to the left. a long line of chalk cliffs intervened between them and the opposite height, and the scent led along their edge. ernest and buttar had, in the meantime, disappeared; after a run of a quarter of a mile, once more the scent was lost. "lost, lost!" shouted lemon; and the hounds as they came up, went off in every direction to try and find it. in vain, for a long time, they hunted about, till a white spot was seen at the edge of the cliff, a little farther on. the cliff was here more practicable. they looked over; several pieces of paper appeared scattered on little green patches down the precipice. fearlessly they began to descend, though to some people it would have been nervous work. the difficulty they found showed that ernest and his companion had in no way lost ground, but had probably gained on them. now they all reached a ledge, beyond which the descent seemed utterly impracticable. still ernest and buttar evidently had got down. "where the hares have gone, we must follow," cried lemon, to encourage his party. "hunt about for a path--where there's a will there's a way! hurra, now!" the hounds kept examining the ledge in every direction, and at a distance they must have looked like a swarm of ants, so busy did they appear. still without success; and some of the more fainthearted declared that they should have to climb up the cliff again, and find some other way down, or give up the chase. "no, no, nonsense," said the huntsman. "there is a way down, and the way must be found." i must now go back to describe the progress of the hare and his friend. i have read of "the hare and many friends," but they were very unlike young buttar; no one could desire a stouter or a stauncher friend. before starting they had well laid their plans, and determined to give the hounds a good run. ernest had provided himself with a good pocket compass, so that he could steer as direct a course as the ground would allow to the point he had selected to round before turning back towards home. "let us go along over the smooth ground at a good pace--we shall save time to spare when we come to the difficult places," observed ernest to buttar, as they were waiting for the doctor's signal to start. it was given--and away they went; steady at first, but gradually increasing their speed as they found that they could easily draw breath. they met with no impediments in the way. they easily leaped the brooks they encountered. the old couple in ashby-lane stared at them, and wondered where they could be going, leaving little bits of paper behind them. then they came to ashby-downs: it was hot work toiling up the steep side, with the hot sun striking down on them; but when they got to the summit, a fresh breeze and a clear blue air revived their strength, and they went along merrily, every now and then looking back to try and catch sight of the hounds, judiciously dropping their scent in places where it could be seen, and not blown away by the breeze. they had several points to attend to. they had been especially charged by the doctor to avoid trespassing on any private ground; they had to select an interesting course, and one not too difficult, at the same time with every possible variety of country. on they went, making good play over the short smooth turf of the downs. at last they came to the cliff. buttar was for descending again, and crossing the ravine where it opened into the plain country. "no, no," said ernest, "we shall increase our distance if we can manage to get down the highest part of the cliff. let us try what we can do before we give it up." down the cliff they began to descend. there were plenty of craggy, rugged spots, which facilitated their descent, but in most places there was only room for one person to descend at a time, so, as in the instance of the stepping-stones, their pursuers had to form in indian file. they easily reached the ledge. below it the way was, indeed, difficult. at the very end, however, ernest observed several points of rock jutting out. by climbing up to them he saw that he could drop down on a broader ledge, well covered with soft turf, and could then descend under the very ledge on which they were standing. buttar agreed to make the attempt, feeling certain that lemon would find that or some other means of overcoming the difficulty. ernest clutched the rock, and got along bravely, followed by buttar. "take care that you do not sprain your ankle as you drop," cried the latter, as ernest prepared to let go so as to descend to the ledge. he reached it in safety. he caught his companion in his arms so as to break his fall, and sprinkling some paper under the long ledge, they pursued their way. once buttar had to let down ernest with their handkerchiefs tied together, while ernest again caught him. safely they reached the bottom, and away they went across valleys, over streams, and up hills, never once dreaming of fatigue. i need not follow them in the whole of their course. they were much delighted, on reaching a high mound, to see the hounds in hot pursuit of them, and still more when all the pack were assembled on the ledge trying to find a way down. "i hope none of them will come to grief," said buttar. "do you know, i think that it would have been safer to have taken some other course: that is a difficult place." "the very reason i was glad to find it," replied ernest; "one of these days some of them may have a whole tribe of red indians or caffres after them, and then they may be thankful that they learned how to get down a place of the sort. see! i think they are finding out the way. let us push on." they rose up into view, and waving their caps, on they went. next they found a descent, down which they trotted quickly, and then another cliff appeared before them; at the top some fine views were to be obtained. they did not hesitate; up they climbed fairway tower was in sight; a wide valley full of streams and rather difficult country was, however, between them and it. they pushed on along the downs; then they descended another steep hill, and on reaching the plain a rapid wide stream was before them. ernest had expected to come down near a bridge, which he proposed crossing. he and buttar looked at the broad stream with a puzzled expression. they were not quite certain whether the bridge was to the right or left. they decided on taking the left, going down the stream. at last they met a countryman. they inquired of him about the bridge. "oh; 'tis the other way, lads," he answered. "but, i say, young measters, bees you runnin' away from school in such a hurry?" "no, no," answered ernest, laughing. "we are running for the pleasure of making the school run after us. if we could get across the stream it may puzzle them to follow us. can you show us any place where we may cross?" "yes; that i can," was the answer. "there bees a place with a sort of an island loike in the middle. there's a plank athwart one place, and a tree hangs over t'other. if ye be as active as ye looks, ye'll make no odds a getting over." "oh, thank you, thank you, my man, we shall be much obliged to you, and as your time is your money? here is what is your due," answered ernest, handing the countryman a small coin. "but lead on; we have no time to lose." "noa, ma young ones, i'll no take your money. it's too much by half for just ten minutes' work. come along though, if ye bees in a hurry," said the good-natured fellow, putting back the coin, and leading the way down the stream. "if so be when we gets wages, we never has them, ye know, till the work is done." he trudged on with his arms swinging before him, getting quickly over the ground, though his legs did not appear to move half so fast as those of the young gentlemen. he did not utter a word all the time, but seemed to concentrate all his energies in getting over the ground as rapidly as he could. ernest and buttar ran on by his side, dropping the paper here and there sufficiently thick to indicate their course. at last they reached the spot mentioned by the countryman. he showed them a narrow plank, partly hid by bushes, by which they crossed to a green island surrounded by willows, which hung over into the stream. "a grand place for fishing, this," observed buttar, as he looked into the dark, clear water which went whirling by in eddies, and here and there formed deep calm pools and little bays, in which they could not help feeling sure many a trout lay hid. "no time to think about it, though," answered ernest. "we will come here, by all means, another day and try what we can do. let us now see how we are to get across the river. lay the scent thickly, that the hounds may not be in fault, or they may lose it altogether and give the chase up in despair." while they were speaking they were following the countryman through the reeds and grass, which was already high in that moist situation. he stopped at the base of a fine large willow, which they saw bent very much over the water, though the bushes prevented them from seeing how far. there were some notches in its trunk, and up these he climbed. they followed him closely, and saw him descend on the opposite bank by means of a knotted rope which hung from the end of one of the limbs. they were delighted with the plan. "capital!" exclaimed buttar. "what fun it will be to have all the hounds come scrambling over the old trunk, and letting themselves down by the rope, one after the other." the countryman looked at the speaker with a puzzled gaze. "the owndes!" he exclaimed. "they'll ne'er trouble the rope, i'm thinking." he evidently could not settle it in his mind that his young companions were not mad. buttar and ernest laughed heartily at his look of astonishment. "we speak of our schoolfellows, who pretend to be hounds, and we are hares leading them on," exclaimed buttar. the countryman clapped his hands and rubbed them together to express his delight at the notion, while he joined in their laughter at his mistake. "well, that there be a jolly good game, i do think," he exclaimed. "i loikes it, that i do--no, no--i'll not take your money, young measters. i gets a good day's pay for a good day's work, and that's all i asks, and all i wishes for." ernest, on hearing this sentiment, put out his hand and warmly shook that of the countryman. "i like to hear you say that, friend. it is what all of us should alone desire, and i am sure the world would be much happier if everybody in it were like you; but good-bye, good-bye; i've no time to talk now. i should like to fall in with you and have a chat another day. it's a good bit off to fairway tower, which we must round before we turn homeward." "you bees a free spoken young genl'man, and i'd lief have a chat we ye," answered the countryman; "my name is john hodge, and i live in lowley bottom; ye knows where that is, i'm thinking." "that i do; very glad. i'll come and see you, john hodge; good-bye, good-bye;" exclaimed ernest, as he and buttar set off at full speed across a grassy willow-bounded field towards fairway tower, which appeared full in sight on the downs above them. they had thoroughly regained their wind during the time they had spent with john hodge, so now they went away once more at full speed. they had a number of broadish ditches to leap, but they easily sprang over them, laughing whenever they pictured to themselves any of their followers tumbling in, a catastrophe they thought very likely to occur at two or three places, where the bank they had to leap to was higher than the one they leaped from. once more they reached the foot of the downs. these downs rose on the opposite side of the broad stream they had crossed. looking along the course of the river towards the sea, it appeared as if the silvery thread of water had cut the green hills in two parts, and that then they had slipped away from it on either side, leaving a broadish expanse covered with meadows and copses, and here and there a corn-field, and a cottage garden, and a potato-ground, with its small, low, straw-thatched, mud cottage. up--up the smooth, closely cropped side of the steep hill they climb, with just as good a heart as when they started. steep as it was, they scarcely panted an instant. ernest was in capital training; that is to say, he was in the condition in which a strong healthy boy ought always to be. so, indeed, was buttar; for neither of them ever ate a particle more of food than they required, they eschewed tarts of all sorts, and kept all their limbs and muscles in full exercise. may english boys never cease to practise athletic sports, and more especially systematic gymnastics! the hare and his companion soon reached the top of the downs, and turning round, spread out their arms with open palms, and gulped down a dozen draughts of the pure fresh breeze, which would now be somewhat behind them, though they had hitherto had it chiefly in their faces, an important advantage which ernest had taken into consideration when he selected the course for the day. note it, all you who may have to do hare. get the wind in your face as much as possible during your outward course, in cold as well as in hot weather, but more especially in hot. in cold weather, however, it is important, as you will, if you have the wind behind you when going, get very hot, and you will be apt to get chilled when leisurely returning, or be prevented, from fear of it, of sitting down and resting. not that such an idea of catching cold ever entered into the imagination of the two schoolboys. along the ridges of the smooth downs they went merrily, gazing down into the valley below, and more than once looking round to discover if the hounds were following. nowhere were they to be seen. the foot of fairway tower was reached at last. it was the keep of a castle of very ancient date, built in the centre of a roman encampment. the walls were of enormous thickness, allowing a staircase to wind up within them. "let us give them a good view of the sea," cried ernest. up the well-worn stone steps they mounted. up--up they sprung, laughing merrily and cheering loudly when they reached the top. few people, after a run of nearly fifteen miles, would have liked to have followed their example. the view, ernest declared, repaid them. it was expansive, and it gave, from its character, a pleasing, exhilarating sensation to the heart as it lay at their feet basking in sunshine. on either hand were the smiling undulating downs, dotted here and there with flocks of sheep. before them the country sloped away for a couple of miles till it reached the bright blue dancing ocean, over which several white sails were skimming rapidly. inland there was a beautifully diversified country. there were several rich woods surrounding gentlemen's seats, and here and there a hamlet and a church spire rising up among the trees, and some extensive homesteads, the gems of an english rural landscape; and there were wide pasture lands, and ploughed fields already getting a green tinge from the rising corn, and many orchards blushing with pink bloom, and white little cottages, and the winding river, and many a silvery stream which ran murmuring into it; but i need not go on with the description. ernest and buttar drank in its beauties as they did the cool breeze which blew on their cheeks, and then they looked round to try and discover the hounds. "i see them," exclaimed buttar, after a long scrutinising search. "there they are, just coming out of beechwood; they look no bigger than a troop of ants. well, we have got a fine start of them--let us give them a cheer. they won't hear us, but they may possibly see us." ernest agreeing to buttar's proposal, they got to the top of the highest pinnacle, and taking off their hats they waved them vehemently above their heads, shouting at the same time to their hearts' content at the top of their voices, hurra, hurra, hurra; once more, hurra! they did not expect, however, that the sound could possibly reach their friends, so they shouted, it must be owned, for their own satisfaction and amusement. having shouted and waved their hats till they were tired, they agreed that it should be time to commence their homeward way. they accordingly prepared to descend from their lofty perch to the world below. they did not go down by the staircase, but by the rugged projections in the wall, where a wide breach existed, made either by the hand of time or by cromwell's cannons in the times of the cavaliers and roundheads. they laughed very much as they stuck bits of paper into the crevices in the walls, and scattered them on every spot where there was a chance of their remaining. they were not long in reaching the bottom, for they were fearless climbers, and made little of dropping down ten feet or so to a ledge below them, provided they felt sure that they could balance themselves when there, and not go head foremost lower still, as careless climbers are apt to do. after this every step would bring them nearer home; but still they endeavoured to make the course as interesting as possible. having taken a turn round the tower, and dropped the scent thickly in their track, off they again set. along the upper edge of the downs they went at an easy jog-trot, and then when compelled at last, with regret, to leave the breezy hills, they took their way across a succession of fields where oats, and turnips, and mangel wurtzel were wont to grow, till they descended into the richer pasture and wheat-producing lands. still they had many a stream and deep ditch to leap. "how do you feel, old fellow?" said ernest, after they had made good play for a couple of miles or more without stopping. "as fresh as one of the daisies we are treading on," answered buttar. "do you know, bracebridge, i never like treading on wild flowers; it seems such wanton destruction of some of the most beautiful works of nature. i feel all the time as a donkey who has got into a flower-bed ought to feel,--that i am a very mischievous animal. i would always rather go out of my way than injure them, especially such graceful gems as the wood anemone, or the wild hyacinth, or the wood sorrel, or primroses and cowslips. i feel that i could not restore one of the hundreds my careless feet have injured, even if my life depended on it." "the same sort of idea has crossed my mind, i own," replied ernest; "but then i bethought me, that they have been given in such rich profusion that, although hundreds or thousands may fall victims to our careless steps, as you remark, thousands and tens of thousands remain to show the glory of god's works, and that year after year they come back to us as plentiful and lovely as ever. but i say, old fellow, it won't do to stop and philosophise. we are hares for the nonce, remember, and the hounds are in hot chase after us. by the by, _apropos_ to the subject, i remember reading a capital irish story of lover's, which made me laugh very much. for some reason or other, a fox walks into the cottage of a keeper, who is absent, and sits down on a chair before the fire, putting his feet on the fender, and taking up a newspaper, resolved to make himself comfortable. `a newspaper?' exclaimed the irishman to whom the story is being narrated. `what did he want with that?' `faith! how else could he tell where the hounds were going to meet in the morning?' is the answer." buttar laughed heartily at ernest's anecdote. "do you know that i cannot help feeling sometimes, as i am running along, as if i were really and truly a two-legged hare," observed the latter. "well, so do i," replied buttar. "and when i have been doing a hound, i have so completely fancied myself one, as i have been scrambling through hedges and ditches, that i have felt more inclined to bark than to speak, and should certainly have claimed fellowship with a harrier had i encountered one." "however that may be, as i do not feel inclined to sup on grass or raw cabbage, and should much rather prefer a good round of beef and some bread and cheese, let us now take the shortest cut home," observed ernest, who was getting hungry. "agreed! agreed!" cried buttar. "i don't think, though, that the hounds can be far behind us. it's my belief, when they come in, that they'll all declare they never have had such a day's run since they came to school." the huntsman, and whipper-in, and hounds were left on the ledge of rock, looking out for a way by which to reach the bottom of the cliff. at last tom bouldon espied a bit of paper sticking in a crevice above where they were standing. he climbed up to it and seeing another, and another, clearly defined the path the hare had taken. "tally ho! tally ho!" he shouted. "tally ho! tally ho!" cried the huntsman, and sounded his horn. in an instant, like shipwrecked sailors escaping from a wreck, all the boys were scrambling along the face of the cliff. then they began to drop down, one after the other, fearless of broken limbs, and very soon they were assembled in the valley below. once more they burst away in full cry. across many a marsh they had to wade, and over many a stream to jump, into which more than one tumbled, and had to be hauled out by the rest. indeed, had not tom kept them up to their work, several of the hounds would have given up and turned back. then lemon cheered them on with his horn, and waved before them his flag, and, shouting together, they surmounted all difficulties, and seldom for more than a minute at a time lost the scent, till they came to the passage of the river. here for a few minutes they were fairly puzzled. they got into the island, but how to get out again they could not tell. round and round it they ran, till the scent was discovered by lemon on the stem of the old willow. "tally ho! tally ho!" he shouted, springing along the leaning stem, and disappearing among the branches. tom whipped in the hounds, wondering what had become of their leader, till he was seen on the grass on the opposite bank, having come down, not having discovered the rope, rather more rapidly than he intended. some had already descended in the same rapid way, coming down on all-fours, or with all-fours upwards, and there lay on the soft grass, kicking and sprawling in delightful confusion, before the rope was discovered. the rest got down by the rope, followed by the whipper-in, and then they all picked themselves up, and set off at full speed after the hare. i need not follow them. continually this indefatigable whipper-in had to keep them up to their work, and very often had to help out those who had tumbled into ditches and trenches, or stuck fast in hedges. "well, i do declare we never have had such a run since i came to school," cried tom, enthusiastically. "bracebridge deserves a cup, that he does." the sentiment was echoed by all hands, from lemon downwards. "now, let us see if we can catch him before he reaches home." vain was the notion. the active hares kept well ahead of them, and when they reached the school, not a little tired, and as hungry as hounds should be, were found, seated at table, in clean dry garments, and enjoying a hearty supper. the two hares were speedily joined by huntsman, whipper-in, and hounds; and the doctor and two or three of the bigger boys came in to superintend the feast, and to hear them "fight their battles o'er again." the hares said very little of their exploits; but it is surprising what wonderful accounts some of the hounds gave of what they had done, what hair-breadth escapes they had had, what hills they had climbed, what streams and ditches they had leaped. chapter four. ernest's new friend. after the easter holidays, several new boys came. one of them was called edward ellis. he had a remarkably quiet and subdued manner. the general remark was, that he looked as if he was cowed. he was certainly out of spirits. he spoke very little, avoided making friends, or, at all events, confidants, and seldom entered into any of our games. he seemed prepared to suffer any amount of bullying, even from little fellows, and if he was struck, he never struck again. he had been at school before, but he never said where. probably, however, he had been there for some time, for he was already fourteen, though not big or strong for his age. with such a disposition and habits as i have described, of course he could not be a favourite with any one; at the same time, it could not be said that he was positively disliked. ernest, seeing how solitary and melancholy he appeared, compassionated the poor fellow, and never lost an opportunity of speaking kindly to him. this conduct had its due effect, and ellis took pains to show his gratitude. ernest had no little difficulty in defending his new friend, both from attacks made with the fists and those levelled with that still sharper weapon, the tongue. ellis was much exposed to the latter, especially on account of his ungainly appearance and uncouth manners. of course blackall took especial delight in bullying him, as there was no fear of a retort, by word, look, or deed. this conduct especially excited ernest's indignation, and he resolved to defend ellis, at every personal risk, from the attacks of the bully. "oh, i have always been an unfortunate, unhappy fellow!" exclaimed poor ellis one day, in the bitterness of his spirit, after he had been more than usually bullied. "unfortunate i have been, and unfortunate i expect to be to the end of my days!" "oh, nonsense!" answered ernest. "it is positively wrong to give way to such feelings. just rouse yourself, and come and play like other fellows, and practise your limbs, and run and leap, and you'll soon get on as well as anybody else. put yourself under the drill-sergeant and gymnastic master, and learn to dance, and you'll do as well as anybody." "me dance!" cried ellis, with a doleful expression. "tell me, bracebridge, did you ever see a bear attempt to practise the terpsichorean art. i should be very like the monster if i were to try it. but it is not that--there is something i cannot tell you about which makes me so unhappy, that i never expect to get over it. nobody here knows anything about it, but some day they may, and then i shall be worse off than i am now." "well, i don't want you to tell me," replied ernest, for he had an innate dislike to petty confidences. "but, i repeat, come and join us in our games. just practise cricket, for instance, every day for a month or so, with single wickets, and you'll be able to join in our matches, and play as well as any one, i dare say." "oh, no! i've no hopes of myself. i'm sure i shall never play cricket," said ellis, shaking his head. "we'll see about that," observed ernest, laughing at his friend's lugubrious expression of countenance. "but i'll tell you what you can do; you can play a game of rounders. it is not often that i play now, but i will get up a game for your sake." ellis was easily persuaded to accept ernest's offer. they went out into the playground, and the latter was not long in finding plenty of players ready to join the game. everybody was very much surprised when they saw ernest select ellis on his side. "why, bracebridge, you'll never do with that fellow; he'll be out directly," cried several boys. "never mind; he'll play better than you suppose in a little time," was the answer. "everybody must make a beginning." five of a side were chosen, and the ground was marked out. five sticks were run into the earth, about sixteen yards apart, the lines between them forming the sides of a pentagon, with one stick in the centre. the centre was the place for the feeder. "those are what we call bases," said ernest to ellis, pointing out the spots where the sticks were placed. then he drew a circle round one of them, which he pointed out as the "home." buttar, bouldon, dawson, and other fellows of the same age, were playing. bouldon was on one side, ernest on the other. the latter selected buttar, and the former dawson. they tossed up who was to go in first; ernest won. he went in first; tom had to feed him. dawson kept a sharp look-out behind him, as did the other three players in different parts of the field. there is more science in the game than many people are aware of, though not, of course, to be compared to cricket, any more than the short bat which is used is to a cricket-bat. "now, bouldon, give me a fair ball, you sly fox," cried ernest, for tom was notorious for his tricks and dodges of every sort. if a good hoax was played on the school, or on any individual, its authorship was generally traced to him. to do him credit, they were never ill-natured. he generally, when found out, bore his blushing honours meekly, and if not discovered, contented himself by laughing quietly in his sleeve. "all fair and above board," cried tom, bowling. "look out!" ernest hit the ball a fine blow, and sent it flying away over the heads of all the out-players. away he ran from base to base. he had already reached the third from the home--two distances more only had to be run-- when reynolds, a boy who could heave as far as any one in the school, got hold of the ball. one more run he thought he could attempt, for reynolds could scarcely hit him at that distance. reynolds, seizing the ball, rushed on with it. ernest reached the fourth base. he wished to make reynolds heave it; he pretended to spring forward; reynolds threw the ball; ernest watched its course, and as it bounded by him, he changed his feint into a reality, and reached the home. the next time he hit the ball still harder, and ran the whole round of the bases. "now, ellis, you may have to go in before long," he sang out. "don't attempt a rounder, though. get to the first or second base easily; that will do. come, feed away, tommy." bouldon fed him, and though he sent the ball to a good distance, he only reached the fourth base. when he got there, he called out to ellis to go in. ellis seized the bat with a convulsive clutch, as if he was about to fight a battle with it, or was going to perform some wonderful undertaking. even ernest could scarcely help laughing at the curious contortions of countenance in which he indulged. however, remembering ernest's advice, he kept his eye on the ball, and hit it so fairly, and with such good force, that he sent it flying away to a considerable distance. "capital!" cried ernest, clapping his hands at the success of his pupil. "run! run!--two bases at least." ellis did the distance with ease, and ernest sprang into the home. "now look out, old fellow, to run right in, or, at all events, to the fourth base," he sang out to ellis, whose spirits rose at his success; and he looked as eager as any one, and ready for anything. tom tossed the ball to ernest in a way somewhat difficult to hit, and when he struck it, he was nearly caught out. he, however, ran over a couple of bases, and ellis stopped short at the fourth. this brought in a new player at the home. he sent the ball but a short way, and ellis was very nearly struck out. the ball grazed him, but he was well in the home. had he been struck out, he very likely would never have played well again. tom now fed him. he hit the ball, and with all his might, and sent it as far as ernest or bouldon had ever done. "capital! well done, ellis!" shouted many of the fellows, both players and lookers-on; and away he ran, and performed a whole circle. ernest determined to play his best, so as to keep ellis in as long as possible. he was sure, from what he saw, that his success would give him encouragement, not only to play other games, but to mix more sociably with his schoolfellows. ernest played capitally, but ellis scored almost as many, to the surprise of those who fancied that he could not play at all. few would have believed that he was the same awkward, shy boy, who was usually creeping about the play-ground, as they saw him, with a high colour and full of animation, hitting ball after ball with all his might, and cutting away round the bases. at last, one of their side was caught out, and buttar went in. he was a good player, and added considerably to the numbers scored by his side. still, as both dawson and bouldon were capital players, and so were most of their side, ernest did his utmost to get as many runs as possible, at the same time that he wanted to make ellis feel that he had himself contributed largely to the victory. every time ellis made a good hit, he praised him loudly, and certainly felt more pleasure than if he had done well himself. poor ellis had never been so happy since he was a child. he began to feel that, after all, he need not fancy himself less capable than his companions to enter into the usual sports of the school. at last, buttar was struck out, and so was another player, and ernest and ellis alone were kept in. the latter could scarcely believe his senses, when he found himself the only person to help ernest to keep up the game. ernest was in the home; ellis was on the base at the opposite side. he knew that he must run hard, or he would put ernest out as well as himself. "now, tom, two fair hits for the rounder," exclaimed ernest. the proposal was agreed to. bouldon kept tossing the ball several times, but ernest refused to hit. at last he hit, but did not run, and ellis very nearly got out by attempting to do so. the next time he hit, and hit hard indeed. away flew the ball further than ever, to the very end of the field. "now, ellis, run! run!" he sang out. ellis moved his legs faster than he had ever before done, and shouted and shrieked with delight when ernest made the round in safety. thus the game continued. ellis appeared to have a charmed existence as far as the game was concerned. nothing could put him out. more than once his balls seemed to slip through the very fingers of those about to catch them. "i say, bracebridge, are you going to be out or not, this evening?" exclaimed tom, getting positively tired of feeding. "not if ellis and i can help it," was the answer. "we've taken a fancy to have a long innings, do you see?" so it seemed, in truth; and the tea-bell positively rang while they were still in. by the custom of our school, a game of that minor description was then considered over; and the two new friends went into the tea-room together in a very triumphant state of mind. "i told you, ellis, you could do whatever you tried, just as well as other fellows," said ernest, as he sat by him at tea. "now i must show you how to play cricket, and hockey, and football, and fives, and all sorts of games. to-morrow we'll have a little quiet practice at cricket with single wicket, and i'll wager by the summer that you'll be able to play in a match with any fellows of our size." ellis thanked ernest most warmly. he felt a new spirit rising in him-- powers he had never dreamed of possessing coming out. he might yet stand on equal terms with his companions at school and with his fellow-men in the world. "as i told you before, old fellow, what you want is a course of drilling. our old sergeant will set you up and make you look like a soldier in a very few months. just go and talk to the doctor about it. he'll be glad to find you wish to learn. you'll like old sergeant dibble amazingly. it's worth learning for the sake of hearing him tell his long stories about his campaigning days--what his regiment did in the peninsular, and how they drove all napoleon's generals out of spain and portugal." ernest grew quite enthusiastic when speaking about sergeant dibble, with whom he was a great favourite. he succeeded in inspiring ellis with a strong desire to learn drilling. "who knows but what after all i may one day be considered fit to go into the army!" exclaimed ellis, after listening to a somewhat long oration in praise of sergeant dibble. "i wish you would go into it," said ernest. "i believe that i am to be a soldier, but my father will never tell any of us what professions he intends us for. he tells us we must get as much knowledge as we can obtain, and that we must perfect ourselves in all physical exercises, and then that we shall be fit to be bishops, or generals, or lord chancellors, or admirals, or aldermen, or whatever may be our lot in life. of course, he is right. my elder brother came out senior wrangler at cambridge, and pulls one of the best oars and plays cricket as well as any man in the university. if i can do as well as he has done i shall be content. he is now going to study the law, and then to look after the family property. i have to make my own way in the world somehow or other." "well, so have i to make my own way," observed ellis. "i don't fancy that i shall ever have any property coming to me, and i thought that i should never get on, but always have to stick at the bottom of the tree; but do you know, that from what you have said to me, i begin to hope that i may be able to climb like others, if not to the top, at least to a comfortable seat among the branches?" "bravo! capital! that you will!" cried ernest, who was delighted to find the effect his lessons were producing. he was not himself aware of the benefits he was reaping from having some one to watch over and assist. ernest was undoubtedly very clever, but he was very far from perfect. he could not help feeling that he was superior to most--indeed, to all the boys of his own age at school. this did not make him vain or conceited in any objectionable way, but he was somewhat egotistical. he thought a good deal about himself--what people would say of him, what they would think of him. he was perhaps rather ambitious of shining simply for the sake of shining--a very insufficient reason, all must agree, if they will but consider how very very pale a light the brightest genius can shed forth when his knowledge comes to be measured with that which is required to comprehend a tenth part of the glories which the universe contains. the half drew on. blackall did not relax in his tyranny over the younger boys, though more than once it brought him into trouble. at last the doctor heard of his bullying, and he was confined within bounds for a month, and had no end of impositions to get up. he promised amendment; but the punishment did not cure him, and in a short time he was as bad as ever. he began, as usual, upon those less likely to complain, and ellis was one of his first victims. he seemed to take a peculiar delight in making the poor fellow's existence miserable, and every day he found some fresh means of torture. ernest saw this going on day after day, and at last felt that he could stand it no longer. "i must get ellis to stick up to him, or i must do so alone," he exclaimed to himself. although ellis fancied that he could not play at games, he was very ingenious, and could make all sorts of things--little carriages of cardboard, with woodwork, and traces and harness complete, which he painted and varnished; and boats and vessels, which he cut out of soft american pine, and scooped out and put decks into them, and cut out their sails, and rigged them with neat blocks. sometimes the blocks had sheaves in them, and the sails were made to hoist up and down, and his yachts sailed remarkably well and could beat any of those opposed to them. then he made little theatres capitally, and painted the scenes and cut out the characters, and stuck tinsel on to them; and if not as good as a real play, they afforded a vast amount of amusement. these talents, however, were not discovered for some time. we did not disdain to fly kites at our school, but they were very large, handsome kites, and we used to vie with each other in trying which could get the largest and strongest and most finely ornamented, and make them fly the highest. our french master, monsieur malin, was a great hand at kite-flying. he did not like cricket, or football, or hockey, or any game in which he might get hurt, because, as he used to say, "vat you call my sins are not manufactured of iron. you _petits garcons_ don't mind all sorts of knocks about, but for one poor old man like me it is not good." had he been an englishman, we might have despised him for not playing cricket or football, but we thought it was only natural in a frenchman. as he played rounders, and prisoners' base, and hoops, and every game of skill, in capital style, and was very good-natured and ready to do anything anybody asked him, which he had it in his power to do, he was deservedly a very general favourite. it was great fun to hear him sing out, "chivie! chivie! chivie!" when playing at prisoners base, and to see his legs with short steps moving along twice as fast as anybody else. the weather was getting rather too hot for most of our running games which we played in the spring and autumn--with the exception, of course, of cricket, the most delightful of all summer amusements--when monsieur malin proposed a grand kite-flying match. two different objects were to be tried for. there were two equal first prizes. one was to be won by the kite which rose the highest, or rather, took out the longest line; the other prize was to be given to the owner of the kite which could pull the heaviest weights the fastest. two other prizes were to be bestowed, one on the handsomest kite, and the other to the most grotesque, provided they were not inferior in other qualities. for two or three weeks before, preparations were being made for the match, and every day parties were seen going out to the neighbouring heath to try the qualities of the kites they had manufactured. clubs were formed which had one or two kites between them, for the expense of the string alone was considerable. it was necessary to have the lightest and strongest line to be procured, which would also run easily off the reel. monsieur malin was working away at his kite in his room, and he said that he would allow no one to see it till it was completed. many of the bigger fellows condescended to take an interest in the matter, as did lemon and ernest and others, and even blackall gave out that he intended to try the fortune of his kite. he stated that he should not bother himself by making one, but that he had written to london to have the largest and best ever made sent down to him. many of the fellows, when they heard this, said that they thought there would be very little use in trying to compete with him. dawson especially remarked that he should give up. "blackall has everything of the best, you know, always in tip-top style," he remarked; "and you see, if he gets a regular-made kite from a first-rate london maker, what chance can any of us possibly have?" blackall himself seemed to be of the same opinion, and boasted considerably of the wonders his kite was going to perform. monsieur malin smiled when he heard him boasting; ernest said nothing, but looked as if he thought that he might be mistaken; while buttar laughed and observed that bully blackall seemed to think that a large amount of credit was to be gained by buying a good kite. he might congratulate himself still more if he could buy at as cheap a rate a good temper and a good disposition. ernest, meantime, going on the principle he had adopted of doing his utmost to encourage ellis, proposed to join him in the share of a kite. ellis said that he should be very glad, and that he would undertake to make it himself. "what! can you make kites?" exclaimed ernest. "i never dreamed of that." "oh, i have made all sorts of kites, and know how to fly them well," answered ellis. "i have the materials for one in my box now. i did not like to produce them, because the other boys would only laugh at me for proposing to fly a kite. i have ample line, though we may add another ball or two. all i want are two thin but strong laths, nine and eight feet long." "what! are you going to make the kite nine feet high!" exclaimed ernest. "that will be big, indeed." "yes; nine feet high, and eight from wing to wing," said ellis. "why, what a whacking big fellow it will be!" exclaimed ernest. "and i say, what a lot of paper it will take to make it!" "not a particle," answered ellis. "it is all made of silk, which is lighter and stronger than any other material. come with me to the carpenter's and get the laths, and we'll have it made by the evening, so as to fly it, if there is a breeze, to-morrow." "i'll go with pleasure to the carpenter's; but if you are pretty certain that your kite will do well, do not let us fly it till the day of trial. it will astonish every one so much to see you come out with a great big kite, which, i doubt not, will beat all the others." "oh, no! i'm afraid that it won't do that. it will scarcely be equal to monsieur malin's, and probably blackall will get something very grand down from london," answered ellis, always diffident about anything connected with himself. "we'll see," said ernest quietly. "and now, as we have so grand a kite, let us go and see old hobson about the carriage which we must make it drag. any shape and any plan is allowable, remember, provided it can carry two. now i have a design in my head which i think will answer capitally. you see old gentlemen and ladies steering themselves, with a person pushing behind, in an arm-chair. i propose having a sort of a skeleton of a chair, with two big wheels and one small one in front, with a very long front part,--one seat behind for the person who manages the kite, and one in front for the steerer. there must be a bar in front with a block to it, through which the line must pass, and then i would have a light pole with a hook at one end, while the butt-end should be secured to the centre of the carriage. suppose you were to sit in front and steer; i would sit behind and have a reel to haul in or let out the line, and with the pole and hook i could bring the kite on one side of the carriage or the other, as might be required to assist you to guide it. it is my opinion that we can make the carriage go on a wind, as yachtsmen say. that is to say, if the wind is from the north or south, we may make the carriage go east or west. now, if other fellows have not thought of that, and the wind should change a few points, we may be able to go on in our proper course while they may be obliged to stop, and so we shall win the prize." "capital!" repeated ellis, clapping his hands and hugging himself in his delight in a peculiarly grotesque way which always made his friend smile, though he determined some day quietly to tell him of the habit, and to advise him to get over it. "capital!" repeated ellis. "i've heard of something of the sort in canada, where, on the lakes and rivers, what are called ice-boats are used. they are, however, placed on great skates or iron runners, and have sails just like any other boats, only the sails are stretched quite flat, like boards. they have a long pole out astern with an iron at the end of it, which cuts into the ice and serves as a rudder. they sail very fast, and go, i understand, close on a wind." "what fun to sail in them!" cried ernest. "i've often thought i should like to go to canada, and that would be another reason. but, i say, ellis, i fancy from the way you talk you know something about yachting. i'm very fond of it; you and i will have some sailing together one of these days." ellis said that he had frequently yachted with some of his relations, and that he should be delighted to take a cruise with ernest when they could afford to have a boat. they talked away till they got to the shop of old hobson the carpenter. he was a clever workman, with a natural mechanical turn, so he comprehended the sort of carriage they wanted, and willingly undertook to make it. chapter five. our kite-race. towards the end of april, the rising sun ushered in a fine breezy morning, with every promise of a strong wind during the day. it was a half-holiday; but on grand occasions of the sort--for it was the day fixed for the kite-race--the boys were allowed to get up and begin lessons an hour earlier than usual. the doctor always encouraged early rising, and he was, besides, anxious to show us that he took an interest in our amusements, by making such regulations as might facilitate them. ernest and ellis had constantly been to old hobson's to see how their carriage was getting on. "never you mind, young gen'men, it's all right," was his answer for some days. "i won't disappoint you; but you see several has come here who wants such fine painted affairs, that i must get on with them. there's mr blackall, now, who has been and ordered a carriage which i tells him will take six horses to drag; but he says that he has got a kite coming which will pull one along ten miles an hour, twice as big as this, so of course i've nothing more to say." a large flat case arrived in the morning of the race day for blackall, just as we were going in to lessons after breakfast; so he had no time to open it. it was not as large as he expected, but still he was very confident that all was right. lessons over, we went in to dinner--and that meal got through, with more speed than usual, we all assembled to see the kites and the carriages which had been prepared. the carpenters were in attendance with the vehicles they had got ready according to orders received. they were of all shapes and plans. several, among whom was blackall's, were very finely painted, but the greater number were mere boxes on wheels, put together at very little expense--which few boys were able to afford, even when clubbing together. first appeared monsieur malin's kite; it represented a wonderful green dragon, twisting and turning about in the most extraordinary way--the tail of the kite being merely the small end of the tail of the dragon. it had great big red eyes, glowing with tinsel, and wings glittering all over, and a tongue which looked capable of doing a large amount of mischief. loud shouts of applause welcomed the green dragon, as monsieur malin held it up like a shield before him, and moved about the playground, hissing, and howling, and making all sorts of dreadful noises. tommy bouldon had joined a club, which produced a magnificent owl, with a large head, and huge goggling eyes; and never did owl hiss more loudly than did their owl as it met monsieur malin's terrific dragon. they at last rushed at each other with such fury, that tommy's head very nearly went through the owl's body, which would effectually have prevented it from flying at the match. lemon and buttar had fraternised, and in front of them marched a military officer, magnificent in a red coat, vast gold epaulets, and no end of gold braiding and trimming, which glittered finely in the sun, while his richly ornamented cocked hat, set across his head, had on the top of it a waving plume of feathers, and a drawn sword in his hand shone in the sunbeams. he looked very fiercely at the dragon and the owl, as he did at everybody, for his eyes were large, and round, and dark. the dragon roared, and the owl hissed at him, when he growled out, "i'll eat you," which produced loud shouts of laughter from both of them, while they quietly replied, "you can't." after the general had shown himself, ellis walked in, bearing a long thin pole, wrapped round, it appeared, by a flag. ernest accompanied him, carrying a reel of fine but very strong twine. some boys stared, and others laughed derisively, and asked if he thought that thing was going to fly. "you'll see--you'll see," he answered very quietly. "fly!--dat it will--higher dan any of ours, i tell you, boys," observed monsieur malin, who had eyed it attentively. ernest and ellis marched across the playground, into the field beyond, out of sight, and in less than two minutes returned, bearing aloft a magnificent knight in silver armour, with a glittering shield on his arm, a plume on his helmet, and a spear in his hand. his visor was up, and his countenance, with a fine black beard and moustache, looked forth fiercely beneath it, while a band of roses, which was thrown over his shoulder, hung down and formed a very magnificent tail, glittering with jewels. no sooner did the gallant knight make his appearance than the derisive laughter and sneers were changed into shouts of applause. all were agreed that never had a more beautiful kite appeared. "all very well," cried dawson, who was expecting blackall's kite to come forth, "but it is a question with me whether such a gimcrack-looking affair will fly." blackall had meantime been busily employed in unpacking his kite, which was to create so much astonishment, and do such mighty things. he undid the strings and brown paper, and laths, which surrounded it, with eager haste. a number of boys were looking on, all curious to see what was to be produced. dawson was among the most sanguine, expecting that something very fine was to appear. at last blackall was seen to scratch his head, and to look somewhat annoyed. "come, come, blackall," exclaimed sandford, one of the biggest fellows, and certainly no friend of his; "let us see this precious kite of yours. out with it, man." "mind your own business, sandford," answered the bully, sulkily. "i'll show the kite when i feel inclined." "ho, ho, ho!" replied sandford, laughing; and knowing perfectly well that blackall dared not retaliate, stooping down, he lifted the kite, and held it up to the view of the whole school. there was a picture of a big ugly boy daubed in the commonest ochre, and bearing evident marks of its toy-shop origin, though tommy bouldon and others declared that they recognised in it a strong likeness to blackall himself. blackall seemed to think that some trick had been played him, though it was very clear that the likeness was accidental. "it's pretty plain who's got the ugliest and most stupid looking kite," said buttar, as he passed by. "very like himself. i wonder if it will fly." "yes, if it can find a small kite up in the sky to thrash," observed bouldon. "but, i say, let us give three cheers for blackall's toy-shop kite. i wonder if he will take it as a compliment." a boisterous, if not a hearty, cheer was quickly raised, which barely served to cover a chorus of hisses and groans uttered by a number of little fellows, who had been in the habit of receiving gratuitous kicks and cuffs from their amicable companion. there were several ordinary kites, remarkable chiefly for their size, being made of newspapers; but there were others contributing an ingenious variety of devices--bats, and frogs, and fish of curious shapes. the flying-fish especially looked very natural as they glittered in the sunbeams, only people could not help inquiring how they came to be up so high in the air. at last all were ready to set forth; some pushed the carriages, and others carried the kites. ernest and ellis rolled up theirs, and carried it along very easily. the doctor led the way, accompanied by two or three of the biggest fellows; but he would every now and then stop, and call up some of the smaller ones to have a talk with them. the ground chosen for the trial of the kites was a high, downy table-land, with a fine flat surface. it was a very pretty sight to see all the boys, with their carriages and gaily-coloured kites, assembled together. there were nearly fifty kites, for many brought small kites, with which they had no intention to contend for a prize. all the masters, and several friends of the doctor's and some of the boys, attended to act as umpires. at last everything was arranged. the kite-flyers formed one long line, with the wind in their backs. the first point to be decided was the beauty of the kites. lemon had his horn, which was to be used as a signal. he blew three shrill blasts. at the sound of the third, up they all flew, some starting rapidly upwards; others wavering about before ascending; a few refusing to mount altogether beyond a few yards off the ground. however, the greater number mounted rapidly, their brilliant colours flashing in the sunbeams. the spectators clapped their hands loudly, as a mark of their approbation, and then set to work to make notes, that they might decide when called on to declare on whom the prizes ought to be bestowed. monsieur malin's green dragon came in for a large share of praise, so did the general officer; but ellis's knight of the silver shield was decided to be the most elegant and beautiful of all the kites, and the owner was called forth to receive his meed of applause. many were surprised when they saw ellis, with his awkward gait, shuffling out from among the crowd; and, more especially, when he announced himself, in a hesitating tone, not only as the maker, but as the designer of the knight of the silver shield. one kite went up some way, just sufficient to exhibit its ugliness, but wavered and rolled about in the most extraordinary manner, evidently showing that it was lop-sided. it received shouts, but they were not of applause, and they were accompanied by hisses, which the doctor, however, repressed. the kite received in this unflattering way was blackall's boasted toy-shop production. he was highly indignant, and walked about stamping with rage. buttar and bouldon were much amused, and expressed a hope that he would expend his fury on his kite, and cut it to pieces. he drew out his knife, evidently with that intention, but he had not the heart to attack it. "i'll tell you what it is, bobby," said he to dawson, who was standing by not a little disgusted, "it pulls terrifically hard, and in my opinion, if it is altered a little, and has a heavier wing put on the right side, it will yet do magnificently, and make all those howling monkeys change their tone. that dolt ellis, and that conceited chap bracebridge, will soon find that their finely-bedizened machine is cut out. my carriage is, i know, such a first-rate one, that it will go along with anything." dawson was in great hopes that blackall was right, for he had staked his reputation, as he said, on the success of his patron and his imported kite, and he had no fancy to find himself laughed at. in what master bobby dawson's reputation consisted he did not stop to inquire, and certainly anybody else would have been very puzzled to say. the rest of the kite-flyers troubled themselves very little about blackall and his ill success. they were all intent on making their own kites perform their best. after the kites had flown for some time, the doctor advanced from the group of spectators and umpires, and summoned ellis and monsieur malin, and, with an appropriate address, bestowed on them the two first prizes, complimenting them on their design, and the beauty of the execution. and now the time arrived to try which kites could fly the highest. all were hauled in, and the boys stood as before in a row. the signal was given by lemon, and up they went, soaring far away into the blue sky. this time ernest had a kite as well as ellis. it was a good large kite, with remarkably strong string. the device was that of a man-at-arms, with a gleaming battle-axe over his shoulder, or, as ernest called it, the squire. "why, bracebridge! what do you expect that kite to do, eh?" exclaimed lemon. "it is too heavy-looking to fly, and not large enough to drag a carriage." "i hope that at all events he will do his duty, and prove a faithful squire," answered bracebridge. "i wonder what he means?" said several boys who overheard him. away soared the kites; some of them appeared as if they would never come down again. the green dragon rose very high, and must have astonished the birds and beasts of the field, if it did not the human beings in the valley below. the silver knight also played his part well up in the skies, so did the general, and many others. up, up went the green dragon, and high soared the silver knight; excelsior was his motto; but high as he went, the green dragon went higher. "hilloa, bracebridge, you and your friend should have chosen a different motto for your knight, for the green dragon is beating him, and the old owl is not far behind," exclaimed lemon, who, while manoeuvring his kite, found himself not far from ernest. "stay a bit," answered ernest, in a good-natured tone; "perhaps our knight may yet prove that his motto was not ill-chosen. we have not yet got to the end of our line." monsieur malin kept easing out his line, and his monster went slowly upward, but it was evident that the weight of string it had already to bear was almost too much for it, and that it would not carry much more. it was a brave dragon, however, and in the french master's skilful hands, it is extraordinary how high it got up. at last it was evident that it was stationary, and required a great deal of manoeuvring to be kept at the height it had attained. "now, bracebridge," cried ellis, who had worked the silver knight up almost as high, "let me have your line." "all right," answered bracebridge, hauling down his kite till it was within thirty feet of the ground. "hook on." on this ellis brought the end of his line up to bracebridge, who fastened it to the string of the squire, which immediately shot upward, while higher and higher flew the silver knight. he reached the green dragon, and floated proudly past him. up he went, higher and higher, till a glittering spot could alone be seen in the blue heavens. shouts of applause broke from the spectators. "now," cried bracebridge triumphantly, "has not our knight chosen his motto with judgment, excelsior? see, up he goes higher and higher." higher he did go, indeed; and in a short time the glittering spot was lost to view. "we could easily get our squire out of sight also, if we could find a line light enough and strong enough to bear the strain of the two kites together, but no string we have got here could bear the strain that would be put upon it," observed ernest to those who came round to observe the wonder which had been wrought. some declared that it was not fair, and that they had no right to fasten the string of one kite to that of another. "oh! that's all nonsense, and you fellows know it well," answered ernest. "the question to be decided is, which kite can reach the farthest from the earth, and ours has done so. unless another gets higher, we shall win the prize." no other kite got even so high as the green dragon, so the silver knight was most justly declared to be the winner of the prize. "froggy malin's and those fellows' kites may fly high, but they will not be able to pull anything along," growled out blackall. "before they think that they are going to carry off all the prizes, let us see what my kite can do. he looks like a strong, tough fellow, who can pull hard at all events." dawson and a few of blackall's admirers echoed these sentiments, fully believing that he did not boast without reason of what he would do. the carriages were now brought forward from a chalk-pit, where they had been concealed, and formed a line in front of the spectators. blackall's was certainly the largest, and not the least gay and gaudy, but more than one person smiled at the notion of its being dragged along by a single kite. none of the carriages could boast of much beauty, but some were very finely painted, and were admired accordingly. when ernest brought out his vehicle, it was much laughed at, for it had such an odd, spider-like, skeleton look. still the knowing ones acknowledged that it might have a great deal of go in it. most of the line of the kites was now hauled in and wound up. ernest and ellis got down the silver knight, and fastened some light lines to each of his wings, and brought them down to the carriage. two or three boys stood round each carriage holding it. at a signal, given by lemon on his horn, to prepare, they all jumped in. at another, all hands were taken off the carriages, and away most of them went at a fair speed. one did not move--it was blackall's. who could picture his wrath and indignation? he pulled and pulled at the line; the kite rose somewhat, but wavered about terribly: now it darted to one side, now to the other. "come along, blackall, come along," shouted several of the racers, as they moved on, and left him trying all sorts of useless experiments to make the kite pull and the carriage move. neither one nor the other could he accomplish. shouts of laughter reached his ear, and he was conscious that they were caused by his ill success. this only increased his rage and bitterness. he stamped in his anger and impatience till he knocked his feet through the boards which formed the bottom of his carriage. he lost all command over himself. he hallooed; he shouted at his kite; and then he swore great, horrible oaths at the kite, and the carriage, and at the wind, till the voice of the doctor sounded in his ear, ordering him sternly to get out of the carriage and drag it out of the way. he sulkily obeyed, and wound up the string of his kite, and betook himself to the background, trembling lest the doctor should have overheard his expressions. "i say, dawson,--i say, smith,--do you think the old one heard what i said?" he asked, as he was going off, and they stood, not liking to desert him altogether, and yet wishing to go on and see the fun. "i believe you he did, my boy," answered smith, who had but little of the milk of human kindness in his composition. "you spoke loud enough to be heard half-a-mile off." "but i say, bobby, do you think so? did he hear me? by jove, i shall get a pretty jobation if he did!" exclaimed the bully, appealing in a whining tone to dawson. the wretched, cowardly lad forgot that there was another--a great omniscient being--who, at all events, heard him; and that every evil word he had uttered had assuredly been registered in a book whence it would never be erased till the day of judgment, when it would be made known to thousands and tens of thousands of astonished and mourning listeners. but such an idea never crossed blackall's mind. had it, perhaps it might have prevented him from uttering the expressions of which he so frequently made use. fearful only of the immediate disagreeable consequences should the doctor have heard him, he retired by himself from the ground; while dawson, and the few other boys who had hitherto adhered to him, set off in pursuit of the racers. with shouts of laughter the racers went on. at first the green dragon took the lead, followed closely by the owl, for both the carriages were very light, and the kites were skilfully managed. each of them had a second kite attached; for, unless there had been a very strong wind, one would scarcely have dragged them on. monsieur malin had selected two boys to manage his carriage, and he ran by their side to direct them; for his own weight would have been too great for it. the knight and squire followed closely on the first two carriages. they were flying, on starting, somewhat too high; but ernest hauled in the lines, and the effect was soon perceptible. on went their daddy-long-legs, as he and ellis called their car, and soon got up to the owl. "to-hoo, to-hoo, to-hoo!" cried the directors of the owl, but the knight and his squire pulled away, and the owl was left astern, and very soon the green dragon was overtaken. they, of course, were assailed with the most horrible hisses, and roars, and strange noises of all sorts; but these did not daunt the knight and his squire, who went bravely on. "excelsior! excelsior! hurra! hurra!" shouted ernest and ellis, as their car took the lead. gradually, but surely, it increased its distance from the rest. monsieur malin did his best to manoeuvre his kites; so did lemon and the rest; but they could not manage to overtake the knight and his squire, though they hissed, and roared, and shouted with merry peals of laughter between the intervals, calling them to stop, and not go ahead so fast. "old hobson did not deceive us," observed ellis; "really this carriage goes along capitally." "he has done us justice, certainly," answered ernest. "but remember, ellis, our success is entirely owing to your talent and judgment. you think too little of yourself. now, hurrah! we shall soon be at the winning-post if the wind holds." never were there more merry or noisy racers; except, perhaps, in a donkey race, when the winner is the donkey which comes in last. "very easy to win that sort of race," some one will say. not at all, though. in ordinary races, each jockey wishes the horse he rides to win; but, in donkey races,--which i hold to be superior to all others, whether at goodwood, or ascot, or epsom,--each jockey rides his opponent's donkey, so each is anxious to get in before the other, and, if possible, to leave his own behind. the wind blew fair; the kites drew capitally; the green dragon was, after all, not very far behind the knight and squire; and the owl came too-hooing, close upon the dragon's tail; while the general officer seemed in a great hurry to catch the owl, and kept singing out "halt! halt! right-about-face," and other expressions evidently from a somewhat scanty vocabulary of military terms. the rest of the racers came up pretty thickly one after the other. as they reached the winning-post, where one of the masters stood ready to mark the time of their arrival, there was a general shout for blackall and his fat boy. "oh, he was last seen in the chalk-pit, hacking him to pieces with his knife, while he seemed inclined to treat his wonderful carriage much in the same way." a boy who had just come up gave this news. a few expressions of commiseration were uttered by dawson and others; but in their hearts no one really pitied the bully. how could they? what had he ever done to win the affection, or regard, or esteem of any one of his school-fellows? certainly, to those with whom he associated and whom he patronised, he had ever done far more harm than good; and of this most of them were aware at the time, though they might not be willing to acknowledge it to themselves; and bitterly were they conscious of it before many years were past, when they reaped the fruits of his pernicious example. several sunk into early and dishonoured graves: others lived, ruined in health and constitution, to bemoan the fate which their folly and vice had brought on them. but to return to our merry racers. they were called up forthwith to receive their prizes. the most valuable were some serviceable fishing-rods, reels, lines, fishing-baskets, a couple of bows, and the various accoutrements required in archery, a good bat or two, and similar things valued by boys. the doctor made a very neat speech, and complimented them all on the skill and talent displayed both in kites and carriages. "especially i must compliment you, bracebridge, on the beauty of your kites, and the skill with which you have managed them." "not me, sir, but ellis deserves the praise," answered ernest in a clear, loud voice, so that every one might hear. "he is a very clever fellow, sir, only he does not know it. he thought of the carriages and the kites, and, indeed, of every thing; i merely helped him. i joined him because i knew that by himself he would be too diffident to carry out his own plans. i was his assistant, that was all." "i am glad to hear you thus speak of ellis, but you equally deserve the prize, although you only aided him in carrying out his plans. i have, therefore, to present you with this bow, and all the equipments complete; and you, ellis, with this fishing-rod, and all the accompanying gear." ernest, who was perfectly free from timidity, and always expressed himself well, made a very appropriate reply; and, at poor ellis's earnest request, spoke for him also, and said a great deal more in his favour than he would have done himself. monsieur malin seemed as much pleased at getting a prize as were any of the boys. a capital fishing-rod was presented to him; and he invited all who had rods to accompany him some day on a grand fishing expedition. altogether, the kite-flying was most successful; and a stout old gentleman, one of the umpires, expressed a hope that next year they might all enjoy a similar treat; and that he was not at all certain that he should not try to get half-a-dozen kites and a carriage, with which he might join in the race. several merry voices shouted "we hope you will, sir,--we hope you will." and that made him so enthusiastic that he promised, if he possibly could, to do as he had proposed. they all went back to a capital, grand half-holiday tea, which was very different to the ordinary meal of bread-and-butter; and consisted of cakes, and sandwiches, and meat-pies, and sausages, and all sorts of substantial productions likely to satisfy the appetites of hungry boys. the only person who did not enjoy the day was blackall. he came back expecting every instant to be called up by the doctor; but bed-time came, and he was not summoned. as he was on his way to his room he met ellis, who was about to pass him without looking at him, or in any way taking notice of him. "what do you mean by grinning at me, you young scamp?" exclaimed blackall suddenly. "i did not intentionally alter a muscle of my countenance," answered ellis quietly. "did you, however, address me?" "if that's intended for impudence, take that," cried blackall, dealing a heavy blow with his fist on ellis's head. "i allow no young jackanapes like you to treat me with contempt." "but if we feel contempt, how do you expect to be treated?" exclaimed a brisk, confident voice close at his elbow. blackall turned round to see who had dared thus to beard him. he saw bracebridge standing close to him, in an attitude which showed that he was prepared for an attack. "you want to get it, do you?" exclaimed blackall, furiously, at finding his authority disputed by a boy of ernest's size. "you shall have more than you expect." "now, run off, ellis; run off," cried ernest; "i'll tackle this fellow." ellis did not run, though blackall let him go and advanced towards ernest; but ernest's undaunted bearing completely staggered him. he stood irresolute; while his opponent fixed his eye boldly on him. he feared some trick. he thought that some big fellow must be behind, ready to back up bracebridge; or that he knew the doctor was coming. he judged of other people by what he knew himself to be. he had no conception of the existence of the spirit which animated ernest. "well, what are you going to do?" said ernest, as he stood with clenched fist before him. "if you are going to strike me, do it at once, and get it over. i have no wish to stay here all night, waiting to be attacked by you." while ernest was speaking, blackall was considering what he would do. at last, seeing no one coming, he plucked up courage, and made a dash at ernest, who, springing aside, adroitly, warded off the blow. poor ellis, meantime, stood by, trembling with agitation. he knew from sad experience that the bully hit very hard; and every blow he saw aimed at his friend he felt as if it had hurt him ten times as much as if it had been struck at himself. they were in one of the many passages leading to the bedrooms, through which neither the masters nor servants often passed, so that blackall knew that he was pretty secure from interruption. ernest was aware of the same fact. he cared nothing at all about the thrashing he should get, and was only anxious to save ellis. ellis, however, would not move, and blackall looked as if he would thrash both of them. still more angry at being baulked of his revenge, blackall again struck at ernest, and tried to catch him, but in the latter object he did not succeed, though he hurt ernest's arm, so that he could with difficulty defend himself; and now blow succeeded blow with considerable rapidity. bracebridge disdained to fly, and as he could not hope to return the blows with much effect, he contented himself at first with standing on the defensive, waiting his opportunity to hit his powerful opponent in the eye or face, where he might leave a mark not easily effaced. he knew that if he succeeded, he should still further enrage the bully; but he also knew that it was very likely to prevent him from ever attacking him again. as blackall hit out, he sprang back along the passage, then suddenly stopping, he leaped forward again, and put in the blow he desired. blackall's eyes struck fire, but he was too well accustomed to the use, or rather the misuse, of his fists to allow his opponent to escape him. ernest was again retreating. blackall caught him under his arm, and was about to inflict the most severe and disagreeable of punishments, by gibbing him, when poor ellis, who had hitherto stood trembling at a distance, in obedience to ernest's directions, could bear it no longer; and, throwing himself forward, leaped on blackall's back, and held his arms with all his might and main, butting away at the same time, like a ram, with his head, and kicking furiously with his long legs, biting, it was said, the bully's ears and cheeks. however that may be, blackall was compelled to let ernest go, for the purpose of shaking off his new and ferocious assailant. this was not very easily done, for ellis had remarkably long and strong arms, and held on like a vice. ernest seeing this, resolved to bring the bully to terms. "i say, blackall, if ellis lets you go, will you promise faithfully not to hurt him in any way, by word, look, or deed?" exclaimed ernest. blackall did not deign to reply, but continued his impotent efforts to shake off his old man of the woods. he jumped and leaped, and backed against the walls, but to no purpose; he could not manage to get rid of his burden. "well, what is your determination?" asked ernest again, advancing in a threatening attitude towards blackall, on whom he could now, had he chosen, have inflicted a very severe punishment. "will you promise faithfully, by all you hold sacred, not to touch or hurt ellis in any way for this?" "i should think you had better try to make a bargain for yourself first," said blackall. "not i!" said bracebridge, proudly; "i can stand a thrashing far better than ellis. i am pretty well accustomed to your lickings, and they don't hurt me much. therefore, again, i ask you, will you promise, or will you not?" as he spoke, he doubled his fists, and advanced on blackall, whose face was completely exposed to an attack, while ellis kept battering away at his head, and grasped his arms tighter than ever. what might have been the consequences i do not know; bracebridge, in all probability, would pretty severely have handled the bully, and, his anger being excited, would have left some marks not very easily eradicated on his countenance: when a light was seen in the passage, and a quick step advanced towards them. bracebridge disdained to fly, and blackall could not, so they waited the result. "ah! vat you garcons do there?" exclaimed monsieur malin, for it was the french master, holding up his candle. "let me see! ah, i understand! you, blackall, are one very bad boy. you go to bed now. bracebridge, ellis, you come with me." ellis on this jumped off blackall's back, and glad he was to do so, for his arms were beginning to ache terribly with his exertions. blackall sneaked off, vowing vengeance in his craven heart on his adversaries; and the kind-hearted frenchman led the other two away, and urged them to keep clear of the bully. when, however, he heard how the affair had taken place, he was very much inclined to go and inform the doctor, to try and get blackall expelled, but they entreated aim not to do so, and declared that they did not fear him, and would not run the risk of thus injuring his prospects. "ah, you are brave garcons, brave garcons!" exclaimed monsieur malin. at all events, they were true, right-feeling english boys. chapter six. our military exercises. bracebridge had to press his advice on ellis more than once before he could induce him to apply for leave to drill and to learn fencing and the broadsword exercise. all these sort of lessons were classed among the extras, so that the doctor did not insist on the boys learning them unless by the express wish of their parents. if they themselves wished to learn them, they had to write home and get leave. this system, i fancy, made these branches of education far more popular than they would otherwise have been. the several masters, knowing that the number of their pupils depended on the interest they could excite in their respective sciences, did their utmost to make them attractive. they generally succeeded. monsieur malin would, at all events, have been popular. he was a gentleman by birth and by education, of polished manners, and very good-natured, and as everybody liked him, everybody wished to learn french. old dibble, our drill-sergeant, was very unlike him in most respects, but still he won all our hearts. he was a kind-hearted man, and had an excellent temper, and he took great pains to teach us our drill and to make us like it. he was the very man to turn us all into soldiers, and, as bracebridge had said of him, he never grew weary of recounting his deeds of arms to all whom he could find ready to listen. he was a tall man, somewhat stout, with a bald patch on the top of his head, and grey hair and whiskers, a thoroughly soldier-like hooked nose, and fine piercing grey eyes. good-natured as he was, he would stand no nonsense or any skylarking; and we all agreed that when he was in the army he was certain to have kept all the men under him in capital order. our dancing-master was mr jay. he was a proficient in his art; and though he might not have been able to jump as high or to spin round on one leg as long as an opera-dancer, he was able to teach us to dance like gentlemen. he was also a professor of fencing and gymnastics, and a very good instructor he was. he understood thoroughly what the human body could do, and what it might do advantageously. he also taught boxing. the doctor was a great encourager of all athletic exercises, and allowed all the boys who wished it to take lessons in boxing once a week for half-an-hour at a time. the greater number availed themselves of the permission, and most of the school were very good boxers. the result was that, as a rule, we were a most peaceable set of boys, and i believe that fewer quarrels took place than among any equal number of boys in england. we had a riding-master, who used to come every saturday with five or six ponies, and give us lessons in a paddock attached to the school-grounds. the doctor used to say that his wish was to educate our hearts, our minds, and our bodies as far as he had the power, and that he found from experience that the greater variety of instruction he could give us, the more perfectly he could accomplish his object. he himself gave us instruction in swimming. i have described the pond in the grounds. he used a machine something like a large fishing-rod. a belt was fastened round the waist of a young swimmer, and by the belt he was secured to the end of a line hanging from the rod. the doctor used to stand, rod in hand, and encourage and advise the boy till he gained confidence and knew how to strike out properly. he was anxious to prevent any one from getting into a bad way of striking out, for, as he used to say, it was as difficult to get rid of a bad habit as to acquire a good one. he was, therefore, always waging a deadly warfare against all bad habits from their very commencement, not only with regard to swimming, but in every other action of life. as soon as a boy had learned to strike out properly, he turned him over to the instruction of one of the bigger boys, who had especial charge of him in the water. he had always four or five boys whom he had taught to swim thoroughly well, and he made them swimming-masters. they benefited by having to give instruction to others, and by learning to keep their tempers. nothing, perhaps, tries the temper so much as having to teach dull or inattentive boys. blackall had been made one of the swimming-masters, but at the commencement of the bathing season the doctor called him up, and without a word of explanation told him that he thought fit to dismiss him from the post. he lost, in consequence, several privileges attached to the office. to a person of blackall's character, the mode of his dismissal was a considerable punishment. it showed him that the doctor was aware of some of his misconduct, but of how much he was still left in ignorance, and he had to live on in fear that some more severe punishment was still in store for him. i am glad to say that there were very few other fellows at all like blackall in the school. there were, of course, some few bullies and blackguards, or who would speedily have become so if left to their own devices, and there were cowards, and boys who carelessly told an untruth, or were addicted to the too common vice of prevarication. there were also vicious boys, or who would have been vicious had they not been watched and restrained. these were exceptions to the general rule. the doctor's system, embracing the law of kindness, answered well, and brought forth good fruits. "come along, ellis," said ernest, one saturday afternoon, when he found his friend busily working away at the model of a vessel he was cutting out of a piece of american pine; "there's sergeant dibble in the playground; i'll take you up to him, and tell him that he must turn you into a soldier before the holidays. he'll do it if you obey his directions." sergeant dibble was found in the middle of the playground, surrounded by a number of boys, who were listening eagerly to one of his stories with which he was amusing them till the hour to commence had arrived. "the reason why we conquered was this, young gentlemen," he was saying. "every man, from the highest to the lowest, knew his duty and did it. if they didn't know it and didn't do it, lord wellington sent them about their business, no matter who they were. remember that when you grow up. your duty, i take it, is to do your best in whatever station you may be placed; what you are certain will produce the best results and forward the objects in which you are engaged. it is not enough to say, `such were my orders;' you must try and discover the spirit of your orders. above all things, you must never be afraid of responsibility. never be afraid of being found fault with when you know that you've done what's right. i was going to tell you how we crossed the river douro, in portugal; how we surprised marshal soult, and how lord wellington ate the dinner which had been prepared for him and his staff. we very nearly made him and his whole army prisoners, and we followed them up so closely that they had no time to rest till they were clear out of portugal; but the hour is up. fall in, young gentlemen; fall in!" ernest took this opportunity to go up to the sergeant and to explain that he would find ellis a very willing though, perhaps, a very awkward pupil, and begged that he would treat him accordingly, and not suppose that his awkwardness arose from carelessness or idleness. sergeant dibble looked at ellis for a few moments. "no fear, master bracebridge," he answered; "i've made a first-rate soldier out of far worse materials. if he's the will, he'll soon get them long arms and legs to do their duty. it's rather hard work to get a person who has no ear to march in time, but that's to be overcome by perseverance, and the eye must be made to do the work which the ear cannot. fall in, master ellis, if you please." ellis had no notion of what falling in meant, so he shuffled about from place to place, looking up inquiringly at the sergeant. "take your place, i mean, in the awkward squad, master ellis." "that's where i shall always have to be," thought poor ellis. "which are the awkwardest squad, sergeant?" said he, looking up. "it strikes me that i should go there." whatever ellis thought of himself, there were several other boys just as awkward, or at all events as unapt to learn military manners. little eden was one of them, that is to say, he always forgot what he had learned during his previous lesson. gregson was another. he was not awkward in his movements, but while instruction was going forward he was always thinking of something else. one reason that bracebridge succeeded so well in whatever he undertook was, that he had the power of concentrating his attention on whatever he was about; in the school-room or play-room, in the cricket-field or on the parade-ground, it was the same. it was his great talent. he had many other talents, and he also had, from his earliest days, been well trained. had he been an only son, he might have been spoiled, but he had many brothers, and his temper had been tried, and he had been taught to command himself, and while he relied on his own energies for success, to obey his elders and to treat all his fellow-creatures with respect. sergeant dibble very soon pronounced him his best drill. the awkward squad had been standing by themselves for some minutes, looking very awkward, indeed, when sergeant dibble exclaimed-- "fall out, mr bracebridge, and take charge of that squad. exercise them in the balance step, and put them through their facings." ernest, not a little proud, obeyed, and while the rest of the young soldiers were marching up and down, taking open order, wheeling to the right or left, and going through a variety of manoeuvres, he placed himself in front of the boys i have described, with others, making altogether about a dozen. his first aim was to awaken them all up. "attention!" he exclaimed in a sharp tone, which made them all spring up suddenly. he then explained very clearly what he wanted them to do, and put himself in the required attitude, taking care that they all did the same. very few could not do the balance step. chivey and other hopping games had taught them that. he kept them at it a very few minutes, and then telling them to practise it by themselves, went on to teach them their facings, explaining the object of each movement. he did it all in so patient and good-natured a manner that every boy in the squad expressed a hope that bracebridge might be set to teach them again. "i'll tell you what we will do; we will work away every day in the week, and when sergeant dibble comes next week we will show him what we can do." the idea was taken up enthusiastically, and even the least apt of the squad made great progress. in two or three weeks they were fully equal to those who had been drilling all the half. sergeant dibble was delighted, and foretold that if master bracebridge went into the army he would distinguish himself. "i don't know what i am to be," replied ernest; "i know that i am to do everything i am set to do as well as i can." there were some twenty boys or more who were very far from perfect in their drill in the larger squad, and sergeant dibble managed to persuade them to put themselves, during the week, under ernest's instruction. some few, at first, kicked at the notion, but finally all agreed to obey his orders on the parade-ground during one hour every day. others, of their own accord, joined, and in a short time he had quite a large army of volunteers. he spared no pains to perfect them. he got the sergeant to bring him a "manual of drill instruction," and every spare moment he spent in studying it attentively. in a few weeks ernest's squad surpassed that composed of the older boys in the accuracy and rapidity of their movement; and sergeant dibble, when he came, expressed his astonishment and delight on finding what could be done when all set to work with a will to do it. ernest, too, gained great popularity, and many who had before rather envied him now frankly acknowledged his talents and excellent qualities. he himself also behaved very well. he did not set himself up above the rest in consequence of what he had done and the applause he had gained, but the moment the drill was over he became like one of the rest, and took his hat, or his fishing-rod, or his hoop--though, by the by, he was getting rather out of hoops--and went off shouting and laughing with all the merry throng. the greatest possible change was worked in ellis. he no longer looked like the same boy. the alteration in his appearance was almost as striking as that which takes place in a country clown caught by a recruiting sergeant, half drunk at a fair, as he rolls on, looking every moment as if he was going to topple over, from public-house to public-house, and when he has been under the drill-sergeant's hands for a couple of years, and is turned into the trim, active, intelligent soldier. at first, few who saw poor ellis's awkward attempts could possibly avoid laughing. how he rolled from side to side; how he stuck out one foot, and changed it again and again, finding that it was the wrong one; how, when the word "to the right-about" was given, he invariably found himself grinning in the face of his left-hand man, unless by good chance the latter had made the same mistake as himself, when he became suddenly inspired with the hope that he had, for a wonder, hit off the right thing. he soon found his hopes disappointed by being summoned to repeat the movement, with a caution to do it correctly. then, on receiving the order to march, he nearly always started off with his right foot instead of his left, and when he did put out the left, he quickly changed it to the right, under the impression that he must have made a mistake. still his perseverance was most praiseworthy. bracebridge had assured him that in time he would become a good soldier if he wished it, and a good soldier he resolved to be, whether he followed up the profession or not. he read as hard as he had ever done, and found time to manufacture all sorts of things, and yet no one practised more than he did drilling, and games, and all sorts of athletic exercises. before the change i have described was perceptible, the half was nearly over, and the summer holidays were about to begin. i have, in mentioning it, run on somewhat ahead of events. ernest had advised him to learn to dance and to fence. "come, come, you are joking now, old fellow," was his reply, in his former melancholy tone of voice. "i may learn any rough affair, like drilling and gymnastics, and, perhaps, the broadsword exercises, and learn enough to cut a fellow's head off; but to hop and skip about to the sound of a fiddle, or to handle a thin bar of steel so as to prevent another fellow with a similar weapon running his into me, is totally beyond my powers. i know that i could not, if i was to try ever so much." "so you thought about gymnastics, and so you thought about drilling, and yet you have succeeded very well in both. remember the motto of our silver knight. push on up the hill; work away at one thing, and then another. it is extraordinary how much may be learnt in a short time, if people will but give their minds to what they are about. i know a good number of things, and i can do a good number of things, and yet i have not spent more hours of my life with a book before me than have most boys of my age; but then, when i have had a book before me, i have been really busy, getting all i could out of it; i have not sat idling and frittering away my time as so many fellows do. i don't fancy that i cannot do a thing because it is difficult; i always try to find out where the difficulty lies, and then see how i can best get over it. i like difficulties, because i like to conquer them. this world is full of difficulties, which it is the business of men to conquer. a farmer cannot get a field of corn to grow without overcoming difficulties. he must dig up or plough up the ground; he must get rid of the weeds; he must trench it, and after a time manure it; and this he must do year after year, or it will not produce abundantly. and so it is throughout all the works to be done in this world: then why should we expect to get knowledge, to cultivate our minds, to get rid of the weeds growing up constantly in them, without labour, and hard labour, too? now, i dare say, my dear fellow, you think that i am talking very learnedly, or you may say, very pedantically; but i do not even claim originality for my views. my father pointed them out to me and my brothers long ago. he threw difficulties in our way, and stood by till we overcame them, telling us it was the best practice we could have in the world. i cannot tell you how much we owe to our father. he is the wisest man i ever met. i dare say there are many cleverer people; men who can talk better, and have done more, and have written more, and who are thought much more of in the world; but my brother and i agree, for all that, that he is the wisest, and if not the most talented, which we don't say he is, that he makes the best use of the talents he has got. you must come and see him one of these days; i would say at once; but i think that you will like him, and that he will like you better by and by. i wrote to him about you, i must confess that, and he put me up to some of the advice i gave you. my brothers and i always write to him just as we write to one another; indeed, we generally pass our letters on to him, because we know that he likes to hear everything that we are doing. we have no secrets from him, as i find some fellows here have. we always go to him for advice about everything. he often tells us to act as we think best, and to let him know what we have done. sometimes he tells us that he thinks we have acted very judiciously; at other times he tells us that, from the judgment he has been able to form, we ought to have done differently. he has never kept us in what might be called leading-strings; but has placed the same confidence in us that we do in him--that is to say, he knows we want to do what is right. depend on it, ellis, there is nothing like having the most perfect confidence between your father and yourself. i assure you that i should be miserable if i had not, and if i did not believe that he is the best friend i have on earth, or ever shall have." bracebridge said a great deal more to the same effect. indeed, whenever he got on the subject of his father's excellences, he was always enthusiastic. not without ample reason, i believe, for mr bracebridge was a man possessed of very rare qualities; and oaklands, his place, was one of the most delightful houses to visit at in the country, or probably, in all england; that is to say, young men and boys, and indeed young people, generally, found it so. ernest knew that it would do poor ellis a great deal of good to go there. from what he could make out, ellis's father and mother were advanced in life and great invalids, and edward, their only son, had been considerably over-petted and over-coddled, though, as they had a good deal of sense with regard to many important matters, they had not spoilt him. they had corrected him as a child when he deserved it, and watching the growth of bad propensities, had endeavoured to eradicate them before they had attained any size. they were themselves very shy, diffident people, and thinking little of themselves, thought very little of their son, and brought him up to think very little of himself. certainly, if they erred, they erred on the right side. ellis was not weak; he was not a boy at all likely to be imposed upon by a bad person; his principles were, as far as could be seen, good, and his sympathies appeared to be always on the right side. thus he was undoubtedly particularly fortunate in falling in with a boy like ernest bracebridge, whom he could admire, and who could, at the same time, enter into his feelings, and take an interest in him. still ernest did not think that he was doing anything out of the way in encouraging him. there was something so natural and unpretending about his character, and so free was he from anything like conceit or vanity, that he was scarcely conscious that he was superior to his companions; or, if he was conscious of the fact, that it was anything on which he should be justified in priding himself. of one thing i am sure, that he had not found out that, by his own force of character and talents, he had already become one of the most popular boys in the school, and that, had he made the experiment, he would have had more followers than any boy even in the first class. the way he had tackled blackall the evening of the kite-race had become known, though neither he nor ellis had talked of it; and this gained him many admirers, especially among those over whom the bully was accustomed to tyrannise. at last blackall began to be twitted with it, even by the fellows of his own age. it became at last a joke among his compeers to ask him how his ears were--how he liked to have an old man of the woods on his back, and how he could allow himself to be thrashed by a fellow half a head shorter than himself, and so much younger. he dared not attack either ernest or ellis openly, but he resolved to take his revenge on them as soon as possible. he had not long to wait for an opportunity. before our drilling lessons were over, sergeant dibble used to arm us all with basket-hilted sticks, which served the purpose of broadswords; and, forming in two parties on opposite sides of the parade-ground, we were ordered to advance and attack, and defend ourselves, delivering or receiving so many cuts each time the two lines passed each other. blackall, who prided himself on being a good swordsman, thought this would be a fine opportunity for inflicting a severe revenge on bracebridge, whom he dared not now bully as formerly, and kick and cuff whenever he met him. "now, young gentlemen, prepare for the broadsword exercise," the sergeant sung out in his clear, sharp voice. "fall in line; fall in!" ellis had begun to learn the broadsword exercise, though it was a sore trial to him, for he found great difficulty in recollecting the proper guards or strokes, and he was always receiving some severe cuts across the head or shoulders or legs, and getting into trouble by giving the wrong strokes, and making his opponents, who were not prepared for them, suffer accordingly. bracebridge had hit upon a plan to save him somewhat from this, by taking him as his opponent; and when he saw him making the wrong stroke, he was ready with the proper guard; and when he saw that ellis had not his right guard, he either hit him softly, or hit at the guard presented to him. this was very good practice to ernest, though it made sergeant dibble sing out, every now and then-- "mr bracebridge! mr bracebridge! can you never remember to listen to the word of command, sir? when i say cut two, i often see you cut four; and when i say third guard, you are apt to use the first or second guard. how is this, sir? mr ellis, you are not attentive either, sir, permit me to observe. when i say defend, draw up the hand smartly, and from the first guard. be smart!--second guard! third guard! remember, if you have a big, ugly fellow, with a sword sharp enough to divide a bolster, who happens to wish to cut your head off, he doesn't stop to consider which is the right guard to make, or thrust to deliver. he'd whip off your head before you had time to look round, and then what would you think of yourself, i should like to know?" ernest never replied, while exercising, to these or any similar remarks, but he and sergeant dibble soon understood each other, and the sergeant was convinced that ernest was a better swordsman than he had supposed. "but, mr bracebridge, it will never do to let mr ellis go on in that way. now that he has a little more confidence, we must make him run his chance with the rest," he urged. "a few cuts with a hazel stick won't do him any harm, and will make him open his eyes a little." to this, of course, ernest agreed, and the present day was one of the first poor ellis had to look out for himself. blackall had meantime watched ernest; and hearing him found fault with, and seeing him and ellis make a mess of it, as he thought, he held his swordsmanship in very low estimation. this made him confident that he could do what he liked with him. it required some management to get placed opposite to him, but he succeeded, and felt highly delighted at the thoughts of the revenge he was about to enjoy. "draw swords, gentlemen;" sung out sergeant dibble. "both parties advance. mr jones's party assault with the second cut; mr smith's defend with the second guard. now hit hard and sharp, gentlemen. if the proper guards are up you can do no harm." blackall was in the jones's party, and purposed fully to carry out the order. bracebridge saw that he was opposite to him, and assumed a look of perfect indifference. the bully expected to see him turning pale and looking alarmed. "march!" sung out the sergeant. "double quick!" on rushed the two squadrons, for so they could not help fancying themselves, and, as i believe, the sergeant for the moment fancied them also. they met with a hostile clash. blackall, not knowing that the sergeant's eye was on him, shifted to the third cut, hoping to give ernest a severe blow across the legs, but ernest's eye was as quick as his, and catching the movement of the arm, he had the third guard ready to receive the blow. the sergeant made no remark, but kept a watch on blackall's movements, "very well, gentlemen; very well!" he exclaimed. "now let mr smith's party assault with the fourth cut. bravo! performed with perfect precision." and so he went on. each time, however, that jones's division had to assault, he saw that blackall endeavoured to take some undue advantage of ernest, who with equal regularity contrived quietly to foil him. ernest kept his eye on his opponent's, but said nothing, and in no other way showed that he was aware of his evil intentions. blackall at length began to lose his temper at his own failures: he ground his teeth and turned savage glances towards bracebridge, who met them with a quiet look, free, at the same time, from scorn or anger. not once did blackall succeed in inflicting a blow, and though ernest at last might have bestowed several very severe ones, he rightly refrained from so doing. "i know perfectly well that even had he hit me, i ought not to have hit him back," he said to himself; "much more then ought i to refrain when he has not succeeded in his object. i should like to try the plan of heaping coals of fire on his head. i might soften him, but i should have less hope with him than with any one. i will try. it matters not what may happen to me, but i am resolved, at the same time, i will not let him go on bullying any fellow whom i can defend." when the drill was over, sergeant dibble called up ernest. "i saw it all, sir," he said. "you did capitally. i never saw a young gentleman keep his temper as you did. why he wants to hurt you i don't know, but i will put you up to a trick or two which will place him in your power. you are getting on famously with your fencing. he piques himself on being a first-rate fencer. he is not bad; and he does very well when he fences with mr jay, or any one he knows. now, though i do not teach fencing, i can fence; and, what is more, i have learned several tricks which people do not generally know. i once saved a wounded frenchman's life and took him prisoner, and nursed him as i ought to have done, and then i found he was a master of the science of defence and attack. i never saw a man who could use a small sword as he did. well, as a mark of his gratitude, he taught me all he knew, and, especially, how to disarm an opponent. it is simple, but requires practice. there is no one in the fencing-room; come with me there and i will show it to you. practise the trick till i come again, whenever you have an opportunity, either by yourself or with a friend you can trust, like ellis or buttar. i'll answer for it that you will be perfect in a couple of weeks at most. if you lead blackall to it, he is certain to challenge you before long. disarm him three times running, and i do not think that he'll ever wish to attack you again in any way." ernest could not resist the offer the sergeant made him. he thought that the knowledge might be of the greatest importance to him during his life, so he at once went with the sergeant into the fencing-room. "you see, mr bracebridge," observed his instructor, "if you had a real sword in your hand, you would give your opponent such a cut round the wrist that he would probably be unable to hold a weapon again for many a month afterwards." ernest set to work at once in his usual way, and sergeant dibble taking great pains to instruct him, he quickly acquired the trick. "you see, sir," observed the sergeant, "though a foil does not cut, the button, if the leather is off, as i often see is the case, will give a very ugly scratch round the wrist, and if this is repeated two or three times, a fencer will rather stand clear of the man who can do it. just do you try it on blackall, and you'll see if my word don't come right." after the sergeant was gone, ernest thought over what he had said. he did not, however, half like the idea of taking the advantage which had been given him over blackall. "no, no!" he exclaimed to himself. "i'll tell him beforehand what i am going to do. if i was going to engage with him in mortal combat, the matter would be different; i should feel as if i was going to commit a murder; but now i feel as if i was going to inflict on him a very deserved punishment and take down his pride a little." so ernest set to work, and practised the trick sergeant dibble had taught him. after a day or two he took buttar and ellis into his confidence, and they all practised it together. ellis, however, could not manage to accomplish the turn of the wrist in a way to be effective, but buttar, who had resolved to be a soldier, and took a deep interest in all military exercises, was never weary in practising it. when sergeant dibble came again, he told ernest that he would be perfect in another week, and complimented buttar also on his proficiency. ellis, meantime, was making great advances in the use of the broadsword, and the sergeant assured him that if he would go on and persevere, he would very soon be far superior to many idle fellows who now sneered at him, and would not practise unless the master was present. chapter seven. a fishing expedition. "i say, bracebridge, we must try our new rod before we break up," said ellis, one saturday, just before the boys were going in to dinner. "it's a capital afternoon for fishing, cloudy and soft. i'll see about bait if you will promise to come. buttar and bouldon say they will, and so will gregson; so we shall be a jolly party, and shall gain something even if we don't catch fish." ernest, who always appeared to have more spare time than any one else, consented to go, provided he had half-an-hour's reading after dinner, to get up some work. ellis had learned to be almost as eager as his friend in anything he was about. he now hurried off to send jim, a lame boy, who was allowed to go on errands for the young gentlemen, to prepare the baits for the fishing-party. they all assembled at the appointed hour, with capital rods in hand, with the exception of gregson, who declared that he always made his own rods, and that his, though uncouth in appearance, would catch as many fish as all the rest put together. the young fishermen had very little excuse for not catching fish. there was a large pond, about two miles off, with a clear full stream running into it. in the stream were trout, grayling, roach, and dace, and the pond was full of fine carp, and tench, and perch, while occasionally the other fish from the stream condescended to swim into it. the fishing belonged to a gentleman in the neighbourhood, who took a great interest in the doctor and his school, and always allowed a dozen boys at a time to fish there. they had to go to the doctor or one of the masters for leave, and as seldom more than a dozen wished to go at a time, it was not often that any were disappointed. off they set, with their fishing-rods over their shoulders, singing away as merrily as crickets. there were one or two ponds and streams in the way, where they proposed to try their fortune for a few minutes, as it was reported that sometimes very fine fish were caught in them. the first they came to was a quiet dark pond, shaded by trees. gregson declared that he thought it must be full of fish, and he was considered an authority on such matters. ellis, who knew also a good deal about fishing, rather doubted that such was the case. "come and try," said gregson; "there is no great harm in doing that, at all events." gregson prevailed, and no one perceived a quiet chuckle in the tone of his voice. he persuaded them all to fish with very small hooks and red worms, which he gave them. they had not fished long before bouldon exclaimed, "i've a bite, i've a bite!" his float began to bob; down it went, and up he whisked his rod. "a fine fish," he cried out; "but, hillo, it has legs--four legs, i declare! why, it's a monster; a terrible monster. hillo! ellis, gregson, buttar, come and help me. will it bite, i wonder?" gregson ran laughing up to bouldon to see what was the matter. "why, it is a water-newt!" he exclaimed. "a harmless, curious little creature--there, don't hurt it! it has not swallowed the hook. i'll put it into my basket and take it home. it will live in a tub of water for a long time. look! it is something like a lizard, but it has a flat tail made for swimming. what curious little feet and legs! now, though the newt has four legs, it lays eggs; and to guard them from injury, wraps them up in the leaves of water plants, with its four paws. when the young newt is hatched, it is very like a tadpole. it is like a fish, for it breathes through gills; but as it increases in size the gills go away and the front legs appear, and then the hind ones. in a frog-tadpole the hind legs appear first, and then the front ones." "curious sort of fellows," observed tom bouldon, who had been listening attentively to gregson's account; "but, i say, i thought fellows, when they grew bigger, took to gills instead of throwing them aside." "oh! tommy, tommy, what a pun!" was the general cry. "what a good pun, or what a bad one?" asked bouldon with perfect simplicity. "but, i say, gregson, are there any other fish but your friends, the newts, in this pond, do you think? because if there are not, i vote we move on." "i never heard of any; but i wanted a newt, and so i proposed that we should fish here." on hearing this, there was a general proposal that he should be left behind to catch newts by himself; but he promised faithfully to show them where the best fish were to be caught, if they would forgive him. on these conditions he very easily obtained pardon for his trick. "i say, did you ever catch a fresh-water lobster?" asked gregson. no one had, and no one believed that there was such a thing. "i'll soon show you one," said gregson; and when they came to a shallow stream with highish banks, pulled off his shoes and stockings, tucked up the sleeves of his shirt and the legs of his trousers, and was soon busy feeling under the banks, just below water. "why, he has got one; he has indeed!" shouted bouldon, as gregson produced, by the antennae, a crayfish, which, to prevent himself from being bitten, he caught by the back; its claws, though they stretched wide open, as if they had the cramp very badly, being utterly harmless. "this is a crustacea," cried gregson, holding him up in pride; "and if not a lobster, it may well be called one. i have often caught two or three dozens of them, and found them capital for tea or breakfast. in my opinion, if a person has his senses about him, and will but study natural history, he would be able to live entirely on the herbs and fruits of the field, the birds of the air, and the animals of the earth and water." "ho, ho! a pretty sort of existence that would be!" exclaimed bouldon. "i suppose you would have us to eat grass, like sheep or cows, or snails, or vermin, or tadpoles." "no, no! tom, but i will undertake to place a capital dinner before you; and, except the trouble of catching the animals, it shall cost nothing beyond a halfpenny, which i will expend in mustard and pepper. i cannot grow the pepper, so i shall buy a farthing's-worth of that and a farthing's-worth of mustard seed, which i would grow, and could then give you mustard to eat, and also a salad." "what would you do for salt?" asked buttar. "i would make that very quickly by the seaside. a few pails of salt-water thrown into any clean hollow of a rock would soon evaporate and leave some excellent salt," answered gregson. "then i would give you several sorts of fish, and crayfish, and, if i can get to the sea, fish of all sorts, and lobsters, and crabs, and shrimps, and oysters, and every variety of shell-fish, and sea-weeds also, some of which are excellent and very nutritious; but i can do very well without going to the sea. of animals in england there are not many; but i can snare rabbits, and so i could hares, but that would be poaching, and therefore i cannot give you hares; but you shall have all sorts of birds--larks, and blackbirds, and sparrows, and young rooks, and wildfowl, and many others; and then there is no end of vegetables. nettle-tops, when well boiled, are excellent, and so are a number of other plants which are looked upon as weeds; and you have no idea of the number of roots which grow in the fields, and hedges, and hill-sides, which are fit to eat. then, to give flavour to our birds and rabbits, i can find mushrooms in abundance, and, indeed, several flavoury seeds and roots. while i think of it, i can do without pepper; we have some native pepper. i can make several teas which have a very nice taste, and i can produce very fair coffee from the root of the dandelion. if i was in canada, i could manufacture excellent sugar from the maple-tree. here i could make it out of beetroot, but it would be troublesome. i can give you as a dessert some delicious strawberries, and raspberries, and filberts, and i could get plenty of chestnuts, and no one would accuse me of stealing them; indeed, with a little consideration and trouble, i could place before you a first, second, and third course, which ought to satisfy the taste of the most fastidious. for my own part, i do not object to frog's legs and snails; and if i was hungry, and could get nothing else, i would eat a snake without hesitation; but i do not ask others to entertain my views." "oh, oh! greggy, you cannibal! you would eat grubs and caterpillars, i suppose? why, you are no better than an australian savage," exclaimed bouldon, with a look of ineffable disgust. "that is the worst of you, gregson, you go into extremes," observed ernest. "we tried once, at home, for curiosity's sake, just the dinner you describe, and a very good dinner we had, though it was more suited to a frenchman's than an englishman's taste. my father says that if people studied the subject, many more things would be found fit for food than are now used. for instance, if two people were cast on shore on an uninhabited island, or were travelling through the wilds of america or australia, one might starve from ignorance of what was fit to eat, while the other, from having a thorough knowledge of botany and natural history generally might find an abundant supply of nutritious food. when fruits are not in season, there are nearly always roots to be found under ground, and various herbs, and even the leaves, and gum, and stems or bark of trees. the inhabitants of terra del fuego live on mushrooms which are found growing on the stems of the evergreen beech; indeed, i might multiply instances without end. the naturalist not only knows that such things exist, but, from having studied their habits, knows exactly where to look for them. i have often read of poor fellows starving in the midst of plenty, simply from their ignorance that food was close around them. others have been afraid to eat what they found for fear of being poisoned. i tell you what, greggy, i think that you are perfectly right, only you should take care not to disgust people by talking of being ready to eat things for which they may have an antipathy. we know that locusts, and sea-slugs, and bird? nests, are considered great delicacies in some countries, and so are dogs by several people, and really i do not see why a dog should not be as delicate as a pig." "well! i declare that it is next door to cannibalism to eat a dog, man's faithful friend and protector," cried buttar, who was more of a sportsman than any of the rest of the party. "i would sooner starve than eat my old dog, ponto." "i am not at all an advocate for the practice of dog eating," said ernest. "but i do argue that civilised and educated people, as we profess to be, should obtain a far greater knowledge of the productions of the earth than we possess." gregson was glad to find himself so well supported, and the rest finally agreed that they would get books and try and pick up some knowledge on the subject. "books are all very well, and very important indeed; but they alone won't do; you must study and examine for yourselves. books will, by themselves, never give you a practical knowledge of natural history." this conversation lasted till the merry party arrived at the stream where they proposed to fish. they all set to work, each in his own way. ernest was the only fly-fisher of the party. there was a light breeze which just rippled some of the deep pools in the stream, and as he walked up it, passing his companions one after the other, he seldom passed ten minutes without getting a rise and catching a fish. "hillo, gregson," said bouldon; "i thought you, with your stick, were going to catch more than any of us. there's bracebridge far ahead of you already; you'll be beaten, old fellow." "wait a bit," answered gregson quietly. "my fish have not begun to bite yet. i am thinking of trying the pond for an hour or so. i ground-baited it as i came by, and i have no doubt i shall catch something." bouldon, who was the worst fisherman of the party, in consequence chiefly of his want of patience, accompanied gregson in the hopes that he might benefit by the ground-bait. "what is it you put in?" he asked. the young naturalist showed him some balls which looked like balls of clay with some red seams, but they were composed of clay and bran, and gentles, and red worms, and one or two other ingredients, which gregson averred would attract all sorts of fish. "you must not interfere with my sport, but you shall have a spot to yourself; and i'll answer for it before long that you will have plenty." gregson himself, as he spoke, threw in his line, and as tom looked on, caught several perch and roach in rapid succession. "oh, i can't stand that; i must go and see what i can do," exclaimed bouldon, moving on. "very well, just go a little on this side of that willow," said gregson; "you will find a deepish hole there. throw in your ground-bait, and before long you are very likely to get some bites. see; i've caught another. what a whacking big perch! three pounds' weight, i should say. i'll have him out soon; don't stay for me, i can tackle him." this success of gregson's made bouldon still more anxious to be off to try and catch some fish. hitherto he had got nothing. having thrown in all the ground-bait he had got, he baited his hook with the full expectation of catching a basket-full. he cast in his line and stood patiently watching his float. it would not bob. he altered the depth of the hook several times; the worm wriggled, as at first, untouched. he began to grow very impatient. "this will never do," he muttered; "i must shift my ground till i find the fish more inclined to be caught." he looked round towards gregson, who was pulling up fish as fast as he could. "his basket must be already nearly full, and i have not caught even a wretched gudgeon." on this tom went round the pond, throwing in his line here and there with the same want of success. at last he got a bite; "a big fish," he thought to himself. "i'm sure it is; hurra! perhaps my one fish may weigh as much as all gregson's and bracebridge's together." he hooked his fish, which after one or two tugs, poked his nose to the surface just to see who was at the other end of the line, which somehow or other had got hold of his lips. "a grand, magnificent pike!" shouted tom with delight, letting go his reel as the fish began to pull, and darted off into the centre of the pond. bouldon stood ready to turn him as soon as he began to slacken his pace. never had he felt so eager about catching a fish, for never had he held a bigger one at the end of his line. it would have been better for him had it been much smaller. there was a quantity of weeds in the pond; and numerous large flat leaves of the beautiful white water-lily floating near, moored to long tough stems, among which he was in a dreadful fright that the fish would get, when he felt sure it would contrive to carry line and hook and float away. the pike, if pike it was, seemed fully aware of the advantage it possessed, and darted about in every direction. "the hook must have caught the very edge of the upper lip, or it would have bitten through my line long ago," thought tom. "what can i do? i wish gregson were here to help me. he would know some dodge to get this fellow on shore. i'm sure i don't. hillo! greggy! ellis! do come and help me. any of you fellows there?" he dared not for a moment turn his eye away from the water, lest the fish should take the opportunity of getting off. "hillo! does no one hear? hillo, i say! come, my good fellows, lend a hand to land this monster!" no one answered. the fish had run out with the whole of his line; the rod was bending almost double. he advanced to the very edge of the pond; he thought that he might give a little more scope by going to the right hand, where there was what he supposed to be a projection of the bank. so there was, but it was only of grass, and had nothing under it. he put his foot on it; the fish pulled harder than ever; he never dreamed of letting go his rod, and over he went, the impetus of his fall, and the pulling of the fish, carrying him a considerable distance from the shore. his head went under water, and he got a good quantity of it in his mouth; but at last he came up to the surface, spluttering and blowing, and trying to strike out, but still, like a true briton, keeping fast hold of his rod. he now shouted out with all his might, his shout becoming a sharp cry for help, for he felt very truly that life was in imminent danger. the water was deep; he had thick heavy shoes and trousers on, and he could not make up his mind to lose his rod. for some time he positively swam away from the shore, not knowing what he was about, but fortunately at last he found out what he was doing, and tried to get back. his heart sank within him when he found how far off he was from the land. his clothes were pressing him down, and the long slimy stems of the weeds began to twist and turn round his legs. "oh, i shall be drowned--i shall be drowned!" he cried out in an agony of fear. "help--help!--help, oh help!" he shouted, struggling to keep himself above water. his eye looked on either side of the pond. he saw some one approaching the spot where he had stood, but coming leisurely, and evidently not aware that he had tumbled into the water. "help, help;" he again shouted, and he felt that in another minute he must go down, for the more he attempted to approach the shore, the more his legs became entangled by the fatal weeds. he thought that he recognised the gaunt figure of ellis. "oh, if it had been bracebridge now! he swims so well, he might have got me out," he thought to himself; but he had very little confidence that ellis would help him. just then his last cry must have reached the ear of the person approaching, for he set off running towards the spot as fast as his legs would carry him. bouldon began to hope once more that he might be saved. then he saw that it was ellis. "keep up, keep up!" shouted ellis; "i'll be with you." he disencumbered himself of his basket as he ran, and the moment he reached the spot he threw off his shoes and his jacket, and, rod in hand, having broken off the hook from his line, plunged into the water without an instant's hesitation. all the time, however, he shouted, "help! help! help!" he swam out bravely towards bouldon, poking his rod before him till the end reached his struggling school-fellow. "catch hold of this--catch hold of this!" he sang out lustily. bouldon heard him, but his senses were becoming confused, and he could not exert himself to reach the point of the rod. ellis swam on still further, but he saw the weeds, and he knew that, should his legs once become entangled in them, he should be unable to help his friend, and should probably lose his own life. "oh! come nearer, come nearer!" gasped out poor bouldon, making vain efforts to get free. ellis, against his better judgment, generously made the attempt. he instantly felt that he, too, was among the weeds. he tried to get back. his only consolation was to see that tom had got hold of the end of his rod. ellis exerted himself to the utmost. move forward he dared not; but throwing himself on his back, he lifted up his legs, and endeavoured to disentangle them from the weeds which were round them. at last he felt that he could strike out with them; and paddling with one hand at the same time, he gently pulled on his rod, so as to tow bouldon towards him. the weeds had, however, got so completely round poor tom's legs, that ellis found that he was not moving him. "i'm sinking, i'm sinking!" tom cried out. ellis struck away with all his might. "hold on to the rod, whatever happens, that's all," he cried out, tugging and tugging away. "i'm moving you, i'm moving you!" so he was, but it was only so far as the weeds would allow him to go. tom had followed his example, and thrown himself on his back. just then a shout was heard, and soon afterwards ellis caught the words he had been himself using, "keep up, keep up!--never fear!" he thought it was bracebridge's voice; so it was. he was up to them in an instant. now, bracebridge, by his father's advice, never went out on any expedition without a supply of stout twine. producing some from his fishing-basket, he fastened one end of it to a drooping branch of the willow-tree, which overhung the pond, and the other on to his own rod, and, having thrown off his clothes, he boldly plunged into the water, knowing that the weeds would have much less power over his naked legs, than if he had kept on his trousers. he reached poor tom with the end of his rod just as he was sinking. tom grasped it convulsively, and ernest holding on to the part of the line made fast to the tree had sufficient force to drag him out from among the weeds. ernest, meantime, told ellis to try and get to shore, so as to be able to help him to draw in bouldon. ellis was not long in doing so; and climbing up the bank, he hauled in the line ernest had so thoughtfully made fast to the tree. in a short time, by careful pulling, bouldon was hauled clear of the weeds, and ernest was able to take hold of his arm, and to support him while ellis towed them both up to the bank. by this time bouldon was unconscious, but, notwithstanding, he still with one hand held fast hold of the butt-end of his rod, and the rod had evidently something else at the other end of it. they drew him up the bank still holding on his rod. the change of atmosphere from the warm water of the pond, perhaps, to the cooler air, revived him, and opening his eyes he looked up at bracebridge. "you, ernest! i thought it was ellis. is he safe?" "yes, yes; all right, old fellow!" answered ellis. "oh, thank you, thank you! then do try and get my fish on shore," were the first words exchanged between the party when they had got safe to land. "it's a whacking big pike, that i know," cried tom. "oh! bracebridge, don't let him go; that's all." "i only hope no stranger will come near and find me, like a picture in the `boy's own book,' fishing _in statu quo_," said ernest, laughing, "but quick, ellis, bring the landing-net; i shall have him directly, i believe." there was a broad laugh as ellis put the net under the fish--for fish there undoubtedly was. "why, tommy, your big pike has turned into a perch after all," cried ernest; "a good-sized one though. but how did you come to fancy it a pike?" "because he pulled so horribly; and when i saw his big jaws above water, i thought nothing but a pike could possess such a pair of gills," answered tom, with much simplicity. ernest and ellis laughed heartily at bouldon's pike. ellis took off his clothes, and wrung them dry, and assisted tom, who was getting rapidly well, to do the same; and while ernest put on some of his garments, he lent the remainder to clothe his companions, while theirs were drying. they very quickly got their fishing gear to rights again, and were soon, as eager as before, engaged in their sport. the disturbance they had made in the water had not frightened away the fish, and they each of them caught several large perch. when they at last got their clothes dry enough to put on, and worked their way up to where gregson was fishing, they found that he had actually filled his basket completely full; fulfilling his promise that with his old stick, as he called it, he would catch more fish than all the rest put together. he bought his hooks, though he could make them; but the rod, line, and float he had entirely manufactured himself, as he had all the rest of the gear, and thus he certainly had reason to be proud of his achievements. he was horrified when he heard how nearly two of his companions had lost their lives, while all the time he had been so close at hand. when, however, they were joined by lemon and buttar, and bouldon described the way ellis had come to his rescue, everybody was loud in their praises of him except ernest. he said nothing at the time, but as they were walking home, he took ellis's hand, and pressing it warmly, remarked, "you have behaved very gallantly to-day, my dear fellow. i was certain that when the opportunity offered, you would do so. no one could have done better, or shown more coolness or courage. had it not been for you, bouldon would have lost his life; of that i am certain. he was almost gone when i came up." "why, bracebridge, i considered that you saved both our lives," exclaimed ellis, in a tone of surprise at hearing himself so praised. "had you not come up, we should both have been lost." "oh! i only used a little judgment, and followed one of the many bits of good advice my father has given me from time to time," said ernest. "i neither ought nor will take any of the credit which belongs to you; so pray, my dear fellow, do not talk of what i have done." ellis, however, argued the point; but ernest took care that the way he had behaved should be thoroughly known and well understood by all the boys, as well as by the doctor. the fishing-party had a very pleasant walk home, and seldom had fuller baskets of fish been brought to the school. that evening, after prayers, the doctor called up ellis, and, placing him on his right hand, said that he wished to compliment him, among all his companions, for his bravery and coolness, which had enabled him to have the inestimable gratification of saving the life of a fellow-creature, a school-fellow, and a friend; "and," added the doctor, turning to ernest, "i feel that you, bracebridge, deserve not less credit for the generous way in which you have acted in the matter." ernest did not obtain less credit, and ellis found himself in a very different position to what he had before held in the school. chapter eight. trials of edward ellis--a game at golf. the summer holidays were over, and nearly all the boys had collected at school. most of them loved their homes; but really our school was so pleasant a place, that very few regretted returning to it. several new boys came. one of them was called andrew barber. he was somewhat of a noisy overbearing character, and showed from the first a strong disposition to bully, and to quarrel with those who did not agree with him. he had, however, a box full of valuables, and a couple of bats, a set of wickets, and two first-rate footballs, and a set of hockey-sticks, so that with a pretty large class he was rather popular. dawson very quickly made up to him, and blackall condescended to allow him to cultivate his acquaintance. i write about him from recollection. perhaps when he first came, the defects i recollect in his character may not have been so apparent. bracebridge came back quiet and gentlemanly as ever. he had not been idle during the holidays. it is extraordinary how much he had seen, and done, and learned. he had been reading pretty hard both greek and latin, and mathematics. he had made a tour through the manufacturing districts, the commencement of a series his father promised to take him, to show him the true source of english wealth. he had had a very pleasant yachting expedition, and had learned a good deal more about a vessel, and how to sail her, than he had before known. he had become a proficient in archery, and had filled a book full of sketches. then he had read through a history of france, and made a synopsis of the work, as well as two or three biographies; and he had fished and ridden, and botanised and geologised, and seemed to have seen and talked with a great number of interesting people. even buttar, to whom he gave this account of himself, was surprised; and yet buttar was one of the hardest readers in the school. "how i can possibly get through so much, do you ask?" said ernest. "why, i will tell you. i am never idle. i always arrange beforehand what i want to do, and when i am at work, i give all my mind to that work, and never allow myself a moment to think of anything else. i have the gift, and a valuable one it is, i feel, of being able to concentrate my thoughts on the particular subject in which i am engaged, while i never allow them to be drawn off by anything else. i believe that my mind is so constituted that i should do this of my own accord; but my father has strongly urged on me the importance of the habit, and i accordingly practise it systematically. whenever i find my mind wandering away from the subject on which i am engaged, i bring it back forcibly, just as if it were a truant, or a deserter from his colours. some people can think of two things at the same moment; but my father says it is much better to think of one thing well at a time, as likewise to do one thing well; so, as you may have observed, i never attempt more. the consequence of this system is, that i gain some credit, more or less, for nearly everything i undertake." "indeed, you do," exclaimed buttar enthusiastically. "i wish that i were like you; but my thoughts are constantly wool-gathering, whatever i am about. now, ellis is like you. he can keep his mind fixed on his work, whether mental or physical; and see how rapidly he has got on. i wonder when he is coming. it is extraordinary how i took to liking that fellow; i quite long to have him back among us." "he wrote me word a few days ago that he expected to be here to-morrow. he tells me that he looks forward to coming back with great pleasure, though formerly it was always with pain and dread that he approached the school." "i am glad of it," remarked buttar. "there is a good deal in that fellow. i did not fancy so at first, but i am now convinced that he could beat most of us at anything he tries. he is a right honest good chap into the bargain. i hope that he will be here soon." poor ellis would have had his spirits much raised, had he been aware how those whom he most esteemed among his schoolfellows talked of him. the doctor made a rule of examining all the boys when they returned after the holidays, to ascertain what progress they had made during the time. they had also a holiday task; but they all, except the very idle ones, found it a very easy matter. ernest found himself at once put up a class, and the very first day he went up, he took a good place in that class. bracebridge could not be otherwise than a favourite with the doctor, and with all the masters. monsieur malin especially liked him. he took so much pains to acquire french, and to pronounce it properly, and would repeat words over and over again till he had caught the right sound: then he at once understood the necessity of attending to the idioms of the language, and did not fancy that he was speaking french when he literally translated english into french, as did most of his companions. he moreover (and the frenchman fully appreciated his delicacy) never allowed a smile to appear on his countenance, however absurd the mistake his master might make when speaking english. monsieur malin was a great linguist, and took a pleasure in imparting a knowledge of his attainments to ernest, who in that way began to study italian, german, and spanish, and found, to his surprise, a wonderful ease in picking them up. he always carried in his pocket a little book, in which he entered the words he wished to learn. when he walked out, he used to learn as many of these words as he could remember. one day he devoted to one language, one to another, and he found that he acquired all three with very little more exertion of mind than was necessary to learn one. he had learned latin and greek with his father in the same way, and at an early age he had had a very large vocabulary; indeed, there was scarcely a word in english which he could not readily translate into those languages when he came to school. in consequence, directly he learned a rule of grammar, he was able to apply it. other boys, following the old system, went hammering and hammering away at their grammar without understanding it, and without being able to apply its rules, and lost their own time and patience, and that of their unfortunate masters. however, i am not writing an account of the lesson hours of my schoolboy days, but rather of the play-hours. at the same time, i believe that they are more connected, and the importance of the latter is greater than some people are apt to suppose. bracebridge, buttar, bouldon, and gregson were waiting to welcome ellis when he got down from the coach, which passed through the village, half-a-mile from the house. they all, as they walked home, had a great deal to say, and a great deal to tell him. each one was eager to describe where he had been, and what he had done in the holidays, and to know all that had happened to ellis during the same period. they then had to tell him of all the changes which had occurred at the school. "we have loads of new fellows," exclaimed bouldon. "there is milman, and bishop, and lloyd, and taylor, and a fellow named barber, and cooper, and lindsay; and there are five or six little fellows, whose names i don't know, and several more are coming, and they say two or three big fellows, who will be especially under the doctor. a capital increase for one half, though, to be sure, several have left in the upper class. it shows, however, that the school is getting up." "i know that i wish one fellow had left," said buttar. "the school suffers in consequence of him. i wouldn't have a younger brother of mine come as long as he is here, that i know, to be bullied by him; to be kicked, and cuffed, and abused is bad enough, but to hear him talk-- to have to listen to his foul language and stories, and all sorts of ideas which come into his abominable mind, is infinitely worse." "you are right, buttar," exclaimed bracebridge, warmly. "that fellow blackall and his tongue is a pest to society. if he simply bullied he could do very little harm; but, i say, what is the matter with ellis? how pale and wretched he looks!" "bracebridge," said ellis, coming round to him hurriedly, "who is this fellow barber? where does he come from? do you know? oh, tell me!" "from doctor graham's at hampstead. i know for certain. he told me so this morning," replied bracebridge. "but, my dear fellow, what is the matter with you?" "oh, bracebridge, you'll know too soon," ellis gasped out. they had dropped a little behind the rest of the party. "yet you'll not think ill of me. you'll not believe what he says, will you? promise me that, without proof, without better proof than he can give. however it may appear, i am not guilty; indeed i am not." "what are you talking about?" exclaimed ernest, thinking that poor ellis had gone mad. "i have never heard a word against you. nobody has said anything of which you might complain. had anyone, i would not believe him, and i am sure your other friends would not. everybody who really knows you likes you, trusts you, and believes you to be an excellent fellow. you have taken some fancy into your head. get rid of it, do." "it is no fancy, indeed it is not," said ellis, more calmly. "perhaps i was wrong to say anything about the matter. i know that there is a french saying, _qui s'excuse s'accuse_. i'll not excuse myself more than i have done to you. should anything be said against me, i may rest sure of your friendship at all events. more i do not desire." "indeed, my dear fellow, you may. whatever others may say, i will not believe you capable of doing anything of which you need be ashamed," said ernest, warmly pressing his friend's hand. "thankyou, thank you!" replied ellis; "you make me feel less miserable. still your friendship will be sorely tried. of that i am certain." ernest, during all the time ellis was speaking, was debating in his mind whether or not he was labouring under some strange hallucination. "whatever it is that you fear, do not talk about it," he said, as soon as ellis had ceased speaking. "it will do no good, and can only make people think things which are very likely far from the truth. i would advise you not to talk even to me about it. come and have a good game of cricket, or take a turn at fencing, or broadsword, or come and learn golf. there is a scotch fellow, macgreggor, who has come this half, and has undertaken to teach us, and it has become all the rage. it's a capital game for summer, and gives one plenty of exercise. one game or the other will soon knock all such notions out of your head." poor ellis smiled faintly as he replied, "i am afraid not, but i will try to follow your advice. i will keep up my spirits, and perhaps matters will turn out better than i have a right to expect. i should like to learn golf, if you are doing so. i have once or twice seen it played at blackheath, and i should think that it would suit me better even than cricket." "that's right, that's right," said ernest. "i say, you fellows, ellis has a great fancy to join us in learning golf. he is like me; he dislikes the same routine of games year after year, however good they may be. we'll get macgreggor to give us a lesson this evening. he seems to be a very good-natured fellow, though he is so big and old." macgreggor was a private pupil of the doctor's, who had lately come to prepare for cambridge. he was a good specimen of a highlander, who had never before been south of the tweed. he spoke strong scotch, but not broad scotch; that is, lowland scotch, with the full forcible expressions which are to be found in such abundance in the language. he was a truly honourable, high-spirited fellow, and most kind-hearted and generous. had blackall's misdeeds come to his notice he would have doubled him up, as our yankee cousins would say, in no time. the rest of the party willingly agreed to the proposal. as soon as they reached the house, ellis had to go and present himself to the doctor, who was struck by his grave and pale countenance. "my dear boy, what is the matter with you?" asked the doctor kindly. "nothing, sir; nothing," was the answer. "it is not because i am sorry to come back to school, because i am very happy to find myself here." the doctor looked pleased, and he knew that ellis was not a boy to make a set speech for the purpose of paying a compliment. he was glad to find also that he had not spent his holidays in idleness, but had studied quite as hard as was wise, and had read a number of useful works. "you have done very well indeed," said the doctor. "if every boy would follow your plan, and read attentively a good history during the holidays, they would become very fair historians at a small expense of labour, and they would save their time which is now, in most instances, so miserably squandered. most boys during their school-life have from fourteen to sixteen holidays, each about six weeks in length--in fact they are idle for two whole years of the most valuable period of their existence for acquiring knowledge. during that time they might acquire a thorough knowledge of the history of the whole world." ellis thanked the doctor for his advice, and said that he would follow it, and try to persuade some of his schoolfellows to do so likewise. dinner was over, so some was sent in for ellis, and then he and his friends set off, with macgreggor and several other boys, to the neighbouring heath, where they were to play golf. macgreggor had brought with him a supply of golf sticks or bats, which he generously distributed among those who wished to play. he soon fixed on bracebridge as being likely to prove one of the best players, and told him that he should be his opponent on this occasion, although he had received only three or four lessons from him. ernest chose buttar, ellis, and knowles, who played already very well, and macgreggor took bouldon, gregson, and jackson, another not bad player, considering that he had only just taken a golf stick in hand. as the ground over which they had to play was very irregular, they marked their three holes in a triangle about a quarter of a mile apart. "see, ellis, what a beautiful golf stick mac has given me," said bracebridge, showing his golf club. it was a formidable-looking weapon, about three feet long, formed of ash, curved and massive towards the end, which was made of a lump of beech, the handle being neatly covered with velvet. the thick end of the club was loaded with four ounces of lead, and faced with hard bone. altogether no weapon could have been designed better adapted for hitting a small ball with a powerful stroke. the golf ball itself was very small, not bigger than a small hen's egg. it was formed of white leather, which had been soaked in water, and stuffed full of feathers by means of a stick till it became perfectly hard. it was afterwards covered with four coats of fine white paint to increase its hardness. "you observe, ellis," said bracebridge, "the great object is to get a ball both hard, light, strong, easily seen, and which will not be the worse for a wetting. all these qualifications are possessed by this little fellow. why golf has gone out so much in england, i don't know. two centuries ago it was a fashionable game among the nobility; and we hear of prince henry, eldest son of james the first, amusing himself with it. in those days it was called `bandy-ball,' on account of the bowed or bandy stick with which it was played. we now only apply the term bandy to legs. still farther back, in the reign of edward the third, the game was played, and known by the latin name of _gambuca_. now, are we all ready?" macgreggor, who had just come up with his companions, replied that all his party were ready to begin. each side was accompanied by two boys, carrying a number of other clubs, one of which was of iron, and some were shorter, and some longer, to enable the players to strike the ball out of any hole, or rut, or other place in which it might have got. "these extra clubs are called putters, and the men who carry them cads, or caddies," ernest remarked to ellis. "this heavy iron club is, you see, to knock the ball out of a rut, which would very likely cause the fracture of one of our wooden clubs. now you understand all about the matter. follow me; i'll tell you what to do when macgreggor is not near; otherwise, though he is playing against us, he will advise us what to do." the ball was thrown up, and the game began. macgreggor had the first stroke. he sent the ball a considerable distance towards the nearest hole. ernest had then to strike his ball. if he struck it very hard it might go beyond the hole, which would have thrown him back; and if he did not send it as far as the ball first struck, macgreggor's party would have had the right to strike twice before his would again strike the ball. ellis at first thought that there was nothing in the game, but he soon perceived that there was a good deal of science required, and that nothing but constant practical experience could make a person a good player. he, however, as bracebridge was doing, gave his mind entirely to it, and by listening to the remarks made by macgreggor, he learned the rules and many of the manoeuvres golf players are accustomed to practise. he very soon got deeply interested in the game, as did, indeed, all the party; and perhaps had they been asked at the moment what they considered one of the most delightful things to do all day, they would all have pronounced in favour of playing golf. golf is a most difficult game to describe. i should liken it, in some respects, to billiards on a grand scale, except that the balls have to be put into holes instead of pockets; that they have to be struck with the side instead of with the end of a club, and that there is no such thing as cannoning. bracebridge sent his ball very cleverly a few yards only beyond macgreggor's, which called forth the latter's warm approval. then gregson struck the ball, and sent it but a very short distance. buttar next sent theirs nearly up to the hole, and bouldon then going on, and being afraid of going beyond the hole, sent it not so far, as buttar had struck their ball. "two, two," shouted bracebridge. "now, knowles, hit very gingerly, and let me see if i cannot send our ball in." knowles rolled the ball within a few feet of the hole, and ernest, who, in consequence of bouldon's miss, was now allowed to strike, guided by his correct and well-practised eye, sent it clean into the hole, to the great delight of macgreggor, who was pleased at having so apt a pupil. bracebridge now took his ball out of the hole, and struck it on. macgreggor, however, was not long in catching him up, but tom bouldon was a great drawback to macgreggor. he had not calmness enough to play the game well. he was continually missing the ball, or sending it beyond the hole, while macgreggor, and bracebridge, and ellis especially, always considered how far it was necessary to send it, and took their measures accordingly. few games show the character of a person more than does that of golf, although all, more or less, afford some index to those who are attentively looking on. a boy, when playing, should endeavour to keep a watch over himself as much as on all other occasions, and he should especially endeavour to practise that very important duty of restraining his temper. boys are too apt to fancy that they may say and do what they like, and often they abuse each other, and make use of language of which, it is to be hoped, they would be ashamed when out of the playground. while the game was going on, and drawing near its completion, bracebridge being ahead, a number of boys came out to see what was going forward. from their remarks, there was not much chance of the game becoming popular. there was not enough activity and bustle in it to please them. it was not to be compared for a moment with cricket, or rackets, or football, or even hockey. among the spectators were blackall and dawson, and the new fellow, barber. his eye was ranging over the heath. ernest and his party were then at a distance, playing up towards the last hole. "well, to my mind, after all, it is only like a game of marbles, played with a little leathern ball instead of a stone, and a stick instead of one's knuckles," sneered blackall. dawson echoed the sentiment. "how that fellow bracebridge can find anything to like in it, i do wonder," he remarked. "in macgreggor, who has been brought up to it, it is a different affair." "hollo! who is that fellow?" exclaimed barber, as the players drew near. "which do you mean?" said dawson. "that natty-looking fellow, who is taking the ball? he's a genius; and if you were to take him at his own valuation, there is not such another fellow in the school, or perhaps in the world." dawson never lost an opportunity of having a fling at bracebridge, who had passed so rapidly by him in the school, and had beat him at all their games. "no, no; i mean a lanky-limbed, long-faced fellow, who looks as if his face was made of butter. i think i know him," said barber. "oh, you mean that miserable wretch ellis," snarled blackall. "he's a fellow born to be licked. he is of no other earthly use. i'll give you leave to thrash him as much as you like; it will save me the trouble, and i shall be much obliged to you." it might well save blackall trouble; for had he ventured to touch ellis, he knew full well that he should have got into it. "yes; if ellis is his name, i am certain it is him," observed barber, as ellis drew nearer. "he was at my last school, and i wish you fellows joy of him." "why, do you know anything against him?" asked blackall, eagerly, thinking that he might have the satisfaction of annoying bracebridge, and ellis's other friends. "oh! you know we never say anything against a fellow out of school, however bad he may be," said barber, looking virtuous. "all i can say is, he is not the sort of chap i should choose for my associate. he may have altered, you know. few fellows remain always the same. when i see a fellow get into rows, smash windows, screw off knockers, and show that he has some spirit, i always have hopes of him; but that fellow was always a sneak, and, in the end, proved something a great deal worse. i'll not say anything more about him." "oh, i wish you would!" said blackall. "if there is anything against a fellow, i like to know it. i am rather particular in my company; and though i do not associate with him now, i might be tempted to do so if he came back some week with a box full of grub, or with anything else worth having." this sally of wit was fully appreciated by his auditors, who laughed heartily, or i should rather say loudly, at it. poor ellis meantime had been so intent on watching the game, that he had not observed their approach, till the voices reached his ear. he looked up, and then he saw barber watching him, with a sneer on his countenance. he recognised him at once as his old school-fellow. bracebridge was standing near. "i'll go and speak with him at once," he said quietly, "it may be that he will not think it necessary to repeat the vile story that was told of me at our former school. if i pass him by as a stranger, it will make him more inclined to think ill of me." ellis acted according to the impulse of the moment. he walked up to barber, and, putting out his hand, said, "don't you remember me, barber!" "perfectly," said barber, with great emphasis, and a sneer on his lips. "one remembers people sometimes whom one would rather forget." "what do you mean, barber?" said ellis. "you are not so cruel, so unjust, as--" "put what construction you like on my meaning," answered barber. "i am a straightforward fellow. i say what i think; and of all the characters i have ever met, i hate most that of a canting hypocrite. i never trust such an one. you know best what such a fellow is capable of doing." ellis stood by listening calmly, but not unmoved, to this cutting speech. he turned pale and red, and seemed to have difficulty in drawing his breath. he looked for a moment imploringly at barber, but saw only a sneer on his countenance; so gulping down all the feelings which were rising in his bosom, and which, had he allowed them to break forth, would not have tended to harmony, he turned away and rejoined bracebridge, who was waiting for him. "there he goes," sneered barber. "just like him. had any fellow spoken to me as i did to him, i would have knocked him over with my golf club; but he did not even move his hand as if he would have struck me." after hearing these remarks, blackall, dawson, and other boys of that set, thought barber a very fine spirited fellow, and came to the conclusion that ellis was not only a regular sneak, but that he was probably a convicted thief, or liar, or something fully as bad, if not worse. he said nothing after rejoining his friends, but his spirits sank lower than bracebridge had ever before seen them. he seemed incapable even of doing his ordinary lessons in the way he had been accustomed to get through them. even the doctor and the masters observed the change. by degrees, too, many of the boys with whom he had been accustomed to join in their various games began to look shy at him. one declined to play with him, and then another, and another, till at last he found that he was cut by the whole school, with the exception of the three or four friends who generally sided with bracebridge--buttar, bouldon, gregson, and little eden. poor fellow! it was a sore trial. whatever the fault of which he had been guilty, he had long ago heartily repented of it. of that, at all events, there could be no doubt. it seemed hard that he should be compelled to suffer, supposing even that he was guilty, when a new sphere was open to him; and the better disposed boys, even though they mostly went with the tide, could not help feeling that barber had acted in a very ungenerous way in bringing tales from one school to another, and in injuring the character of one who had always proved himself so harmless and kind-hearted a fellow. bracebridge did not hesitate to show his opinion of barber on all occasions, and took every opportunity of marking his regard for ellis, and in showing his disbelief of the tales current against him. thus the last half of the year drew on, and winter was once more approaching. chapter nine. an attempt to introduce fagging--a game at hockey. the half-year sped on much as usual. not a gleam of sunshine burst forth to dispel the clouds which hung lowering over the fair fame of poor ellis. he was either too proud or too indifferent as to what was said of him to take any notice of the various tales--different versions of the same story--flying about the school to his discredit. now and then bracebridge heard of them, but he invariably replied that he believed them to be utterly false, and he always treated the boy who ventured to begin to narrate them to him with the scorn which a tale-bearer deserves. the tales at last reached the ears of the masters, but in so indefinite a form that they could take no notice of them, much less report them to the doctor; but they had the bad effect of making them look upon poor ellis as a black sheep, and of inducing them to treat him with suspicion. wrong motives were assigned to all he did, and, with one exception, no one spoke kindly or encouragingly to him. the exception was monsieur malin. ellis's clever contrivance with the kite and carriage had won his regard; and though, to be sure, his reasoning might have been very incorrect, he could not fancy that so ingenious a boy could have been guilty of the conduct alleged against him, and which had brought him into such general disrepute. he talked the subject over with bracebridge, who was delighted to find that ellis had so powerful a friend. monsieur malin determined, therefore, to support ellis. he called him up one day, and asked him if he would like to learn french. ellis said, "yes, of him; if he could get leave." "well, if you cannot get leave, i will teach you myself in the play-hours, or at any odd times. you stay in so much, and play so little with the other boys, that you will not mind that, i know," he said, in a kind encouraging voice. "you will learn soon, i know, and then we will walk together, and talk french, and you will learn more rapidly than any one else." "thank you, sir! indeed, thank you!" said poor ellis, the tears coming into his eyes. "it is very kind to take so much trouble with a person like me. i will do whatever you tell me." "then write home, and get leave to learn, and i will tell you what you shall do in the meantime," replied the french master. "get into your head as large a vocabulary of words as you can collect. put down in a little pocket-book the french and english of everything you can think of. thus: write down, a boy, a man, a book, a desk, and i will show you how to pronounce them properly. here is a book; accept it from me; i got it on purpose for you. now write down a boy; now the french, garcon. the _c_ you hear is soft. roll the _r_ well in your mouth. repeat it frequently." monsieur malin made him write down numerous other words, and repeated them over to him frequently till he had caught their exact sounds. "now, my boy, you have learned your first french lesson," he observed. "every day add as many words as these to your vocabulary. begin with the substantives; go on to the adjectives, next the verbs; then study the construction of the language; the simple rules of grammar; and lastly, in the same manner that you have learned single words, collect the idioms of the language. read constantly aloud, and learn by heart interesting portions of modern french writings especially the speeches of the best orators of the present day, and i can promise you that in a very short time you will become a very fair french scholar." ellis saw the wisdom of monsieur malin's advice, and implicitly followed it. bracebridge helped him, and they in a short time were able to converse together. in the meantime ellis got leave to learn french, and some of the boys were very much surprised, and rather indignant, to find him put in one of the upper classes. "that's the fellow who pretended that he did not know french, and has all the time been listening to us, and overhearing all we said," remarked blackall, whose own knowledge of the language was so limited that, at all events, it would have puzzled a frenchman to have comprehended him. "it's just like the sneak," he continued. "i wonder how a chap like bracebridge can patronise him, or how a big fellow like lemon can condescend to speak to him." though these remarks, as it was intended they should, reached the ears both of ernest and lemon, they took no notice of them, and thus they did ellis no further harm. it is very sad that i should not have to recount the pleasant sayings and doings of my schoolfellows; but as in the world the worst actions of people often come most prominently forward, so they do at school, and generally make the deepest impression. i know, however, that even at this time there were many pleasant things said, and amusing things done; that there was much good fellowship among us; that we entered into our games with thorough heartiness; that we made very satisfactory progress in our studies, and were generally happy and contented. indeed, the school was thoroughly well-conducted and ably ruled. the dark spots i have been picturing arose entirely from the bad tempers, dispositions, and ill-conduct of those ruled. so it is with this world at large. it is admirably ordered, beautifully fashioned, ruled with unbounded love, regularity, and justice. men, and men alone, have made all the blots and stains to be found in it; they have caused all the irregularities and disorders which abound; all the misery, all the suffering, all the wretchedness; we see they have themselves and themselves only to blame; that is to say, man alone is at fault; man, and sin which man introduced, beguiled by satan. but up, boys! do not suppose that you are to yield to this state of things; to say that so you find them, and that so you will let them be. no; far from that. you are sent into the world to fight against them, to overcome them, to strive with satan, the prince of sin and lies, and all abominations, with all your might and main. it is a glorious contest; it is worth living for, if we did but understand it aright. the knights who went out, as we are told of old, armed cap-a-pie, to do battle with enchanters, and dragons, and monsters of all sorts, had not half so glorious, so difficult, so perilous a contest to engage in. the writers who invented those fables had, i suspect, a pretty clear notion of what is the true destiny of man. the enchanters were the spirits of evil; their necromancies the works of satan; the dragons and monsters, the ills, the difficulties, the obstacles to all good works which have to be overcome. it was not the fashion to speak out great truths plainly in those days, as it has happily become at the present time; and so philosophers who held them wrapped them up in fables and allegories, the true import of which only the wisest and most sagacious could comprehend. the great truth that all men are sent into this world to work, to fight, to strive with might and main, the doctor tried to impress on his pupils. he found it difficult, however, to make them understand the matter. many of them thought that they knew better than he did on that subject. some of them had been told at home, by ignorant servants or injudicious friends, that they were born heirs to good fortunes; that they were to go to school, and be good boys, and get through their lessons as well as they could, and then they would go to oxford or cambridge, because most gentlemen of any pretension went there; and then that they would be able to live at home and amuse themselves for the rest of their lives. of course, such boys thought that what the doctor was saying could have nothing at all to do with them, and could only refer to the children of poor people, who had nothing to give them. the doctor, suspecting what was in their thoughts, surprised them very much by propounding the doctrine that no one was exempt from the rule; that all mankind, from the sovereign on his throne to the peasant in the field, are born to labour--to labour with the head or to labour with the hands, often with both; or if not, strictly speaking, with the hands, at all events with the mind and body. "and what, think you, is the labour all men ought to engage in? what is the great present object of labour?" asked the doctor. "why, i reply, to do good to our fellow-creatures, to ameliorate their condition by every means in our power." no boys took in these truths more eagerly than did bracebridge and ellis. they talked them over and over, and warmed with the glorious theme. to the former they were not new. his father had propounded the same to him long ago, but the doctor's remarks gave them additional strength and freshness. "it is grand, indeed," exclaimed ernest, "to feel what victories we have to achieve, what enemies to overthrow; that if we do our duty we can never be entirely defeated; and that, though success may be delayed, we must be victorious at last; that there can be no hanging down of the hands, no lassitude, no idleness, no want of occupation through life, no want of excitement. i don't care what grumblers may say; i maintain, with my father, that this is a very glorious world to live in, with all its faults; and still more should we be grateful that we are placed in it, when we remember that it is the stepping-stone to eternity." ernest was, perhaps, somewhat beyond his years in his remarks, but it must be remembered that he was an unusual boy, and that there were not many like him. still he was but a boy. anybody observing him would probably have remarked that he was a good-looking, intelligent boy, but might have failed to discover any super-excellencies in him. indeed i think that i have before remarked that he owed his success at school to the fact, that all the talents he possessed by nature had been judiciously cultivated, and allowed a full and free growth. certainly no boy stood higher in the estimation both of his master and schoolfellows. he could not help discovering this, and he resolved by all means to maintain and deserve their good opinion. he had sometimes a difficult task in keeping to his resolution. i have said that blackall for some weeks had appeared to be much less dictatorial and inclined to bully; but by degrees his former habits returned with greater force, from having been put under some restraint for a time. ellis and eden, and even bouldon and buttar, came in for a share of his ill-treatment; so did a new boy, john dryden by name, a sturdy, independent little fellow, who, for his size, was as strong as he was brave, but, of course, could not compete with a boy of so much greater bulk and weight. a considerable number of fellows vowed that they would stand this conduct no longer; yet what could they do? blackall alone might have been managed; but several big fellows had united with him, and had taken it into their heads that they should like to introduce fagging. they got, indeed, two or three fellows--dawson, barber, and others--to undertake to be fags, just to set the system going, those young gentlemen hoping very soon to become masters themselves. they talked very big about the matter; they thought it would be a very fine thing: their school was first-rate as it was, and if fagging were introduced it would be fully equal to any public school. of course, the affair was to be kept a great secret. there could be no doubt that the doctor would approve of it ultimately, but at first he might be startled; though he never hesitated to introduce any alterations which were improvements, he might possibly look upon fagging without that reverence which it deserved as a time-honoured institution. he could not fail to acknowledge that fagging was a very good thing; but then his school was not a public school, however first-rate it might be as a private establishment; and he might not wish to make it like a public school. thus the important subject was discussed for some time, till at last it was decided that it would be wiser to begin quietly, at the same time in due form. the big fellows who had resolved to be the masters determined to draw up a paper, which the intended fags were to sign, agreeing to do duty and to serve their masters as fags, according to the custom established at all public and first-rate schools. barber, dawson, and other advocates of the system, signed the precious document willingly enough, and they managed to get some twenty other boys to do the same. but when it was shown to buttar and bouldon, they turned it over and over, and asked what it meant. "oh, don't you know?" exclaimed dawson. "it's a plan we have got up for becoming a public school." "i'll tell you what," answered buttar, bursting into a fit of laughter, "i look upon the affair as a bit of arrant tom-foolery; and so you may tell the donkeys who drew it up." dawson grew very red; but he had a respect for buttar's knuckles, and so he held his tongue. bouldon had, meantime, recognised blackall's handwriting, and having a considerable amount of contempt for those whose signatures were attached, he exhibited it in an unmistakable, though certainly an unrefined manner, by holding up the paper, and spitting into the middle of it. then he folded it up, and crammed it into dawson's pocket. dawson and he had had a set-to fight a little time before, and though dawson was the biggest fellow of the two, he had ultimately declined continuing the combat. the action performed by bouldon was equivalent to a declaration of war to the knife with blackall and all the big fellows who supported the system he wished to introduce. dawson turned redder than ever, and looked very fierce at him; but tom closed his mouth, planted his feet firmly on the ground, and doubling his fists, said-- "you'd better not attempt it, dickey; you know me now." dawson did know him, and so he blustered out-- "you're a beastly fellow, that i know; and so i'll go and tell blackall what you say." "go, dickey, and say i sent you," cried bouldon; and, undaunted by the threat which had been uttered, he bestowed a parting kick of very considerable force on the portion of dickey's body then turned towards him. dawson ran off, vowing vengeance. "you shouldn't have done that, bouldon," said buttar, who was a very gentlemanly, refined fellow. "the actions were expressive, and could leave no manner of doubt as to what our course of action must be; but perhaps we might have succeeded better had we left them in doubt, and waited till they commence operations." "i dare say you are right, buttar," said bouldon; "but, in truth, all my english spirit was roused within me at the preposterous notion of those few big fellows proposing all of a sudden to make slaves of the rest of the school. however, what is to be done now?" "let us go and talk to bracebridge, and hear what he says," said buttar. they soon found bracebridge, and told him all that had occurred. he was just as indignant as tom was, and he could not help laughing at the way in which he had exhibited his feelings, though he agreed with buttar that a less demonstrative mode of proceeding might have been wiser. he was decidedly of opinion that immediate steps should be taken to put a stop to the proceedings of the big fellows, and that a counter-resolution should be drawn up, and sent round for the signature of those boys who had resolved not in any way to submit to fagging. he and buttar immediately went into the school-room, and drew up the paper which they considered met the object. it was very temperate, and couched in the most simple language, as such documents always should be to be effectual. it ran, as far as i remember, much in the following words:-- "we, the undersigned, understanding that an attempt is being made by some of the big boys to introduce a system of fagging into the school, bind ourselves to resist such a proceeding by every means in our power, and under no consideration to obey any boy who may order any of us to fag for him." "that will do," observed bracebridge. "the sentence might be better rounded, but the document is short and explicit. we will see what effect it will have. let dawson have a sight of it before it is generally signed. here, you and i will sign it, to show from whom it emanates. they will not begin to try on their tricks upon us, i suspect. they will not know who else has signed it; and we will put the little fellows up how to act, as circumstances may show us to be most advisable." "capital!" exclaimed buttar, affixing his signature in a clear bold hand to the document. "would it not be better to tell lemon what we have done?" "i think not," said ernest. "the resolution emanates from us, so let us carry it out. there is nothing like independence and freedom of action to ensure success. lemon will not wish to make anybody fag for him; but being a big fellow, he may not see the matter in the same light we do. if we bravely resist the attempt, he is much more likely to assist us in crushing it at the end, than if we were to go whining to him now for aid and advice." buttar agreed in this point also with ernest, and undertook to let dawson immediately have a look at the document. dawson said he should like to show it to some of the big fellows. "catch a weasel asleep, and draw his teeth," answered buttar. "no, no, dickey! you may take a copy of it in pencil, and show it to anybody you like. you may say also, that all the school, with the exception of a few miserable sneaks, like some who shall be nameless, will sign it and stick by it. and now, just go and tell the fellows what you have seen." off went dawson with the copy of the protest to his masters. they laughed scornfully. "that upstart, conceited young monkey, bracebridge, is at the bottom of all mischief," observed blackall; and the opinion was echoed by two or three other fellows. "i'll tell you what," said blackall; "the only way will be to begin fagging at once, and to crush this proposed rebellion in the bud. we must parcel out the boys of the lower classes, so that each of us may have four or five fags a-piece. you see we have already each of us got a willing fag. they shall be head fags, and assist to keep the rest in order. we'll tell them that, and then they will help us to bring the rest under subjection." blackall's plan was willingly assented to by the rest of the big boys who had entered into this conspiracy against the liberties of their younger schoolfellows; and minor details being arranged, they considered everything ripe for carrying out their plans. all this time neither the doctor nor masters suspected that anything out of the way was taking place. during the school hours matters went on in their ordinary routine. some of the boys, who had been thinking over what was to be done, were less attentive than usual, and had more faults in their exercises. games were got up and carried on by the boys with their accustomed spirit. hockey and football had now come in. the doctor did not prohibit any games, but he insisted that all should be played with good temper; and a few he only allowed to be played in the presence of a master. hockey was one of these, and consequently it was not often played, except when a large number could join in it together. a great game of hockey was to be played one saturday afternoon in november. blackall came forward as the chief on one side. he called over the names of a number of boys, but only a few of the younger ones joined him. he remarked that they were entirely dawson's companions. another big fellow stood up to lead on the opposite side, but so few consented to play that he was obliged to throw up his leadership. then bracebridge, urged by several standing round him, stepped forward, and he instantly had forty or fifty boys ranged under him. those who had previously ranged themselves under the other big fellow, haddon, went over to blackall. the sides were now more equal, but still blackall had not enough on his side. he cried out for followers, but still no one would go over to him. bracebridge had at last to send off some of his side to make both parties equal. there were thus about forty on each side. everybody knows what a hockey-stick is like. it is a tough fellow, made of oak or crab-apple tree, and turned up at the end in a crook, flattened somewhat at the convex side. it is a formidable weapon, and it is very disagreeable to receive a blow from it on the shins. in some places a cork bung is used, but i have always seen and played with a light ball made on purpose, and covered with leather. we were very particular at grafton hall about our hockey balls. though late in the year, the weather was fine, so we played in the cricket-field. it was a fine wide extent. a line drawn twenty yards in advance of the hedge on either side formed the respective boundaries. it was nearly due north and south. ernest's party were on the north side, and their goal consequently on the south side of the field. bracebridge and blackall tossed up to settle which side was to begin. "heads!" cried ernest. the shilling came down with the head up. it was considered low by the big boys to employ halfpence on such occasions. blackall looked daggers at his opponent. bracebridge took the ball, and placed it about a third of the distance away from his line. his side were arranged behind and on either hand of him. he planted his feet firmly, and lifting his stick above his head, cried "play!" and, looking first at the point to which he intended to send it, gave a steady blow to the ball. blackall and his side watched its approach, and rushed forward "to take it up," or, in other words, to impede its progress, and to send it back in the direction whence it had come. they were boldly met by ernest's party, who once more "took up" the ball and drove it energetically back. all ernest's party were young boys. few were more than a year or two older than he was, and scarcely any were taller or more active; indeed, he was the acknowledged best player of his set. on blackall's side, on the contrary, were a number of big fellows, and all those who had undertaken to act as fags, as well as other hangers-on and chums of the big fellows, patronised especially by them because they were well supplied by injudicious friends at home with hampers of cakes and game, and hams and tongues. i've heard people say, "i'll send poor tom a basket of good things, because it will enable him to gain the friendship of some of the bigger boys." now, i will tell those silly friends that it will do no such thing. it will make some of the worst boys make up to him as long as his grub lasts, or while they think that he is likely to get any more; but they will do him much more harm than good, and their friendship he will not get. no; send a boy to school fitted as much as he can be, and let him win friends and work his way onward by his own intrinsic merits; but never let him think of buying favour with gifts of any sort. but we are in the middle of a game of hockey. it was, however, necessary to explain the class of boys who were ranged on either side. those hockey-sticks looked formidable weapons as they were flourished about in the hands of the opposing parties. again blackall's party met the ball; a dozen hockey-sticks were at it, and one boy, calling off the others, struck it so clear a blow that he nearly sent it up to the goal across ernest's line. however, he, buttar, bouldon, and some other of the most fearless and active boys rushed at it with their sticks, regardless of all the blows aimed at them by their opponents, and drove it back again into the middle of the ground. then on they flew to drive it back still farther. both parties met in the centre. there was a fierce tussle. the hockey-sticks kept striking each other, but none struck the ball. blackall had gone farther back to catch the ball, should it be driven past the front rank of his party. ernest had retired behind his friends for the same purpose. his eye, however, never left the ball. he saw a stick uplifted which he thought would strike it. so it did, and the ball came flying towards him. his quick eye saw it coming, and with unerring aim he struck it over the heads of both parties, who, not knowing what had become of it, broke asunder, and enabled him to pass between them. he reached the neighbourhood of the ball at the same moment that blackall, having seen it coming, got close up to it. they eyed the ball, and they eyed each other for some moments; their eyes flashed fire. "out of my way, you rebellious young scamp!" shouted blackall, irritated by what he considered ernest's daring coolness. ernest did not even look at him, but threw himself into a position to strike the ball. his eye was at the same time on blackall's stick. he saw him lift it to strike, not the ball, but him. he had not learned the use of the single-stick for nothing, and throwing himself back, he warded off the blow, and then, quick as lightning, struck the ball, and sent it past his cowardly opponent. blackall, not in the least ashamed of himself, attempted to repeat the blow while ernest was unable to defend himself; but before his stick descended another actor had come into the field. it was ellis, who had been close at hand, and now springing forward, he interposed his own stick, and saved his friend from the effects of the blow, drawing, of course, all blackall's rage upon himself. had any body seen his countenance, they could not have failed to observe the smile of satisfaction which lighted it up as blackall showered heaps of virulent abuse on his head. "go on, i don't fear you; remember that," said ellis quietly; and then hurried on, in the hopes of assisting ernest to drive the ball on to the goal. the keen eye of monsieur malin, who was the master on duty on that afternoon, had observed this little piece of by-play. he noted it, but said nothing at the time. it required all ernest's activity and the energetic support of his party to make head against the big, strong fellows of the opposite side. when he had very nearly driven the ball home to the goal, several of them threw themselves before him, and drove it some way back again; but buttar, bouldon, gregson, and some others had now come up, and even little eden rushed heroically in to stop its course and to drive it back, so that ernest might once more get it within the power of his unerring stick. the big fellows of blackall's party had rushed on, separating widely, and not observing, or rather regarding, little eden, whom had they seen they would not have supposed daring enough to attempt to hit the ball. he did not hit it very far, certainly; but yet his stroke was one of the most important which had been given, for it enabled tom bouldon to send it up very nearly to the goal. ernest saw it coming. he sprang forward; and almost before it had stopped, his stick had caught it and sent it triumphantly over the line. the big fellows were astonished when they saw how and by whom they had been defeated. blackall especially was enraged. "that young scamp, bouldon, and that little shrimp, eden, ought not to be allowed to play. there is no guarding against their sneaking, underhand ways," he observed. i believe, indeed, he made use of still more opprobrious epithets, with which i do not wish to defile my pages. even some of his own side laughed at his anger, but still no one thought of rebuking him. "never mind, we'll beat them well the next turn," answered rodwell, a big, good-natured fellow, on his side. "now, young bracebridge, you, sir, look out for yourself. we are not going to let you run over the course in this way again." "oh, we are not afraid of you; we shall do our best to win again, at all events," said ernest, taking up the ball, and walking off with it to his side of the ground. "now look out, old fellows." "what's that the impudent young scamp says?" exclaimed blackall. "we'll pay him and his sneaking set off before long, so let him look out." ernest heard what was said, but took no notice of the remark. he appeared to be entirely absorbed in considering in what direction he should drive the ball. he eyed the position of the various players, both on the other side and on his own. he called bouldon up to him, and whispered various directions to him. bouldon ran off, and immediately several of his side changed their places. "ah! that boy was born to become a general," observed monsieur malin, who was looking on at the game with deep interest. the opposite side were rather astonished. they were not accustomed to so systematic a way of playing, still less to see directions issued by one boy so implicitly obeyed by others. they could not make it out. ernest lifted up his stick, and struck the ball. off it flew in a direction away from all the best players on the opposite side, but some of the most active of his party ran on, and hitting it before them, one after the other, drove it right through the ranks of their opponents. so quickly did one striker succeed the other, that none of blackall's boys could get a stroke. he ran to the rescue, but this was one of the many occasions, as he frequently found to his cost, when mere animal strength could avail but little. the ball was carried on, struck rapidly past him, followed up by relays of ernest's friends, and finally sent by buttar, accompanied by a loud cheer from all his side, over the boundary. such a victory could not have been expected under ordinary circumstances, had even the big boys been the conquerors, but the latter were doubly astounded, till rodwell sang out-- "bravo, young bracebridge! you have had a lucky chance, but we'll lick you soundly next time, so look out." "chance! yes, it was only chance," repeated blackall, glad to find a plausible excuse for his defeat. a third round was to be played, but the younger party were so cocky that they proposed having four rounds. to this, of course, the others were too glad to consent, under the belief that they could at all events make it a drawn battle; while ernest's friends gloried in the hopes of beating their big opponents three to one. blackall having observed that ernest placed his men according to a certain plan, thought he would do the same. he, therefore, with not a small amount of pretentious formality, ordered the boys on his side to look out in different directions, and to follow a certain course. some went where they were told, but others proceeded to where they themselves considered that they should be better placed, and instead of obeying the orders of their leader, acted according to their own judgment, which, to do them justice, was fully as good as that of blackall. bracebridge watched the proceedings of his opponents, and smiled as he pointed them out to buttar. he very soon made his own arrangements. blackall thought that he was going to act precisely as he had done in the previous game. he had no such intentions. handing the ball to bouldon, he told him to strike it up, while he, buttar, ellis, gregson, and several others went scattering up before him. the big fellows looked at him, and gathered thickly in his front. they took no notice of ellis, who was away to the right. bouldon looked towards bracebridge; then, turning suddenly, struck the ball in the direction of ellis, who followed it up ably as it came by him, and turned it towards buttar. buttar had in the meantime broken through the big fellows and though several of them, hurrying on, tried by reiterated blows to stop it, he carried it once more successfully up to the goal. blackall and some of his party literally stamped with rage at the idea of being beaten three times running by the younger boys, "at all events, that puppy bracebridge had nothing to do with the affair this time," he exclaimed, showing the feeling which animated him. ernest's party cheered again and again--they could not help it. both sides agreed to play out the fourth game. ernest managed his friends equally well as at first, but his opponents were more alive to his tactics. the battle was very hotly contested; several times he got the ball nearly to the goal, and it was again driven back. this game had already taken as long to play as the other three--defeat would be almost as honourable to the younger party as victory--they kept up the game by sheer activity and good play; not that the bigger boys played ill, but they wanted combination and a good leader. blackall had now completely lost his head and his temper. once or twice when bracebridge came near he felt very much inclined to strike him, but ernest watched his eye, and was very quickly out of his way. at last, blackall found himself with the ball directly before him; he lifted up his stick, expecting to strike it right ahead up to the goal. he looked at the point before him to which he intended to send the ball, and he looked at his stick, and he looked at the ball, but he did not look on one side--had he done so, he would have perceived bracebridge springing along with his stick ready to strike. strike he did too, and away flew the ball out of blackall's very clutches. blackall's rage now burst forth--twice he struck ernest across the shins, and though the latter managed to break the force of the blows, he was much hurt. then the bully lifted up his stick and struck ernest on the arm more than once. he was about to repeat the blow on his victim's head, and the effect would have been very serious, when he felt his own ears pulled lustily. "ah, you big coward--is dat de vay you play your games? i'm ashamed dat any boy at de school vare i teach should behave so," exclaimed the voice of monsieur malin. "if i do not take you instantly before de doctor it is because it is too bad to tell him of, so i will pull your ears myself. bah!" right heartily did the good-natured french master tug away at the bully's ears till they were red to the very roots. he knew that he himself was doing what in spirit was prohibited, for no master was allowed to strike or punish a boy. he might have argued that pulling the ears was not striking, and that punishing meant flogging or caning. blackall on another occasion might have resisted, but now he felt that he had been guilty of so cowardly an action that no one would support him, so he submitted tamely to the infliction. "go, get out of de ground, you shall not play--you are not worthy of it," continued the french master, pulling him away by the before-spoken-of appendages of his head. meantime the games went on. ernest, though much hurt, tried to exhibit no symptoms of his suffering. he and his friends strove hard, but the big fellows resolved not to lose this last game as they had done the others, and finally by strenuous exertions drove the ball up to the goal. never was a game at hockey at our school more hotly contested. a great deal came out of it. chapter ten. the bully's punishment. that game of hockey caused a great deal of ill-feeling among the less generous and most ill-disposed of the big fellows towards the younger ones who had so thoroughly beaten them. blackall bullied more than ever, and several others imitated his example. they had also already begun to carry out their precious scheme of fagging. some of the little fellows thought it very good fun at first to obey a bigger one, provided he did not order them to do anything very difficult, or likely to bring punishment down upon themselves. grown bold by impunity, the faggers resolved to divide the boys of the classes below them among themselves as fags by lots. of course it was the very worst plan that could have been devised; indeed, tyrants generally do form very clumsy and very bad schemes for keeping those weaker than themselves in subjection. the younger boys might willingly enough have served older friends who had been kind to them and had protected them, but it was preposterous to suppose that without force they would obey any big boy who might choose to order them. it was some time before this scheme became known to ernest bracebridge and his friends. as he never listened to the tales and tittle-tattle of the school--indeed, he found that the current stories were generally absurd exaggerations of the truth--he might have remained some time longer ignorant, had not bouldon come to him one afternoon, after school, in a state of great indignation, saying that blackall had called him up and ordered him to go to a shop two miles off, to buy him a tongue, some rolls, and other eatables. "when i expostulated, he had the audacity to tell me that i should clean his shoes if he wished it," exclaimed tom, with a savage laugh. "and what do you think? that i was his fag, that i was awarded to him, and that he intended to work me thoroughly? i asked him by whom i was awarded to him? he replied, by a vote of my seniors and betters; and that if i did not work willingly i should be compelled to serve him by force. i don't remember what i said at first--i know that he called me an impudent young scamp for my pains; i concluded by telling him that i should consult you and buttar and other fellows, and that if you consented to be fags, i should not have a word to say." "you were perfectly right--i am glad you said so," observed ernest. "find buttar, and ellis, and gregson, and we'll talk the matter over. we'll mention the subject to lemon; i know full well that he will not wish to fag any boy, yet perhaps for the sake of a quiet life he may not be inclined to interfere with the plans of the other big fellows. however, i do not want him to interfere; whatever we do, we should do ourselves; fortunately, we are well prepared for the emergency. we number fifty fellows staunch and true. go round and tell them to be prepared--that something is going to happen. that will put them on the alert. when blackall finds that you have not obeyed his orders, and that he will have to go supperless to bed, he will probably attack you. tell eden to watch you--never for a moment to lose sight of you, and directly he sees blackall attack you, to come up and tell me--i'll have all our fellows ready, and we'll rush to the rescue." "oh, excellent," exclaimed bouldon, rubbing his hands; "i wish that he'd just begin trying it on. won't i aggravate him by what i say and do; i'll tell him my mind more than he ever before heard it in his life." "no, no, don't enrage him; that's not right," observed bracebridge; but tom, as he went off, shook his head as if he intended to follow his own ideas on the subject. while bouldon, followed at a distance by eden, strolled about the playground and fields as usual, hoping that blackall would meet him, ernest went round to a number of boys who had combined with him to resist any aggression which the big fellows might make upon their rights, and told them to keep together, some in the gymnastic court, and the rest in the fencing-room. meantime he and buttar, and a few others on whose judgment he most relied, met together and consulted as to the best course to pursue under the present emergency. "i've an idea," said buttar; "let us get some ropes and bind our tyrant. he dare not interfere with me now, but i am determined that he shall not treat others as he treated me." some ropes were easily found which had been used to lash up their play-boxes. ernest and buttar were to be the leaders. ernest went to the fencing-room to take command of the boys there; buttar to the gymnastic court. they did not remain there idle. one company began twisting and turning and leaping on the poles, while ernest got his followers to practise with their basket-sticks and single-sticks. then he proposed a drill, and they all fell in and went through their exercises with as much precision as if sergeant dibble himself had been present. they marched and wheeled, and formed in close order and extended order, and various other simple manoeuvres, in very good style. while they were thus engaged, eden rushed into the room, exclaiming, "blackall has caught bouldon, and is half-killing him; he says that he will teach him to disobey his orders. haste--haste, or i really believe he will do him an injury. i never saw a fellow in such a rage." no one needed a second summons. bracebridge put himself at the head of his companions, who kept their ranks, and, marching out in good order, they met the party in the gymnastic court, whom eden had likewise summoned. "double quick march," cried bracebridge; and the two bands rushed on towards the extreme end of the grounds, where eden told them the bully had encountered poor tom. the spot towards which they were hurrying was separated from the rest of the grounds by a thick coppice. several tall trees grew about it, and it was by far the most secluded place in the grounds. it was a favourite resort in the summer time of some of the more studious boys, who went there to read, and, at other seasons, gregson and a few other boys, who were fond of the study of natural history, used to go there to search for specimens, as tom bouldon used to say, of bird's nests, beetles, bees, and wild flowers. blackall, also, and two or three of his class, occasionally retired there, but neither to read nor to study natural history, but to smoke and to drink, when he could procure liquor. bouldon ascertained that he had gone there on this occasion, and, anxious to bring matters to a crisis, went round that way, passing directly in front of him. blackall, who was sitting alone by himself, looking at the grass, saw his shadow slowly pass along before him. lifting up his lack-lustre eyes, they fell on tom. he immediately started up, and seized him by the collar. "ah, my fine fellow, i've caught you at last, and all alone. i wanted to find you, and now i'll pay you off with a thrashing which you will remember to the end of your days." bouldon looked up and down to see if anybody was coming to his help. he had missed eden, who had, however, seen him through the trees in the hands of blackall, and then scampered off as fast as his legs would carry him, his imagination somewhat supplying the particulars of the thrashing which had not even yet begun. bouldon struggled hard to release himself when he found that blackall had got hold of his collar, for he had no wish to become a martyr unnecessarily, as he knew from experience that his persecutor hit very hard and cruelly whenever he had the power. "i'll give you a chance yet," said blackall. "will you fag for me, or will you not?" "most certainly not," answered tom, firmly. "i'll see you at jericho, and ten thousand leagues further, rather than lift a finger to obey one of your commands. there, you've got my answer." "then take that," exclaimed the bully, bestowing a thundering lick on poor tom's ear. "how do you like the taste of that? will you obey me now?" blackall generally played with his victims as a cat does with a mouse before destroying it. "not i," answered tom briefly, compressing his lips. another heavy box on the ears followed close upon this answer. "will you now?" again asked blackall. "no," bawled out bouldon. several cuffs and blows now descended on his head and shoulders. again blackall asked him if he would fag. bouldon did not deign to answer. "do you hear me? are you deaf?" thundered out the bully. bouldon made not the slightest reply to this question either by word or look. the consequence was that the bully began striking away at him right and left, till tom felt that he was getting very severely punished, and he could not help wishing that some relief was at hand. he struggled as much as his strength would allow, and at last, forgetting all the rules of prudence, he broke away, and instead of endeavouring to escape, he clenched his fists and struck at the bully in return. the consequence was, that he was soon knocked down on the grass. he was not very much hurt, so when he saw blackall about to kick him, he sprang up in time to avoid the blow. "ah, you arrant coward, to think of kicking a fellow half your size when he is on the ground!" he exclaimed, standing at a distance, however, so that he might have time to leap out of blackall's way. under any circumstances he would not have deigned to run; that is not the fashion of any english boys i have ever met. on the contrary, he was anxious to keep near blackall, and to spin out the time till his friends could arrive to his assistance. he would particularly have wished them to find him on the ground, and blackall engaged in kicking him. of course tom's look, and attitude, and words very much increased the exasperation of the latter, who now, springing after him, caught him again by the collar, and began pummelling him with all his might about the ribs and head, till his face was one mass of bumps and bruises. still bouldon would not cry out for mercy, or give in. whenever he had an opportunity he broke away from his persecutor, and once more stood on the defensive, returning, when he could, blow for blow. he was soon, however, again knocked down with a blow on the forehead, which almost stunned him. he saw the bully advancing with his foot to kick him. "oh, don't, don't; you'll kill me," sang out poor tom, who really did dread the force of the big fellow's heavy shoe, given with the full swing of his leg. blackall heeded him not, and would have executed his barbarous purpose, had he not that instant felt a heavy load fall down on his back, and a pair of arms encircling his neck. he had once before been treated much in the same manner, but who or what his present assailant was he could not tell. the nails were long, and the hands not a little grimy, while the knees of his assailant kept pressing his ribs in a most unpleasant manner. blackall's look of horror showed that he fully believed that he had been seized by a big baboon, or some monster who might strangle him. "now at him again, tom, and don't let him go till he has promised never to attack you more," said a voice, which blackall recognised as that of gregson. however, tom was this time too much hurt to get up, and he lay moaning on the grass, anxiously wishing that some one would come to his rescue. gregson had, it appears, been up in a tree hunting for young squirrels and various insects. he had remained a spectator of the fight for some time, thinking that he could not do much good by his interference. when, however, he saw how hard it was going with tom, he resolved to go to his help. descending a tree, he climbed along one of the lower branches, from the end of which he had easily dropped down on the bully's back. there he clung, like the old man of the sea who clung to the back of sinbad the sailor. but, as i have said, blackall was a very powerful fellow, and after he had got over his terror at this sudden assault, he used every means to get rid of his assailant. he could not shake him off; and gregson did not flinch from all the pinches and blows behind his back which he received. at last, blackall bethought him of backing against a tree. unfortunately for the young naturalist, one with some stout branches grew near, and blackall backed up to it, till he bumped it with such force that he very nearly broke both his back and his head, and he was very soon fain to let go. no sooner was he on the ground than the bully vented all his fury on him, and knocking him over with a blow of his ox-like fist, kicked and cuffed him till he was even in a worse condition than bouldon. "i'll teach you to play your pranks on me, you young scoundrel," he exclaimed. "however, you could not have chosen a better place, for there is no one likely to come here to interfere with us, and i intend to pay you both off in a way you will not fancy, let me tell you that. my fists are rather heavy, so i do not intend to use them, lest i should kill you outright, but i have a colt about me, of which you shall now have a taste." saying this, the bully pulled out of his pocket a piece of hard rope, covered from one end to the other with hard knots. seizing poor gregson, who lay on the grass even more hurt than bouldon, blackall dragged him along, and placed him near his friend, and then flourishing his formidable colt, was about to make it descend first on the back of one and then on that of the other of his victims, when a loud shout arrested his arm, and, looking up, he saw from both ends of the glade a strong body of boys, in military order, advancing towards him. "hold your hand, you big coward. if you dare strike either of those fellows, well not leave a particle of skin on the flesh of your back, let me tell you," shouted a voice in a loud tone. one of the parties was led by buttar, the other by bracebridge. the latter had spoken. buttar uttered a similar caution; but blackall, seeing that only younger boys composed the approaching bands, and fancying that they would not venture to interfere with him, resolved for very pride not to desist from his purpose, and down came his weapon on the backs of the two prostrate victims of his tyranny. it was equivalent to a declaration of war to the knife. "on, on, on," shouted bracebridge and buttar. their followers required no second appeal. "remember what i told you," shouted ernest--"each man to his duty." the bully turned round and gazed, first on one side and then on the other, at the approaching bands. he was observed to turn pale, even though he flourished his colt above his head, and uttered loud threats of vengeance against any who might dare to approach him. a scornful laugh was the only answer he received, as the two bands advancing in double quick time completely surrounded him, and then with a shout threw themselves upon him. some seized his neck, others his arms, and others his legs, in spite of his kicks and blows, while others passing a rope round his body he was speedily tripped up and hauled down to the ground. he swore, and shouted, and threatened more loudly than ever. "gag him, gag him," suggested buttar. "don't let the fellow talk blasphemy." "i'll half murder you some day for this, you buttar, you," cried the bully, glaring fiercely at him. "pooh, pooh," was all buttar deigned to reply. "here, quick, a handkerchief, and that piece of wood." the materials for the gag were handed to buttar, and though the bully made several attempts to bite his fingers, he succeeded in most effectually fixing a gag in his mouth. still blackall struggled furiously; but though not one of his assailants was half his size, they succeeded in dragging him to a tree, to the trunk of which they secured him with the rope they had passed round his waist. then they lashed his hands as if he was clasping the tree, with his face to the trunk, while his ankles were placed in a still more uncomfortable position. "he cannot abuse us, or kick, or strike, but he can see," suggested some one. the hint was forthwith taken, and he was quickly blindfolded. "we will draw lots to settle who is to colt him," said ernest. "you understand, my friends, that it will be better he should not know who have been his executioners." lots were forthwith drawn with some ceremony. four boys were chosen, and they, nothing very loth, began to flourish the very weapon with which he had just been striking their friends. when ernest and his party came up they found bouldon and gregson on the ground, both of them so much hurt as to be scarcely able to rise. ernest with two or three other boys, having seen blackall safely secured, went to attend to them. they got water from the pond and bathed their temples, and undid their shirt collars, and in a little time set them up on their legs. as may be supposed, the first use they made of their restored strength was to go and watch the proceedings taking place with regard to blackall. their feelings revolted at the thought of thrashing one who had been so lately ill-treating them. they felt that had they done so, they would naturally be accused of being influenced by vindictive feelings; whereas they wished that he should understand that; the thrashing he was receiving was a lawful punishment for the cruelty he had so long inflicted on others. the boys who had been selected as executioners set to work very much in the fashion of young boatswain's mates on board of a man-of-war. after one had given five or six strokes another came on, till at last some one declared that he had fainted. so he had, but it was chiefly through rage and indignation. however, they took the gag out of his mouth, but the first use he made of his restored power of speech was to abuse and threaten them so dreadfully, that they came behind him and again clapped the gag into his mouth. in vain he struggled. he was too securely bound to get free. ernest had learned, as every boy should, how to knot and splice properly, and was unlikely to allow any slip knots to be made. when blackall showed that he was completely recovered, the boys who had been appointed to flog him, once more made ready to go on with the operation, but ernest stopped them. his feelings revolted at thus punishing a school-fellow, however richly he might have deserved punishment, who had been rendered so utterly helpless. "stay," he cried out. "he has had enough to show him what we have the power of doing, and the pain he has suffered may teach him in future not to inflict pain on others. take the gag out of his mouth, and let us hear if he will promise to behave properly in future towards all the younger boys of the school, to beg pardon of bouldon for his unwarrantable attack on him, and especially that he will promise to abandon his absurd attempt to fag any of the boys of the school. you hear what has been said, blackall. will you consent to these terms? take the gag out of his mouth and let him answer." blackall had heard every word that was said, and had he been wise, he would have yielded to the force of circumstances; but instead of that, he began as before to abuse and threaten ernest and buttar, and all the boys whose voices he recognised, and to declare that he had a perfect right to fag one and all of them if he chose. "the gag! the gag! treason! treason!" was the reply, accompanied by loud laughter from all the party. the gag was quickly produced; but as blackall found it being adjusted, his courage, or rather his obstinacy, gave way. "what is it, do you say, that you want of me, you fellow?" he asked, in a very much humbled tone. ernest repeated the terms he had before proposed. "as to that, i do not mean to say that i am not ready to agree to your terms," he replied; "only just mark me, you fellows. i don't think that i am a greater bully than others, and if you fancy that i am going to agree not to lick a fellow who is impudent, you are mistaken. i'm not going to promise any such thing. fagging is not in vogue, so i'll give that up for the present, but i don't know what other big fellows will do." this speech of the once formidable bully was received with loud shouts by most of the younger boys, but ernest, who knew something more than they did of human nature, did not put much confidence in what had been said, still he saw that it would be politic to release him while he remained in that humbled humour. "very well, blackall," said ernest; "we are all glad to hear what you say, and we intend to rely on your promise; but remember that we are all united to resist aggression, and that the moment you break your promise, we shall take steps to punish you. now release him." in obedience to the orders of their leader, some of the boys cast off the lashings which secured their prisoner to the tree, but they wisely took care to keep him blindfolded to the last, that he might be unable to injure them. his hands and legs being set free, they all hurried back to their ranks, where they stood in two compact bodies as before, bidding defiance to any attack he might venture to make on them. "you may take your handkerchief off your eyes and go free," said ernest. hearing this, the humbled bully began pulling away at the handkerchief round his eyes, much to the amusement of the lookers-on, for he had considerable difficulty in untying the knot, and getting it off his head. his first movement showed clearly that he was much inclined to break the articles of peace, but when he saw the formidable array of boys drawn up on either side of him, with bracebridge at the head of one party, and buttar at that of the other, discretion prevailed, and with a sulky, downcast look, he turned round and walked away across the fields in an opposite direction to that which he saw the hostile armies were taking. ernest suppressed the commencement of a cheer in which his supporters very naturally showed an inclination to indulge. "let him go, and treat him with the silent contempt he deserves," he observed. "he has got a lesson which he will not easily forget; but at the same time we shall all do well not to trust him. he will not let the matter pass without trying to revenge himself on some of us." blackall heard the first part of ernest's remarks. he turned round as if to give vent to his feelings; but not finding words to express himself, he stamped with his foot, and continued on in the direction he was going. "i wonder whether he will go and complain to the doctor of the thrashing we have given him," exclaimed bouldon, as they were marching homeward. "i certainly did not expect to see him take it so tamely. i expected that he would have fought and struggled to the last, like the rover's crew the song talks about. instead of that, he struck his colours in a wonderfully short space of time." "oh, those bullies are always white-livered rogues," observed buttar, "so are nearly all the tyrants one reads about in history. conscience makes cowards of them all. depend on it that he will hold his tongue, and neither tell the doctor nor any of his own special chums." it was to be seen whether buttar was right. the boys who had not united with ernest were surprised to see so many of his friends marching about in order the whole afternoon; and even when tea was over, never less than five or six of them were together. they looked about for blackall, but he did not make his appearance. the elder boys were excused from coming in to tea on half-holidays, so there was nothing remarkable in this, and none of his friends seemed to notice his absence. of one thing all ernest's companions felt certain, that no attempt to fag them would succeed while he remained at school. chapter eleven. blackall's revenge and its results. everybody remarked the sullen angry expression which blackall's countenance bore after the event i have just described. when any of his associates talked to him about fagging, he frowned, and, putting out his lips, declared that there was no use attempting to coerce the young scamps, for that the advantage to be gained was not worth the trouble it would cost. this was very true, but at the same time it was not an opinion anybody would have expected from him. whenever he met bracebridge, he always looked at him with an expression of intense dislike, which he was at no pains to conceal. the christmas holidays were now approaching, and a long course of bad weather kept the boys in more than usual. they consequently amused themselves with their indoor exercises. their broadswords and foils were constantly in their hands during their play-hours. one day ernest and buttar were fencing together. they had been at first equally matched, but ernest was never content unless he was perfect in every exercise he took up, and so he had practised and practised, and thought the matter over, till he could beat his friend thoroughly. buttar took his defeats very good-naturedly. "i cannot manage as you do, old fellow," he used to observe. "you always contrive to send my foil flying out of my hand when i fancy that i am going to play you some wonderful trick at which i have been practising away for the whole of the last week." a match was just over when blackall entered the fencing-room. his eye fell on ernest. just then something called buttar out of the room, and ernest was left without an antagonist. "come, young gentleman, you are both good fencers. try a pass of arms together," said mr strutt, the fencing-master. "oh, you must not draw back; i shall fancy you are afraid of each other if you do. come, take your foils and begin." blackall hesitated. he had not exchanged a word with ernest since the day he had received his flogging, and he hoped never to have to speak to him again. "perhaps blackall would rather not fence with me, sir," observed ernest to the fencing-master. "oh, nonsense, nonsense. take up your foil and begin," was the answer he received. "i am ready to fence with you. come here in this corner of the room, out of the way," said blackall suddenly. ernest followed him. he remarked that there was a peculiarly evil look in his eye. he did not, however, unfortunately, observe what he was about with his foil in the corner. "now, young gentlemen, attention," cried mr strutt to some of his pupils, whose exercise he was superintending, and the words quarte, tierce, seconde, demi-circle, contre de quarte, contre de tierce, and so on, were heard resounding through the room. "come, let us begin, and have no child's play," exclaimed blackall with vehemence, throwing himself into the attitude to engage. he made several rapid passes, which ernest parried dexterously. as he did so, he observed that his adversary's foil had no button on it. still he thought that it was the result of accident; and as he had very little fear of blackall's hitting him, he did not deign at first to take notice of it. something, however, he observed in the expression of his opponent's eye made him doubt the wisdom of this delicacy. "blackall," he cried out, parrying a desperate thrust at his breast, your foil has no button. "were you to hit me, you might injure me very much." "what care i?" answered blackall. "i'll pay my debts, depend on that. take that--and that--and that!" as he spoke he lunged rapidly at ernest, who as rapidly turned aside the point of his weapon. still blackall was no bad fencer, and ernest had the greatest difficulty in defending himself. now he had to guard against a straight thrust, now against a disengagement, now the beat and thrust, now the cut over the point, and now the double. he saw that it would be too dangerous to attack himself; indeed, his only wish was to disarm his adversary, and then to refuse to fence with him any longer. this blackall seemed to suspect, and to be on his guard against, while his aim was too clearly to wound, if not to kill, his opponent. ernest under these very trying circumstances kept perfectly cool. he had parried every thrust which blackall had made, but the latter at length pressed him so hard that he had to retreat a few paces. once more he stood his ground, and defended himself as before. as he did so, suddenly he felt his foot slip, and, while he was trying to recover himself, blackall pressed in on him, and sent his foil completely through his shoulder. one of the boys had just before dropped a lump of grease, which had been the cause of the accident. ernest felt himself borne backwards, and, before any one could catch him, he fell heavily to the ground. the blood flowed rapidly from the wound; a sickness came over him, and he fainted. blackall pretended to be very much grieved at what had occurred; but the fencing-master, looking at him sternly, asked him how it was that he could use a foil without knowing that the button was off. "and what is the meaning of this, let me ask?" he said, stooping down, and with his knife hooking out the end of a foil from a chink in the boards. "the point was broken off on purpose. you have tried to kill that young lad there. i know it; and i shall take you before the doctor, and let him judge the case." "what makes you say that?" asked blackall, turning very pale. "why should you suppose i should wish to hurt bracebridge?" "i know it--i know it," was the only answer he got, while mr strutt with several of the boys was engaged in lifting ernest, and binding up his shoulder to stop the bleeding. blackall knelt down to assist, but the fencing-master sternly ordered him to stand back. "i will not trust you," he exclaimed. "you are a bad fellow! i believe it now. i see it all clearly. i ought not to have allowed such an one as you to fence with him. if he dies, you will be his murderer; remember that. you shall know the truth from me, at all events." thus did the excitable but kind-hearted fencing-master run on. as he and some of the boys were about to lift ernest off the ground, to carry him upstairs, monsieur malin came in. when he had ascertained the state of affairs, he immediately sent off buttar to summon the surgeon who attended the school, which it seemed no one else had thought of doing. the presence of a medical man would, he knew, save the doctor a great deal of anxiety. having done this he walked up to blackall, and put his hand on his shoulder. "things do not take place in this school without my hearing of them," he remarked. "mr strutt thinks you wounded bracebridge on purpose. i believe that you are capable of any crime: but come with me to the doctor; we will hear what judgment he pronounces on the subject." blackall would gladly have got away or shrunk into himself; but when he found that he had no channel of escape, he seemed to screw up his courage to face out boldly the charges brought against him. it is a very unpleasant subject. i would rather not have had to describe blackall and his misdeeds; but as his character is so odious, i hold him up as a warning to some not to imitate him, and to others to avoid, and on no account to trust to or to form any friendship with such a person when they meet him. there was in the house a strong-room, in which occasionally very refractory boys were locked up. confinement in it was looked upon with peculiar dislike, and considered a great disgrace. it was furnished with books and slates, and pens, ink, and paper, and the boy who was put in was always awarded a task, which he had to perform before he was let out. any of the masters might put a boy in there, and incarceration in this place was the only punishment they were allowed to inflict on their own responsibility. "there, go in there; translate and write out for me these five pages of english into french, and learn these fifty lines of racine," said monsieur malin, as he put blackall in, and, locking the door, took away the key. "i will report your conduct to the doctor, and hear what he has to say to it." blackall was left in a great fright. he did not know what part of his conduct might be reported, and he felt conscious that he was guilty of many things which, if known, would cause him to be expelled. he knew also that monsieur malin would not excuse him his task, so he tried to get through with it; but all his efforts were in vain. he could do nothing, and his thoughts would turn to the act of which he had just been guilty. "i did not want to hurt him--i did not want to kill him," he said to himself; but each time that he said so conscience replied, "you did; you know you did. cowardly mean-spirited revenge induced you to commit the act, and it shall not go unpunished." the doctor was not told of what had occurred till the medical man had arrived and examined ernest's wound. he had him at once put to bed, and washed and dressed the wound, and then he gave him some cooling medicine, but he said that he must see him again before he would pronounce on the matter. he might not materially suffer, but it might prove to be a very dangerous wound. this report got about the school. buttar, bouldon, and poor ellis, and many other boys, were deeply grieved when they heard it. during the evening there was much anxiety and excitement in the school. it was generally reported that blackall had endeavoured to kill ernest; then that the wound had assumed a very dangerous aspect, that the surgeon was very anxious about him, and that there was very little hope of his recovery. when the doctor appeared in school in the evening his countenance was very grave, and he seemed grieved and anxious. he spoke very little, and it was observed that while he was reading prayers his voice faltered. there were many sorrowful young hearts in the school that night; for another sadder report than the first got about, and it was believed that ernest bracebridge--the clever, the brave, the spirited one, whom all then acknowledged to be without a rival in the school--was dead. naturally, the late attempt to introduce fagging was discussed, and the part bracebridge had taken in suppressing it was openly spoken of. thus, not only did all the boys in the school learn all about it, but it came to the ears of the masters, and, finally, to those of the doctor himself. monsieur malin had heard of it before, but he had judged it best to let things take their course. the doctor, having gathered all the information he thought necessary, collected several witnesses, among whom were buttar, bouldon, and ellis, and summoned blackall into his presence. blackall appeared, led in by two of the masters. he heard all that had to be said against him, and a full account of his barbarous treatment of bouldon and gregson, and the flogging which followed. "i do not excuse buttar, nor do i poor bracebridge, for their conduct on that occasion. it was their duty to come and complain to me, and not to take the law into their own hands; but i am fully willing to believe that they acted under mistaken notions. however, i do not wish at present to say anything more against them; but there stands one whose whole conduct i so severely condemn, that i can allow him no longer to be an inmate of this school. to-morrow morning i shall publicly expel him. retire till then to your respective rooms." although on ordinary occasions the doctor had a great flow of language, he was very brief when any serious matter was under discussion, as if he was afraid to trust his feelings in words. no one in the school had an opportunity of again speaking to blackall. he was supposed to have passed the night in the solitary room, as it was called. the next morning, after breakfast, he was brought into the school-room between two of the masters, and there in due form publicly expelled the school. "sir," said the doctor, "from the numerous charges brought against you, and which you do not attempt to disprove, you will, if you do not alter your conduct, be a disgrace to any community in which you may be found. you have been constantly guilty of drunkenness and tyranny, blasphemy and swearing, idleness, and utter negligence of all religious and moral principle. i deeply regret that i was not sooner informed of your conduct; and i humbly acknowledge that i am much to blame in not having more minutely inquired into the character of every boy under my charge. i trust that you are an exception to the general rule, and that there are no others like you. lead the unhappy lad away." soon after this a post-chaise came to the door; blackall with one of the masters was seen to get into it, and from that day forward no one ever heard anything positively about him. his conduct was undoubtedly worse than that of any of his companions. the way he had been punished utterly put a stop to anything like fagging, and even brought bullying into very great discredit. i have not mentioned ernest bracebridge since he had been wounded in so cowardly and treacherous a way by blackall. the reports which flew about the school proved to have been somewhat exaggerated. the surgeon very naturally ordered that he should be kept quiet, but he had not said that there was any danger. he speedily stopped the bleeding, though, at the same time, he thought it safest to sit up with him, to watch that the wound did not break out afresh and allow him to bleed to death. in a few days even the slightest danger which might have existed was over; and in the course of a week he was able once more to resume his place in school. the doctor had a good deal of conversation with him with respect to his conduct towards blackall; and though he acknowledged that there were many extenuating circumstances, still, he pointed out, that he, as master of the school, would not allow the law to be taken out of his hands and exercised by another, however great the provocation. "the same reasoning, remember, bracebridge, holds good in society," he observed. "private individuals must never take upon themselves the execution of the laws while a duly elected authority exists. happily, in england, a man need only bring his complaint before a magistrate, and he is nearly certain to obtain ample justice. remember that, my dear boy, whenever you are tempted to take the law into your own hands. if you yield to passion, or to your feelings, you will be acting against the laws both of god and man; and do not suppose that it is a light thing to do that." ernest thanked the doctor for his advice, and promised to remember it. only a couple of weeks remained now before the holidays were to begin-- those jolly christmas holidays which, to boys living in the country, generally afford so much amusement. the conversation ernest had had with the doctor made him feel more inclined to confide in him than he had ever done, and he resolved to open his heart to him about ellis, who, in spite of his excellent conduct, and his quiet amiable manners, was as much as ever mistrusted by the boys in general. barber, especially, turned up his nose at him, and never failed, when talking with his own particular chums, to throw out hints that, when blackall was expelled, it was a pity the doctor did not clear the school of ellis, and other canting hypocrites like him. more than once these ungenerous remarks had been repeated to ernest. he talked the matter over with buttar, who agreed that they ought not to be allowed to go on unnoticed. "if ellis has done anything really disgraceful, he should explain his conduct to us, who have so long supported him through thick and thin," observed buttar. "for my part, i believe that he ever was what he now is, a highly honourable good fellow; and if so, he ought to be defended, and his character placed in a proper light before the whole school." "i have been long thinking the same," said ernest. "i would do anything to serve him; and the life he is now leading is enough to ruin him in health and mind. he looks thin and careworn--like an old man already." that very evening ernest went to the doctor, and very briefly told him all about ellis; how fast he was improving, and how happy he had become, till barber came to the school and spread reports against his fair fame. the doctor asked ernest what the reports were. ernest told him. "poor fellow! how very unfortunate," he remarked. "when he came here, his father sent me a letter from his former master, saying that he had been accused of stealing some money from another boy; but that, though the evidence against him was very strong, and apparently conclusive, he fully believed him guiltless of the offence. his father, who came to me on purpose, assured me that his son was altogether incapable of committing the crime of which he was accused; at the same time, that he thought it right to mention the circumstance to me, to account for his low-spirited and retiring manner. i appreciated the father's motive, and accepted the charge of his son, not supposing that any boy from the lad's former school would come here to accuse him. i have watched him narrowly, and i feel sure, from what i have seen of him, that he is, at all events, now a most unlikely person to commit the crime of which he is accused." "i am very glad indeed, sir, to hear you say this," replied ernest. "i would myself stake much on ellis's honour; but how are the other boys to be convinced of this, when one who professes to be a witness is among them, and constantly repeats the tale?" "i must think about it," observed the doctor. "i may show my disbelief of the truth of the accusations brought against him by honouring him on every fitting opportunity; but unless he can disprove the tales uttered against him, i fear the less generous boys will continue to believe him guilty. however, i have said i will consider the subject. and now, bracebridge, believe me, i thank you for having introduced the matter to my notice." after this conversation, ernest became much happier about ellis. for the doctor, also, a much warmer regard and respect arose in his heart than he had ever before felt. he had from the first looked upon him as a kind, sensible, and just man; but he did not suppose that there was any sympathy between him and his pupils. he knew that they came to school to be taught, and that it was his duty to teach them; but he was not aware of the deep interest which he took in their eternal as well as in their temporal welfare; how he employed his best thoughts and energies for that purpose; how much toil and pains he had taken to bring the school into its present condition; and how much it grieved him to find that, with all the pains he had taken, there was so much to correct and arrange. the doctor, however, knew the world, and that in no human institutions can perfection be attained--nor can it be expected that they should be without faults; but he knew also that by care and attention those faults may be decreased, if not altogether got rid of, and he did not despair. ernest, as i was saying, had never before this thoroughly understood the doctor. now he did, and he found him a kind, sympathising, affectionate friend. indeed, in my opinion, unless a man is this to his pupils, he is not fit to be a schoolmaster. neither can a parent, unless he is his children's friend, expect to command their love and obedience. ernest now discovered the doctor to be very like his own father in many respects, and therefore placed unbounded confidence in him. he gladly opened his own heart to him, and with the frankness of a warm-hearted boy, told him all his thoughts, and hopes, and wishes. the doctor had always liked ernest, and felt great satisfaction at watching his rapid progress; but now he discovered qualities and talents which he had not before surmised, and from that time he placed the most perfect confidence in him, and the interest ernest excited was as great as if he had been his own son. at the end of the year prizes were given, and, in spite of his accident, ernest carried off several. one of the performances which invariably created the greatest interest was the speech-making. the speech given to ernest's class was that part of julius caesar where cassius endeavours to persuade brutus to join the conspiracy against caesar. buttar also spoke very well, and took the part of brutus. all the neighbourhood were collected on the occasion, and a sort of stage was erected at one end of the play-room, which was ornamented with boughs of holly and other evergreens, and flags and coloured lamps. altogether, it was a very pretty spectacle. instead of painted scenes, a bower of evergreens and flags was erected on the stage, in which the boys performed their parts. some of the bigger boys gained a good deal of applause, for the doctor taught his pupils not only greek and latin, but what he looked on as of not less consequence--to write and speak their own language correctly and fluently. many who could scarcely express themselves so as to be clearly understood when they came to the school, had by the time they reached the upper classes become quite eloquent, and were able to write their themes with correctness and precision. not much was expected from the younger boys, but when ernest began to speak, the attention of all the guests was arrested: not a whisper was heard; and when he concluded, a loud and continued applause burst forth, and even his school-fellows agreed that he had surpassed himself. buttar also gained a fair share of the applause bestowed on his friend, and he was not jealous that he did not gain more. no one listened more attentively than did ellis, for he had declined to speak, though urged by ernest to do so, and tears rushed unbidden into his eyes at the success which bracebridge had obtained. "i tell you, you fellows, that there is not a fellow like him!" exclaimed tom bouldon, clapping his hands vehemently. "he is as good, and brave, and clever as any fellow in the world. i always thought so, and now i am certain of it, and don't mind saying so." happily these remarks did not reach ernest's ears. gratifying as they must have been, they would have proved somewhat dangerous, even to a mind so well balanced as his was. he knew that he had achieved a success, but he was well aware that, after all, it was not a very great one, and that he had many more far far greater to achieve before the victory would be won. i must not forget one of the amusements which generally terminated the winter half of the year. it was a grand race on stilts. there was a wide extent of flat meadow land in the neighbourhood, intersected with narrow ditches full of water. this was the ground selected for the sport. it was something like the landes in the south of france. monsieur malin had introduced the amusement. boys when they first came to the school, who had not been accustomed to walk on stilts, were surprised at the height of those used, and the rapidity with which the older fellows walked along on them. many of them were ten feet high. the resting-place for the feet was a piece of wood flat on the upper surface, with a strap to it which could be fastened round the feet or not. the upper ends of the poles were held by the hands, with the shoulders pressing against them. by this mode a boy could leap off his stilts without risk. some are used which do not reach above the knee, round which the end is secured by a strap, but a fall with these may prove a very serious matter, and the doctor would not allow them to be used. it was good fun on stilt day to see the greater part of the school mounted up high above the ground, and striding away at a rapid rate over the fields; to hear the shouts and shrieks of laughter, especially if any unfortunate wight put the end of his stilt into a ditch deeper than he expected, and, unable to draw it out again, dropped on his nose. monsieur malin generally led the party, and no one cheered and laughed more than he did. this year it was arranged that a steeple-chase should take place; so it was called; but in reality it was not a steeple which formed the goal, but a low object--a white gate, which could only be seen from an elevation; therefore the boys with the highest stilts were the best able to keep it in sight. fancy upwards of eighty boys collected on a fine clear frosty afternoon, mounted up five or six feet off the ground, some even more, stalking away as fast as they could go over the fields, shouting, and laughing, and hallooing to each other. as usual, ernest was one of the most active. he and buttar took the lead, but they were closely followed by tom bouldon, who was very great upon stilts. the exercise suited his temperament. he had been at the school ever since monsieur malin introduced them, and so he was well-practised in their use. he thus had an advantage ernest did not possess. he went steadily on across hedges and ditches, and across ploughed fields, and moist meadows and marshes, till he overtook buttar, and then he came up with ernest, who was beginning to fag, and then he went ahead, and finally got in at the winning-post half a field's length before anybody else. two days after that the school broke up, and the boys, in high spirits at the anticipation of the amusements they were to enjoy, started off in all directions to their respective homes. chapter twelve. the christmas holidays. skating and other winter amusements. ernest liked his school very much, but he had good reason to love his home still more, for such a home as his--or rather its inhabitants, which constituted it his home--was well worthy of all the affection of his warm affectionate heart. his father and mother were so wise and sensible and kind, so just and so indulgent. the expression of their countenances and their general personal appearance at once showed that they were above the ordinary run of people; yet, noble as they looked, none but the base and evil-disposed were afraid of them. it was a pleasure to see the smiling faces and the affectionate looks with which they were received as they walked about the village, where they and their ancestors for several generations had lived before them. often and often they might be seen simply, and, if the weather was bad, roughly, dressed; going from cottage to cottage, with a basket of medicines, or provisions and clothing, for those poor neighbours who were, they well knew, utterly unable to obtain them for themselves. their daughters followed their example. no more sweet, amiable, and yet refined, girls were to be found in the country. their brothers declared that no such girls existed in the world; and yet, though they could do all sorts of things, and ride, and fish, and even play cricket with them on a pinch, they were not in the slightest degree proud or conceited. they could sing and play, and when they went to balls, which was not very often, no young ladies appeared to greater advantage, or were more lively or graceful. they were admired, and yet fully respected, by all who knew them. i have described what ernest was. his brothers were his equals in most respects. his eldest brother was a very fine young man, and had taken high honours at cambridge. he was an excellent specimen of an english gentleman of the nineteenth century. free from all affectation and pedantry, still his whole nature seemed to revolt from anything slangish or low. no oaths, nor anything which would be considered one, nor any cant expressions, ever escaped his lips. yet he was full of life and spirits, the soul of every society in which he moved. he had numerous friends, and so mild and quiet was his disposition that he seldom or never made enemies; or rather, i may say, if he made an enemy, he quickly got rid of his enmity. all his brothers looked up to him, and loved him heartily. "my brother john says so and so," or "my brother john did so and so," was a constant phrase of theirs, and it was always something good he had said or done. he was at home, and so were indeed all ernest's brothers. one was in the navy--frank. what a light-hearted and merry fellow he was. he had seen some hard service, had been highly spoken of in a dispatch, and had a medal on his breast. he was a gallant, true-hearted sailor, and was as much liked by his companions afloat as his brothers were by theirs on shore. such were the inhabitants of oaklands. the house itself was a fine old substantially-built edifice, with thick walls, standing on a gentle elevation, and overlooking a wide extent of country. the grounds which surrounded it were large, and contained woods, and shady walks, and fishponds, or rather lakes, and ornamental flower gardens, and rich velvety lawns, and kitchen gardens. a short time before the holidays, mr bracebridge had written to his son, desiring to have the addresses of several of them. what was his reason for doing this, his father did not tell him. the holidays began. what a happy christmas-day the whole family spent together! it was spent as christmas-day should be spent--in affectionate family intercourse, and not in a wild gaiety which is calculated to drive away all thought and recollection of the great and glorious event it is intended to celebrate on that day. how happy everybody was both upstairs and downstairs; what long yarns frank spun of his adventures in many lands, and his hair-breadth escapes; how he made them laugh at some of his stories, and cry, if their hair did not stand on end, at others, so exciting or so full of horror did they appear. i should like to repeat some of them, but i have not time to do so now. of course everybody was wishing for a frost, that they might have skating. "oh, how delightful it will be!" exclaimed the midshipman. "i have not put on a pair of skates for the last five years. i have seen ice enough and to spare in the shape of icebergs, and floes, and fields of ice, but that is not the sort of ice suitable for skating. a big, thundering iceberg is a wonderful thing; we nearly got run down by one, or rather we nearly ran into one, if the truth must be said, when i was in the `stag,' only, of course, we always lay the blame on anything but ourselves; so in this case we blamed the iceberg for getting in our way, as if it had not just as much right to be there as we had, and as if it had not been our business to get out of its way. we were going round cape horn, and the master thought fit to make a considerable offing, and to keep away to the southward. it was my watch on deck. we had a fair wind on our starboard quarter. jim holdfast, whom i took out with me, and who promises to turn out a prime sailor, was forward. it was a pitchy dark night. we could barely make out our hands held out before us, and as to seeing across the deck, that was impossible. we had three reefs in our topsails, and though it was not blowing very hard--that is to say, a man might open his mouth without fear of having his teeth blown down his throat--we were running at the rate of nearly eight knots an hour through the water. by the way the stern of the ship lifted, and then by the feeling that she was gliding away downward into the depths of some watery valley, we knew that huge mountainous seas were rolling up astern of us. i frequently looked astern to try and make them out, but i could only hear their loud surge or slush (i must coin a word), as they broke close to our taffrail. now and then, by keeping my eye on the sky, a vast ominous darkness came up between me and it, and that i knew from experience was a giant billow, big enough, if it once broke over us, to swallow up us, or a ship ten times as large. my watch was nearly out. i was thinking that i should not be sorry to get below, and go fast asleep. now, `you gentlefolks of england, who stay at home at ease,' will, i dare say, fancy that no one could go to sleep under such circumstances; but for us sailors it would never do if we allowed a gale of wind or any such trifle to keep us awake when it was not our watch on deck. the officer of the watch had just ordered eight bells to be struck, that is to say, it was the end of the first watch, or twelve o'clock at night, when a voice from forward shrieked out--for it was not an ordinary hail, but a cry which showed that life or death depended on the words being heard. "`iceberg ahead! port the helm!--port--port--luff--luff! ease away the weather braces--haul taut the lee braces!' "i recognised the voice as that of jim holdfast. i do not think the second-lieutenant, who had the watch, was aware who was speaking, but he was a sensible fellow, and instead of being angry, as some officers would have been at finding anybody venturing to give an order instead of themselves, he repeated it, and discovering that it was obeyed, hurried forward to ascertain more clearly if possible the state of things. i looked out to leeward. there rising, as it were, out of the ocean was an indistinct mass of luminous matter (i can call it by no other name), out of which proceeded a cold chilling air, piercing to our very marrow. high, high above us it seemed to tower. the seas roared against its base. not a man on deck but held his breath, for no one knew what was next to happen. we were terribly near to it. the sea, as it dashed up the sides of the icy rock--for there was no doubt it was an iceberg-- came toppling back in showers of foam, and deluging our decks. as the ship heeled over to the breeze, her mainyard, i verily believe, grazed the iceberg. had she been a few feet nearer to it, perhaps, i may say, a few inches, i do not believe that the gallant little sloop or any one on board would ever again have been heard of. the watch below had been called, and they came tumbling up in a great hurry, not knowing what was the matter. i could tell by the exclamations of a few near me that they wished themselves anywhere but where they were. the dear little ship flew on, and in another minute the iceberg was left astern. then a cheer from all hands arose, and i believe many returned sincere, though silent, thanks to him who had so mercifully preserved us. we hauled our wind and stood to the northward, for we had no fancy to encounter another of those big ice mountains in that dark night, not but what we knew that even then we might still run against one. you see, our sailor philosophy is to do our very best, and then not to trouble our heads more than we can help as to what are to be the consequences. when the excitement had calmed down, inquiries were made as to who had seen the iceberg, and so promptly given the order to `port the helm,' through which the ship had undoubtedly been saved. jim holdfast, when he heard the inquiries made, was in a great fright, thinking that he was going to be punished, or well rowed at all events; and he never would have confessed that he had ventured to give the order, had not i gone to him and insisted on his coming forward, and saying how he had seen the iceberg, and had known that, unless what he had ordered was done, the ship would be lost. the next day the sea went down, and we were able before night to haul up permanently on our course for valparaiso, the capital of chili. well, after breakfast i got jim to come aft with me to the captain, who, with most of the officers, was on the quarter-deck. "`i've found the culprit, sir,' said i. `here's the man who first discovered the iceberg, though he had never seen one before, and--' "`and gave the order which saved the ship, and all our lives,' said the captain, interrupting me, and smiling pleasantly. `holdfast, my man, you did a most seaman-like thing. i shall at once give you a higher rating, for you have shown yourself thoroughly deserving of it.' "i never saw a fellow so thoroughly astonished. he pulled away a lock of his hair, till i thought he would haul it out by the roots, for he, of course, held his hat in his hand; and he scraped away with his foot, and said that he didn't think he had done anything out of the common way, and it was only his duty, and that sort of thing; but there was nothing like affectation in what he said. still more astonished was he when the captain continued-- "`you shall come to my clerk every day, and perhaps he will give you some instruction which may be useful to you. if you go on as you have begun, i may hope some day to see you on the quarter-deck.' "the captain said a good deal more to the same effect. as i was saying, jim was astonished. he said very little in return, but only pulled away harder than ever at his hair. though before that time i should not have supposed that he had a spark of ambition in his soul, i after this observed a marked change in his demeanour and character. i suspect his eye was never off the quarter-deck. when not on duty, he was always reading and writing, and talking on nautical subjects. he was neater, and cleaner, and more active than before; at the same time that he was just as respectful as ever to all above him. he came home with us, and as soon as the ship was paid off, he went of his own accord to a nautical school to learn navigation, to enable him to do which he had saved up every farthing of his pay. now, i say that jim has set an example which many young gentlemen would do well to follow. if our captain gets a ship soon, he will take him with him; and when he hears how he has been employing his time on shore, i am very certain that he will keep his eye on him, and advance him if he can." everybody present had listened with intense interest to frank's account of his ship's narrow escape from destruction, and this of course encouraged him to continue his narrations on subsequent evenings; but as my readers are not his brothers and sisters, and father and mother, who might possibly be somewhat prejudiced in his favour, i will not repeat them. the young men and boys were all looking out eagerly for a frost; and every night they went out, one after the other, to ascertain whether the smell of the air gave indications of one having set in. who does not know that peculiar clear, fresh feeling, so invigorating and exhilarating, which the air has when a frost has begun? night after night, however, passed, and still the frost did not commence; but as the atmosphere grew colder and colder, everybody believed that their hopes would not long be delayed. skates, which had long lain dormant in tool-chests and cupboards, were got out and polished. skating shoes or boots were greased, and straps were repaired. at last ernest, in high glee, rushed in among the family circle assembled around the drawing-room fire one evening, and declared that a right honest frost had, without the slightest doubt, set in, and that in two days he felt sure the ice would bear. the anticipation of the pleasure they all so much enjoyed put them into great spirits; and if either of the younger ones had been asked what he considered the greatest misfortune that could happen to the world, he would very likely have replied, a thaw. when, however, they had exhausted the subject, or at all events the patience of their hearers, their eldest sister proposed that those who were not engaged in any manual employment should read or tell a tale. the proposal was cordially welcomed. frank gave for his share of the evening's amusements a further account of his adventures; then a tale was read; and at last charles, ernest's second brother, who had lately returned from germany, undertook to give a terrible ghost story which he had heard in that country, and which, as he said, had the advantage of being entirely true, though he was not disposed to quarrel with those who would not believe it. "is it an ancient or modern story, charles?" asked ernest; "i have no fancy for modern ghost stories. they all end in so ridiculous a way that one feels vexed at having taken the trouble of reading them." "oh, this is a true antique tale," said charles; "but you shall hear it. is everybody ready to attend? well, then. once upon a time--" "no! no! no! don't begin a story in that old-fashioned, obsolete way," exclaimed ernest. "i never can fancy that a story is worth hearing when it begins with `once upon a time.'" "heave ahead! and let us hear what it is about," cried frank. "leave out the `once upon a time.' we are all ready. just plunge at once into the story--don't give us a long-winded prelude, that is all." "very well, then; i will leave out the objectionable expression, and will begin at once by telling you all about the hero and his exploits up to the time my story commences. so once more. listen--listen now! here goes:-- "kurd von stein was a gallant and adventurous knight; he cared not how far he wandered, nor what danger lay in his path. he had travelled to all lands, and in all climates, defending ladies from insult, and the defenceless from oppression. his love of adventure led him through wood and wild, over mountains and across seas; but it was in the night that he loved best to ride forth, when the soft moon shone on the silvery lake and quiet forest; when the stars gazed calmly on the earth, as if seeking to penetrate its future, and mourning over its past; when the hoot of the owl and the cry of the beast of prey were the only sounds to be heard, besides the tread of his own charger, when he left the forest glade for the more beaten track. "the castle of jauf, whose grey ruins may still be seen on a wooded height in the high country of the rhine, was at that time a stately pile, with battlements, towers, and walls of massive strength; but it was uninhabited even then, and in the country round strange tales were told of sights and sounds which issued from it, not only at night, but even during the day. spirits were said to hold their meetings there, and the place was shunned by all mankind. "sir kurd, however, knew nothing of these tales; he had come from a great distance, and beyond inquiring his way, and ordering his necessary food, had held no communication with the peasantry, whose dialect was with difficulty understood either by his servant or himself. as he came within some hours of jauf, he desired his servant to proceed to the castle of a baron whom he had met in the wars in belgium, and who lived at no great distance, while he himself turned into the forest in hopes of meeting with some adventure. on he rode, through the pleasant oak woods, and by many a wild crag; but he at last found that he had wandered out of the direction he meant to have taken, and had no idea where he was, or which way he ought to turn to find his friend's castle; but he comforted himself with the old proverb, `that every road leads to rome, and even out of the labyrinth you will reach your destination.' "the last ray of sunset had disappeared as sir kurd entered a wide valley, and faintly through the deepening gloom descried a large building, standing on a height at its further end--it was the castle of jauf. his horse was tired, and he himself both weary and hungry; he therefore determined on going to the castle, and asking for food and shelter for the night. he rode slowly up the hill on which the castle stood; but as he came near the walls, the darkness increased so suddenly that it was with difficulty he found the entrance to the court. he called loudly, but no servant appeared at his summons. his shout was given back by a dull echo from the walls, within which night and solitude alone seemed to reign. the court was full with long grass; he led his horse across it to a tall silver pine, whose outline he could faintly trace through the darkness, bound him to it, and then sat down to rest. after a little time he looked up,--and see! a light shone from one of the windows! he rose quickly, found a door, and felt his way up the narrow spiral staircase. at the top of the staircase was a door, which he opened, and found himself in a large baronial hall; but he hesitated to advance when he saw that the only person in it was a girl, who sat by the long table. she wore a black dress, and a string of large pearls confined her soft brown hair; and her attention was so absorbed in a large book which was open before her, and which she read by the light of a lamp, that she did not seem to be aware of the knight's entrance. she was very lovely, and her expression told of a gentle heart; but she was pale as a cloud, and some deep sorrow seemed to have robbed her cheek of its roses. "`noble lady, i greet you well,' said the knight, at length. "she looked up, and thanked him silently by a gentle inclination of her head. he continued:-- "`in my journey through this wood i have lost my way; may i ask for some food and a night's lodging?' "she rose, and with noiseless step left the hall, returning presently with two dishes, one of venison, another of wild fowl; these she placed on the table, and again retiring, brought a goblet of sparkling red wine. having arranged everything, she signed to sir kurd to eat, accompanying the sign with a sad smile. he very willingly accepted her invitation; and though he found that both bread and salt had been forgotten, his modesty prevented his asking for them. it seemed strange, too, that not a single word had escaped the maiden's lips, and he dared not speak to her. but the spirit of the generous wine, which came from the sunny hills of burgundy, began to assert its power over him, and prompted him to speak as follows:-- "much-honoured lady, may i be allowed one question?" "she bent her head. "i suppose you are the daughter of the house?" "again she bowed. "`and who are your parents?' "she turned to the wall of the apartment, on which hung many portraits of knights and ladies; and pointing to the two last, she said, in a voice so soft, so melodious, that it seemed like the sighing of an aeolian harp-- "`i am the last of my race.' "`here,' thought sir kurd, `this may turn out as good an adventure as ever knight met with in an out-of-the-way part of the world. to be sure, they sometimes won a princess, sometimes a wicked fairy; but this maiden pleases me, and it is a splendid castle. ah, poor thing! no doubt it is grief at the loss of her parents which has paled her cheek. perhaps i may find means of comforting her.' "he advanced, took her hand, and said-- "`believe me, lady, i grieve to hear that death has so early robbed you of your parents; but ladies require the protection of knights. have you--pardon the liberty i take--have you chosen one to make you happy?' "she shook her head. he continued, modestly-- "`in that case, may kurd von stein--whose name may have been heard even here as that of a trusty knight of the empire, and as having distinguished himself in many wars--may kurd von stein offer you his heart and hand?' "a gleam of pleasure lighted up the pale face of the girl; such a one as you may have seen pass over a meadow when the moon shone suddenly from behind a cloud. she rose, and from a cupboard brought two gold-rings, set in black, and a wreath of sweet rosemary, [see note .] which she twisted amongst the pearls in her hair. she signed to the knight to follow, and went towards the door. as he passed down the hall, he wondered that neither male nor female attendants were to be seen; but at that moment the door was thrown open by two old men in full holiday suit. their robes were white, and richly embroidered with gold; their black barettes had large silver ornaments. they placed themselves on either side of the knight and lady, and with them descended the long flight of stairs, on which sir kurd's step alone was heard; the others seemed rather to glide than walk. "sir kurd began to feel very uncomfortable; he did not like the style of thing at all, and half repented of having pledged himself; but it was now too late to retract, and an irresistible power seemed to draw him onwards. the old men led them to the castle chapel. lights already burned on the high altar; monuments of gleaming white marble, ornamented with weapons and golden inscriptions, rose on all sides. it was before one of these that the lady stopped; the iron figure of a bishop rested on it; the eyes were closed, the hands folded. she touched the figure; it instantly rose, and the eyes sparkled, as you may have seen the northern lights sparkle through the keen air of a winter night. he went to the altar, and standing before the bridal pair, said, in a deep and solemn voice-- "`say, sir kurd von stein, will you wed with the noble and honourable lady bertha von windeck?' "as the leaves of the aspen and tremulous poplar shiver when a chilly breeze touches them, so trembled the knight as the lady passed her arm round him. he tried to say--he did not quite know what; but he could not utter a sound, his very blood seemed curdled in his veins. hark!-- the crowing of a cock. a storm swept through the chapel, and the castle trembled to its very foundations. in an instant all had vanished, and sir kurd sank down in a swoon. on coming to himself, he lay--where? amongst the long grass in the castle court, under the spreading branches of the silver pine, and by his side stood his faithful charger, while the cold grey light of morning began to appear in the east. "`was it a dream? did i really see these awful sights?' said the knight to himself; and still the cock crew on. "sir kurd mounted his horse, quickly left the castle, and, without looking behind him, rode towards the spot where the cock was yet crowing. he soon reached a hospitable farm-house, standing amongst the meadows in the valley, by the side of a clear stream. here he dismounted, just as the sun rose, and while partaking of a hearty breakfast, of which he stood in great need, he related to the farmer all his adventures of the past night, who, in his turn, told many others of the same sort. sir kurd found that his servant had been unable to reach the castle to which he had sent him, and had spent the night at the farm; so they soon after started together, the knight feeling most thankful to be rid of his ghostly bride." charles's story met with perhaps more applause even than it deserved. he confessed that it was a very free translation of a german tale he had read somewhere, but it was not admired the less for all that. two days after this a carriage drove up to the door, and out of it stepped buttar and ellis. ernest knew nothing of their coming. it was a surprise his father wished to give him. the boys were delighted to meet each other, and kept shaking hands till they nearly dislocated each other's wrists. buttar, who had come from a distance, had picked up ellis on the way. the parents of the latter were glad to have him with a companion like ernest, from whom, from his account, they believed he could reap so much benefit. not long after another carriage arrived, and great was the delight of all parties when lemon and tom bouldon's faces were seen looking out of the window. "this is jolly!--how delightful!--how capital!--what fun!" were some of the exclamations which escaped the boys' lips as they shook hands with each other. "and the frost has begun here, as i suppose it had with you," added ernest. "and the gardener says he is certain that the ponds will bear to-morrow, and if they do, we shall have some magnificent skating. there is not a particle of snow on the ice, and when it set there was a perfect calm, so that it is as smooth--as smooth--what shall i say?--as ice can be. oh, we shall have some first-rate skating, and hockey, perhaps, and sleighing also, such as people have in canada. john has had a sleigh built, such as he saw when he went over there in the last long vacation. he proposes to drive young hotspur in it. we shall fly over the ground at a tremendous rate if he does. there isn't a horse in the country like young hotspur for going. my pony, whom we call larkspur, is first-rate of his sort; but when i am riding out with any one mounted on young hotspur i feel just as if i was on board a small yacht with the `alarm' or one of those large fast racing cutters in company. you have all brought your skates i hope. if you have not, i dare say we have some spare ones which will fit you. we have had them given to us at different times, and most of my brothers have outgrown theirs, so that i have no doubt we shall find enough. oh, ellis, do you say that you cannot skate? never mind, you will soon learn. you have learned many things more difficult. i'll undertake that you will be quite at home on your skates in the course of a week." so ernest ran on, as he conducted his friends round the house, to exhibit to them its numberless attractions, and to show them their rooms. they could not fail to be pleased, for the house, although not fitted up with anything like luxury, contained within itself abundance of objects to afford amusement and instruction to the inmates when confined by bad weather. there was a first-rate library, in the first place, and a very interesting museum, illustrating all parts of the world. the articles in it were well arranged, and every one had a clearly written and full description attached to it. the articles from each country were placed together, and the countries were arranged according to their respective quarters of the globe. there were good maps, and many pictures illustrating the scenery or habits and customs of the inhabitants. many hours might be passed profitably in it, which is not often the case with museums. at all events, i have never found that i could carry away much information from one. at the same time, i own that i think very likely i may have a more correct notion of the forms of animals, and of the shape of boats and buildings of foreign countries, than i should possess had i not visited the british museum, and others of less note. the most advantageous way of visiting a general museum is to go with a definite object each time, and to attend exclusively to that object. i have never seen a museum better arranged than that which had been formed by mr bracebridge, aided by his sons, who were great collectors for it, and accordingly took a warm interest in its success. however, not only studiously disposed people found amusement in the house. there was a billiard table, and foils, and boxing-gloves, and single-sticks, and basket-sticks, and implements for all sorts of less athletic games at which ladies can play. "why, ernest, you live in a perfect paradise of a home," exclaimed buttar, as at last they reached the sleeping-rooms which mrs bracebridge had appropriated to her young guests. "my father and mother make it so," said ernest, enthusiastically. "they regulate everything so well, and yet we have such perfect liberty. our father trusts us entirely. he tells us that there are certain things which he does not wish us to do--sometimes he gives us his reasons, and very good ones they are; at other times he gives no reason, but simply says we are not to do certain other things, and we know that his reasons are good, so we do not think of doing them. frequently he leaves us to act according to our discretion, and gives us only general rules for our guidance." buttar could thoroughly appreciate the advantages his friend possessed, for they were advantages of no ordinary kind, and were the cause of the superiority he possessed over the greater number of his companions. what a merry evening that was on which the boys arrived! lemon had met charles bracebridge in germany, though it was only just before the holidays he discovered that ernest was his brother. he now came more especially to visit him. he was of a more suitable age than ernest for a companion. there was a christmas-tree loaded with really useful prizes, so that all the boys were glad enough to obtain some of them, and their distribution caused great fun; then they had a most uproarious game of blindman's buff. some of them dressed up in all sorts of costumes, so that when they were caught, the blind man could not tell who they were. bouldon made a capital blind man. he rushed furiously here and there, over everybody and everything, never minding where he went, shrieking with laughter all the time, but keeping his hands well out before his head, so that he ran no chance of knocking it against the wall. more than once tom came head over heels down on the ground; but amid the shouts of laughter, in which he himself heartily joined, having stood on his head for a minute, he leaped up, and made a desperate dash at some of the players. at last he caught buttar, who also made a very amusing blind man, and though he suffered several mishaps, never for a moment lost his temper. among buttar's very many good qualities, a fine temper was one. nothing ever put him out, though he was often much tried. he was good-tempered by nature, but he was also good-tempered from principle. he knew how wrong it is to lose temper, and he despised the frivolous excuses often made by people for doing so. the game of blindman's buff lasted a wonderfully long time. at last the ladies began to think that it had become almost too boisterous, and lemon, who was a capital hand at starting games, proposed the game of "baste the bear." "what's that?" asked buttar. "in all my experience i never heard of that game." "i'll show you, then. who knows it? do any of you?" tom bouldon acknowledged that he did. "very well, tom; you must be the first bear. i'll be your keeper," said lemon. "properly speaking, everybody ought to draw lots as to who should be bear, and the bear selects his keeper. however, we will suppose that preliminary got over. all the rest of the company are to tie their handkerchiefs into knots, with which to baste the bear. now, i, as keeper, will fasten a rope round the waist of the bear, leaving a scope of about five feet. we take our position within a circle of about five feet in diameter, in the centre of the room. here the circle is easily formed by tacking a little red tape down to the carpet. if i, as keeper, touch anybody without dragging the bear out of the ring, that person must become bear, and may select his keeper; or if the bear catches anybody by the legs, and holds him fast in the same way, he must take the bear's place. now we are all ready. very well, then, hit away with all your might." tom looked very lugubrious as, taking up his position, he saw the preparations making for his basting. "oh, oh, oh! don't, kind gentlemen, hit hard," he cried out in piteous accents; and then in a deep tone he added, "if you do, to a certainty i'll catch hold of some of you, and make you rue the day." nothing daunted by tom's threats, the party began to attack him vigorously; but they ran no little risk of being caught by lemon, who sprang out on them to the full length of the rope, now and then almost pulling tom out of his line; bouldon also was very active, especially when any of his schoolfellows came near him. he growled and roared in a very wild-beast-like way, sometimes springing at ernest, sometimes at buttar or ellis. frank, the midshipman, also came in for an equal share of his attentions, and he seemed to consider that he was much on a par with him. the moment frank understood the game, he played as vehemently as anybody. he said that it was a capital game, and that he should introduce it on board the next ship he joined. in spite of all his activity, tom got many a hard lick, and still he remained a bear. at last he pretended to be so weary of his exertions, that he could not attempt to capture one of his tormentors. those who were acquainted with tom best, and saw his eye, knew that he was not to be trusted. the midshipman, however, was not up to him, and rushing in, found himself grasped tightly round the knee by the seeming half-sleeping bear. "i thought that i should catch you, frank," cried bouldon, shouting in triumph. "now please go and turn into a bear, and take care that you don't get into a butter boat." frank had therefore to become the bear. he chose ellis as his keeper. never was a more extraordinary bear seen. he stood on his head; he jumped about with his feet in his hands, and rolled round and round as a ball; and when anybody came near to baste him, he jumped and kicked about in so wonderful a way that no one could hit him. every one also saw that he was very likely to catch them if they ventured near. at last charles, the narrator of the german ghost story, got caught, and he chose his brother john as his keeper. they tried to catch one of their sisters, or some of the eldest of the family, but were very glad at length, so pestered were they by bouldon, to catch him, when in a daring mood he ventured near them. thus the game went on, and many other games succeeded, till bed-time at last arrived, and the boys exclaimed with one voice, "well, we have had a jolly evening!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . a wreath of rosemary is worn by the dead in many parts of germany. chapter thirteen. christmas holidays and winter amusements. "hurra! it was a terrific frost last night! the ice bears, and the gardener says we might drive a coach and six over it," exclaimed ernest, rushing into buttar's and bouldon's room. "up! up! let us breakfast, and go down and try it. get up, do, and i'll go and tell the other fellows. john has been getting his sleigh ready, and harnessing young hotspur; so i don't doubt he intends trying the ice to-day." soon all the merry party were assembled in the breakfast-room. just before nine mr bracebridge made his appearance, followed immediately by the rest of the family, and read a chapter in the bible, and morning prayers. then, when everybody had selected their places, he advised them to apply themselves to the cold viands, under which the sideboard literally groaned. with wonderful rapidity, eggs and ham, and brawn, and veal pie, and tongues, disappeared down their throats, mingled with toast, and rolls, and muffins, and slices from huge loaves of home-made bread, and cups of coffee, and tea, and chocolate. bouldon did great execution among the viands, and he did not allow his modesty to stand in his way. at last breakfast was over, and then gimlets, and bradawls, and spare straps were in great requisition, to enable them to fit on their skates before they went to the pond. some had spring skates, which were very quickly put on, the spring, which was between the sole of the boot and the sole of the skate, keeping all the straps tight, at the same time without any undue pressure. john bracebridge was celebrated as a first-rate skater. his skates were secured to a pair of ankle boots, which fitted him exactly, and laced up in front. he put them on at the pond. there are two objections to that sort of skate. one is, that the feet get chilled from putting on a cold pair of boots, and if a person is skating away from home, he may not be able to find anybody to take care of his shoes. "are all the skates ready?" cried ernest. "all! all!" was the answer. "then don't let us lose more time of this precious frost," he added. "remember, it may very speedily be over; so let us make the best of it we can." in a laughing, merry body, with skates in hand, they hurried down through the grounds to the pond. it might well have been called a lake, for it was an extensive and very picturesque sheet of water, almost entirely surrounded by trees, with now and then an opening bordered by a plot of grass, or a bend of the grand walk which ran round it. here and there was an island with a few birch-trees or willows growing on it, and over the trees could be seen, rising in the distance, a downy hill, now sprinkled with some snow which had fallen the night before the frost regularly set in, and which had thus not affected the surface of the lake. at the lower end the ground fell, and a long stream-like serpentine channel could be seen winding away, in one place overhung by trees, and in others between green meadows, till lost in the distance. the lower part was, in the summer, the favourite resort of anglers, for it contained some of the finest tench to be found anywhere in the neighbourhood. no time was lost by those accustomed to skating in putting on their skates. john and charles bracebridge and lemon had soon theirs ready, and rising on their feet, off they struck like birds about to fly, and away they went at a rapid rate, skimming over the smooth mirror-like expanse. ernest longed to follow, for he had his skates on, and skated almost as well as they did; but he saw ellis sitting down, having just cleverly enough put on his skates, but unable to move on them. "come, ellis! up on your feet, my dear fellow, and lean on me," he exclaimed, gliding up to him. "take this stick in your right hand. be sure that you can stand on your feet; your ankles are as strong as those of other people, and your skates are as well put on. look at buttar, and bouldon, and me. you will be able to skate as easily as any of us with a little practice. there is no necessity why you should tumble down. you can balance yourself off the ice perfectly, on the gymnastic poles, and in other ways. now, hurra!--off you go!" ernest knew that ellis required all sorts of encouragement, so he said more to him than he would to any other boy. ellis at last got up; his ankles slipped about a little, but he was anxious to follow his friend's advice. in a short time he felt that he could stand firmly on the ice; then he slipped about, pushing one skate before the other. first he helped himself on with his stick, and then he balanced himself with it, and in an incredibly short time could move about so as to feel little fear of falling. "now," exclaimed ernest, "i have set you on your feet, i'll go and take a skim over the surface. remember, the more you practise, and the faster you throw away fear, the sooner you will be able to do the same. good-bye!" away went ernest, fleet as the wind, holding his right hand up before him to balance himself, and disdaining any stick for the purpose. he did not stop to hear ellis utter his thanks and regrets at having kept him so long from commencing the graceful exercise in which he so much delighted. ernest certainly did not enjoy it the less from having first performed a good-natured action for his friend. he, and bouldon, and frank looked on with admiration as he went gliding away over the ice; so easily, so gracefully he moved, now inclining to one side, now to the other, moving on apparently without the slightest exertion. "there is not another fellow like him in the universe," exclaimed bouldon, enthusiastically. "it will be a happy day when he is the cock of our school; and that he soon will be, for he could, if he chose, thrash many fellows twice his size already." "i'm glad to hear you say that," answered frank, not less warmly. "ernest was always a pet of mine; we never quarrelled when we were together. i wish that i could have him to go to sea with me. he's just the fellow to be a general favourite in the navy, and to get on in it, too. he must do that." ellis could scarcely trust himself to speak, but he was not the less pleased to hear his friend thus eulogised. he knew that he thought him superior to anybody else, but he was not aware that he was held in such high estimation by his own family. buttar and lemon, coming up before the subject had been changed, added their own meed of praise to that which the others had awarded. meantime ernest, unconscious of what was being said, after circling the pond with what is called the forward roll, changing it to the dutch--so denominated because it is the movement employed by the dutch peasants as they skate over their canals and lagoons on their way to market--then began making figures of eight, the spread-eagle, the back roll, not to mention many other figures and evolutions, which perfectly astonished ellis as he looked at them. frank had not skated for a long time; but, undaunted, he soon had on his skates, and away he went, furiously on, as if he had suddenly been converted into a battering-ram. so fast did he go that he could not stop himself, and overtaking a stout gentleman, who was going deliberately along, before he could beg him to get out of his way he ran right up against him, and the consequence was, that he and the stout gentlemen came to the ice together, making a very considerable star, and a noise which was still more terrific. first there was the sudden crash and rending asunder of the thick ice, and then the noise went rolling and mumbling away to the other end of the pond. "hallo! young gentleman, we shall be in! we shall be in!" cried the stout gentleman, in an agony of fear. "i can swim, if we are," answered frank, scarcely refraining his laughter. "but beg pardon, sir; my skates ran away with me--they did indeed; and if i hadn't fallen foul of you, they would have carried me right across the pond. i'll help you up, though. you are not hurt, i hope." "not much, i believe. i came down on you, and you formed a soft cushion," answered the stout gentleman, good-naturedly. "but as to helping me up, do not, i pray you, attempt it on any account; we shall both of us go in if you do. let us both roll away in opposite directions from the crack before we attempt to get on our feet. see how i manage." as the stout gentleman spoke, he began slowly to roll himself over and over away from the centre of the star, and frank imitating him, they were both of them soon again on their legs. frank was going off again at full speed, having once more repeated his apologies for his carelessness, when the stout gentleman stopped him. "we must not leave others to fall into the danger from which we have escaped," he cried out. "i observed, just now, some triangles with labels on the top, marked cracked and dangerous. we will get one and place it over the spot." "i'll go and get the sign-posts you speak of," said frank. "don't trouble yourself, sir." "then i will keep guard round the spot, to prevent any unwary person from approaching it," said the stout gentleman. frank, on his return, found him going round and round the star. "by to-morrow, i daresay, the wound will have healed," he remarked. "by pressing it gradually down, as i have been doing, the water will have risen into the interstices and have frozen the broken pieces together." "i hope, sir, that i shall not be so clumsy again. i may not always meet people ready to take a knock-down so good-naturedly as you have done," said the midshipman. frank and the stout gentleman became great friends after this, and frank obtained from him many useful hints about skating. meantime, several other people assembled on the lake, which now presented a very animated spectacle. frank having come back to see how ellis was getting on, found ernest with him, giving him some further instruction, from which the pupil was much benefiting. "well, ernest," said frank, "we have not had a skate together for a long time. what do you say to a race round the pond? i have got the use of my legs, i find, pretty well, but i don't think i could come any of those twists and turns, and spread-eagle kind of things." ernest said that he should be delighted to race his brother frank, but advised him to curb his impetuosity. "oh, never fear! i've no other notion of going ahead but by putting on all the steam. my engines don't work at half-pressure," answered the midshipman. "who'll start us? buttar, will you?" "with all my heart," answered buttar. "now get in line. remember, the course is right round the pond, in and out into all the bays, and between all the islands. now, once to make ready, twice to prepare. once, twice, thrice, and--" frank was so eager, that he was off almost before the word was out of buttar's mouth--"away!" off went the racers, the rest of the party following, but making short cuts so as to observe their proceedings. the contrast between the two brothers' style was very amusing. ernest's was all science or art, which enabled him to move gracefully along without any apparent exertion. all he did was to keep his hands waving slowly, to expedite his movements as he swept round an island or into a bay, and to preserve his balance. frank, on the contrary, had very little skill or science. all he did was by sheer muscular power, with a determination to keep his legs, and to go on ahead. the skates went deeply into the ice as he struck out, and he seemed rather to be running than skating, with such rapidity did he put one foot before the other. all the time his arms were in violent motion, while he flourished a stout oak stick, thick enough to fell a buffalo, and at the top of his voice kept shouting and shrieking with laughter, calling on ernest to heave-to for him, or to port or starboard his helm, or to keep along in shore, and not attempt to make short cuts. ernest was very much amused at his nautical brother's mode of proceeding, and he could not help suspecting that frank was assuming a considerably greater amount of roughness than he really possessed. however, ernest found that he had to skate his very best to keep ahead of him, when going in a direct line, though he beat him hollow whenever they had to make turns between the islands and the mainland, or to pass along the sinuosities of the bays. still it seemed surprising, considering the little practice he had had, how perfectly at home frank was on his feet. ernest made a remark of that sort to him. "not a bit surprising, old fellow," he answered. "it is simply because i know the skates can do the work i put them to. a fellow who has learned to stand on the deck of a ship, rolling her guns in the water, and pitching bows under, and has had to furl top-gallant sails with a hurricane blowing in his teeth, can easily do anything of this sort, if he has the mind to do it. i am not like you, ernest; you see i have been scorching under tropical suns, while you have had time to practise the art of skating." they could not, however, talk very much as they went flying round the pond. buttar and bouldon, and ellis and others sung out, "a race, a race, a race!" and attracted the attention of the rest of the people on the ice, who all stopped skating to look at them. it seemed still a doubtful point which would get in the first. perhaps ernest had not gone as rapidly as he might, that he might give frank the pleasure of keeping up with him. there was a long clear run nearly from one end of the pond to the other. they were just about to do it. ernest was a little ahead of frank, so that he could turn his head over his shoulder to talk to him. ernest came gliding smoothly on. "skurry, skurry, skurry; clatter, clatter; _ez-z-ez_," came frank. i cannot better describe the noise made by his skates. utter fearlessness was evidently the secret of his power. on he came, as little fatigued, in spite of all his exertions, as when he started. "heave-to, old fellow, i say; heave-to! give us a tow, then, for i see how it is; you intend to keep ahead, though how you do it i can't tell," he continued to cry out as he approached the end of the pond, where buttar and the rest stood ready to receive them. ernest, as might be supposed, came in first, and gracefully wheeled round after he had touched buttar's hand. on came frank, hurrahing and shouting, "second in, at all events." touching buttar's hand, on he went. was the bank to stop him? not it. up it he went, across the gravel walk, through the bushes, and down a bank into a meadow below, where was another piece of water, across which he shot, and then over another walk into the long canal pond, down which he went, shouting and laughing louder than ever. "our race is to the end of the ponds, ernest, remember that. ponds, old fellow! why don't you come on?" tom bouldon, delighted, went after him, as did two or three other boys from the neighbourhood who were not skating; but ernest was afraid of spoiling his skates, by giving them such rough usage, and left frank to enjoy his fun, and to boast that he had beaten him in the long run. it was some time before frank returned, his exploit causing a great deal of amusement to all present. some time before this a fire, with a large screen of matting to keep off the wind, had been seen to blaze up, and now a horn sounding, the party on the ice assembled round it. they found servants roasting potatoes under the ashes, which were served out with plates of salt, and butter, and toast, to all who asked for them, while at the same time hot punch was handed about to the visitors. "capital stuff this!" cried tom bouldon, smacking his lips, after he had quaffed a glass of it, and, turning to buttar, "i wish that the doctor would provide us with something of the sort in an afternoon in cold weather. it's warm lemonade, with a little wine in it, i suspect. i'll take another glass of it, if you please." of course the servants handed tom as many glasses as he asked for. buttar took two or three. away they skated. at first tom got on very well, but in a few minutes he declared that the ice had become more slippery than ever, and that he had the greatest difficulty in keeping his legs; at the same time, that he felt a strong inclination to push on ahead. "i say, buttar, i believe that i could race the wind. come, let us try; i don't mind what i do," he exclaimed, as he skated on furiously. "i don't mind what i do--do you?" buttar himself felt rather excited, but he suspected the cause, and recommended tom to come and sit down with him on the bank till they became more composed. it was fortunate that they found out in time the strength of the punch, or they might have been, as some of the visitors to the pond were, by their own imprudence, completely overcome. tom was very glad that he had escaped committing himself, and much obliged to buttar for warning him. he had bully blackall's career before his eyes to warn him of the effects of drunkenness, and dreaded by any chance being led into it. he more than once went up to the fire for a hot potato, but each time the punch was offered him he wisely declined taking it. by the end of the day everybody declared that never was known so perfect a first day of skating. most of the party, except the more practised skaters, were not a little stiff and sore from the exertions and tumbles. ellis could scarcely move a limb, and frank declared that he felt as if he had been fighting away the whole day. they had, indeed, been on their feet from half-past ten in the morning till nearly dark. the next day much the same scenes were enacted. after luncheon, a jingling of bells was heard, and young hotspur appeared, drawing an elegant american sleigh. john bracebridge, who was driving, dashed fearlessly on to the ice. the steed seemed delighted to have so slight a weight after him. the sleigh--so it is called in canada and throughout america--had a seat in front for the driver, and an easy sloping one behind for two passengers. a handsome fur rug hung over it behind, almost reaching the ground, while there were two or three buffalo skins, in which those in the carriage might effectually wrap themselves up. instead of having wheels, the carriage was placed on runners, two skates as it were, made of iron, with a frame-work lifting the body of the carriage about a foot, or a foot and a half, from the ground, and giving it a very light appearance. the harness was ornamented with little silvery sounding bells, and fringe, and tufts of red worsted, which made the whole turn-out look very gay. it gained universal admiration, and two ladies were easily persuaded by john bracebridge to get into it, and to be driven round and round the pond. "you may fancy yourselves transported suddenly to canada, and whisking away over the saint lawrence," he observed, turning round as he drove on; "only i assure you that so smooth a piece of ice as this is rarely found to drive over. in lower canada especially, the sleighs are driven on the roads over the snow; but the old-fashioned french canadian sleigh, used by all the country people, is so low that the front part sweeps the snow before it, and thus ridges are quickly formed all across the road. another sleigh following has to surmount the ridges, and of necessity digs down on the opposite side, and scoops out more of the snow. sometimes, also, they slide off either on one side or the other, and thus a succession of hills or waves, as it were, are made with slides, which send the sleighs nearly off the road on one side or the other, and make the driving away from the larger cities very far from pleasant. about quebec, however, the roads are kept in good order, and sleighing is there a very agreeable amusement." as young hotspur could not go trotting round and round the pond all day, john at last drove him home, and then frank proposed a game of hockey on the ice. he had provided a supply of sticks and a ball, and the proposal was welcomed with applause. the people present were not long in forming sides. charles undertook to lead one side, frank the other. frank got his stout friend to be on his side, but he generally chose boys. he got ernest and all his schoolfellows, except lemon, who joined charles, and there were several other boys who skated pretty well, and, as he said, looked plucky. a person must know how to balance himself well to play hockey on skates, otherwise, after having struck the ball, he is very likely to allow his stick to swing round, and to bring him over. there were twenty people on a side, big and little; but the shorter ones had decidedly the advantage, and ran away with the ball whenever they got up to it, driving it before them before any of the opposite party could overtake them. ernest gave his brother some useful hints, from which he profited. the same tactics which ernest had often employed at school frank brought into play. the chief point in his plan was to keep three or four boys together, one to follow up another. if the leader missed, then number two ran in; if he failed to strike, then number three, and so on. the stout gentleman also turned out to be a capital player. he went on the "sure and steady wins the race" principle. quietly yet rapidly he glided about after the ball, and when he got up to it, never failed to strike it, and to strike hard too. his exertions indeed mainly contributed to the success of ernest's side, which triumphantly gained the day. several games were played, and each time ernest's side was victorious, though the defeated party took it very good-humouredly. charles, however, observed that he had received several lessons from his opponents, and that he thought they would not find him so easily beaten again. "don't be too sure of that, charlie," sung out frank. "we also intend to-morrow to play twice as well as we did yesterday. our motto is, `we'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.'" the morrow came, and a great game of hockey was the absorbing amusement of the day; even young hotspur and the sleigh failed to attract so much interest. the stout gentleman was in his glory. he appeared with a hockey-stick of his own manufacture, and in garments which, if not graceful, precluded any of the youngsters from catching hold of his tails. there were the same sides as on the previous day, with several additional players; but none of them were very good, nor did they add much to the relative strength of each party. ernest was the first to place the ball on the ice to strike it. the instant his stick descended, and the ball went whirling away over the smooth glass-like surface of the ice, frank, followed by buttar, bouldon, and ellis, darted forth with tremendous speed in the hopes of reaching it before any of the opposite party, and of driving it home; but before they could strike, charles and lemon were up to it, and sent it flying back again. the stout gentleman, however, who had only moved slowly on, saw it coming, and gliding up as it slid on towards him, struck it a blow which sent it two-thirds of the way across the pond once more. frank, ernest, and buttar were up to it, bouldon and ellis keeping a little way behind them: frank struck the ball, and sent it flying on, but it was into the midst of their opponents, who quickly drove it back again, when bouldon, skating up, prevented it getting between charles and lemon, who stood prepared to drive it up to the goal, if, as they hoped, they could elude the vigilance of the stout gentleman. he, however, was not asleep, and watching their movements, as tom bouldon observed, as keenly as a boa-constrictor, glided swiftly up to the spot where they had driven the ball, and sent it spinning back, till once more frank and ernest got it within their power. thus the game continued fluctuating; but finally, after many a bandy here and there, and many a tussle between the opposing parties, not a few upsets and other catastrophes, it was sent up to ernest, who struck it a blow which sent it flying along between everybody, nobody being able to stop it up to the goal. the next game was, however, still more severely contested; and at last, by desperate struggles, was won by charles' party. ellis had made wonderful progress in skating, thanks to ernest's lessons, and his own resolution to overcome all difficulties. of course, he got several severe tumbles, but he always picked himself up and went away again as if nothing had been the matter. in a short time he overcame all fear, and obtained the complete mastery over his feet. "i should like to have your friend ellis with me at sea for a few months," said frank to ernest, as they watched him tumble down and get up again, and go several times in succession to practise on the outside edge, undeterred by failures. "i like the fellow's spirit, and i am sure that there is a great deal to be made out of him." "i am sure there is," was the reply. "at the same time, he is really so talented, and so good-hearted and humble-minded. he is one of my greatest friends. he trusts me, and i trust him, and that is, i suspect, the true secret of friendship." another day, frank, taking a hint from john's sleigh, rigged out one with ropes. it was little more than a wide plank on runners, with seats for two people. the boys harnessed themselves to it, and invited the visitors to the lake to come and be dragged along. they had many applications for the honour, and it was a source of great amusement. no one seemed weary of dragging the sleigh, or of being dragged in it. round and round the pond they went, often at so tremendous a pace that those being dragged shrieked out with terror; but their alarm could not have been very great, for when they were asked if they would go on again they never refused, or if they did, it was to let some sister or friend take their places. the next day three similar sleighs appeared, but they were covered with cloaks or rugs, and each had a flag of a different colour flying in front of it. as each sleigh required several persons to drag it, nearly all the gentlemen skaters were in a short time turned into horses, while the ladies were all eager to be dragged along; so away they all went, skating round and round the lake, and those who looked on could distinguish where their friends were by the colour of the flags. sometimes they raced, and then the excitement was tremendous. however, one of the sleighs was upset, and the passengers thrown out, and the skaters sent here and there, some on their backs, and some on all-fours, to the alarm of those at a distance, and to the great amusement of those near, and who knew that no one was hurt. mr bracebridge, after this, prohibited racing with sleighs, for fear of accidents of a more serious character. it is impossible to describe minutely all the amusements of those memorable christmas holidays. a fortnight passed away, and though the glass-like appearance of the ice had somewhat disappeared, owing to the innumerable cuts its surface had received from careless skaters, the skating was continued with unabated ardour. then came down a heavy fall of snow, which completely covered the ponds with a thick coat. passages, were, however, swept across the ice, but the interest of skating was somewhat diminished. more snow followed, and then, except on small patches and walks which, with some exertion, were kept clear by the gardeners, there was no room whatever for skating. notwithstanding this there were abundant sources of amusement. the younger guests were fortunate in having so good a master of the revels as frank, the midshipman. "hurra, boys, a bright idea!" he exclaimed, one morning at breakfast, when some of the party were lamenting the destruction of the ice. "we'll build a castle of snow; not a puny little affair, but a castle with high walls and parapets, and a deep ditch and outworks, such as cannot be captured without hard fighting. however, as we don't really wish to kill each other, instead of cutlasses and bayonets, and swords, and pistols, and all those sorts of deadly weapons, we will use good honest snowballs. we'll build the castle first, and choose sides afterwards, so that no one will know whether they are going to defend or attack it, and no one inclined to be treacherous will leave any weak places. there is a high mound in beech-tree meadow, which will make a capital foundation, and save a great deal of labour. who is for it?" of course, all the younger guests were delighted with frank's proposal. mr bracebridge also entered into it. "you shall have the assistance of all the gardeners, who can do nothing during this weather," he observed; "i will tell them also to engage half-a-dozen men thrown out of work; they with their barrows will much expedite the operation." "thank you, papa; thank you, sir," exclaimed the boys; and as soon as breakfast was over most of them jumped up ready to go to the scene of action. ernest, however, said that he had his holiday task to go through, and that he must give one hour to that while he was fresh, and before he allowed his thoughts to be occupied with the amusements of the day. this reminded buttar and ellis that they had their tasks, to which they had as yet paid very little attention. bouldon was inclined to think this proposal to study a very slow proceeding, as he had been in the habit of not looking at his task till the last week of the holidays, and often he did not finish off learning it till he was on his way to school. now, however, as ernest and others set the example, he began to think that he ought to do something. "very well," observed frank; "we will not start for an hour and a quarter; that will give you time to get out your books; and if you all read hard, you will do something. i'll go to school, too, and rub up my navigation." ernest, followed by his guests, accordingly repaired to the study. tom bouldon, on looking into his portmanteau, found that, by the most unaccountable negligence, as he said, the servant had not packed up any of his school-books, but had put in instead a copy of "robinson crusoe," "tom cringle's log," and the "boy's own book." however, ernest and ellis between them were able to supply him; so master tom, having no excuse for idleness, set to with a will, and was surprised with the progress he made, and the satisfaction it afforded him. "well, i really think i will do a bit of my task every day till it is finished," he exclaimed, as frank, pulling out his watch, told the party that time was up, and that they might set off for the scene of action. when they reached beech-tree meadow, they found a quantity of snow already collected from a distance in the neighbourhood of the mound. on one side, a little way off, was a miniature castle, which frank said he had got up early in the morning to construct, so that everybody might see what they were about. the model was much admired, and frank acting as architect, the work proceeded with wonderful rapidity. some carried the snow; others acted as masons, and piled it up and smoothed it off, he, standing in the middle, aiding and directing. a circular tower of fully twenty feet in diameter was quickly raised, and fully fifteen feet high, and finished off at the summit in a castellated form, with a parapet; and then there was an outer wall with a deep ditch; between them and the tower was a gateway, and a bridge, constructed partly of snow and partly of planks, led to it. it really had, when finished, a very imposing appearance, and looked as capable of resisting a foe as one of the martello towers which guard the coasts of great britain. frank had, in the morning, despatched an invitation to all the boys he knew of in the neighbourhood to come and join in the sport, and by the afternoon a large army was collected. everybody was too eager in the work to go in to luncheon, so it was brought out to them. at last all was ready. lemon undertook to be the leader of one party; of course, frank acted as general of the other. ernest, and buttar, and ellis were on frank's side; bouldon, with charles, and some of the other bracebridges, joined lemon. there were besides some twenty or more boys on either side, so that there were fully fifty combatants. they tossed up as to which side was to defend and which to attack the castle. lemon got the first choice, and undertook the defence of the place. a flag on a pole was hoisted in the centre, and till this was hauled down the castle was not to be considered as captured. as soon as these preliminaries were arranged, all hands set to work to manufacture snowballs. several piles were made at short distances surrounding the castle. these might be captured by a sortie. there were also flags on staffs stuck about which might be taken. on the outworks of the castle and on the walls were several flags. piles of snowballs were placed inside the castle walls, and there were also heaps of snow out of which others could be manufactured. lemon had brought his horn, and the besieging army had a couple among them, which had a very fine effect. frank, having marshalled his troops, formed them into three divisions, which were to attack simultaneously on different sides. ernest led one, buttar another, and frank commanded the third party in person. these arrangements were made out of sight of the castle; and, to give more effect to the attack, the army marched through the woods sounding their horns, which were answered by a note of defiance from the castle. "it is getting somewhat cold," exclaimed buttar, who was practical in his notions. "the fellows inside must be colder still, waiting for us. all our valour will be frozen up. let us begin to warm up our blood." "certainly, colonel buttar," answered frank, laughing. "a very sensible remark. on, brave army to the attack! death or victory! don't mind the snowballs. turn your heads into battering-rams, and your pockets into arsenals, and the place will quickly be ours. now, colonels bracebridge and buttar, lead round your men to the positions allotted to you." "too-too-too!" sounded the horns louder than ever, and the three divisions burst at the same moment out of the woods, and advanced to take up their positions near where their ammunition had been piled up, of the existence of which the defenders of the castle were supposed, till that moment, not to be aware. "too-too-too!" again sounded the horns, and while a sentinel remained to guard each pile of snowballs and their respective flag-staffs, the rest of the army, having loaded themselves with ammunition, rushed bravely to the attack. then began a regular snow-storm. the besiegers and besieged pelted away with tremendous energy, till the former were covered with snow from head to foot, while the latter could scarcely show their faces above the walls. under cover of this heavy fire, or rather snow-storm, ernest attempted to cross the bridge, which had been allowed to remain, and to force the door. he was followed closely by ellis and two other boys: but they were almost overwhelmed with the heaps of snow showered down upon them. still they battered away with their fists and shoulders, as they were unprovided with other weapons; but the door would not yield. in fact, it had been completely blocked up from within, so that no force could have opened it. meantime, buttar, by frank's directions, was shelling the castle from a distance; but as this produced no effect, and only supplied the besieged with ammunition, he was ordered to draw near to assist in a general escalade. frank's plan of dividing his forces had prevented the besieged from making a sortie. he now ordered a general escalade. scaling ladders were not to be used, but the backs of the combatants were to serve for the purpose. no sooner was the order given than, rushing up together, with masses of snow they filled up the ditch; and then one sprang on the back of the other, and others mounted above them; then ernest, seeing a good ladder formed, climbed up it to the top, though he was nearly knocked over by the shower of snowballs which assailed him; the top of the castle, also, was so slippery that he had the greatest difficulty in getting hold of it, and his position was anything but pleasant. meantime, tom bouldon, one of the besieged, who was burning to distinguish himself, seeing all the rest of the party engaged, telling lemon that he had a dodge, and to look out for him, slipped over the parapet amid a shower of snow, so that he was unseen, and then, climbing up the side of the ditch, scampered off to get hold of one of the standards of the enemy, the sentinel left to guard it having deserted his post that he might join in the attack. he seized it, and was hurrying back, scarcely restraining a shout of triumph, when ernest saw him. "tom, you traitor, let go that!" he sung out; but as he was mounted on the backs of four other boys, and fighting away at the top of the wall, he could not enforce his commands. tom, hearing him, scuttled away to the other side, where buttar was endeavouring to effect a breach. two boys made chase after him, but he got up to the wall before them, and throwing the flag into it, he sprang up on the backs of some of the besiegers, who did not find out in time that he did not belong to their party; and lemon being on the watch for him, lent him a helping hand, and got him safe into the castle. then he seized the flag he had brought so gallantly off, and went round the castle walls, waving it in the faces of the besiegers, and crowing as lustily as any young cock. frank, when he discovered what had been done, felt like a general who has unwarily allowed his camp to be attacked; and now, seeing that the other two standards were unprotected, sent back a guard to each. it may appear strange that bouldon should have so easily got into the castle; but in his case he had a friend to help him, while in the case of the besiegers everybody was opposed to them. so strong was the castle, and so manfully was it defended, that it appeared as if it would effectually hold out to the end of the day. time after time frank returned to the assault, and as often he and his troops were tumbled over into the ditch. this, also, was ernest's fate; indeed he at last gave up all hopes of taking the castle in the way proposed. telling the rest of his followers to continue pelting away with all their might, he called ellis to his councils. ellis at once advised an attempt to undermine the walls. he had run his head into a soft place, and he thought he might get through. the idea was a bright one. ernest immediately went round and got some men from frank and buttar, to assist by the warmth of their snowballing to cover their proceedings, and then he and ellis set to work to bore their way through. the other two commanders were all the time to keep up a series of incessant assaults, which might fully occupy the attention of the enemy. no one within the walls suspected what was taking place. they went on firing away with their snowballs as furiously as ever. no one seemed wearied. there was something very inspiriting in the work. it was far pleasanter than real fighting, because all the combatants might hope to live to fight again, for whichever side fortune might declare itself. lemon seemed to think, at last, that things were growing rather tame, so he seized his horn and began "too-tooing" away with all his might. it was answered more loudly than before by the horns of the besiegers, followed by a hotter shower of snowballs than ever sent by them into the castle. while lemon and his followers were busily engaged replying to it, they found their legs seized by ernest and ellis, and several other boys, while frank, mounting on the backs of some of his troops, leaped over the parapet on the opposite side. lemon was so astonished that he knew not what order to issue. buttar--a messenger being sent to summon him--came round with some followers to the same side, and forced his way with them through the hole. an attempt was made to throw the daring besiegers over the walls; but they kicked and shoved against them so furiously that a large breach was effected, up which the rest of the assailants poured; while ernest and ellis, overcoming all opposition, forced their way up to the standard, and seizing the flag-staff, hauled it down at the moment that one side of the castle fell with a tremendous crash, leaving it utterly defenceless. lemon's horn sent forth a long wail of despair, while the other horns sounded notes of triumph, and the castle was declared to be truly and gloriously won. "it is not your first military triumph, and i hope will not be your last," said ellis to ernest, as they were marching homeward. "nor yours either, and i hope will not be your last. if i go into the army, my great delight will be to find that you are going also." when the boys reached the house, all the visitors from the neighbourhood found that they were expected to dine and spend the evening. the combatants did ample justice to the fare set before them, and it was announced that a conjuror would make his appearance in the evening, to astonish them with his wonderful performances. ernest and bouldon disappeared directly after dinner. ernest said he had to go and make preparations for the conjuror, and tom, putting his hand to his heart, said that he felt it his duty to go and help him. when the boys came up from dinner they found one end of the large drawing-room, in which there was a deep recess, fitted up as a theatre, and in the centre a table, at which sat a man with a huge pair of spectacles, a long white beard and moustache, a high conical cap, covered over with all sorts of strange hieroglyphics, and many other curious devices. round his head was a turban. he wore a tight green waistcoat, a red silk flowing robe over it, while a handsome sash bound his waist, in which was stuck an ink-horn, a wand, a huge knife or dagger, a pistol, and several other articles. altogether, he was a somewhat formidable-looking character. by his side appeared, when the curtain drew up, a curious-looking clown, with a huge face, with all sorts of twists and curls in it, great big ears, a cock-up nose, and a short stumpy beard. this extraordinary physiognomy was covered with a high cap, which had a tassel and bells. he wore also a party-coloured waistcoat, huge full breeches of all the colours of the rainbow, hose of yellow, and long shoes with rosettes of vast size. he stood forth a veritable clown or jester of bygone days. the magician rose. he seemed to be a very tall man, and contrasted strongly with his attendant, who was one of the roundest, shortest, most punchy-looking little men ever seen. a symphony was played on a piano behind the curtains, during which the magician waved his wand, and then in a deep voice he explained that he was about to perform a series of wonderful and unaccountable tricks, which no one had ever equalled, or was ever likely to equal while the world lasted; on which the clown clapped his hands and nodded his head in approval, exclaiming, in the oddest squeaking voice imaginable, "certainly, certainly; my master speaks the truth; who can doubt him? if anybody does doubt him, let him take care of me." the conjuror hemmed, and, waving his wand, took up a pile of halfpence. "now, ladies and gentlemen, you see these halfpence, and you see this cap. the cap i will place on the table, and taking the halfpence in my left hand, as you see, i will pass them from under the table into the cap. heigh, presto, fly!" sure enough, he lifted up the cap, and there were the halfpence. "now i will pass them back again into my hand-- listen." one after the other they were heard dropping into his hand, and when the cap was lifted they were gone. then he put a die on the table, and covering it with his cap, sent the halfpence back to take its place. there they were. he covered them up; they had disappeared, and the die took their place. he next produced a round tea-caddy. he asked a lady for a cambric handkerchief. several were tendered. he took one, and put it into the caddy. drawing out one end, while examining it by a candle to observe its texture, it caught fire. it had burnt a good deal before he could find the cover to put it out. no sooner had he done so than, pronouncing a few magic words, he opened the canister, and presented the handkerchief uninjured. loud applause followed. "now, ladies and gentlemen," he said, holding up a large silk pocket-handkerchief, "examine this handkerchief. it has no double lining. it is a plain simple handkerchief. watch me narrowly. i throw it over the table. i hold it up. see what comes forth." a whole stream of filberts fell from the handkerchief. "here, placolett, take them to the company," said the magician, and the round-faced dwarf, with many odd twists and bounds, handed them round. again the magician spread the handkerchief, and this time produced a still larger quantity of sugar-plums, sufficient, it seemed, to fill a hat. they also were handed round. once more the handkerchief was spread, and produced a number of bouquets of beautiful flowers, some real and some artificial. these in like manner were distributed among the young ladies present. "will any lady lend me a plain gold ring?" asked the magician. one was handed to him by placolett. he held it up between his finger and thumb. "presto, fly!" he exclaimed, and threw it into the centre of the room. everybody tried to catch it, but could not. it had vanished. placolett hunted about, and at last found it under a cushion at the furthest corner of the room. again he handed it to his master, who invited a little girl to take it; but before it reached her fingers it had disappeared, and placolett, as before, hunting about, found it in the heel of a boy's shoe. now placolett collected a dozen pocket-handkerchiefs from the company, and the magician tied them up in a handkerchief, which he placed on the table. he ordered placolett to bring him a basin and a jug, meaning, of course, that the jug should contain water, but there was none, so he sent placolett again to fetch it, and ordered him to bring some soap. meantime he threw some black balls up to the ceiling, which never came down again; and then he swallowed a mustard-pot, a salt-cellar, and a pepper-box; and then he took three cups and three balls, and made the balls pass under the cups, so that each cup had a ball under it, and then he brought them all together under one cup merely by waving his wand over them; and finally some twenty cups in succession appeared out of one of them. at last placolett came back, bringing some water, but it was cold instead of hot, and there was no soap, and then an iron was wanted. before he went for them, his master made him borrow two hats. one the magician placed above the other on the table. then he took one of his magic cups, and showing that there was nothing in it, turned it upside down. he lifted it, and, lo and behold, there was a walnut inside! this he put into the hat, and as often as he lifted the cup there was a walnut, which, like the first, he transferred to the hat. at last placolett came back. "now," observed the magician, "the hat is half-full of walnuts. heigh, presto! pass through the upper into the lower hat," he cried, and lifting the upper hat, that was found to be empty, while the lower one was half-full of indubitable walnuts, for the guests cracked several which were handed to them by placolett. "now, ladies and gentlemen, you gave me some handkerchiefs," observed the magician. "i shall have much pleasure in washing them for you." saying this, he took the bundle on the table, and emptied its contents into the basin, and then began washing in a very unartistic, rough way, evidently tearing them; and one, before wetting it, he held up to the candle, and carelessly set it on fire. then he spread a blanket, and took them out, and began ironing them; but the iron was too hot, and he was evidently singeing them horribly. "never mind," he exclaimed, "i have a magic ironing machine, which will do the work in a moment." he produced a box, with a handle like a churn, put the wet half-singed bundle in, and giving one turn of the handle, produced the handkerchiefs all washed, neatly folded and scented, and sent them round by placolett to their owners. it would be difficult to describe all the clever tricks he performed. he put a ring into a handkerchief, and it disappeared. he passed an awl through a piece of wood and placolett's nose, and then put a piece of whipcord through the hole, working it backwards and forwards, to the dwarfs evident agony; and then he produced a funnel, which he held at a boy's elbow, and by pumping away with the other arm, at last a stream of wine flowed out. then he put a large die on the table, and covered it with a box and then with a hat. he lifted up the hat and then the box, and the die was gone. he produced it, however, from under the table, through which it had evidently gone. i will not speak of many other minor tricks which he performed with cards and other things, which elicited a fair share of applause. he next borrowed a sovereign, and produced an apple, which he sent round to the company. he begged some one to mark the sovereign, which was given back to him. he put it on the table, and covered it with a red cup. then he took a knife, and holding up the apple, cut it in two, when the sovereign was found to be in the middle of it. "ah, i forgot; i have still a trick or two more," he remarked. "here is a bottle. will any lady like port, or sherry, or claret, or whisky, or brandy, or liqueur?" some said one thing, some said another, and placolett handing a tray of small glasses, he filled one after the other with whatever was asked for. once he let the bottle drop, but it was not broken, as he was able to prove by handing it round to the company. then, after considering a moment, he showed a large glass bowl full of ink. he took some of the ink out with a ladle, and put it into a plate, which he showed to the company. then he covered up the bowl with his silk handkerchief, and on lifting it the ink had disappeared, and the bowl was seen to be full of clear water, with gold and silver fish swimming about in it. "one exhibition more," he remarked; "and, ladies, wind up your nerves for a dreadful catastrophe. here is a pistol, powder, and bullets. examine them. will any one load the pistol? see that the powder is genuine." it was done. the magician took the pistol, and put in some wadding. then placolett took it back, and some gentleman having marked three bullets, put them in one after the other. more wadding was then put in, and rammed down. "who will fire?" asked the magician, holding up a plate at arm's length. scarcely had the smoke cleared away when the magician handed the plate with the three marked bullets rolling about in it. everybody was expressing surprise at the interesting performance they had witnessed, and wondering where the magician had come from, when he and placolett, with many bows, retired behind the curtain. directly afterwards it was opened, and who should appear but ernest and tom bouldon, while the magician and his attendant had disappeared. even christmas holidays must have an end. the guests went back to their respective homes, all declaring that they had never enjoyed themselves so much as they had on this occasion since they first went to school. chapter fourteen. return to school--a grand game at football. "here we all are again," exclaimed tom bouldon, as he shook ernest, and buttar, and ellis, and his other friends by the hand, as they first met at school after those memorable christmas holidays. of course they had a great deal to talk about; the fun they had had at oaklands, and what they had all done afterwards; then they had to discuss the changes in the school; the qualities of the new boys who had arrived, and what had become of the old ones who had gone away. barber had got back, and was as conceited as ever, and as supercilious towards his old school-fellow ellis, who still seemed always strangely cowed in his presence. in many respects barber, unhappily, bade fair to rival blackall. he was not so great a bully, but then he had not the power of being so, as he was not so strong, and not so high up in the school. however, he seemed fully inclined to exercise his bullying propensities towards poor ellis, and though he did not strike him, he never lost an opportunity of attacking him with the words which wound far more than sharp knives. "this must never be," exclaimed ernest, one day, when he had accidentally heard barber abusing ellis, and the latter had walked away without retorting or attempting a defence. "your friends, my dear ellis, must for their own sakes, as well as for yours, insist on your taking notice of what that fellow says, both of you and to you. we must bring him to an explanation, and clear up the mystery. we are certain, as i have often assured you, that his treatment of you is undeserved; and why should he go on insinuating all sorts of things against you, and not dare to speak out?" "oh, do not push things to extremities," answered ellis, and the tears almost came into his eyes. "that can do me no good. barber does not act generously towards me, but i think that he believes that he has the right to abuse me; and if he really thought me guilty of the crime of which i am accused, he would certainly be right in not associating with me." ernest was not satisfied with this reply, and ellis's behaviour afterwards was so strange, he thought, towards him, that when he and buttar talked the matter over together, they could not help allowing a shade of suspicion to creep over their own minds that all was not right. they tried not to let ellis discover it, but he was too keen-sighted and sensitive not at once to perceive that their feelings towards him were changed, and that made him, in spite of all they could do, retire more than ever away from them and into himself. the weather continued so cold that the ordinary games could not be played with any satisfaction, and none but those requiring a good deal of bodily exercise were in vogue. lemon, and some of the more actively disposed fellows, determined to get up a game of football, though it was generally played at our school late in the autumn. there were plenty of boys ready to join in it, but the chief question was to decide who should form the sides. a number of the older boys were thought of, but they were not popular, or not active enough, or did not care enough about the game. at last it was decided to offer the command of one side to ernest bracebridge. it was a high honour, considering the time he had been at school. he could not, nor did he wish to refuse it. he consulted buttar, who of course agreed to be on his side, whom they should select. they asked bouldon, and gregson, and several others among their immediate friends, and then began to pick out others on whom they could depend, and who generally played with them. neither of them mentioned ellis. it was the first time they had neglected to ask him to join any game that was to be played since he had become what they called one of them. he happened to pass by, and heard them calling out the names of those invited to play. he stopped a moment, looked towards ernest, and then turned away. "i say, buttar, do go and try and find him," said ernest, in a low voice, relenting in a moment. "ask him--press him to join us." buttar gladly set off on the mission; but though he looked in every direction, and inquired of everybody he met, ellis was nowhere to be found. "it cannot be helped; i wish that we had from the first asked him to join us," remarked ernest, when buttar returned to him with his report. "of whom do you speak?" asked selby, a biggish and very gentlemanly boy. "of ellis," said buttar. "oh, we are much better without him," answered selby. "there cannot be a doubt that he is not a satisfactory person, and you two fellows lose caste a good deal by associating with him. the idea is that he imposes on you; not that you believe he has been guilty of an act of dishonesty, and still consent to be intimate with him." "an act of dishonesty!" exclaimed ernest, with astonishment. "i cannot believe that." buttar repeated almost the same words. "there can be no doubt about it. i heard the story this winter from a fellow who had been at the same school with him, and whose veracity i cannot doubt. he told me that ellis was always looked upon as a very quiet, rather sawny sort of a fellow, without any harm; that he kept much to himself, and had no intimate friends. he was also always poor, and spent no money in the way other boys were in the habit of doing. "there was another boy at the school who had always a good deal of money, sometimes as much as three or four pounds in his purse at a time. he was a very good sort of fellow, so he was thought, but rather soft. ellis and he became intimate, and were looked upon as great friends, till on one occasion arden, on going to his desk, found that his purse was gone, and, as he declared, with five pounds in it. a hunt was instituted in every direction; the masters were told of the loss, and the boys began to suspect each other. soon it was whispered about that one of the boys was the thief. it was very extraordinary that just at this time ellis appeared to have a good deal of money in his possession. he spent more than he had ever before done. certainly, in two or more instances it was by giving it in charity. he bought also a microscope and some books, which another boy said that he had heard him remark he wished to have, but had not the money to buy them. these of themselves were suspicious circumstances; and many said that they thought ellis must have taken the money. some days afterwards suspicion grew into certainty when, on the master ordering all the boys to get up from their seats, that the school desks might be examined, a purse was found in ellis's, which on being held up was claimed by arden as that which had held his money. ellis appeared to be struck dumb when he heard this. he stammered out that he had that very morning picked up the purse in the road near a hedge, and that he had intended going round to discover whether it belonged to any of the boys at the school. as it was empty, he knew that it would not be of much consequence, and that he had forgotten to make the inquiries he proposed. of course everybody believed this to be a very lame defence; but the master inquired into the matter, and to the surprise of the boys said that he was satisfied, and that ellis had fully accounted to him for the way he had become possessed of the money and the purse. the boys seemed to think that the master was more easily satisfied than he ought to have been, because he did not want to lose a pupil; at all events, ellis was looked upon as a thief, and sent to coventry. this treatment affected his health, and he was soon afterwards removed by his friends from the school. that is all i know about the matter." "i am glad we did not ask him to play football," exclaimed buttar. "the story is a very ugly one. i do not like the look of things." ernest gave a look of reproach at buttar. "i am far from convinced that poor ellis was guilty of the theft imputed to him," he remarked; "knowing him as i do, and as you ought to know him, buttar, he acted on the occasion just as i should have expected him to do. however, while such stories are going about, it is certainly better for his sake and ours that he should not play in any of our games." "certainly," said selby. "if he cannot offer us a proper explanation, i for one should object to play with him. but never mind him at present. it is high time that we should get ready for our game. have you prepared the football, bracebridge? it was your business to do so, or to get it done." "oh, i can do it very well myself," said ernest, "i have two first-rate new ones hanging up in the play-room; they only want refilling. come with me, and we will douse them in the pond." two large footballs, but very flaccid-looking, were brought out, and by tying a stone and a line to them they were both very soon thoroughly soaked. he then took them out, and brought them into the house. first he took one, and undoing the lacing which confined one side, he drew out a flaccid bladder. "this is the sort of football we use here," he said, holding it up to selby. "it cannot be easily rendered unserviceable by thorn, nail, or spike of any sort. if the bladder is injured, its place can be supplied for a few pence, and the leather casing will last for years. this is my blow-pipe," he added, producing a piece of tobacco-pipe. undoing the mouth of the bladder, round which a piece of string was tightly fastened, he inserted his pipe, and very soon filled it with air. before this, however, he had put back the bladder into its case. having completed the filling of the bladder, he tightly laced up the ball so as to completely enclose it. "you see," he observed, "should this get pricked, even while we are playing, i can easily stop up the hole by forming a neck, and tying a piece of thin string round it. buttar, do you take charge of the other ball in case it is wanted. it is high time for us to be on the ground, to see that the goals are properly erected." ernest, buttar, and selby on this hurried off to the park field where the game was to be played. the doctor allowed football to be played, on the understanding that it would immediately be prohibited should one boy intentionally kick another; and two of the masters were required to be present to see that the game was carried on properly. the goals were about a hundred and thirty yards apart. they were formed of two upright poles, eight feet from each other, with a cross-bar to secure them at the top. the aim of the players was to pass the ball through their opponents' goal, and, of course, to prevent it from being passed through their own. ernest could not help feeling proud when he found forty boys ranged under him, many older and bigger than himself. he forgot for the time all about poor ellis as he ran with one of the big footballs in his hand to the ground where the game was to be played, followed by those who had placed themselves under his leadership. lemon and his party were there before him. some of them, it must be owned, rather looked down upon him as a young upstart, and expected an easy victory. lemon, however, when he consented to have him as opponent, knew well that he was one not to be despised, and endeavoured to impress upon his followers the necessity of playing their best. "those youngsters are sharp, active little fellows," he observed. "you must keep your eyes about you, and your legs going, or they will get the better of us, depend on that." ernest, on his part, addressed the boys on his side, and pointed out to them that those with whom they were about to contend were big and strong, and practised players, and that they could only hope to beat them by activity, watchfulness, and the exercise of their utmost skill. these principles of action ernest had learned from his father; they were such as his own mind eagerly grasped, which he brought into practice in his subsequent career, and which were the main cause of his success. lemon and ernest tossed up for the first kick. ernest won. with the ball raised high in his two hands, he walked rapidly into the middle of the ground. the sky was blue, the air keen and cutting; a brilliant glow of exuberant health sat on the cheeks of nearly all the players. a few only, who had begun to fancy themselves men, and to smoke and to drink, and to imitate other vices of lawless and ignorant youths--no longer boys, and yet unworthy of the true manhood they are assuming,-- looked pale. there was a strange mixture of heights and sizes assembled together; big fellows, like lemon, selby, barber; and little ones, like eden, dawson, jones, tomlinson, and others whose names have not hitherto been mentioned. ernest, buttar, bouldon, and gregson came between the two sets as to size, but not far distant from the older ones as to intelligence and the respect in which they were held. bouldon would by himself have been classed differently, but from associating so much with steady first-class boys--first-class as to estimation--by showing that he really wished to do right, he gained a good character among his superiors. "all ready!" sung out ernest; and letting the ball drop, he kicked it with all his might in the direction of lemon's goal. now the opposite party rushed in, and sent it flying back over his head and the heads of several standing behind him; but buttar and gregson had fully expected this, and were prepared accordingly to defend their goal. they met the ball hopping along in full career, and sent it back so far that, before anybody could rush in, ernest had been able to give it an expediting kick, and to send it very close up to his opponent's goal. now there was a general and terrific rush up towards lemon's goal, and his followers found that they had good reason to dread the impetuosity and courage of the smaller boys. ernest had chiefly selected his side from among those who possessed most pluck and endurance. fearless of kicks, overthrows, or crushes, on they dashed at the ball. now and then a big fellow like barber would try and get a kick at it; but immediately he was met by a dozen sharp-moving toes, which struck away so desperately that he could never get a fair kick. for a long time the ball kept moving backwards and forwards near lemon's goal, the attention of all his side being required to prevent it from being kicked through it. several times it rose into the air, but was speedily sent back again; yet no one on ernest's side could manage to send it back over the heads of their opponents. buttar and tom bouldon were always in the midst of the _melee_. more than once bouldon was overthrown, but he always picked himself up, and however much damaged, postponed, as he said, an inspection of his wounds till the game was over. ernest, as in duty bound, had to avoid a _melee_, that when the ball came out of it he might be in a position to direct the movements of his party. gregson never got into one intentionally; but when he did, he showed that he was as steady and fearless as any one; but his tactics were to keep moving about, to be ready to assist his chief, or to take up the ball when it approached the goal. some called him the sluggish player; but lemon's party found it difficult enough to send the ball through the goal when he was to be found anywhere near it. dawson and three or four other big fellows had got the ball between them, and were pushing it forward triumphantly, having completely overwhelmed ernest and his immediate supporters by sheer strength, and were fully expecting to drive it without impediment through the goal, when gregson, who had been standing a little on one side, saw them coming. only little eden and some other small boys were near, but they, one and all, if not for the honour of the game, were ready to risk anything for the sake of bracebridge. gregson called them. they all saw what was required of them. gregson rushed in, fully meeting the ball; with a swinging leg, he gave it a lifting kick, and sent it right over the heads of his opponents. the little fellows rushed in behind them, and began to kick on the ball. this compelled the big fellows once more to separate, and again to retrograde so as to front it. gregson, eden, and their companions threw themselves impetuously on it. one after the other went over it, till the ball was hidden under a heap of boys. barber, and some others, dared not kick, or they would have done so; and while they were lifting up their opponents to get once more at the ball, ernest, buttar, bouldon, and others came up to the rescue, and once more the ball was banded backwards and forwards as furiously as ever. for long the fortune of the day appeared as doubtful as ever. i have observed that big boys never play so well, when opposed to others evidently smaller, than themselves, as they do when their antagonists are of the same age and strength as they are. this, perhaps, was one of the secrets of ernest's success in all the matches he played. he chose his side for cleverness, and activity, and daring, and, what was more, they all trusted in him, and were ready to do anything he ordered. every now and then there was a loud shout and a tremendous rush, and finally the ball would come out of the _melee_ and, left in the power of a few trusted players, could be seen flying backwards and forwards between them, each side watching for a favourable opportunity to drive it at once home to the goal. now, at length, ernest has got it. it was sent to the extreme right of the players. this was done by a dodge of gregson's. he was invaluable for any movement of the sort, and staunch as steel. onward ernest kicks the ball; his side rush in to prevent the approach of their opponents, who have mostly been led off to the ground. a few only are fully aware of what is about to occur. a few rush on desperately to stop the progress of the ball; but the young ones are too energetic and too quick for them. they urge it on; the rest stand for an instant aside, to let ernest give a last kick. it is a grand effort of strength and skill, and the ball flies through the goal, amid the shouts of all his side, echoed by the applause of the spectators. lemon and many of his supporters took their defeat very good-naturedly, and with sincerity congratulated ernest and his side on their success. a few of the less amiably disposed were somewhat sulky, especially among those of his own size; so was barber, who was afraid that he should lose the influence he wished to obtain from being beaten by the younger boys. this was only one of several games. ernest was not always successful; twice his side were beat thoroughly, but they made up for it afterwards, and in the end won more games than the bigger boys, much to the surprise of the latter, who could not tell how it had occurred. some, like barber, said that there must have been some underhand play, and abused lemon as the cause of their defeat. lemon at last heard some of their remarks. "if big fellows will smoke, and booze, and over-eat themselves, how can they expect to be as active and wide-awake as little fellows, who have not begun such follies?" he remarked quietly. "it matters little, let me assure them, what such fellows say of me." both ernest and buttar had thought a good deal about the matter of ellis. after a lengthened consultation, when their hearts relented towards him, they resolved to press him once more to join their games; but he resolutely refused. "no," he replied. "you have believed me guilty, or you would not have treated me coldly. i do not blame you--far from it. if you heard the story about me, as i know it has been repeated, you could not have done otherwise, unless you had thought right to believe my word before that of others. should the time ever come when i can, to your satisfaction, prove my innocence, we will then be on the same terms as before." "oh, but we do believe you innocent, ellis," said ernest. "not a shadow of doubt remains on my mind that you are so, and i am sure buttar thinks as i do." "very well," answered ellis, with unusual coldness; "i rejoice to hear it. i have taken my resolution. i cannot bear fluctuations of friendship. if i am ever able to prove my innocence, as i ought to have endeavoured to prove it long ago, i trust that we shall stand on the same footing that we did before." nothing any of his friends could say after this altered the resolution ellis had formed of not playing in any of the games with the other boys, or of associating on intimate terms with any of them. still he himself was far from idle in his play-hours. he was a constant exerciser on the gymnastic poles, and never failed to practise, when he could, both with the foils and broadsword. he also took lessons regularly in dancing and drilling, and seemed anxious to perfect himself in all athletic exercises. however coldly others had treated ellis, there was one person who ever turned a deaf ear to the stories told of him, and never for a moment altered his conduct towards him. that was monsieur malin. from the time ellis had begun to learn french of him he had become his firm friend. some believed that ellis had confided to him the circumstances of his past history; but the less generous could not understand how he had managed to secure the regard of the french master, and fancied that he had invented some tale to gain his sympathy. thus the half-year drew on; the cold weather at last passed away. spring commenced, the flowers bloomed, the leaves came out on the trees, the birds began to sing, the fish to dart and leap out of the water. ernest and buttar were reminded of a visit they promised, long, long before, to pay to john hodge. they agreed to make it a fishing expedition, and to try their luck in the wide stream they had crossed on that day memorable for their hare hunt. they invited gregson to accompany them. they wished to ask ellis, but the moment school was over he had disappeared, and had not even waited for dinner. to absent himself he must have obtained leave from the doctor; so they set off without him. they were very merry. gregson was excessively amusing, with his quaint anecdotes about animal life and the adventures which had happened to him. "i would rather go elephant and lion hunting for a year than become prime minister of england," he observed, laughing. "nothing could compensate me for not being allowed to live in the country,--the largest fortune would not, had i to spend it in london; and i should prefer australia or new zealand, or the wilds of the cape colony, or natal, or the backwoods of canada. still i am a briton, and wherever i might go i should like to live under the flag of old england." ernest and buttar echoed the last sentiment. "but," said ernest, "for my part i should not wish to live without the society of my equals in knowledge and intelligence. in my opinion, the interchange of ideas and information is one of the charms of existence. in that way we get, in the most agreeable manner, at the pith and marrow of books, at the opinions of other people, and at what is going forward in the world: don't you think so, buttar?" buttar, though a clever fellow, had not as yet thought much about the matter. he remarked, however, that if he could get information by talking, or rather by hearing others talk, that it would be much pleasanter often than having to pore over books. but that was not what ernest meant. "ah, but there must be a fair exchange of ideas and information, to make social intercourse as pleasant as it is capable of being. you must give as much as you take." "well, i never before thought of that," remarked gregson. "i have never yet fallen in with people willing to talk of my favourite subjects. perhaps if i was to meet them i should enjoy their conversation as much as you suppose you would those of literary characters or other well-informed persons." "oh, i am not alluding to literary characters, as you call them," said ernest. "i mean well-informed, intelligent, unprejudiced persons; or, what would be still more agreeable, would be to collect people who have devoted themselves to different branches of science, and who are yet fully capable of understanding each other's peculiar subjects." so the schoolboys talked on as they walked briskly towards the scene they proposed for their sport. "but do not let us forget hodge," said ernest. "hereabouts he dwells, i believe. let us inquire at this cottage." an old woman came forth from the door where they knocked, and told them that john hodge lived better nor a quarter of a mile down the road, and he, poor man, was sure to be at home, for he had met with an accident, and, she had heard say, was very ill, and had been out of work for many a long day. they thanked her and hurried on. "ought we to go and trouble him?" asked buttar. "certainly, he may want assistance," was ernest's thoughtful reply. a little child pointed to a neat cottage door. that was where john hodge lived. they knocked, and were told to come in. they started back with surprise on seeing ellis seated on a chair, reading earnestly to the man they had come to see, while a woman stood by, with her apron to her eyes, and five small children were playing about the humble brick-floored room. how changed was poor hodge! thin and pale in the extreme, with an expression of care on his countenance, he sat propped up in an old oak chair. it was evident that he could not move, or indeed breathe, without pain. ellis was so absorbed in his occupation that he did not perceive at first the entrance of his schoolfellows. they stopped at the threshold, unwilling to interrupt him. he was reading the bible, and having read some verses he began to explain their meaning. at last he finished. "sit down, young gentlemen, sit down, pray," said mrs hodge, offering them some three-legged stools, which she wiped mechanically with her apron. her words made ellis look up. the colour came into his cheeks when he saw the new-comers. they nodded kindly to him, and then explained that they had come in consequence of an invitation they had received long ago, and that they were sorry to find their host in so bad a state. john hodge said that he recollected them, that he was glad to see them, but he made no complaint, or spoke even of the cause of his illness. after they had sat and talked a short time, ellis got up to go away; buttar and gregson accompanied him, but ernest lingered behind, and taking out the contents of his purse, offered it to the dame. "thank ye kindly, sir," she replied, motioning him to keep it; "but that young gentleman has given us all we want for some time. he says he gets it from his friends; that we are not robbing him; and we couldn't be taking it from you or from any one, unless we wanted it very badly. ah, sir, if ever there was an angel on earth he is one; of that i'm certain." "well, well, when you do want you mustn't mind taking it from me. i owe your husband some money as it is," answered ernest, putting out his hand to the poor woman, and then to hodge. he took up the children, and gave a kiss to a little rosy boy, who smiled in his face, and then saying he would come back soon, turned after his companions. he felt much gratified at hearing such an account of ellis. at once an idea struck him. in the story selby had told him about ellis, it appeared that one of the causes of suspicion against him was his being possessed of a considerable sum of money. might not that have been given to him for the purpose of being bestowed in charity, as he undoubtedly had lately been furnished with funds for the same object? ernest, though not over precipitate usually, at once jumped at this conclusion. it was very delightful to be able to think so, and the conviction that he had wronged ellis in his thoughts caused him to be doubly anxious to make ample amends without delay, and this added considerably to the warmth of his manner when he overtook him. he pressed him, as buttar and gregson had been doing, to accompany them on their fishing excursion. at length he said that he should like to go, but pleaded want of rod and fishing-tackle. gregson laughed. "oh, i can supply you with all you require," he observed. "my rod you can have, and i can replace it with one to suit my purpose in ten minutes. i have two spare tops, and tackle enough to fit out a dozen fishermen. come along, you have no excuse." ellis agreed, and with light steps the party proceeded towards the broad stream they had fixed on. the day was warm and slightly overcast, and the water was not too clear, so that they had a fair prospect of success. they were not disappointed. never before had they caught so many fish. they kept pulling them up one after the other. many were very fine trout. ellis had never caught such in his life before. they all agreed that fishing was one of the most delightful of occupations. their hearts as they walked homewards opened more than ever towards each other. ernest at last spoke out:-- "ellis, my dear fellow, we have been doing you great wrong,--that is, buttar and i,--i don't think gregson has. we were certain that you were very sorry, and were quite changed, but we thought you might have been guilty of the thing they talked about; now we are certain you were not. the money you were known to possess was given you for a good object--to bestow in charity. one proof of your guilt falls to the ground." "oh, bracebridge, i am glad to hear you say so," answered ellis. "you are right. i promised not to say from whom i received it, and so i could not. no one accused me to my face. the master knew that i was innocent. what could i do? i now feel sure that all will turn up right in the end. i am so happy." chapter fifteen. the summer holidays--a pic-nic and its consequences. an event which made us all very sad took place at the end of that half-year. i remember it as well as if it were yesterday. it was the departure from the school of monsieur malin; yet for his sake we ought not to have been sorry. he was going to quit a position which was undoubtedly very irksome to a gentleman, and to return to la belle france to take possession of a property which had unexpectedly been left him. he announced the fact to each of the classes as they came up to him during the morning, and all heard the information with signs of evident sorrow. ellis burst into tears. "going away, monsieur malin; you, my kindest friend, going!" he exclaimed, and his whole look and manner showed that he had an affectionate and grateful heart. the feeling was infectious. a number of the little fellows, who did not even learn french, and had very little to do with monsieur malin, cried. some, however, had reason to be sorry at his going away, for often had his watchful eye saved them from being bullied by the big boys; they, too, felt that they were about to lose a friend and protector. why, it may well be asked, should the french master have gained so much more influence among the boys, and be so much more generally liked than any of the english masters? it was simply because he exhibited so much more sympathy for others. he made himself one of them. it was not that he now and then played a grand game of cricket with them, but that he entered into all their minor sports and amusements. he could show them how to make models of all sorts; he manufactured carriages with cardboard, or cut out boats, or carved animals in wood, or made little grottoes with shells; indeed it is impossible to describe all the ingenious things he could do, and how kindly and patiently he taught the boys how to do them. it made some of the english masters quite jealous when they observed the sorrow which monsieur malin's departure caused among the boys. the doctor remarked upon it, and said that it was the best compliment any master could desire to have paid him, and he trusted that whoever succeeded him might as richly deserve it. "bracebridge, i wonder that you are not more sorry than you appear to be at monsieur malin's going," observed buttar, the day that the event was announced; "i thought that you were always one of his greatest favourites." "i believe that there are no fellows like him better than i do," answered ernest; "i am very, very sorry, for my own sake, that he is going; but really, when we come to consider that he is going away from the bother, and trouble, and noise of a school, to go and live on a beautiful property of his own, in a delightful climate like that of france, i cannot but be truly glad to hear of his good fortune. he has been telling me all about the place, and how happy his mother and sister will be to go and live with him; and he has invited me, during some holidays, or when i leave school, to go and pay him a visit; and when i told him that i was afraid he would forget me, he assured me that he would not. really he is a kind-hearted, good-natured fellow, and i do feel excessively happy at his good fortune." buttar agreed that ernest saw the matter in its true light, and so did ellis, and then they bethought them how they could show him their regard. unfortunately, as it was the end of the half, none of them had any store of pocket-money remaining; so one proposed offering him a penknife, and another a pocket-comb, and a third an inkstand; indeed, there was no end of the number of small gifts which monsieur malin had pressed upon him. he was in a dilemma about the matter. "you see, my dear young friends, that i do not like to refuse, and i do not like to deprive you of these things; yet i am truly grateful to you for this mark of your regard. what i will do is this; i will make a list of your names, and of all the things you desire to give me. you shall keep the articles, all of which you can use, but i could not; and i will keep the list, and when i look at it, i shall be fully reminded of you all, of your generosity, and of your kindly regard towards me." monsieur malin had to go away a week or so before the school broke up. just about that time ernest wrote home, giving an account of the story he had heard about ellis, of the injustice that he felt that he himself had done him, of the strong evidence he had discovered in his favour, and consequently of his wish to make him all the amends in his power. by return of post he received a letter from his father, enclosing one to ellis, warmly inviting him to spend a portion of his holidays at oakland ellis could not fail to be gratified, as were his parents, who gave him leave to accept the invitation. buttar's family were spending the summer in the neighbourhood; and curiously enough, tom bouldon and gregson had been invited to visit some friends living not far off. the schoolfellows thus found themselves near together during the early part of the summer holidays. no long time passed before they all met. how they did talk of fishing expeditions, of cricket-matches, of boating, of pic-nics, of riding, of archery meetings, of bathing, of sports of all sorts, in the water and out of the water, on sea and on land! ellis talked a great deal of yachting also, but they were too far from the sea to have any hopes of indulging in the amusement. he was much more at home in a boat than on horseback, for riding was not an accomplishment which he had enjoyed any opportunity of practising. one of the first amusements which mrs bracebridge had arranged for her young guest, and the other friends of her son, was a pic-nic to barton forest, a large and picturesque wood in the neighbourhood. there were long open glades, and green shady walks, through which the deer alone were in general wont to pass, except on such an occasion as that at present in contemplation, or when an adventurous couple strayed into its retired precincts. i ought to have spoken of the cordial way in which ellis was received, not only by mr bracebridge, but by mrs bracebridge and all the family, and the wish they exhibited of placing him at his ease, and making him quite at home. he showed how much he valued their kindness by looking far more lively and happy than he had done for a long time. the day of the proposed pic-nic broke bright and fair, with every prospect of the continuance of fine weather. several families joined in it from far and near, and all sorts of vehicles were put in requisition: barouches, and pony carriages, and gigs, and even carts and waggons. the merriest, and certainly the most noisy party, went in a long spring waggon, and to their charge were entrusted several hampers, containing part of the provender for the rural feast. ellis, bouldon, buttar, and others were of this party. ernest, with his brother charles, rode, and frequently came up alongside to have a talk with their friends. the boys gave way heartily to the excitement of the scene; they laughed they sang, they shouted to their heart's content--no one hindering them. never, perhaps, have a merrier party ever collected in a waggon. tom bouldon, and one or two others, only regretted that they had not pea-shooters with them, as he said, to pepper the passengers in their progress, but ellis cried out against this. "no, no!" he exclaimed; "it may, or may not, be all very well on a high road, where people expect such things when they see a parcel of schoolboys together, and if they don't like it, will not stand on ceremony about heaving stones in return; but in a country district they take us for young gentlemen, and would never dream of throwing anything at us in return. the cottagers would only wonder what had come over us--perhaps would think us gone mad; at all events it would be very cowardly to attack them." buttar agreed with ellis, and they soon won over the rest to their view of the case. they, however, found plenty to amuse them as they drove along. the early days of the holidays are generally very jolly days-- all the fun is to come; the amusements in store are almost uncountable; and though they may have been disappointed during a former summer, they are sure, so they think, not to be this. if they are, they will make amends for it next year. at last the pic-nickers reached the ground. carriages drove up, and ladies and gentlemen, the fathers and mothers, and elder brothers and sisters of the schoolboys. some ladies and gentlemen came on horseback and ponyback, and several even, besides the boys, in waggons, while the provisions and servants arrived in spring-carts and dog-carts, and altogether there was a very vast assemblage. it was arranged that, having walked about a little, and seen some of the views which the wood afforded, and some old ruins within its borders, the party should dine, and then that various sports should take place, pony races, archery, quoits, nine-pins, skittles, throw-sticks or batons, single-stick; indeed, more than i can well remember; while swings were hung up between the trees, and two or three long planks had been placed on some felled trees, to serve as see-saws, so that all ranks and ages could find amusement. never were better arrangements made. people may wander the world around and not find more pleasing, heart-enlivening scenery than england affords--scenery more rich or full of fertile spots, or which should make its inhabitants grateful to heaven for having placed them in such a land. there were fields already waving with corn, and bright green meadows full of fine cattle, some grazing, others standing under trees chewing the cud, or in shallow bends of the river, or in reedy ponds; there were sheep scattered thickly over sunny hills, and still further off downs; and there were copses of hazel, and alder, and willow, and woods of beech, and oak, and birch, and tall elms dividing fields and orchards innumerable, among which peeped many a white-washed cottage; and here and there were pretty hamlets, with their village green or common; there was a bright sparkling stream, swelling as it advanced into the dimensions of a river, and high hills, and valleys, and glens branching off in all directions. "a fair and truly attractive scene," said ellis, turning to ernest, who cordially agreed with him as they gazed at it together. a gentleman who stood by turned round and watched the countenance of the speaker. "that is not a common boy, i am certain," he observed to a friend. "he is capable of doing much in the world, and i suspect will do it." ellis could not help hearing the last remark, and it gave him great encouragement. now came the time to prepare for the rural banquet. it was great fun unpacking the hampers, and carrying their contents to the tablecloths which had been spread on the grass. what number of chicken-pies, and veal-pies, and rounds of beef, and hams and tongues, and cold chickens and veal, and fruit-tarts and pies, and cakes of all shapes and sorts, and what heaps of fruit, strawberries and gooseberries, and currants and raspberries! indeed there was no lack of anything; and what was most wonderful, nothing was forgotten, and there was a fair proportion of each joint or dish. i have been at a pic-nic where, from want of a preconcerted plan, everybody brought veal-pies, or chicken-pies, or hams, and there was no bread, or salt, or mustard. somebody had a french horn or cornopean, and at its sound people came trotting pretty quickly in from all directions through the woodland glades and up the avenues leading from the ruins, or bypaths coming from the side of the stream. the long drive and the exercise they had since taken had given them good appetites, and none lingered behind. the boys, especially, were in good time, and in the course of a few minutes everybody was seated in every possible attitude convenient for carrying food down their throats. not that anybody sat quiet many minutes together. somebody was always jumping up to help somebody else, or to go in search of some tongue for their chicken, or some chicken for their tongue, or for a glass of ale or wine, or for a piece of bread, or for some mustard or salt; indeed it seemed wonderful how many things were wanted to make out a dinner which are procured with so much ease in a dining-room, as things of course, that no one ever thinks about them. in this way the first course lasted a long time. just at the end of it the servants brought some dishes of hot potatoes, which had been cooked gipsy fashion, and then several people began again for the sake of eating them. the tarts and fruit-pies were very good, but the juice of some had run out, and one or two had been tumbled into, and tom bouldon, in jumping across the tablecloth, had stepped exactly into the middle of one of them, splashing his trousers all over with currant juice, and considerably damaging the pie itself. it was in consequence the last consumed, but a facetious gentleman helped it out to the people who sat at the further end of the tablecloths, and knew nothing of the catastrophe. then there was champagne, which some of the boys in their innocence called very good gooseberry wine, greatly to the disgust of the gentleman who brought it: the truth being, however, that they liked gooseberry wine just as much as the finest champagne to be procured. healths were drunk, and toasts were given, and sentiments and speeches were made, which, if not very witty, caused a good deal of merriment and laughter; and at last the dinner part of the pic-nic came to a conclusion. then, of course, the servants had to dine, which they did at a little distance from the spot their masters had chosen, and seemed to enjoy the fun, for they also drank toasts in ale, made speeches, and laughed heartily at all their jokes. the ladies and gentlemen, meantime, walked about, or sat down and admired the scenery, and the boys got ready for their games. targets had already been erected. after the grown-up people began to get tired of looking at the views, the gentlemen marked off the distance, and the ladies taking their bows, shooting began. ernest, buttar, and some of the bigger boys joined them, but they soon voted it very slow work, and bouldon proposed taking a roving expedition. "we have not much time, so let us be off at once," said ernest. "nine shall be the game. are you all provided with blunt-headed arrows? that is right. twelve a-piece we should have. let us take half-an-hour's turn round the wood, and then be back for the races. by that time the servants will have the dinner things cleared away and the ponies saddled for racing." away went the party whom ernest had enlisted right merrily. first they fixed on an old oak-tree for their butt, and at a word given by buttar, who was chosen leader, every one shot from the spot where they were standing. some shafts hit the tree, others just glanced off, and others flew altogether wide of it. buttar had his note-book out, and the distance each shaft had fallen from the tree was measured by the length of the bows, every boy measuring with his own, and noted in the book. they again ran on. "halt!" said buttar. "that elm, the third from the gate, shall be our target. shoot!" every one shot his best, but ernest and buttar only hit; bouldon's arrow glanced off; no one else struck the tree. the distances being measured and noted, on again they went. a white post at a considerable distance was next fixed on as the mark. ellis hit it, ernest went near, and the shafts of the rest of the party flew wide or short of it. "ah, i calculated the range," observed ellis. "i shot my arrow with a considerable curve, for i saw that the mark was further than my bow could send it at point-blank range." "why, ellis, you will make a good artillery officer," said buttar, laughing. "whenever we shoot with sides, i shall know who to choose. i had no idea you were a scientific archer." "i very seldom have shot before, but directly i got a bow i began to study the subject, and to learn all that has been said about it," answered ellis. "i always read what i can about it when i begin anything which is new to me." the half-hour spent in roving passed very quickly away. those who had never shot before in that way agreed that it was far more amusing than shooting at a target, and that they found they learned to measure distances much better in the former than in the latter way. when they got back they found a variety of other sports going on. some of their friends were playing quoits. it is a capital game for exercising the arms. two iron pins or hobs were stuck in the ground, about eighteen yards apart. quoits, as everybody ought to know, were derived from the ancient game of discus. they are circular plates of iron, with a hole in the centre, one side being flat and the other rounded. the game is played often with sides. the aim of each player is to pitch his quoit on the hob, or, if he cannot do that, as near it as possible, the parties throwing from one hob to another. charles bracebridge and lemon were playing on opposite sides when the archers came up. first charles threw. one quoit was close to the hob, and the other quoits he sent were within a few inches of it, and of each other. then lemon threw. his first quoit was just outside charles', but nearer than any of his other quoits, but his other quoits fell outside the rest. thus both only counted one. had a second quoit of lemon's fallen close to charles' first, lemon would have counted two, though his other quoits might have fallen to a greater distance. the nearest, it will be understood, count and cut out all outside them. the servants were amusing themselves during the interval with skittles and nine-pins, so that everybody of the party, high and low, old and young, were engaged; and in that i consider consists the chief zest of a pic-nic of the sort. sometimes a pic-nic may take place at a spot of peculiar interest, where the party may find abundant matter of amusement without games of any sort; or in other instances people merely meet in a pretty spot, to dine in a pleasant unrestrained way in the open air, and generally manage to become better and more quickly acquainted than they can at a formal dinner-party. the boys, however, were most interested in the proposed pony races, and a general cry of "the race!--the race!--the race!" rose among them. it was echoed by others, both ladies and gentlemen, and all the ponies, and horses, and, we may say, four-legged animals the party could muster, were brought forth. as the race was entirely impromptu, no arrangements had before been made. it was first settled that everything was to run. the larger riding-horses were to have a longer distance to run, and were not to start so soon as the others; the carriage-horses came next, then the ponies, then the cart-horses, and lastly the donkeys. one very big, stout gentleman, who pleaded that he was not fit to be a jockey, and that his horse would run away with a lighter weight on him, undertook to clear the course. that was settled. then came the question as to who were to be the riders. "all the boys, except a few of the little ones," cried a sporting gentleman. "of course they can all ride. come up, youngsters. mount-- mount! let us see what you can do. you must have your proper colours. we can find scarfs and handkerchiefs enough to fasten round your caps." no one liked to say that he could not ride. much less did ellis, though he had only mounted a quiet pony's back a few times in his life: still he thought that he could manage to stick on for a short distance, and was unwilling to confess how little experience he had had. "i congratulate you, ellis," said ernest, nodding to him when he saw him mounted. "you seem to have got hold of a clever little animal. he'll go, depend on that. if i had not my own little mousey to ride, i should like to have had that pony. he belongs to mr seagrave, does he? oh! he always has good animals. if you do not win, you'll be in one of the first, i'm pretty certain of that." so ernest ran on. buttar came up and congratulated ellis in the same way, and gave him a hint or two how to sit and manage his steed, which he saw that he wanted. "ah, ah, capital, capital!" exclaimed tom bouldon, as he rode up on a big carriage-horse. "really, ellis, you are to be envied. that is just the little beast i should like to have had. how i am ever to make my fellow go along i don't know. you won't change, will you?" ellis laughed. he certainly did not wish to change. at the same time, had it not been for the observations of his friends, he felt that it would have been wise not to have ridden the race at all. instead of a bell, a horn was used to guide the proceedings. the horn sounded, and the steward of the course requested the spectators to arrange themselves on either side of a wide, open glade, at the further end of which there was a clump of trees. round this clump the racers were to go, and to come back to a tree near where the party had dined, which was to represent the winning-post. the next thing was to place the racers at their proper distances. all were at last arranged. ernest, buttar, and bouldon, who could ride well, were in high glee, and it must be confessed that they thought very little about poor ellis. the gigantic steward of the course having ridden over it, to see that all was clear, retired on one side, and taking his horn, blew a loud blast; that was for the donkeys to start. away they went, kicking up their heels, but making good progress. two blasts started the cart-horses, three the carriage-horses, four the ponies. they, of course, afforded the chief amusement. whips and heels were as busy in urging them on as if the safety of a kingdom depended on their success. the riding-horses came last. the owners had entered them more for the sake of increasing their numbers than for any wish to beat the rest, which they believed they could easily do. away, away they all went; if not as fleet as the racers at the derby, affording far more amusement, and as much excitement, in a much more innocent way. the pony on which ellis was mounted did not belie the good opinion ernest and the rest had formed of him. as soon as the horn, the signal of the ponies to start, was sounded, off he set, and very soon distanced all, except ernest's and buttar's steeds, which kept up close behind him. "bravo," shouted ernest, delighted at his friend's success. "keep him up to it, and you'll win the prize. i knew you'd ride well when you tried." ernest was, however, not quite right in his conjectures. ellis stuck on very well, but as to guiding the pony, he had no notion of it. as long, however, as the donkeys, and cart and carriage-horses, were before them, he went very well, but they were caught up before they reached the clump of trees round which they were to turn. they reached the clump, but ellis, to his friend's dismay, shot past it. the pony's home lay in that direction, and seeing a long green glade right before him, he got his bit between his teeth, and away he went, scampering off as hard as he could lay his feet to the soft springy grass. ellis held on with all his might. he in vain tried to turn the pony's head. he felt that he was run away with, and had lost all control over the animal. ernest saw the pony bolt. at first he was inclined to laugh. then he recollected with dismay that there was a very steep hill just outside the wood, and a little beyond it a deep chalk-pit, with precipitous sides, down which he feared that the pony, if it became alarmed by anything, might in its excitement plunge. how to stop ellis was the question! to follow him he knew would only increase the speed of the pony. there was, he remembered, a short cut to the precipice through a green narrow path to the right. without a moment's hesitation he galloped down it. buttar, divining his object, followed. the rest, not seeing where they had gone, fancied that they had turned the clump, and continued the race. mousey, ernest's pony, behaved magnificently. on he galloped, as if he knew that a matter of importance depended on his speed. some boys running out of the wood fancied that he was running away, and, clapping their hands, tried to turn him aside, but he heeded them not. the wood was at length cleared. ernest looked up the road to his left, in the hopes of seeing ellis coming along it, but he was afraid that he had already passed. on the ground were the marks of hoofs, which looked, he thought, very like those made by a pony at full speed; so he and buttar galloped along the road they thought he must have taken. down the steep hill they went at full speed, keeping a tight rein, however, on the mouths of their little steeds. they thought they made out poor ellis in the distance. "he sticks on bravely, at all events," cried ernest. "he's a fellow to be proud of as a friend. oh! he must not come to harm." away they went. they thought that they were too far off to frighten ellis's pony, and as ernest knew the country well, he hoped that they might still overtake him by cutting across some fields. the gate leading into them was shut, so they knew that ellis had not gone that way. a boy was sitting whistling on a stile hard by. ernest asked him if he had seen a young gentleman on a pony going fast along the road. he nodded, made a sign that he was going very fast indeed, but showed that it had never entered his head to try to stop the pony. ernest forced open the gate without waiting for the lout to do so, and they galloped through and along over the turf. there were two or three slight hedges, but they forced their way through them. the road, after winding considerably, crossed directly before the path they were taking. they heard a horse's hoofs come clattering along the hard road. they were just in time to be too late to meet ellis. he passed them a moment before they could open the gate. his cap had fallen off; his hair was streaming wildly, and he was holding on by the mane with one hand, though he still tugged at the rein with the other. he saw them. he did not shout or cry for help, but his eye showed that he understood their object. now was the most dangerous time. they were approaching the chalk-pit. if they followed too close they might frighten the pony, and produce the catastrophe they were anxious to avert. with great presence of mind they pulled suddenly up, and ernest believed that their so doing had the effect of decreasing the speed of the runaway pony. they then trotted slowly on, till they trusted that ellis had passed the point of extreme danger. once more they put their ponies to their full speed. they almost dreaded to approach the spot, lest what they feared might have occurred. ernest rode close to the brink of the pit. to his joy, there was no sign of the pony having gone near it, and they thought that they saw him in the distance. on they pushed after him. ellis himself, when he found that he was run away with, determined to do his best to stick on, hoping that by going up some hill or other the pony might be brought up. he forgot how high the forest was situated, and that it was chiefly downhill the pony would have to go. he did stick on, and bravely too, but very frequently he thought it would be in vain, and that he must be thrown off. he felt happier when he saw the attempts made by his friends to overtake him, even though they failed to accomplish their object. at last ernest despaired of catching the runaway, when he saw him at the commencement of a long straight road, with no short cut to it, by which he could hope to get ahead of ellis. still he and buttar pursued. ellis went on, how many miles he could not possibly tell; he thought a great number. he was getting very weary; his knees ached; so did his shoulders. the road was picturesque, overhanging with trees. there were houses ahead--a village, he thought. a boy in a field heard the pony coming along the road. he had on a white pinafore. as he jumped over the gate, it fluttered in the pony's face: that made him start, and poor ellis was thrown with considerable violence against some palings on the opposite side of the road. his foot remained in the stirrup. on he was dragged, when a gentleman, hearing the cry of the little boy with the pinafore, came to the gate at the moment the pony was passing, and caught his head. the little country-lad came to assist, and held the pony while the gentleman disengaged ellis's foot, and carried him into his cottage, which stood near the road. not long after, ernest and buttar rode by. "are you companions of a young gentleman whose pony ran away just now?" asked a voice from the shrubbery. they said yes, and were requested to come in. "he is not materially injured," said a lady, who had spoken to them as they dismounted. "my husband has gone off, however, for a surgeon, a clever man, who lives near, and my son is sitting by him while i came out to watch for you. his great anxiety was that you should not miss him. now we will go in." they found ellis already in bed. he complained of a great pain in the neck, and shoulder, and head, and the lady seemed to fear that he might have dislocated his shoulder, and received a concussion of the brain, and injured his spine. ellis, however, seemed not to be alarmed about himself, and only expressed his regret that he was giving so much trouble. after a little time the surgeon came, and pronounced that no bones were either dislocated or broken, though the patient had been terribly shaken, and ought not to be moved, but said that he thought that in a day or two he would be all to rights. the gentleman and lady, who said that their names were arden, begged ernest and buttar to remain with their friend; but at last it was arranged that buttar should ride back, to announce what had become of the other two, and that ernest should remain to help to look after ellis. in the evening, when ellis went to sleep, the rest of the party, with the exception of mr and mrs arden's son, who sat watching by his side, were in the drawing-room. "you are not a stranger to us," said mrs arden to ernest. "we have the pleasure of knowing your family; and, if i mistake not, my son and your companion are old friends. my son thought so when he saw him, but was afraid to ask, lest he should agitate him. the meeting is most fortunate. my son, who was at school with him, has long been wishing to find him, but he could not discover his address. he was the means of causing a most undeserved suspicion to be cast on your friend's character, though he had the satisfaction of knowing that his master fully exonerated him. it must be acknowledged that there were suspicious circumstances against edward ellis, but my son felt sure that he was altogether incapable of the act imputed to him." mrs arden then told ernest all the circumstances which he had already heard from selby. "now comes the part of the story most grievous to my son. many months afterwards, he discovered the money he had lost in the secret drawer of his desk, where he put it that he might carry some silver in his purse. the silver he spent, and he has no doubt that he dropped the purse when pulling out his knife and some string from his pocket, exactly at the place where it was found." ernest was overjoyed at hearing this. "i am certain edward ellis would consent gladly to be run away with a hundred times, and have his collar-bone broken each time, for the sake of hearing this," he exclaimed, warmly. after a time henry arden came down, and expressed his sorrow at his carelessness, and earnest wish to make all the amends in his power; and ernest told him that the best amends he could make would be to come to school, and thoroughly to exculpate ellis by telling the whole story. this he promised to do, and when mr and mrs arden heard an account of the school, they declared their intention of sending their son to remain there permanently. i need not describe the heartfelt satisfaction of ellis, when he got better, at meeting his old school-fellow, and hearing from him the explanation of the mysterious circumstance which had so long really embittered his existence. those were truly happy holidays, and he looked forward eagerly to the time when he might return to school, and lift up his head among his companions without a sense of shame, or the slightest slur attached to his name. chapter sixteen. eton and its amusements. edward ellis felt very differently to what he had ever before done when he returned to grafton hall. he was one of the first. his particular friends had not come back, but the other boys, not knowing what had happened to him, could not help remarking the change. he walked with a firmer step, he held his head more erect, and seemed altogether a changed being; yet he was at the same time the like good-tempered, kind, gentle, generous-minded fellow he had always been. in a few days the whole school were collected, and ernest, and buttar, and bouldon and others welcomed him with even more than their usual cordiality. a new boy also had arrived,--it was said, indeed, several had come, for the school was rapidly increasing; they had been seen and judged of, but this one had not made his appearance. at last it was known that he was an old school-fellow of barber's and ellis's. the morning after his arrival he entered the school-room, holding by the hand of the doctor, who led him up to his desk. "silence, boys," said the doctor; "i have to introduce to you a new pupil of mine, but before he takes his place in the school he has made it an especial request that he may endeavour to make amends for a great wrong he was unintentionally the cause of inflicting on one who has for some time been your school-fellow--edward ellis. he will now speak for himself." on this henry arden, in a clear distinct voice, repeated the account i have already given of the cause which led to the suspicion that ellis had stolen his purse; blaming himself, at the same time, for his own neglect and stupidity. "since then i find," he added, "that the money of which he was possessed was entrusted to him by a wealthy relative, who had formed the highest possible opinion of his integrity and judgment, that he might distribute it as he thought fit among objects of charity. from henceforth i hope that you will all think as highly of edward ellis as those who know him best do. three cheers for edward ellis!" three cheers were given, the doctor leading, and three hearty cheers they were, such as the doctor delighted to hear his boys give on fit occasions. ellis tried to get up and speak, but his heart was far too full. after two or three brave attempts he was obliged to sit down. "bracebridge," he said, "do you get up and tell them all i feel. you know." ernest got up, and made a very fitting speech for his friend, which was loudly applauded, and then three cheers were given for ernest, as the "favourite of the school." ernest himself was somewhat taken aback at this, but he was very well pleased, and replied in a way which gained him yet further applause. from this time ellis made still more rapid progress than before, and many people thought him not much inferior in talent to ernest bracebridge. he got up several steps, one after the other, but his success did not make him less humble than he had ever been. out of doors, he made as great progress in his amusements. cricket was now in, and in that finest and most interesting of english manly games he soon gained considerable proficiency. he used to play, and then only occasionally, with two or three small boys at single wicket; now he entered boldly into the game, and played whenever he could. ernest, who was becoming one of the best players in the school, always got him on his side when he could. soon after the commencement of the half there was to be a game between the six best players in ernest's class and five others from any class except the highest, whom they might choose on one side, and five of the second class and six others from any other class below them. no school in england could boast of a better cricket-field than did that of grafton hall. it was, too, a lovely day when that game was played, and there were a good many spectators. ernest and ellis, buttar, bouldon, and two others of their class, together with several good players from other classes, formed their side. they were all resolved to play their best, and to fear nothing. they had the first innings. "now, ellis," said ernest, "you remember our first game at rounders. you thought you could do nothing with that, but you tried, and did as well as anybody. so you can with cricket. you have had fair practice, you know the principles, and you have no vices to overcome." "i'll do my best, depend on that," answered ellis, resolving to exert himself to the utmost. he had thought over and thoroughly studied the principles of the game, and as his eye was specially correct, he played far better than many who had infinitely more practice. to make a good cricketer, a person must have physical powers for it; he must study the principles of the game; why he should stand in certain positions, and why his bat should be kept in a particular way; and also he should practise it frequently, so as to make his hands and arms thoroughly obedient to the will. buttar and bouldon first went in. they made some capital hits. bouldon scored twelve by as many runs from four hits in succession. "bravo, tom!--bravo, bouldon!" resounded on all sides. bouldon got into high spirits; he felt as if the whole success of the game depended on him, that he could work wonders. he made one or two more capital hits, but every instant he was growing vainer and more confident. he began to hit wildly; to think more of hitting far than of where he sent the ball, or of how he guarded his wicket. proper caution and forethought is required at cricket as well as in all the other affairs of life. a ball came swiftly and straight for his wicket. he hit it--off it flew, but the watchful eye of one of the other side was on it, and ere it reached the ground it was caught. tom threw down his bat, and declared that he was always out of luck; that having done so well he hoped to have stayed in to the end. another boy took his place. he also did good service to his side, but at length was bowled out. buttar, who always played coolly, remained in. he got several runs, but seldom more than two at a time at the utmost. ernest now went in. he had become a first-rate cricketer. he possessed strength, activity, eye, and judgment, all essential requisites to make a good player. great things were therefore expected from him. he, of course wished to do his best. he quietly took up the bat, weighed it for a moment, and finding that he had a proper grasp, threw himself into the position ready for the ball. his first hit was a telling one. often had he and buttar played together, and they well knew what each could do. they ran three without risk. they looked at each other, to judge about trying a fourth one, but it was too much, they saw, to attempt. had they, ernest would have been out. hit after hit was made, several, however, without getting runs, for the field was exerting itself to the utmost. if they could put these two players out quickly they might win easily; if not, they would have a hard struggle to beat them. buttar played capitally, but at last he was growing weary, and a new bowler was sent in. the very first ball he delivered came curling round, and sprung in between the wicket and his bat, and down went his stumps. a very good player succeeded him, who, though he did not get many runs off his own bat, enabled ernest to get them. he, however, after doing very well, made an imprudent run, and he was stumped out. still ernest kept in, and it was ellis's turn to take the bat. all his former awkwardness of gait was gone. he stood well up to his bat. his first stroke showed that he was no despicable opponent, and he got four runs. this awakened up the field again, who had been expecting soon to get in. the two played capitally, and made their runs rapidly and fearlessly. they knew that the opposite side must play well to score as many as they had done. it was fine to see the two friends hitting away, and crossing each other as they made one run after another, almost insuring the success of their side. however, the best of players must be out at one time or the other. ernest was caught out, and ultimately ellis was run out by the next player who went in. at last the other side got their innings, and played well; but when the game was concluded it was found that bracebridge's side scored thirty more than they had done,--an immense triumph to the lower class. his success did ellis a great deal of good, and he now made even more rapid progress than before, both in and out of school. it was the last time either he, or ernest, or buttar played in that class, for by michaelmas they got another step, and by the christmas holidays ernest and ellis got into the first class, distancing buttar and bouldon, who were only in the second. this rise was of the very greatest benefit to the school. the two first were now above barber, and thus were able to exercise a considerable influence over him and fellows of his sort. they could look down also on bobby dawson, and several others who were inclined to patronise them when they first came to school. they also received all the support they could desire from selby and other gentlemanly if not clever boys like him, and from warm-hearted enthusiastic ones like arden and eden. they completely, in the first place, put a stop to anything like systematic bullying. of course, they could not at all times restrain the tempers of their companions, or prevent the strong from oppressing or striking the weak when no one was present. bullies and tyrants, or would-be bullies and tyrants, are to be found everywhere; but when any little fellow complained to them, they never failed to punish the bully, and to bring to light any act of injustice, making the unjust doer right the wronged one. they did their utmost to put a stop to swearing or to the use of bad language. they at once and with the exertion of their utmost energy put down all indecent conversation; and if they found any boy employing it, they held him up to the reprobation and contempt of their companions. falsehood of every description, either black lying or white lying, they exhibited in its true colours, as they did all dishonest or mean practices; indeed, they did their very utmost to show the faults and the weak points of what is too generally looked on as schoolboy morality. the system of fudging tasks, cribbing lessons, deception of every sort they endeavoured to overthrow. some people might suppose that they undertook far more than they could perform, but this was not the case; all they undertook was to do their best. they did it, and succeeded even beyond their own expectations. of course they at first met with a great deal of opposition. they knew well that they should do that. some fellows even asked them for their authority in acting as they presumed to do. "here is our authority," answered ellis, the colour coming into his cheeks and his eye flashing. he lifted up a bible which he held in his hand. "we are ordered to do all the good we can in this world: we are doing it by trying to improve the character of the boys in the school. we are ordered to exert our power and influence to the utmost to do good: all the power and influence we possess we are exerting for that purpose. you see we are doing nothing strange; only our duty." some few of the boys sneered at ellis behind his back for what he had said, but they were the meanest and worst boys in the school. no one uttered a word before his face; the greater number applauded him, and wished they could follow his example. it is impossible to describe the various events which took place at grafton hall during the time ernest was there. he gained more and more the good opinion of the doctor, and of all the masters, and at length reached, more rapidly than any boy had before done, the head of the school. he gained this distinction by the employment to the best advantage of a bright, clear intellect; by steady application to study; by an anxious wish to do his duty; by never losing an opportunity of gaining information; and more especially, by not fancying himself a genius, and that he could get on without hard reading. those were very happy days at grafton hall, both for him and his immediate friends, as also for the boys below him. another christmas passed by, and another summer drew on. it was understood that he would leave at the end of another half. as the boys rose to the top of the school at grafton hall, they had many privileges and advantages which, of course, the younger ones did not possess. they had separate sleeping-rooms, where they might study, and they enjoyed a considerable amount of liberty. one day bouldon came into ernest's room in high glee. "come along, bracebridge; it's all settled! you are to go, and so is ellis. we are to be back in four days; but we will enjoy those four days thoroughly." "i have no doubt that we shall," said ernest quietly, looking up from his desk. "but where are we to go?--when are we to go?--what are we to do? tell me all about it; you have not done so yet." "to be sure i have not! how stupid of me!" said bouldon, laughing. "i forgot that you did not know anything about a plan i formed long ago. you know that i have a brother at eton--a jolly good fellow--a year older than i am. there is not a better brother in the united kingdom than my brother jack. well, for the last two years, i should think, he has wanted me to go down to see him while he's at school; but as our holidays are much about the same time, i've not been able to manage it. lately, he has been writing home about it; and, at last, he has persuaded our father to get leave for me to go from the doctor, and to invite two friends. i fixed on you at once, and it was a toss up whether i should ask buttar or ellis; and i thought that the trip would be more novel and amusing to ellis than to buttar. the doctor did not give in at first; but then he said you were both of you deserving of reward, and that if you wished to go you might. of course, you'll wish to go; you'll enjoy it mightily." ernest thought that he should, and so did ellis, who was quickly summoned to the conference; and the doctor having been prepared to grant their request, gave them leave directly they asked it, giving them only some sound advice for their guidance during their stay among strangers. in high spirits they all set off for london, and were soon carried by the great western down to eton. tom had told his brother when to expect them, and jack bouldon was at the windsor station ready to receive them. he fully answered the description which had been given of him. "i'm so glad you are come!" he exclaimed. "we have a fine busy time of it--lots to do. i've luncheon for you in my room. we are to dine at my tutor's, to meet our father, you know, tom; and after it we'll go and see the boating. i belong to a boat; but i have sprained my arm, and mustn't pull, which is a horrid bore. come along, though." it is extraordinary how quickly ernest and ellis became acquainted with their new friend, and how fine a fellow they could not help thinking him, though he was scarcely older than either of them. they had not gone far when jack stopped in front of layton's the pastry-cook's. "come in here, by the by," he exclaimed, pulling ernest by the arm. "i ordered some refreshment as i came along; we should not be able to do without it, do you see." the visitors required but little persuasion to enter, and as soon as they appeared a supply of ices and strawberry messes were placed before them. "no bad things!" they pronounced them. "no, indeed!" said jack, carelessly. "they slip down the throat pleasantly enough. we don't patronise anything that isn't good at eton, let me assure you." all present fully concurred in this opinion, the food they were discussing being a strong argument in its favour; but at last the strawberry messes came to an end, and they continued their walk into eton. although the town itself did not exactly excite their admiration, they expressed their pleasure when they saw the college buildings, and the meadows, and the rapidly-flowing clear river, and the view of windsor castle, rising proudly above all, a residence worthy of england's sovereigns. "now," said jack bouldon, "come along to my tutor's. you'll want some rest before the fun of the day begins." his tutor's house was a very comfortable, large one, not far from the college gates. jack ushered them into his room. he was not a little proud of it. it was all his own, his castle and sanctum. it was not very richly furnished, but it looked thoroughly comfortable. there was a turn-up bedstead, and washhand-stand, which also shut up, and prevented it having too much the appearance of a bedroom. a good-looking, venerable oak bureau served to hold most of the occupant's clothes, below which, in the upper part, were his cups and saucers; and in the centre his writing materials. in one corner was a chest, containing a quantity of miscellaneous articles too numerous to name; and in another was a cricket-bat and fishing-rod, while the walls were adorned with some prints of sporting scenes, one or two heroes of the stage, and another of the duke of wellington; a table, an arm-chair, and three common chairs completing the furniture of the apartment. "you are cozy here, jack," said his brother, throwing himself into a seat, and pulling ernest into the arm-chair. "there's nothing like independence!" "as to that, we have enough of it, provided we stick to rules," answered the etonian. "however, i don't find much difficulty in the matter. i like my tutor, and he is very considerate, so i get on very well." "but, i say, jack, what do you do? how do you amuse yourselves all the year round," asked tom bouldon. "you eton fellows seemed to me, as far as i could make out, to do nothing else but play cricket and boat. all other games you vote as low, don't you?" "not at all," answered jack. "let me see. at the beginning of the year, between christmas and easter, we have fives. you know how to play it. we have very good fives-courts. we play fifteen up. then we have hockey; that's a capital game. you play it at your school, don't you? but, after all, there is nothing like making up a party to go jumping across country. it is rare fun, scrambling through hedges, tearing across ploughed fields, leaping wide ditches and brooks, and seeing fellows tumbling in head over heels. then we have running races in the play-fields, of about a hundred yards, which is enough considering the pace at which fellows go. better fun still are our hurdle races; and a fellow must leap well to run in them. but the greatest fun of all are our steeple-chases, of about two and a-half miles, over a stiffish country, let me tell you. there are no end of ditches, streams, and brooks with muddy banks, into which half the fellows who run manage to tumble, and to come out very like drowned chimney-sweepers. those are all good amusements for cold weather. from easter to the end of july is our great time for games. of course, cricket and boating are the chief. you understand that our playing-fields are divided between different clubs. every fellow subscribes to one or the other of our clubs. the lowest is called the sixpenny; that belongs to the lower boys; they are, you will understand, all those in the upper school below the fifth form. then there is the lower club, to which those in the fifth form belong who are not considered to play well enough in the upper club. only, of course, first-rate players can belong to that. it is the grand club to which the eleven belong, and those who play equally well, and will some day become one of them. there is another club called the aquatics, which belongs exclusively to the members of the boats. cricketing is fine work; but, for my part, i like boating even better. here, before a fellow is allowed to go on the river, he is obliged to learn to swim. it is a very necessary rule, for formerly many fellows lost their lives in consequence of being unable to swim. there are numerous bathing places on our river devoted to our especial use, and at each of them is stationed, with his punt, a paid waterman belonging to the college, whose sole duty it is to teach the boys to swim. twice every week during the summer one of the masters in turns examines into the swimming qualifications of the boys, and he gives a certificate of proficiency to those whom he considers can swim well enough to preserve their lives if capsized in a boat. after a boy is qualified he is allowed to boat on the river. the masters generally make him swim thirty-five yards up and down the stream, and then about ten across it, round a punt, and back again to the point from which he started. some fellows very quickly do this, if they are strong and not afraid; in fact, if they feel that they can do it. others never gain any confidence, and if they were capsized could do very little to help themselves. in most cases, the first thing a fellow does when he wants to begin to boat is to agree with some chum to take a boat between them. this costs them five pounds for the summer-half. it is called a lock-up, because when it is not being used it is supposed to be carefully locked up in the boat-house. sometimes fellows who do not care so much about boating, and don't want to give five pounds, pay a smaller sum, and take any chance boat which may be disengaged. the boats we generally use are called tubs, tunnies, and outriggers. besides these there are `the boats' especially so called. there are seven of them, all eight-oared. anybody can join these who is in the fifth form. there are three upper and four lower boats; that is, three belong to the upper and four to the lower fifth form. each has her captain, who fills up his crew from the candidates who present themselves. the higher boats have, of course, the first choice, according to their rank. each crew wears a different coloured shirt from the others, and have different coloured ribbons on their straw hats. on grand occasions, as to-day, we all appear in full dress, and a very natty one i think you will agree that it is." ernest and ellis listened attentively to the description, and could not for the moment help wishing that they also were eton boys. luncheon was soon over, for the ices and strawberry messes had somewhat damped their appetites. then they went out into the playing-fields, where a cricket-match was going forward. jack bouldon pointed out some of their crack players with no little pride. "there's jeffcott; he's at my tutor's," he observed. "the tall fellow with the light hair; he's just going in. did you see how beautifully strangeways was caught out? see! jeffcott is certain of making a good hit. i knew it! he'll get two runs at least. there's osbaldiston, the fellow who is in with him. it's worth watching him. he's even a better player than jeffcott, though he is still so young. there! i knew it! what a grand hit! run! run! three times, you'll do it! capital! he's at my tutor's. a first-rate fellow, and expects to be one of the eleven next half." so jack bouldon ran on, his companions heartily joining in his enthusiasm. then they went back to his tutor's, as dinner was to be early, to be over in time for the boating in the evening. they there found mr bouldon, who expressed himself much pleased at meeting ernest and ellis, as friends of his son's. dinner they thought the slowest part of the day's amusements, and were very glad when the time came for them to repair to the brocas. that is the name given to the field by the river whence the boats start. the brocas presented a very gay and animated appearance as the crews of the boats, and the other boys, and the visitors began to collect from all directions. as jack bouldon had said, the costume of the boats' crews was very natty. it consisted of a striped calico shirt of some bright colour; white trousers, with a belt round the waist; a coloured necktie, to suit the shirt; a straw hat, and a ribbon round it to match, the rest of the dress; silk stockings, and pumps with gold buckles. the ribbons round the hats had the name of the boats on them, with some appropriate device, and generally a wreath of flowers worked on them. nothing, indeed, could well exceed the neatness and elegance of the boating dresses; so ernest and his friends agreed. the crews now quickly took their seats in the boats. they went about the business easily, as if they were going to take part in a naval review rather than in any serious engagement. the boats, as they were ready, began to leave the brocas, the lowest boat going first, and laying off in the stream till all were ready. then a signal was given, and away they started, the highest boat leading, and the rest in order taking one turn up and down before the brocas, that the spectators might have the opportunity of admiring them. at about three miles from eton is a place called surly. here a repast, on tables spread in the open air, was prepared for them; and as the boats' crews were expected to be not a little thirsty after their long pull, some bottles of champagne were provided for each boat. after the boats had been sufficiently admired by the spectators on the brocas, off they started, as fast as the pullers could bend to their oars, with long and sweeping strokes towards surly, accompanied by a boat with a band of music playing enlivening strains. jack bouldon, though he could not pull himself, had secured a boat for his father and his friend, and a crew to man her; and as soon as the boats had gone off, they all jumped into her, that they might follow and see the fun. each boat had her sitter jealously guarding the exhilarating beverage. they were not long in reaching surly. the crews landed, and lost no time in seating themselves to enjoy their cold collation, or in quenching their thirst in the hissing, popping, sparkling champagne. the viands were quickly despatched and thoroughly relished, aided by music and champagne, and good appetites; and then toast after toast succeeded in rapid succession, all drunk with the greatest enthusiasm,--"the queen," and "floreat etona," however, calling forth even a still greater amount of applause. capacious as champagne bottles may be, their contents will come to an end; and this consummation having occurred, once more the crews embarked in their boats and commenced their homeward voyage, music, fun, and laughter enlivening the way. it was dusk as they approached eton, where, in the centre of the river, a vessel was moored, whence, as they began to pull round her, burst forth a magnificent display of fireworks. then the crews of the boats stood up, and, waving their hats, cheered vociferously. up went the rockets, surrounding them, as it were, with a sparkling dome of fire, and afterwards, in succession, burst forth catherine wheels, spiral wheels, grand volutes, brilliant yew-trees, and showers of liquid fire, and a number of other productions of the pyrotechnic art too numerous to describe. the boats continued pulling slowly round and round the vessel all the time of the exhibition, producing a very pretty and enlivening effect. as jack bouldon and his friends walked back to his tutor's, of course he enlarged on the excellencies of eton, and the amusements of the school. "oh, i wish that you would come back at the end of the half, and see our pulling matches, and swimming and diving matches! we have several of all sorts. we have a grand race between two sides of college, the upper and lower boats. then there is a sculling sweepstakes, open to all the school. the prize is a cup and a pair of silver sculls, which the winner holds for a year, and on giving them up has his name inscribed on them; so that he has the honour of being known ever after as a first-rate sculler. then there is a rowing sweepstakes for a pair of oars, which is also open to all the school; and each of the houses have their own private sweepstakes, when they draw lots for pairs. the distance we row is about two and a-half miles. now i must tell you about the swimming matches which we have at the end of the half. there is one prize for the best swimmer in the school, and another for the best swimmer of those who have passed that half. in the diving matches we dive for chalk eggs, and out of fifteen thrown in, i have seen as many as twelve brought up. i have brought up nine myself, and i cannot boast of being first-rate. another prize is given to the boy who takes the best header from a high bank; and those are all the prizes given. we have another grand day, called election saturday, the arrangements for which are very like to-day. the chief difference is, that the eight are chosen out of all the boats, and row by themselves, in their dress of eton-blue shirts, and blue hat-bands and ties, as i have described to you." it was nearly half-past ten when the boys got back to jack's tutor's, and he had to leave them, while they went to the inn with mr bouldon, who had undertaken to see them off the following morning, on their return to grafton hall. they all declared that they never had enjoyed so amusing a day as that spent at eton. chapter seventeen. conclusion. "had anybody told me when i came to this school that three years would so rapidly pass by, i would not have believed them," said ernest, addressing ellis, buttar, and bouldon, as the four old friends were walking up and down the playground, ready to form for proceeding to church the last sunday they were to spend together at grafton hall before the summer holidays. "i should have been glad to have remained here another half, or even a year, but my father wishes me to read with a tutor whose exclusive occupation it is to prepare fellows for india; so i am to go to him in a few weeks. i intend to read hard, for i am resolved not to be idle wherever i go." "oh, i envy you!" exclaimed bouldon, "for i know that you will get on; and i wish you may, that you may come back again safe and sound to old england." "oh, i must not think of coming back for years, i fear," answered ernest. "the less one calculates in that way the better. i suspect that people are too apt to neglect the present when they allow their thoughts to dwell too much on the future. the great thing is, as my father says, to do our duty during the present, and to enjoy life as it was intended that we should enjoy it, and to allow the future to take care of itself. i do not mean to say that we are to neglect the future, but that we are not to fancy always that the future is to bring forth so much more happiness than the present time can afford. you understand what i mean, or rather what my father means. now, gregson is an example to the point. see how happy he always is. he is happy in doing his lessons, because he gives his whole mind to them; and though his talents are not brilliant, he always does them well. then the moment they are done, he turns to his favourite pursuits. then he is as happy as he can desire to be in this life. he is not idle for a moment; every book he opens on natural history gives him pleasure; every walk he takes he finds something new and delightful. the birds of the air, the beasts of the field, the creeping things on the earth and under the earth, the trees, the flowers, their numberless inhabitants, all are matters of intense interest to him. he cannot look into a horse-pond without finding subjects for study for days together. every stream is a mine of wealth; and as for the ocean the smallest portion affords objects the study of which is inexhaustible. depend upon it, that it would be worth living for the sake of enjoying the study of natural history alone. then see what vast fields of interest does each branch of science exhibit. the more i inquire into these matters, the more convinced i am that life ought to be a very delightful state of existence, and that it is our own fault if it is not so." thus ernest gave expression to his opinions. he laid considerable stress on mental occupation, but he did not altogether forget that man is susceptible of a very considerable amount of physical enjoyment, which he is too apt, through his own folly, to lose. it is not often that lads of ernest's age think as he did, nor is it often that those who do have listeners so ready and eager to imbibe his opinions. the signal was given, the boys fell into order, and marched off to church. it is matter for thought, and solemn thought too, when one feels that one is visiting a place of interest for the last time; but there should be something peculiarly affecting when one kneels for the last time in a place of worship where one has knelt for years, and offered up our prayers and petitions, and sung our songs of praise, to that great and good being who is our life, our protector, our support, united with many hundreds of our fellow-creatures. perhaps with not one of them may we ever kneel or pray again, but yet one and all of them we shall meet at that great and awful day when we stand before the judgment-seat of heaven. how shall we all have been employing ourselves in the meantime? what will then be our doom? how vain, how frivolous will earthly ambition, wealth, or honours appear! such thoughts as these passed rapidly through ernest's mind as he sat and listened to the good, the kind, and faithful minister of the parish. ernest had many last things to do before he left school. he had to play his last game of cricket, to climb the gymnastic pole for the last time, to take a walk over his favourite downs, to pay many last visits to rich and poor alike. john hodge was not forgotten. the assistance given by ellis, and him, and buttar helped the poor man along till his strength returned, and once more, to his great satisfaction, he was able to resume work. ernest could not feel altogether sad: that would not have been natural; and yet he was truly sorry to part from his friends and schoolfellows, and from the old familiar scenes he had known so long. he had, however, plenty of work to keep his mind employed. there were examinations to be gone through, speeches to be made, and prizes to be bestowed. the parents of the boys, and the residents in the neighbourhood who took an interest in the school, were invited to attend. all the examinations which admitted of it were _viva voce_, and took place in the lecture-halls, to which the visitors repaired as they felt interested in the subject, or in the boys who were undergoing their examinations. several people followed ernest through the whole course of his examinations, and were much struck by the clear, ready way in which he replied to all the questions put to him, and the evidence he gave of having entirely mastered all the subjects he had studied. all those capable of judging were convinced that, numerous as were the subjects he had studied, he was in no way crammed, but was thoroughly grounded in them all. after the examinations, the visitors and the boys assembled under a large awning, which had been spread for the purpose. at one end was a raised platform, where several of the most influential gentlemen, many of them clergymen, and others, as well as the head-master, took their seats with the boys of the first class, while the rest were arranged below. first an oration was spoken by several boys, candidates for a prize, to be bestowed on the best orator. ernest, buttar, ellis, and several others tried for it. all spoke well, but ernest was found to have double as many votes as any other boy. then the gentleman who had been placed in the chair got up, and expressed his approbation of the system on which the school was managed, and his satisfaction at finding the very great progress it had made; and he concluded--"i consider those boys truly fortunate who are under such a master, and in so delightful an abode." then the names of the boys who had gained prizes were called over, and one after the other, with looks of satisfaction, ascended the platform to receive them. ernest came down literally loaded with prizes. he looked surprised as well as pleased. he was first in everything. the reason that he was so was simple enough. he had bestowed the same attention and energy on all the subjects he had studied; he had given them his entire mind; all his talents had been employed on them; consequently, he could scarcely fail to obtain a similar success in all. the prizes consisted chiefly of books, mathematical instruments, and drawing materials. after they were distributed, the chairman once more rose, and congratulating ernest on his success, complimented the doctor on having educated so promising a pupil and on the admirable discipline of the school itself. the visitors and boys repaired to the large dining-hall, where a handsome dinner was spread. "why, doctor, you have given us a magnificent feast," exclaimed mr bouldon, who had come to see his son. "i suspect you youngsters don't get such a dinner as this every day." "but indeed we do," shouted out tom bouldon. "ask the doctor; he'll not tell you an untruth." "your son states what is the case," replied the doctor, "except, perhaps, with regard to quantity--we have certainly the same quality of food every day, and served in the same way. my object is to make my boys gentlemen in all the minor as well as in all the more important points of breeding. i believe that it is important for this object to give them from the first gentlemanly habits which can never be eradicated. they all, i hope, love their homes for their domestic ties, but for no other reason do i wish them to prefer any place to their school. the result is, i rejoice to say, that we have no black monday at grafton hall, and that i see as happy, smiling faces in most instances at the commencement of a half-year as i do at the end of it, when they are about to quit me." ernest had never made an impromptu speech before, but he could not now resist the impulse he felt, so rising, he exclaimed-- "what the doctor says, ladies and gentlemen, is very true. i, as the head of the school, and just about to leave, may assuredly be considered good evidence. he has made the school a happy home to us all; he has made us like learning by the pleasant way in which he has imparted knowledge to us, at the same time that he has shown us the importance of working out most branches of it for ourselves. he has invariably treated us justly; and while he has acted towards us with strictness, he has also never failed in his kindness under all circumstances, and at all times. he has always been indulgent when he could, and has done everything to insure our health, our comfort, and amusement; i cannot say more. it is my belief that grafton hall is one of the happiest and best schools in england, and that dr carr has made it so. heaven bless you, sir." amidst thundering rounds of applause from all his schoolfellows ernest sat down. the doctor was very much affected at the way ernest had spoken. the party at last broke up. the next day the boys went home, and ernest found himself no longer, properly speaking, a schoolboy. still he was in no hurry to shake off his schoolboy's habits and feelings. after spending a few weeks at home, he went down to his new tutor at ryde, in the isle of wight. the house stood high up, overlooking portsmouth and spithead, where england's proud fleets are wont to assemble at anchor. it was the yachting season, and the place was full of visitors. the day after his arrival he went out, and one of the first people he encountered was ellis. the friends were delighted to meet. the latter soon explained the cause of his being there. his father and mother had come to ryde, and had secured a very nice little yacht for him, small compared to the large vessels which form the navy of the different clubs, but quite large enough to sail about in every direction on the waters of the solent. "it was one of my favourite amusements," said ellis. "in truth it was the only one, till you taught me to like cricket and other games at school. now you must come and learn about yachting with me." ernest said that he should like it much, but that he must read hard with his tutor. "the very thing to help your reading," pleaded ellis. "ask him, and if he is a sensible man he will tell you that if you take a trip now and then on the water it will refresh your brains, and you will be able to read all the better for it." to ernest's surprise, his tutor fully agreed with the advice ellis had given him, and it was not long before he found himself on the deck of the "fairy." such was the name ellis had given to his yacht. scarcely had ernest stepped on board than he set to work to make himself acquainted with all the details of the vessel. the use of the helm and the way the wind acts on the sails he understood clearly. he had studied theoretically the principle of balancing the sails with the wind, and also the mode in which the water acts on the hull. he had read about leeway, and headway, and sternway; and now that he had an opportunity of examining the practical working of these theories, he hoped to master the subject thoroughly, so as never to forget it, and to be able, when called on, to make it of use. at first the old sailor, who acted as the master of the yacht, and for that matter crew also, for there was only a boy besides, seemed inclined to look on ernest as a green hand, and to turn up his nose at him. ernest, however, did not show that he perceived this, and went about very quietly, gaining all the information he required. "what is this rope called?" he asked of the old man while ellis was below, before he got under way. "the main sheet, sir," was the answer. ernest made no other remark, but he examined where one end was secured; he ran his eye along it from block to block, and calculated how much of it was coiled away. "these are the shrouds, i know; and this?" he asked. "the backstay, sir," replied the old man. he underwent a thorough examination. "and this, i see, must be the topmast backstay; and this the forestay; and that the topmast stay. is it not so?" he asked. thus he went on, rapidly learning not only the names, but the uses of all the ropes, and of everything on deck. by the time ellis returned on deck he was surprised to find that ernest had already made himself at home on board, and, as he said, was ready to lend a hand to pull and haul if required. "the tide will soon have made, and we shall be able to get to the westward," said ellis, looking about him. "we'll set the mainsail, hobbs, and be all ready for a start." preparations were accordingly made to set the mainsail. the throat was hoisted nearly up; the peak was half hoisted; then the jib was bent on, and hauled out to the bowsprit end. "come, ernest, bowse away on the bobstay," cried ellis. ernest was for a moment at fault, but when he saw his friend hauling away on a rope forward, he took hold of it, and soon guessed its object. "let us tauten the bowsprit shrouds a bit," said ellis. ernest knew what that meant. the jib was hoisted and bowsed well up, then the backstays, and the topmast-stays were tautened. "now, hobbs, go to the helm; we'll get the foresail up." ernest helped ellis to hoist away on the fore-halliards; the old master overhauled the main sheet while ellis overhauled the lee-runner and tackle. the throat he settled a little, that is, he let the inner end of the gaff drop a little, and then he and ernest gave all their strength to hoisting the peak of the mainsail well up. the mainsail now stood like a board; the wind was light, so the gaff-topsail was set, and then, as ellis wished to cast off-shore, he watched till the wind came on the port or left side of the foresail. instantly he let go the moorings, and the fairy's head turned towards the north, or across channel; the jib sheet was hauled in, so was the main sheet; the foresail was let draw, and the little vessel, feeling the full force of the breeze, glided swiftly along through the sparkling waters. ernest clapped his hands. "oh, this is truly delightful," he exclaimed, after they had been skimming along for some time, enjoying the view of spithead, where several large ships were at anchor; of ryde, climbing up its steep hill; of cowes, to the westward, and the wooded shores of the solent extending in the same direction as far as the eye could reach. the wind freshened up again, and they had a magnificent sail, looking into cowes harbour and standing through the roads, where some dozen fine yachts were at anchor, and some twenty more cruising about in sight. they passed calshot castle on the north, and beat on till they sighted hurst castle, at the entrance of the solent passage to the westward, while the little town of yarmouth appeared on the island shore, and lymington on the mainland. "the wind is likely to fall towards the evening, and if you young gentlemen wishes to get home before night, we had better be about," said old hobbs, looking up at the sky on every side. although ellis was very fond of anchoring whenever he felt inclined, or the tide and wind made it convenient, and of sleeping on board, or of keeping under way all night, ernest was anxious to get back to read during the evening; the helm was therefore put up, the main sheet was eased away, and the "fairy" ran off to the eastward before the wind. ellis was at the helm. "as we are in a hurry, we will make more sail, and see how fast the little barkie can walk along; hobbs, get the square-sail on her." "ay, ay, sir," was the reply; and the sail being hauled up from forward, was bent on to its yard, and soon being swayed up, presented a fine wide field of snowy canvas to the breeze. thus the little craft bowled along, till once more she approached her moorings off ryde. then the square-sail was taken in, and the jib being let fly, ellis put down the helm, and shot her up to the buoy, which old hobbs, boat-hook in hand, stood ready to catch hold of and haul on board. "i have never enjoyed a day more," exclaimed ernest; "now i must go home and read as hard as i can to make up for lost time." "you will read all the better, as i said, and come as often as you can; we will do our best to get back so that you may not lose all the day." this was said by ellis as they parted. the next time ernest came down to sail in the "fairy" he found arden, whom ellis, having met at ryde, had invited to join them. arden was a very nice little fellow; the only and treasured child of his father and mother, and had always been delicately nurtured; too delicately, i suspect, for he had been prevented from engaging in many of the manly exercises which are so important in fitting a boy to meet the rough usage of the world. he could thus neither climb nor swim, and as ellis said, was very much like a fish out of water on board a boat, though he was very unlike one in the water. he was, however, now anxious to remedy some of his defects, and finding sailing pleasant, was glad to accompany ellis whenever he asked him. the old schoolfellows got on board, as merry and happy as lads who feel conscious that they have been working hard and doing their duty can be. those, i hold, who are viciously employed and neglecting their duty can never be happy. the wind was from the same quarter as the last time ernest was on board, though there was rather more of it. the "fairy" having been got under way, stood over to the north shore, and then tacked and stood towards cowes. as she bounded buoyantly over the waves, the spirits of the three schoolfellows rose high. ernest added considerably to his stock of nautical knowledge, while arden was exercising his muscles by climbing up the rigging, hanging on to the shrouds by his hands, and swinging himself backwards and forwards. all this time the breeze freshening, the gaff-topsail had just been stowed; old hobbs was at the helm, and ellis himself was to windward, when arden, in the pride of his newly-acquired accomplishment, as he was running forward on the lee-side, as he said, to take a swing on the shrouds, his foot slipped, he lost his balance, and before he could clutch a rope, over the slight bulwarks he went, head foremost into the water. ernest was sitting on the same side of the little vessel. quick as thought, before ellis, who had been looking to windward, knew what had happened, or arden could cry out, ernest sprang overboard. he knew that every instant would increase the difficulty of saving his friend: he threw off neither shoes nor jacket; there was no time for that. arden came to the surface, and stretching out his arms towards him shrieked out, "save me, save me! o my mother!" ernest struck out bravely through the water towards him, while the little cutter flew on; it seemed leaving them far behind: such was not the case, however. old hobbs giving a look behind his shoulder to see where they were, put down the helm, that he might put the vessel about as rapidly as possible, and heave-to, while ellis could jump into the punt to their rescue. ernest had no time to consider what was to be done; his first aim was to get hold of arden and to keep his head above water. the poor lad, unaccustomed to the water, quickly lost all presence of mind, and was striking out wildly and clutching at the air. ernest saw the danger there would be in approaching him, and therefore, instead of swimming directly for him, took a circuit and then darted rapidly at him from behind. grasping him by the collar, by a strong turn of his arm he threw him on his back, and then he held him while he himself trod water, and assisted himself to float with his left hand. "don't be alarmed, now, arden, my dear fellow; keep your arms quiet and you will float easily," he exclaimed. "there, just look up at the sky; now you find that your face is perfectly out of the water; never mind if your head sinks a little; steady, so, all right, old fellow." with words to give confidence and encouragement, ernest tried to calm poor arden's fears; yet he himself turned many an anxious glance towards the yacht. the instant ellis had heard arden's cry and saw ernest in the water, he leaped up and hauled the punt, towing astern, up alongside. "wait, sir, wait till we are about," said hobbs; "you'll be nearer to them then, and on the same side they are." ellis saw this, and as the cutter came round he jumped into the punt and shoved off. ernest saw his friend coming. he began to feel more anxious than before. the punt was small, and he was afraid, should arden struggle, she also might be capsized. he therefore urged arden to remain perfectly quiet, while ellis hauled him in. the moment ellis reached them he threw in his oars, and wisely leaning over the bows, caught hold of arden's collar and lifted him partly out of the water, while ernest swam round to the stern and climbed in over it. he now was able to come to ellis's assistance, and together they hauled in poor arden, more frightened than hurt, over the bows. they soon made him safe in the little cabin of the cutter, with his clothes stripped off, and he himself wrapped up in a blanket. the clothes quickly dried in the warm sun and air, and he was able to be the first to describe his accident to his parents, and to speak of ernest's gallant conduct in saving him. "my dear arden," replied ernest, when the former was overwhelming him with thanks, "i learned to swim, and know how to retain my presence of mind. had you been able, you would have done the same for me; so say no more about it." young arden did not say much more about it, nor did mr arden to ernest himself; but he had powerful friends in india, and when, after some months bracebridge arrived there, he found himself cordially welcomed, and placed in a position where he had full scope for the exercise of his talents. for some time ernest bracebridge had not heard from any of his old schoolfellows. war was raging. his regiment, with others, was appointed to attack a stronghold of the enemy. he led on his men with a gallantry for which he had been ever conspicuous, but they met with a terrific opposition. almost in vain they struggled on. again and again they were beaten back, and as often encouraged by their brave leader, they charged the foe. at length he fell. his men rallied round him to carry him off, when there was a loud cheer--a fresh regiment was coming to their support. ernest looked up. they were queen's troops. he saw the face of the officer who led them, as, waving his sword, he dashed by. ernest shouted, "ellis--ellis!" the enemy could not stand the shock of the british bayonets. they fled in confusion. ernest heard the cry, "they run--they run." then he sunk, exhausted from loss of blood. at length the blood was stanched, a cordial was poured down his throat, and looking up, he saw the countenance of his old friend edward ellis bending anxiously over him. ellis bore him to his tent, and nursed him with the care of a brother. together in many a hard-fought fight they served their country, and often talked of their old schoolfellows, of the kind doctor, and of the happy days they spent at grafton hall. none the high school freshmen or dick & co.'s first year pranks and sports by h. irving hancock contents chapters i. "the high school sneak" ii. dick & co. after the school board's scalps iii. not so much of a freshman iv. captain of the hounds v. the "muckers" and the "gentleman" vi. fred offers to solve the locker mystery vii. dick's turn to get a jolt viii. only a "suspended" freshman now ix. laura bentley is wide awake x. tip scammon talks---but not enough xi. the welcome with a big "w" xii. dick & co. give football a new boost xiii. "the oath of the dub" xiv. on the gridiron with cobber second xv. gridley faces disaster xvi. the fake kick, two ways xvii. dick's "find" makes gridley shiver xviii. fred slides into the freeze xix. dick & co. show some team work xx. out for that toboggan xxi. thanks served with hate xxii. the only freshman at the senior ball xxiii. the nitroglycerine mystery speaks up xxiv. the capture of the bank robbers xxv. conclusion chapter i the high school sneak "i say you did!" cried fred ripley, hotly. dick prescott's cheeks turned a dull red as he replied, quietly, after swallowing a choky feeling in his throat: "i have already told you that i did not do it." "then who did do the contemptible thing?" insisted ripley, sneeringly. fully forty boys, representing all the different classes at the gridley high school, stood looking on at this altercation in the school grounds. half a dozen of the girls, too, hovered in the background, interested, or curious, though not venturing too close to what might turn out to be a fight in hot blood. "if i knew," rejoined dick, in that same quiet voice, in which one older in the world's ways might have detected the danger-signal, "i wouldn't tell you." "bah!" jeered fred ripley, hotly. "perhaps you mean that you don't believe me?" said prescott inquiringly. "i don't!" laughed ripley, shortly, bitterly. "oh!" a world of meaning surged up in that exclamation. it was as though bright, energetic, honest dick prescott had been struck a blow that he could not resent. this, indeed, was the fact. "see here, ripley-----" burst, indignantly, from dick prescott's lips, as his face went white and then glowed a deeper red than before. "well, kid?" sneered ripley. "if i didn't have a hand---the right hand, at that---that is too crippled, today, i'd pound your words down your mouth." "oh, your hand?" retorted ripley, confidently. "the yarn about that hand is another lie." dick's injured right hand came out of the jacket pocket in which it had rested. with his left hand he flung down his cap. "i'll fight---you---anyway!" prescott announced, slowly. there were a few faint cheers, though some of the older high school boys looked serious. fair play was an honored tradition in gridley. ripley, however, had thrown down his cap at once, hurling his strapped-up school books aside at the same time. "wait a moment," commanded frank thompson, stepping forward. he was a member of the first class, a member of the school eleven, and a husky young fellow who could enforce his opinions at need. "get back, thomp," retorted ripley. "the cub wants to fight, and he's got to." "not if he has an injured hand," retorted frank, quickly. "he hasn't," jeered ripley. "and he's got so fight, if he has four lame hands." "he can fight, then, yes," agreed thompson. "but remember, fred, it's allowable, when a fellow's crippled, to fight by substitute." "substitute?" asked fred, looking uncomfortable. "yes; i'll take his place, if prescott will let me," volunteered frank thompson, coolly. "you? i guess not," snorted ripley. "i won't stand for that. i'm a third classman, and you're a first classman. you're half as big again as i am, and-----" "the odds wouldn't be as bad as you're proposing to take out of this poor little freshman with the crippled hand," insisted thompson. "so get ready to meet me. i'll allow one of my hands to be tied, if you want." yet even this proposition couldn't be made alluring to fred ripley. he knew thompson's mettle and strength too well for that. dan dalzell, another freshman, had been standing back, keeping quiet as long as he could. "see here," proposed dan, stepping forward, "isn't a freshman allowed to say something when his friend is insulted?" "go ahead," nodded thompson, who knew dan to be one of young prescott's close friends. "dick isn't in shape to fight, and i know it," continued dan dalzell, hotly. "but ripley wants something easy, like a freshman, so he can have me!" "and me," cried tom reade, also leaping forward. "he can have one with me, too," offered harry hazelton. "same here," added greg holmes and dave darrin. all five of the speakers were freshmen, and close chums of dick prescott's. "say, what do you think i want---to fight a whole pack?" demanded ripley, hoarsely. "oh, you don't have to fight us all at once," retorted dave darrin. "but you've insulted our friend, and you've taken a sneaking advantage of him at a time when you _knew_ he couldn't handle anyone as big as you are. so, ripley, you're answerable to prescott's friends. i'll tell you what you can do. there are five of us. you can take any one of us that you prefer for the first bout. when you've thrashed him, you can call for the next, and so on. but you've got to go through the five of us in turn. if you don't, i'll call you a coward from now on. you're bigger than any of us." "see here, cub darrin," raged ripley, starting forward, his face aflame, "i don't allow any freshman to talk that way to me. i won't fight you, but i'll chastise you, and you can protect yourself if you know how." he made a bound forward, intent on hitting darrin, who stood his ground unflinchingly. but thompson seized the third classman by the shoulder and shoved him back. "now, stop this, ripley, and you freshmen, cut it out, too," warned the athletic first classman. "this is descending to a low level. we don't want a lot of bickering or mouth-fighting, and we don't intend to have anything but fair play, either." "as this is largely my affair," broke in dick prescott, who had had time to cool down a bit, "let me have a chance to make an offer." "go ahead," nodded thompson. "then," proposed dick, "since you won't let me fight today, why can't this meeting hold over until my hand is in shape? then i'll agree to give ripley all he wants." "that's the only sensible thing i've heard said in five minutes," declared frank thompson, looking about him at other upper classmen. "is it the general opinion that the fight hold over for a few days, or, say, a fortnight?" "yes," came back an eager, approving chorus. "then so be it," proclaimed frank. "and now, remember, ripley, this fight is not to be pulled off until the school agrees to it. if you pick any trouble with prescott until you get the word, or if you try to find any excuse for hitting him while his hand's out of shape, then you'll answer to the school for your conduct. you know what that means, don't you?" "humph!" snorted fred ripley. "all this fuss about the high school sneak!" again dick started forward, but thompson caught him firmly. "hold on, freshie!" advised the older boy. "save it up. bottle it. you can have all the more fun out of ripley when your hand is in shape." "his hand is in as good shape as it ever was," retorted ripley, scornfully. "and he lies when he says he didn't do this." ripley swung, so as to display the tail of a short topcoat that was one of his treasures. the garment was fashionably made and of the best material, for ripley's father was a wealthy lawyer in gridley, and the young ripley hopeful had all the most costly things a boy can prize. along the tail of the coat some miscreant had daubed a streak of fresh white paint. ripley had found it there when donning the coat to leave school at one o'clock that day. fred knew that dick had been in the coat room after recess, and, as he disliked the freshman, ripley had accused dick of the deed. having fired his parting shot, fred turned on his heel, sauntering over to where the fluttering group of girls waited. one of them, clara deane, stepped forward to meet him. "fred, why do you have anything to do with such a low-down fellow as prescott?" asked clara, contemptuously. "he's the sneak of the school," uttered fred, harshly; "but i can't let even a sneak streak my coat with paint." "and he never did such a thing, either!" broke in laura bentley, disdainfully. "fred ripley, you accused dick prescott of playing off a lame hand. i know how his hand became crippled. dick wanted me to promise not to tell how it happened, but now i'm going to. wait and you can hear, both of you." "i don't want to, i'm sure," rejoined clara, with a toss of her head. "come along, fred." this pair of students walked away together. they always did, after school was out. the ripleys and the deanes were neighbors. the other girls, however, followed laura, as, with quick, resolute step, she marched over to where the high school boys still lingered. "boys," began laura, "mr. prescott has been accused of pretending about a hurt hand. i know how he injured it; and, as he did it-----" "please don't say any more, miss bentley," begged dick, flushing. "yes, i shall," insisted laura, quietly. "it happened night before last. dick prescott didn't want anything said about it, and neither did the police, so-----" "the police?" chipped in several of the high school boys and girls. "yes, the police wanted it kept quiet, so they could have a chance to catch the fellow," laura hastened on. "but they've had time enough, now, to catch the rascal, if they're ever going to. you see, it happened this way: mother had forty-five dollars on hand that belonged to the church fair fund. so, night before last, she asked me to take it over to miss bond, the treasurer. i was going through clinton street, in one of the dark spots, when a man jumped out from behind a tree and made a snatch for the purse that i carried in my hand. "well, somehow---i don't just know how," laura continued, "i managed to keep hold of the purse and i screamed, of course. then some one came running down the street as fast as he could---and dick prescott leaped at the rascal. it was a hard fight---a fearful one." the girl shuddered even then, in the telling, but she continued: "the wretch was twice as big as dick prescott. i thought dick was going to be killed. twice the fellow broke loose, and started to run, but what do you think master dick was up to?" "what?" chorused the interested audience. "master dick had his mind set on subduing the robber and holding him for the police. so he tried to stop the wretch from getting away. at last, however, the fellow hurled dick backward, so that he fell. when he got up he was lame. you all may have noticed that mr. prescott limped a bit yesterday?" "yes; he _did_," confirmed frank thompson. "and his hand was hurt, too---i know that," insisted laura. "for he escorted me to miss bond's, and then home. when we got there, i asked my father, who is a doctor, to take dick into the office. father said, afterwards, that dick's right wrist was sprained, and his ankle wrenched a bit, too. he said dick would be doing well to have the full use of his wrist in a week. then the police came, when my father telephoned for them, and the police didn't want anything said for a while." "so you, a fourteen-year-old freshie, are going about at night trying to waylay footpads, are you?" demanded thompson, resting a friendly hand on dick's shoulder. "but why did you keep so close-mouthed, afterwards?" demanded the first classman. "well, for one thing, i guess i was a bit ashamed," confessed dick, reddening. "ashamed of rushing to beauty's aid?" demanded frank, laughingly. "nothing like it," dick protested, growing redder still. "i was ashamed over having let the footpad get away." "what? and he twice your size?" gasped thompson. "fellows, what do you think of the modest cheek of this freshie! ashamed because he couldn't bag a full-sized thug!" "that kid's the mustard!" broke in another first classman, approvingly. "that's what he is!" came from others. "wow! whoop!" they began crowding about the confused, blushing freshie, pumping his uninjured left hand. then some one shouted: "he's all right, from the ground up. he's a gridley boy! he's only a freshie in years, but he'll get over that. now, up with dick prescott! on your shoulders! give him the high school yell!" before he could even dodge, this high school freshman found himself going up in the air. with all consideration for his injured hand the upper classmen rushed him out of the school grounds, onto the street, holding him aloft in the post of honor. the other boys followed. even the few girls followed, waving their handkerchiefs, while a lusty roar went up: "t-e-r-r-o-r-s! wa-ar! fam-ine! pesti-lence! that's us! that's us! g-r-i-d-l-e-y---h.s. rah! rah! rah! rah! _gri-idley_!" "what's all that racket back there?" asked clara deane, turning at the head of the street. "why, they're yelling and carrying that odious little dick prescott." "must be dragging him off to give him a ducking, as he deserves," muttered fred ripley, gratingly. "no, no! it's the school yell, and the girls are waving their handkerchiefs." "then they must be canonizing the school sneak," returned ripley, frowning hard. "well, don't wait to see," urged clara. "we don't care about mixing up too much with such a common crowd as the gridley h.s. students are." "prescott is nothing but a mucker, but he spoiled my coat, and i'll make him smart for it!" uttered fred, his face burning with sullen rage. "you'll only smirch yourself, fred, by having anything more to do with such a fellow," clara warned him. "when i'm even with the fellow, i won't have anything more to do with him," snorted ripley. "but i'll wait, watch and plan for years, if i have to, to take all the conceit and meanness out of that sneak. i'll never quit until i can look at myself in the glass and tell myself that i've paid back the lowest trick ever played on me!" chapter ii dick & co. go after the school board's scalps in gridley high school, sessions began at eight in the morning. school let out for the day at one in the afternoon. the brighter students, who could get most of their lessons in school, and do the rest of the work during the evening, thus had the afternoon for work or fun. often, though, it happened that there were parties, or school dances in the evening. then a portion of the afternoon could be used for study, if need be. saturdays, of course, were free from study for all but the dullest---and the dullest usually don't bother their heads much about study at any time. gridley was not a large place---just an average little american city of some thirty thousand inhabitants. it was a much bigger place than that, though, when it came to the matter of public spirit. gridley people were proud of their town. they wanted everything there to be of the best. certainly, the gridley high school was not surpassed by many in the country. the imposing building cost some two hundred thousand dollars. the equipment of the school was as fine as could be put in a building of that size. including the principal, there were sixteen teachers, four of them being men. in all the classes combined, there were some two hundred and forty students, about one hundred of these being girls. nearly all of the students were divided between the four regular classes. there were always a few there taking a postgraduate, or fifth year of work, for either college or one of the technical schools. with such a school and such a staff of teachers as it possessed the gridley standard of scholarship was high. the gridley diploma was a good one to take to a college or to a "tech" school. yet this fine high school stood well in the bodily branches of training. gridley's h.s. football eleven had played, in the past four years, forty-nine games with other high school teams, and had lost but two of these games. the gridley baseball nine had played fifty-four games with other high school teams in the same period, and had met defeat but three times in the four years. athletics, at this school, were not overdone, but were carried on with a fine insistence and a dogged determination. up to date, however, despite the fine work of their boys, the citizens of the town had been somewhat grudging about affording money for training athletic teams. what the boys had won on the fields of sport they had accomplished more without public encouragement than with it. it was now october. dick prescott and his five closest friends were all freshmen. they had been in the school only long enough to become accustomed to the routine of work and study. they were still freshmen, and would be until the close of the school year. as freshmen were rather despised "cubs" dick and his friends would be daring, indeed should they dare to do anything, in their freshman year, to make them very prominent. according to a good many gridley people dick's father, eben prescott, was accounted the best educated man in town. the elder prescott had taken high honors at college; he had afterwards graduated in law, and, for a while, had tried to build up a practice. eben prescott was not lazy, but he was a student, much given to dreaming. he had finally been driven to opening a small bookstore. here, when not waiting on customers, he could read. dick's mother had proved the life of the little business. had it not been for her energy and judgment the pair would have found it difficult to rear even their one child properly. the family lived in five rooms over the bookstore. from the time he first began to go to school it had been plain that dick prescott inherited his mother's energy, plus some of his own. he had been one of the leaders in study, work and mischief, at the central grammar school. it was while in the grammar school that a band of boys had been formed who were popularly known as "dick & co." dick was naturally the head. the other members of the company were tom reade, dan dalzell, harry hazelton, greg holmes and dave darrin. these were the same now all high school freshmen who had stepped forward and offered to take dick's place in fighting fred ripley. dick was now fourteen, and so were all his partners, except tom reade, who was a year older. all of dick's chums were boys belonging to families of average means. this is but another way of saying that, as a usual thing, dick and all his partners would have been unable to fish up a whole dollar among them all. fred ripley, on the other hand, usually carried considerable money with him. lawyer ripley usually allowed fred much more money than that snobbish young man knew how to make good use of. fred and clara deane were undoubtedly the best-dressed pair in the high school, and the two best supplied with spending money. there were a few other sons or daughters of well-to-do people in gridley high school, but the average attendance came from families that were only just about well enough off to be able to maintain their youngsters at higher studies. fred ripley, despite his mean nature, was not wholly without friends in the high school. some of his pocket money he spent on his closest intimates. then, too, fred had rather a shrewd idea as to those on whom it was safe or best to vent his snobbishness. from the start of the school year, ripley had picked out young freshman prescott as a boy he did not like. dick's place in the moneyed scale of life was so lowly that fred did not hesitate about treating the other boy in a disagreeable manner. a week after the meeting between fred and dick the high school atmosphere had suddenly become charged with intense excitement. the school eleven had come out of training, had played almost its last match with the "scrub" team and was now close to the time for its first regular match. oakdale h.s. was to be the first opponent, and oakdale was just good enough a team to make the gridley boys a bit uneasy over the outcome. "my remarks this morning," announced dr. thornton, on opening school on monday, "are not so much directed at the young ladies. but to the young gentlemen i will say that, when the football season opens, we usually notice a great falling off in the recitation marks. this year i hope will be an exception. it has always been part of my policy to encourage school athletics, but i do not mind telling you that some members of the board of education notice that school percentages fall off in october and november. this, i trust, will not be the case this year. if it is i fear that the board of education may take some steps that will result in making athletics less of a feature among our young men. i hope that it is not necessary to add anything to this plain appeal to your good judgment, young gentlemen." it _wasn't_. dr. thornton was a man of so few and direct words that the boys gathered on the male side of the big assembly room looked around at each other in plain dismay. "that miserable old board of education is equal to shutting down on us right in the middle of the season," whispered frank thompson to dent, who sat next him. "you know the answer?" dent whispered back. "what?" "give the board no excuse for any such action. keep up to the academ. grind." "but how do that and train-----" a general buzz was going around on the boys' side of the room. several of the girls, too, were whispering in some excitement, for most of the girls were enthusiastic "fans" at all of the high school games. whispering, provided it was "necessary" and did not disturb others, was not against the rules. these were no longer school children, but "young gentlemen" and "young ladies," and allowed more freedom than in the lower schools. for a few moments dr. thornton tolerated patiently the excited buzz in the big assembly room. then, at last, he struck a paper-weight against the top of his desk on the platform. "first period recitations, now," announced the principal. clang! at stroke of the bell there was a hurried clutching of books and notebooks. the students filed down the aisles, going quickly to their proper sections, which formed in the hall outside. the tramp of feet resounded through the building, for some recitation rooms were on the first floor, some on the second and some on the third. two minutes later there was quiet in the great building. recitation room doors were closed. one passing through the corridors would have heard only the indistinct murmur of voices from the different rooms. within five minutes every one of the instructors detected the fact that, though discipline was as good as ever, dr. thornton's words had spoiled the morning's recitations. try as they would, the young men could not fasten their minds on the work on hand. the hint that athletics might be stopped had _stung_. dick & co. were all sitting in iv. english. "mr. prescott," directed submaster morton, "define the principle of suspense, as employed in writing." dick started, looked bewildered, then rose. "it's---it's-----" he began. "a little more rapidly, if you please." "i studied it last night, sir, but i'm afraid i've clean forgotten all about that principle," dick confessed. he sat down, red-faced, nor was his discomfiture decreased by hearing some of the occupants of the girls' seats giggle. "i shall question you about that at the next recitation. mr. prescott," nodded the submaster. "ye-es, sir. i hope you'll have luck," dick answered, absently. "what's that?" rapped out mr. morton. dick, aroused, was on his feet again, like a flash. "i beg your pardon, mr. morton," he came out straightforwardly. "that sounded like slang, or disrespect. i beg to assure you, sir, that neither was intended. the truth is-----" "your mind is busy with other things this morning, i see," smiled the sub-master. "ye-es, sir." dick dropped once more into his seat. ralph morton sighed. that very popular young submaster, only three years out of college, was the hugely admired coach who had led the gridley eleven to victory during the last three seasons. he was as disturbed as anyone could have been over the rumored intention of the board of education to take some unpleasant action regarding high school athletics. it was a terribly unsatisfactory hour in iv. english. five minutes before the period was up mr. morton dejectedly closed the text-book from which he had been questioning, and remarked, tersely: "at ease!" instantly the buzz of whispering broke forth. it was required only that not enough noise be made to disturb the students in adjoining rooms. dick, tom and dan sat in the front row. directly behind them were the other three members of the "co." "say," muttered dan, in a low undertone, "mr. morton looks half glum and half savage this morning, like the rest of us." "seems to," muttered tom reade. "what do you make of _that_?" challenged dan. "there must be strong foundation for the little hint dr. thornton let fall this morning," guessed dave darrin. "and mr. morton knows it's a straight tip," added harry hazelton, sagely. "it'll be a confounded shame, if the board does anything like that," glowed dick prescott, indignantly. "they'll be so many dead ones, if they _do_," flared tom reade, hotly. "yes," agreed dave darrin. "but the worst about that board of education is that, though they _are_ dead ones, they're so very dead that they'll never find it out." "won't they, thought" whispered dan dalzell, hotly. "say, i'm inclined to think they will! i-----" "dan!" whispered dick, warningly. "yep; you've guessed right," grinned dan. "i am hatching a scheme in my mind. i'm getting up something that will bring even that dummified board to its senses." "then you can achieve the impossible," teased reade. "say, but it's a warm one that's forming this time," whispered dan, his eyes dancing. "i'll see you fellows at recess. not a word until then. but you-----" ting-ling-ling. the bell connecting with the annunciator at the principal's desk was trilling in iv. english, as it was in all the other recitation rooms. iv. english rose, the boys waiting until the girls had passed from the room. a study-hour in the big assembly room followed for dick & co. yet, had anyone watched dan dalzell, it would have been found that young man was in the reference room, and reading, or thumbing---of all volumes in the english language---the city directory! when recess broke, dick & co. quickly got together. by twos, dick and dave darrin leading, they marched down through one of the side streets, it being permitted to high school pupils to go outside the yard in the near neighborhood. presently dick halted before a stone wall. he eyed dan keenly, who had been walking just behind with harry hazelton. "dan," demanded the leader, "you gave us to understand that your mind is seething again. is that true?" "quite true," dan averred, solemnly. "what particular kind of cerebration is oscillating inside of your intelligence?" dick queried. "which?" demanded dan, suspiciously. "no, i never! i'm not that kind of fellow." "in plain, freshman english, then, what's your scheme?" "we'll have to get statistics," announced dalzell, "before i can come right down to bare facts. when does the board of education, otherwise known as the grannies' club, meet?" "tonight, in the board room in the high school building," dick answered. "how many members are there?" "seven," dick affirmed. "that's not too many, then," continued dan, thoughtfully. "not too many?" repeated dick prescott. "what do you mean?" "why, i've been refreshing my general information about this town by consulting the city directory. from that valuable tome i discovered that there are just nine undertakers in town." "now, what on earth are you driving at---or driveling at?" asked dick prescott, suspiciously, while the other partners remained wonderingly, eagerly silent. "why," pursued dan, "we can summon seven of the undertakers for our job, and still leave two available for the public service." dick sprang up from the stone wall, tightly gripping dan dalzell by the coat collar. "help me watch this lunatic, fellows," urged dick, quietly. "he's dangerous. you've heard him! he's plotting assassination!" "undertakers don't assassinate anyone, do they?" queried dan, with an air of mock innocence. "what _are_ you plotting, then?" insisted dick. dan's face broadened into a very pronounced grin. "why, see here, fellows, there seems to be some fire behind dr. thornton's smoke that the board of education may get excited over low recitation marks, and actually---_stop football_!" finished dalzell, in a gasp. the other five chums snorted. dan dalzell was presently able to control his feelings sufficiently to proceed: "no one but actually dead ones would expect an american institution of the higher learning to exist in these days without football. hence, if the grannies' club---i mean the school board---are planning to stop football, or even believe that it is possible, then they're sure enough dead ones. am i right?" "right and sane, after all," nodded dick. "therefore," pursued dan, "if the board members are dead ones, why not go ahead and bury them? or, at the least, show our kindly interest in that direction. see here, fellows"---here dan lowered his voice to the faintest sort of whisper, while the other partners gathered close about him---"tonight we fellows can scatter over the town, and drop into different telephone booths where we're not known. we can call up seven different undertakers, convey to them a hint that there's a dead one at the board room, and state that the victim of our call is wanted there at once. "what good would that do?" demanded dick, after a thoughtful pause. "why," proposed dan dalzell, "if seven undertakers call, all within five minutes, won't it be a delicate way of conveying the hint that a board of education that thinks it can stop football is composed of dead ones? you see, there'll be an undertaker for each member of the board. don't you think the idea---the hint---would soak through even those seven dull old heads?" tom, harry and dave began to chuckle, though they looked puzzled. "well, if you ask _me_," decided dick, after more thought, "i have just one answer. the scheme is too grisly. besides, we've nothing against the undertakers that should make us willing to waste their time. moreover, dan we're in the high school, and we're expected to be gentlemen. now, does your scheme strike you as just the prank for a lot of gentlemen." "say, don't look the thing over too closely," protested dan, more soberly, "or you'll find lots of bad holes in the scheme. yet, somehow, we've got to bring it to the attention of the board that, if they go against high school football, they're real dead ones." "i've just an idea we can do that," spoke dick prescott, reflectively. "we can rig the scheme over, so as to save seven estimable business men from starting out on fools' errands. and we can drive the lesson home to the board just as hard---perhaps harder." at these hopeful words from the chief the partners pricked up their ears, then crowded closer. "in the first place," began dick, "dan's scheme---beg your pardon, old fellow---is clumsy, grisly and likely to come back as a club to hit us over the head. now, you all know len spencer, the 'morning blade' reporter. he's a regular 'fan' over the football and baseball teams, and follows them everywhere in the seasons. you also know that len is a pretty good friend of mine. if i put len up to a scheme that will furnish him with good 'copy' for two mornings, he'll put it through for me, and be as mum as an oyster." "how can len help us in anything?" demanded dave darrin, wonderingly. "listen!" ordered dick prescott, with a twinkle in his eyes. when dick & co. hurried back at the close of recess they felt serene and content. all the partners felt that dick prescott, the most fertile boy in ideas at the central grammar school, was going to be able to save the day for football. for dick had propounded a scheme that was sure to work---barring accidents! that evening the board of education met in dull and stately session. these meetings were generally so dull and devoid of real news that the local press was content to get its account from the secretary's minutes. tonight was no exception in this respect. no reporter was present when chairman stone rapped for order. seven excellent men were these who sat around the long table. most of them had made their mark in local business, or in the professions. yet, as it happened, none of these excellent men had ever made a mark in athletics in earlier years. as they appeared to have succeeded excellently in life without football the members of the board were inclined to reason that football must be a bad thing. after the session had droned along for three-quarters of an hour, and all routine business had been transacted, chairman stone looked about at his fellow board members. "gentlemen," he began, "we have noticed that, during october and november, the high school percentages, especially those of the young men, are prone to fall a bit. there can be but one cause for this---the football craze. there are signs that this stupid athletic folly will take a greater hold than ever, this year, on our high school students. i thought it best to ask dr. thornton to caution the students that any such falling-off of percentages this year might make it necessary for us to forbid high school football." "it was an excellent idea to give such a warning, mr. chairman," nodded mr. hegler. "so i thought," replied chairman stone, complacently. "yet, while we have been in session this evening, i have been wondering why it would not be a good plan to promote scholarship at once by summarily forbidding football." "even for the balance of this present season?" asked mr. chesbritt, ponderously. "even for the balance of this season," confirmed mr. stone. there were murmurs of approval. just at that moment, however, the door opened suddenly, and reporter len spencer, a bright-faced young man of twenty-two, hurried in on tip-toe. then, suddenly, he halted, looking unutterably astonished. "oh, i beg your pardon, mr. chairman and gentlemen," murmured the reporter. "but i did not expect to find you in session." "and why not, mr. spencer?" demanded the chairman, crisply. "why, i---er---i---well, to be candid, gentlemen, 'the blade' had information that some one had died here." "died here?" gasped chairman stone. "upon my word that would be a most extraordinary thing to do in the presence of this board. where did you get such very remarkable information, young man?" "it was telephoned to 'the blade' office," len spencer replied. "by whom?" "i---i really don't know," replied the young reporter, looking much embarrassed. "i don't believe our editor, mr. pollock, does, either. the news came in over the 'phone. mr. pollock told me to rush up here and get all the facts." "the facts," retorted mr. stone, dryly, "would be most difficult for the members of this board to furnish. indeed, the only fact in which we are interested would be the name of the person who-----" ting-a-ling-ling! as the telephone bell jangled chairman stone drew the desk instrument toward him, holding the receiver to his ear. "hullo!" hailed a voice. "is that the board of education's office?" "it is," confessed chairman stone. "is our reporter, spencer, there? if so, i would like to talk with him." "yes, he's right here, mr. pollock. and from the extraordinary information he has brought us, i think he needs a talking-to. wait a moment." chairman stone passed the instrument to len spencer. the members of the board felt curiosity enough to leave their seats and gather at the head of the table. they could hear editor pollock's voice as it ran on: "hullo, spencer. say, i've just had another 'phone from that same party. he says that he sent in his information a bit twisted. what he meant to tell us was that there are _seven dead ones_ in the board of education who know so little about public spirit and pride in our boys that they are even considering the idea of forbidding high school football." "oh, that's it, eh?" asked spencer, solemnly. "seven dead ones?" "yes; of course you've already discovered that there's no real tragedy up at the board, unless they're actually planning some move against football." the seven members of the school board looked at one another blankly, wonderingly. "who sent you that message over the 'phone?" questioned the reporter. the seven board members pricked up their ears still more keenly. "i don't know," came editor pollock's voice. "but i suspect it came from the business men's club. that's a wide-awake and progressive crowd, you know, and full of local pride, even in our high school boys. but, spencer, i'm in just a bit of a fix. i had already run out six lines on the bulletin board announcing that a sudden death had taken place in the school board meeting. now, i've got to run out another bulletin and explain. spencer, you'd better come back here on the jump. good-bye!" as the bell rang off, and the reporter laid the instrument back on the table, he said: "gentlemen, i am ordered back to my office in haste. yet, before i go, as a matter of news interest, i think i'd better ask you whether any action is going to be taken forbidding football in the high school?" "n-n-not to the best of our knowledge," stammered chairman stone. "we have---taken no action along that line." "are you likely to take any such action tonight?" "i---i---think not." "thank you, and goodnight, gentlemen. i offer you my apology and 'the blade's' for having intruded on you in this fashion." as soon as the members of the board were alone chairman stone glanced about him, and remarked: "so, it appears, gentlemen, that, if we do not favor high school football, we shall be regarded as what are termed 'dead ones'!" chapter iii not so much of a freshman the next morning's "blade" contained a column and a half, written in reporter spencer's most picturesque vein. the headlines ran: "school board hoaxed. gentle jokers convey a needed hint. football not to be barred in high school. 'blade' reporter a first-off victim in the service of public spirit." it was a fine article, from a high school boy's point of view. it was an article, too, which, in a city ruled by a lively public spirit, was likely to tie the hands of a board of education that did not care to fly in the face of public opinion. dick prescott, before he went in to breakfast, read the article in secret, with many a chuckle. "you seem much interested in the newspaper, richard," said his father, when the young freshman came to table, still holding 'the blade.'" "yes, sir. you know i have set my heart on making the h.s. eleven just as soon as i strike a higher class. i was afraid the school board would abolish the game from our school. now, i know they won't." "hm! let me see 'the blade.'" mr. prescott glanced through the article, a faint twinkle showing in his eyes. "the school board may stop high school football," commented mr. prescott, laying aside the paper. "they _may_, but it would take a good deal of courage, for that article will start gridley on a furor of enthusiasm for the game. i wonder who got up that hoax." "why, dad, 'the blade,' hints at some one down at the business men's club." "hm! i wonder who wrote the article." "perhaps len spencer," replied dick. "you know, dad, he's a great fan for all our h.s. sports." "i can just see jason stone reading that article at _his_ breakfast table this morning," smiled mr. prescott. "stone is a great sail-trimmer, always afraid of the man who casts a vote." "what's the matter?" asked mrs. prescott, coming in breezily from the kitchen. dick explained the news to his mother. "abolish football at the high school!" echoed mrs. prescott, indignantly. "and i've been sharing your great wish dick, to make the team when you're old enough. they shan't do it, anyway, dick, until you've had your chance on the eleven!" "no, mother," replied the boy, very quietly; "i don't believe they will." with a sudden rush of recollection of other pranks in which she had known her son to be engaged in the grammar school days, mrs. prescott shot a sudden, wondering glance at him. but dick, looking utterly innocent, was chewing his food. frank thompson, ben badger and ted butler, all seniors, and stars on the h.s. football team, had risen early that morning, every one of them feeling glum over the dread that the great sport might be "killed" for them. they were the only members of the eleven who happened to see "the blade" early. in consequence, these three husky young americans were on the street early. just as naturally they ran into each other. "whoop!" yelled thompson, when he came in sight of his pals. "wow!" observed ben. "and some more!" glowed butler. "will they stop football _now_?" demanded thompson. "not while anyone is looking," averred butler. "but say, it was great of the business men's club to make such a stroke for us," went on badger, enthusiastically. "yes," admitted frank thompson, "if that was where it came from. i guess it was, all right." arm in arm the three went off down the street, feeling as though the world had turned right side up once more. dick met his partners on the way to the high school. all were grinning quietly. "you're the genius, dick," admitted dan dalzell, cordially. "my undertaker scheme would have been ghastly. it would have taken all the edge off the joke---would have spoiled it, and the joke would have been a club that would have hit us over the head. but, say! i wonder if the grannies' club will dare to touch our sacred football now!" "don't waste any time wondering," chuckled tom reade. "they wont." it was a happy day in the famous old gridley high school. actually, the recitations went off better than they had done on any day since term opening. dick prescott was out on the street rather early that afternoon. he wanted to run across len spencer, and chose main street as the most likely thoroughfare for the purpose. he met the reporter at the head of a little alleyway. "well, dick, how did you like it?" was the reporter's greeting. "say, it was great!" dick bubbled over. "what do they think down at h.s.?" "think?" repeated young prescott. "why, everybody is in ecstasies. the gloom of yesterday has vanished like the mist from a cheap cigar. you're suspected of writing the article, too, len. if the high school students can find any proof that you did you'll get a rouser in the way of handsome treatment." the two had stepped down just off the street into the alleyway. "does everyone seem to believe that the job was put up at the business men's club?" dick asked. "sure thing," nodded len spencer. "and no member of the club will deny it, either, for the thing has struck the popular side of the town. why, by tonight, there'll be at least a dozen of the members, each confidentially telling his friends that _he_ conceived the whole trick." "that'll make it all the stronger," nodded dick. "good thing." "glee!" chuckled len. "wouldn't the whole town---including the board members---wake up, if they only knew that the whole thing was planned out by a fourteen-year-old freshie, by name dick prescott!" "you won't let it out, len, that i had any hand in it?" asked dick, quickly. "oh, not i," promised len, quickly. "i gave you my word on that, son, didn't i?" "now, see here," dick went on, "why can't you push this thing along one day further? why don't you interview a lot of the prominent business men on the absolute necessity of football for keeping up the h.s. spirit and traditions?" "good idea as far as it goes," assented len, dubiously. "but a lot of the business men might prove to be fossilized, and be against the grand old game." "leave that sort out," hinted dick, sagely, "and go after the right kind." "how'll i know the right kind?" asked reporter spencer, thoughtfully. "why, use your head a bit. there's beck. he's a millionaire, and one of the big men of the town, isn't he?" "yes; but he may not believe in football." "shucks! of course beck believes in football," retorted dick. "doesn't his lumber yard furnish all the wooden goods that are needed for fences, seats, and all that sort of thing up at the athletic grounds? doesn't beck know that, if he said a word against football, he never get another order for lumber from the h.s. alumni association. then there's carleson. he's one of the directors of the railroad, therefore a big enough man to interview." "where does carleson come in on hot interest in football?" "use your head," jibed dick. "doesn't his railroad have lots of jobs transporting the football teams to other games, and bringing other teams here? don't mobs of fans follow the teams and pay fare? why, h.s. football is a dividend-payer to carleson. your own editor, pollock, will come out for us. besides the news football makes for 'the blade,' just think of the profit from doing all the poster and ticket printing for us. then there's henley, who sells the team uniforms and other athletic goods _and he's one of the aldermen_! why, man alive, there are a score of big men in town who can't afford to see h.s. football stopped. here are some of their names-----" dick rattled it along, giving a long list to len spencer, who jotted down the names. "thank you; old man," said the reporter, cordially. "i'll get these interviews, and it'll make a corking good second-day story. pollock says i can push this as far as i like, for it has struck a popular vein. but pollock says he wouldn't have thought of it, dick, if you hadn't set the ball rolling." "then he knows the big part that my chums and i took in the game?" asked dick, his face showing his concern. "yes; but don't worry. old pollock is as mum as the grave about such things. now, so long, dick, old fellow. i've got to run down to the end of this alley to call on a sick friend. then i'll hustle out and get a barrelful of interviews that will cinch and rivet football on gridley h.s. for a century to come!" as len spencer vanished through one of the doorways dick prescott turned toward the street. as he did so, he jumped back. "we want you, freshie!" declared frank thompson, grimly. "and we want you badly." badger and butler, who were just behind the speaker, closed in firmly around the freshman. "we heard, and we didn't feel ashamed to listen," declared thompson. "so you're the genius that has been doing giant's work for football? you are under arrest, freshie---and i hope you'll come along without making any row." despite the severity of the looks in the faces of these three seniors, dick prescott did not feel very uneasy. he submitted to walking between thompson and butler, while ben badger brought up the rear. the unafraid prisoner was marched along and into another street, to where the football eleven had its "club room." this was an unoccupied store, the agent of which allowed the boys the use of the place, rent free, as long as it remained idle. when near this headquarters ben badger darted ahead, throwing open the door, while frank and ted marched in with their prisoner. "attention!" roared ben. nearly all the members and substitutes of the eleven were present. they were sorting over various bits of football paraphernalia. several of them stopped work to look up as ben badger slammed the door shut again. "well, what are you making so much noise about?" demanded one of the second classmen. "you come in with a roar, and all you bring with you is---just a poor, insignificant little freshie." "oh, but what a freshman!" thundered frank thompson. "listen, fellows, what do you suppose this freshman has done?" "lynch him for it, anyway, whatever it is," retorted another. "wait!" commanded thompson. "and listen." there upon frank detailed what he and his two comrades had overheard at the head of the alleyway. instantly the complexion of things changed. there were cheers and hoarse yells, as the football men rushed forward, crowding about dick prescott. "now i've told all that i heard," wound up thompson. "we'll have to ask mr. prescott to favor us with the further details, which i trust he will be inclined to do." "mr. prescott!" that, instead of "cub," "kid" or "freshie." had the enthusiasm been less intense dick would have been sure that they were having fun with him. "go on," ordered ben badger briefly. "talk up!" to have refused plain orders from a first classman might have been serious. dick knew better. clearing his throat he related all he could recall of how the plot came to be hatched. nor was dick glory-hunter enough to give himself any more credit than he did his partners. in his brief account the freshman spread all the credit for the invention equally over the six members of dick & co. "'twas a great thought, and carried out like a campaign," declared ben badger. there was more cheering. then frank thompson dragged dick forward once more before the lined-up team. "fellows," proposed thompson, "we owe this freshie-----" "stop that!" roared one of the fellows. "prescott may be young---painfully young---but he's no freshie." "then," amended thompson, with grave dignity, "we owe a handsome reward to this---upper classman. may i tell him what the reward is to be?" "go ahead, thomp!" came an answering roar. "then, listen, prescott. for the great deed you have done for gridley h.s. football every member of dick & co. deserves undying fame. as i can't be sure of our ability to confer that, we'll do the next best thing. in years and class you're all six of you freshmen. now, what is expected of a freshman?" "why," laughed dick, "as i understand it, a freshman is a fellow who doesn't dare to be fresh." "hear! hear!" yelled a dozen voices. "in that respect," proclaimed thompson, solemnly, "dick & co. shall no longer be freshman at gridley h.s.! if the spirit seizes any of you, then go ahead and be fresh---of course, not _too_ fresh! mix in with the upper classmen, all of you, if you want to. have your opinions, and don't be afraid to let 'em out---if you can't hold in any longer. to the upper class dances this winter dick & co. shall have a bid---if you'll all learn how to walk and glide across a waxed floor. remember, when you're among the fellows, you don't have to keep in the back freshmen row---but see to it that you don't encourage general mutiny in your class against the superior upper classes. finally, you can get sassy with all upper classman whenever any of you six want to---all you'll have to do, further, will be to fight." another round of cheers confirmed thompson's declaration. "now, fellows, get a move on!" bawled sam edgeworth, captain of the football eleven. "we've barely time to get to the field and meet coach morton punctually." "will you let me make one request?" shouted dick, over the hubbub. "yes. go ahead! get it out quick!" "then please don't let out a word," begged young prescott, "about dick & co., as we fellows are called, being at the bottom of the plot against the board of education." "not a word!" promised captain edgeworth, gravely. then dick was hustled good-naturedly to the door, ben badger once more springing forward to hold it open. as dick hurried out onto the sidewalk a hurricane of cheers followed him. then, as the door was closing, came a fierce burst of the high school yell. just as it happened, this parting salute couldn't have been worse timed. within four doors dr. thornton, the principal, was sauntering slowly along. he heard tine hubbub, of course, and looked up, to see dick prescott coming out alone, a pleased look on his flushed face. across the street, just coming out of a store, was chairman jason stone of the gridley board of education. "young prescott! bless my soul!" murmured dr. thornton. "why are the football team making such a row over that young freshman?" in another instant the principal's question all but answered itself. "why, i wonder," muttered the good doctor, "if the enthusiasm in any way relates to the hoax on the board. was prescott at the bottom of it? i'll keep it in mind and try to find out!" "if the football crew are making all that row over a mere freshman," thought chairman stone, "then young prescott must be the inventor of the yarn that has made gridley wonder whether we of the board are so many 'dead ones.' hm! hm! i'll find out if that's the case. such a trick is clearly one that would call for expelling the young man from the high school!" chapter iv caption of the hounds "is that mucker going to run today?" the questioner was fred ripley, and his voice was full of disgust. he glared at dick prescott, who was seated unconcernedly on a stone wall, awaiting the arrival of tom reade and dan dalzell, the only other members of dick & co. who were to figure in today's event. "is who going to run?" asked ben badger. "that little mucker, prescott?" insisted fred. "yes," returned badger, shortly. "gridley h.s. is getting worse and worse," growled ripley. "athletics ought to be confined to the best sort of fellows in the school. these little muckers, these nobodies, ought to be kept out of everything in which the real fellows take part." "don't be a cad, ripley," retorted badger, half angrily. "oh, i'm no great stickler for caste, and that sort of thing," fred grumbled on. "i'm democratic enough, when it comes to that, and i associate with a good many fellows whose fathers don't stand as high in the community as mine does." "that's really kind of you," mimicked ben badger, with another look of disgust at the rich lawyer's son. "of course, you feel just as though anything that your father may have accomplished puts you in a rather more elect lot." "of course, it does," retorted fred, drawing himself up stiffly. "still, you know as well as anyone does, badger, that i'm not stuck up just on account of family or position. i'm ready to give the friend's hand to any of the right sort of fellows. but what is that little mucker, prescott? his parents peddle books and newspapers." "they run a book and periodical shop, if that is what you mean," rejoined ben, disgustedly, as he looked the young snob over for the third time. "some mighty big people have done that in times past. as to position, prescott's father isn't a rich man, nor a very successful one, but i wish i could look forward, some day, to being half as well educated as dick's father is." "a dreamer, a fool, a man who couldn't and didn't succeed," sneered fred. "and his son will be a bigger mistake in life. i don't have anything to do with that kind of people and their friends." "i'll wish you good-day, then," broke in badger, crisply, and moved away. "i want to be reckoned as one of dick prescott's friends. he's one of the most promising young fellows in gridley h.s." ripley let loose an astounded gasp. he stood still where badger had left him, boiling over with rage. had ripley been wise, he would have chosen another time for anger. any trainer or physician could have told this young snob that just before going off on a long race is the worst possible time for letting anger get the best of one. anger excites the action of the heart to a degree that makes subsequent running performance a thing of difficulty. gridley h.s. was out for the october paper chase. this was an annual event, in which the sophomores, or third classmen, acted as the hares, while the freshmen played the part of the hounds. the course was six miles across country. three courses, of equal length, were laid down, each with a different terminal. it was known, in advance, only to the hares, which course would be run over. but, which ever course was taken, it must be followed to the end. five minutes' start was allowed to the hares. then the hounds were sent after them in full yelp. by starting time for the hounds the hares were sure to be out of sight. an official of the first class, who followed the hares at the outset, gave the call when the five minutes were up. beginning with that call the hares were obliged to scatter bits of paper, as they ran, all the way to the finish of the run. all three of the courses were somewhat parallel during the first five minutes of the run, but, as the hounds had no means of knowing which course was the right one, the hounds had to divide their forces until the first of the paper trails was struck. then the "baying" of the hounds who found the trail brought the other two parties of freshmen to them. usually, four or five upper classmen ran with the hounds to decide upon "captures" in case of dispute. a hound overhauling a hare had to throw his arms around the prize, stopping him fairly for at least fifteen seconds. then the hare was sent back, out of the race. each hound was credited with the hare he captured. twelve hares ran, also twelve hounds. if the hounds captured seven or more of the hares ere the race was finished, then the hounds won. if they captured less than six, the hares won. if six hares were captured, then the race was a "tie." but, as will be seen, with the five minutes' start, and the hares averaging a year more of age, the sophomore class usually won this chase. these rules had originated at gridley, where the high school boys considered their form of the game superior to the rules usually followed. this year, as in previous years, the sophomores felt confident of winning. the freshmen hounds averaged rather small in size, though little was known as to the freshmen running powers or wind. the sophomores were all good runners. the contestants for positions on both teams had been tried out three days before, by a committee of men from the first class. the sophomores had not been allowed to see the freshmen run at these trials. the start was to be made at three o'clock on this monday afternoon. all the runners were now here, reade and dalzell having been among the last of the freshmen to come up. it was ten minutes before three. "half of the freshmen are a pretty mucky looking lot, aren't they?" asked ripley, as he and purcell, of the hares, strolled by. "i hadn't noticed it," replied purcell pleasantly. "i thought them a clean and able looking lot of young fellows." "humph! a pretty cheap lot! i call 'em," rejoined ripley. dick prescott heard and flushed slightly. he understood the allusion, coming from the source that it did. but dick was bent on making a good run this afternoon, and kept his temper. "hares on the line!" shouted frank thompson, finally. he was to fire the shots that started the two teams, then was to run with the hounds to act as one of the judges of possible captures. purcell, who was captain of the hares, led his men forward to the line laid across the grass. just before they formed, the captain gave some whispered instructions. ben badger was already at the line. he was to run with the hares during the first five minutes, then give the final signal for beginning to scatter the paper trail. "on the line there, quick!" called thompson, watch in his left hand, pistol in his right. "ready!" the hares, each with a bag of torn paper hanging over one hip, bent forward. crack! at the report of the pistol the hares bounded forward. in barely more than a minute afterwards they were out of sight. then followed some minutes of tedious waiting for the gridley freshmen. "hounds to the line!" dick, who had been elected captain of the freshmen team, led his men forward on all easy lope. dick took his place at the extreme left of the pursuing line, with tom reade next to him; then dan dalzell. "ready!" a pause of a few seconds. crack! the pistol sent the hounds away. they did not attempt to run fast. captain dick prescott's orders were against that. the hounds moved away at an easy lope, for there were miles yet to be covered. six miles, in fact, is more than average high school boys of the lower classes can make at a cross-country jog. a go-as-you-please gait was therefore allowed. either hare or hound might walk when he preferred. but for the first five minutes the hounds, who divided into three squads almost immediately, moved along at an easy jog. every eye was alert for the first sign of a paper trail. there were six upper classmen running with the hounds. ben badger was somewhere ahead, hiding in order not to betray the trail. but, when he had been passed, badger would jump up and run with the hounds, making the seventh judge. "i wonder if we've a ghost of a show to win," muttered tom reade. "every show in the world---until we're beaten!" replied dick, doggedly. "it isn't in the gridley blood to wonder if we can win---we've got to win!" after that dick closed his lips firmly. he must save his wind for the long cross-country. on the left the runners were now in a field. the center was moving along the highway, the right wing being in a field over beyond. "wow-oo! wow-oo! wow-oo!" sounded a deep, far-away chorus. "there's the trail, away over to the right!" shouted captain dick. "come on, fellows!" on an oblique line he led them, toward the road. they took a low stone wall on the leap, vaulting the fence at the other side of the road. the center squad had already overtaken the discoverers of the trail. "run easily. don't try to cover it all in a minute. save your wind!" admonished dick to his own squad. the upper classmen judges ran well behind the hounds. it was needful only that they be near enough to see and decide any disputed point of capture. it was all of twenty-five minutes over a course that led across fields and through woods, ere the hounds caught the first glimpse of their quarry. yet, all along, the paper trail was in evidence. one of the hares was required to strew the small bits of paper. when his bag was empty another hare must begin dropping the white bits. "i'll bet ripley dropped along here---the trail is so mean and difficult," grunted reade, disgustedly. "there are the hares ahead---i see two of them!" bellowed dan dalzell, lustily. a chorus from the hounds responded an instant later. yes; they had come in sight of the chase. but the rearmost hares were still a good half mile away. then the hares disappeared into a forest, leaving only the paper trail as evidence of their presence. "brook ahead!" sang out captain dick. "go easily and save some of your wind for jumping." in a minute more they came to it. most of the hounds knew when to start on the faster run that must precede the running jump. splash! splash. splash! spla-a-ash! four of the freshmen floundered in the knee-deep water. well doused, they must none the less dash out of the cold water and continue on the chase. "keep a-moving, and you'll soon be dry and warm," dick called backward over his shoulder. the four who had been badly wet ran heavily now, yet afraid of ridicule if they fell out. they were having their first taste of high school sports, which made no allowance for quitters. twenty minutes later a low hurrah went up from the freshmen hounds. dawson, of the hares, found the pace too swift for him. with a slight pain in his side he lagged so that one of the hounds put on an extra spurt, then wound his arms around the sophomore. "fair capture!" bawled one of the judges, and dawson, dropping out, sat down until he could get his wind back. within the next twenty minutes four more of the hares fell into the maws of the hounds. five captures! that was fine. only two more needed, and less than two miles to cover. the hares were, at this time, again out of sight in the woods ahead. but captain dick, having saved his wind well, now put on a slightly better spurt and jogged ahead, full of the purpose of capturing his second hare. one of the "catches" was already recorded to his credit. "there's one of the hares," dick flashed to himself, as he caught an indistinct glimpse of a sweater and a moving pair of legs ahead. "he seems to be losing his wind, too---that fellow." in a minute more dick gave another gasp of discovery. "it's fred ripley. i suppose it will be bitter medicine for him, if _i_ make the catch," thought the young captain of the hounds. though he was too manly, too good a sportsman to allow malice to creep in, prescott certainly did do his best to overtake the lagging fred. gradually, the young captain left the hares behind. but badger, who was an easy runner, forged ahead so as to keep the leading hound in full sight. hearing some one running behind him, fred ripley glanced backward over his shoulder. "the mucker!" gritted the lawyer's son. "he mustn't catch me---he shan't!" yet vainly did ripley try to put on more speed. he kept it up for a few yards, then knew that he was failing. that ill-advised anger before the start was surely telling on him now. dick still kept forward, gaining a yard or so every few minutes. "keep back! don't you dare touch me, you mucker!" hissed fred sharply over his shoulder. "mucker?" retorted prescott. "i'll pay you for that!" at a bound he covered the distance, throwing first one arm, then the other, fairly around ripley. fred fought furiously to break the clasp, but was so winded that he couldn't. "let go of me! your touch soils!" he cried, hoarsely. but dick still kept his hold, counting: "---twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen!" "fair capture!" rumbled ben badger. the other hounds, or their leaders, were stripping by now. dick, at the judge's words, loosed his hold on fred. "you cur!" snarled fred. then, summoning all his remaining strength, ripley hauled off and struck astounded dick on the face, sending the captain of the hounds to the ground. "take that, mucker!" shouted the assailant. those of the hounds who had not shot by, halted in sheer amazement. like a flash dick was on his feet, his eyes flashing, cheeks flushing crimson. "go on, hounds, go on!" he shouted. "i can take care of this one disgrace to gridley h.s.!" chapter v the "mucker" and the "gentleman" ben badger gave captain dick a shove. "go on, prescott! go on, hounds!" roared badger. "you've only one more capture to make. run along, dick! i'll take care of ripley. he'll stay right here until you come back, or else he'll never have the nerve to show his face at gridley h.s. again! run, you hounds!" dick needed no farther urging. though he was naturally wild with anger, inside, he managed to keep that feeling down and back. he was captain of the hounds. he had his duty to his team and his class first of all to think about. "come on, hounds!" he shouted to those who had lagged at sight of the knock-down. "one more hare in our trap---then we'll be back here!" what he meant by being "back here" everyone present could guess. in fact, many wondered why there had not sooner been a fight between the freshman and his determined sophomore enemy. truth to tell, dick, after that day in the school grounds, had been inclined to overlook the whole affair. he was not afraid of ripley. it was only that dick's ordinary good nature had triumphed. he was not a brawler, yet could stand out for his rights when a need came. a third of a mile further on another yell of triumph floated back to young prescott, who had not yet regained the lead. in a few moments more the last of the hounds came upon a flushed, joyous group of freshmen runners. with them were two of the judges and a sheepish-looking hare. the freshmen hounds had won, and had bagged all the hares for which the game called. let the five remaining hares keep on running to the finish, if they would. for the first time in seven years the freshmen hounds, led by captain dick prescott, had won. "ki-yi-yi-yi-yi!" howled the exultant fourth classmen. "and another for dick prescott." "dick prescott has other game on his hands now," spoke up dan dalzell, one of the late arrivals. "what's the row?" demanded the freshman who had just bagged the seventh hare. "row? that's just it," nodded dan. "prescott caught ripley---" "we saw that." "but you didn't see the finish. ripley, as soon as he was released, knocked dick down." "and _you_ came on with the hounds, dick!" demanded tom reade, incredulously. "badger is keeping ripley on ice until we get back," dan supplied, hastily. "then let us get back quick!" begged reade. "not too fast, though," objected dan. "remember, ripley has been getting his wind back since he stopped. give our dick the same show." no one thought of asking why dick would need his wind now. to those who had heard the brief recital of facts it was plain that there could be but one finish to the afternoon's sport. prescott's hand was sound, at last, and he could give an account of himself. "walk slowly, all hands," insisted dan. "dick, old fellow, on the way back, amuse yourself by getting in all the full, deep breaths that you can." "i'll be all right," spoke dick confidently. it did not look that way to many of them. dick was shorter, and weighed much less than did the sophomore who was waiting back there under the trees. ripley had had a good deal of training in boxing, and was not a coward when he thought the odds on his own side. what none of the fellows knew, though, was that the lawyer's son, ever since that scene in the school yard, had been at his boxing lessons again with renewed energy. "play him for delay, at first, dick," whispered dan. "if ripley can rush you, and get you excited, he'll have a better chance to win out. if you hold him off, hinder him and delay him, before long he'll lose some of his nerve. a fellow like ripley will begin to go all to pieces, once he gets it into his head that he has a long and hard job before him." "i'll do my best," dick promised. "hang it, if he hadn't knocked me down so treacherously, i wouldn't care about fighting. i don't care so much what he _says_. fred ripley's mouth is the weakest part of him." the sophomore was waiting, a sulky frown on his face. a few feet away ben badger, a grim look on his usually good-humored face, leaned against a tree, his arms folded. even had he wanted to get away from this, ripley couldn't have done it. for a sophomore to find any excuse for getting out of a fight with a freshman would bring down upon the soph all the wrath and disgust of the disgraced third class. "come on, mucker! take off your sweater and get ready to take your real medicine!" snarled fred, harshly. but dick prescott, young as he was, was much too wise to allow himself to be betrayed into anger. instead, he halted a few feet away, looking with a significant smile at his enemy. "as i understand it," replied prescott, "the festivities that are soon to commence are to decide which is the mucker---which will go down to the ground to eat his fill of dirt." badger, thompson and butler took upon themselves the direction of the coming "affair." "see here, ted, you look after ripley's interests," proposed badger. "it's a mean job. i'd sooner have the other side of the bet," grumbled ted butler, in an undertone. "i'll look after young prescott," continued ben badger. "thomp will do all the honors as referee." ripley was already peeling off his sweater. "get down to your fighting rig, prescott," urged badger, leading his principal to one side. "how are you, boy?" he whispered, anxiously. "feeling right up to the fighting pitch?" "i hate fighting," dick answered, simply, speaking so that only his second could hear him. "of course it's necessary sometimes, but i can never quite help feeling that, at best, it's low-down business." "so it is," assented bed badger, heartily enough. "but what about it in the case of a sneak like ripley? if he didn't have other fellows' fists to fear he'd be unbearable." "he is, anyway," muttered dick, just before his head was covered by the sweater that badger was helping him remove. "you've been doing a lot of running this afternoon, gentlemen," declared thompson, as the two combatants came toward him. "do you each feel as though you had fighting wind left?" "i've got as much as the other fellow," replied dick. "don't you dare refer to me as a 'fellow'!" ordered ripley, scowling. "i'll call you a girl, then, if you prefer," proposed dick, with a tantalizing grin. "you don't know how to talk to gentlemen," retorted fred, harshly. "be silent, both of you," ordered thompson, sternly. "you can do your talking in another way. "can't begin too soon for me," uttered ripley. "one minute rounds for you, gentlemen," continued thompson, then turned to another upper classman, requesting him to hold the watch. "now are you ready?" ripley grunted, dick nodded. "ready, then! shake hands!" "i won't," replied dick, sturdily, ere fred could speak. the latter, though he, too, would have refused, went white with rage. "take your places, then," directed thompson, briskly. "ready! time!" fred ripley put up a really splendid guard as he advanced warily upon the freshman. dick's guard, at the outset, was not as good. they feinted for two or three passes, then ripley let out a short-arm jab that caught dick prescott on the end of the nose. blood began to drip. ripley's eyes danced. "i'll black both eyes, too, before i put you out," he threatened, in a low tone, as he fought in for another opening. "brag's a good dog," retorted dick, quietly. the blow, though it had stung, had served to make him only the more cool. he was watching, cat-like, for ripley's style of attack. that style was a good one, from the "scientific" view-point, if ripley could maintain it without excitement and all the while keep his wind. but would he? the freshman, though not much of a lover of fighting, had made some study of the art. moreover, dick had a dogged coolness that went far in the arena. suddenly, dick let go such a seemingly careless shoulder blow with his left, straight for ripley's face, that fred almost lazily threw up his right arm to stop it. but to have that right out of the way was just what prescott was playing for. quick as thought dick's right flew out, colliding with ripley's mid-wind with a force that brought a groan from the taller fighter. dick might have followed it up, but he chivalrously sprang back, waiting for fred to make the first sign of renewal of combat. "time!" came from the boy with the watch. "kid, you're going to be all right; you've got your horse-sense with you," glowed ben badger, as he hurried dick back under a tree. "let me see what i can do to stop your nose running quite so red." soon the summons came that took the combatants back to the imaginary ring. again they went at it, both sides cautious, for ripley was puzzled and a bit afraid. he had not expected this little freshman to last for a second round. before the second call of "time" came ripley had managed to land two stinging ones on dick's left cheek, but the freshman did not go down, nor even wilt under this treatment. he was proving the fact that he could "take punishment." yet dick did not land anything that hurt his opponent. "you didn't half try this time," whispered ben, as he attended his man in the "corner" under the tree. "come on, mucker!" yelled ripley, derisively, when the two were summoned for the third round. "speak for yourself, fellow," dick answered, coolly. "i'm a gentleman, and a gentleman's son," proclaimed fred, haughtily. "you're a mucker, and the son of a mucker!" "time!" dick could stand an ordinary insult with a fair amount of good nature, when he despised the source of the insult. but now there was a quiet flash in his eyes that badger was glad to see. ripley started in to rush things. in quick succession he delivered half a dozen stout blows. only one of then landed, and that glancingly. ripley was puzzled, but he had no time to guess. for dick was not exactly rushing, now. he was merely fighting in close, remembering that he had two striking hands, and that feinting was sometimes useful. "a-a-a-h!" the murmur went up, eagerly, as the onlookers saw prescott land his right fist in solid impact against ripley's right eye. bump! before ripley could get back out of such grueling quarters dick had landed a second blow over the other eye. ripley staggered. a body blow sent him to his knees. dick backed off but a few inches. "one, two, three, four, five, six-----" droned off the timekeeper. fred ripley tried to leap up, but, as he did so, dick's waiting left caught him a staggering one on the nose that toppled him over backwards to the ground. "one, two, three-----" began the timekeeper, but suddenly broke off, to call time. "prescott, you're a bird!" declared ben badger, exultantly, as he led his man away. "i wouldn't have gone for him so hard," muttered dick. "but the fellow started to get nasty with his mouth. then it was time to let him have it." frank thompson went over to ripley, to see whether the latter wanted to continue the fight. "that mucker took an unfair advantage of me, hitting me when i was getting up," grumbled fred, who now looked a good deal battered. "prescott was right within the rules," declared thompson. "you would have done the same thing if you had had the chance." fred growled something under his breath. "are you coming back to the ring?" demanded the referee. ripley hesitated. the yellow streak was strong in him, but he dreaded letting the others see it. "i'd rather finish this up some other day," he proposed. "you know you can't do that," retorted thompson, disgustedly. "you either have to come up to the scratch, or admit yourself beaten." "admit myself beaten---by that mucker?" gasped ripley, turning livid. "then come up at the call of time," directed thompson, and strode back to the battle ground. the timekeeper called. dick prescott returned to his ground. ripley stood back, leaning against a tree. he tried hard to look dignified, but one glance at his nose and eyes was enough to spoil the effect. "coming, ripley?" demanded thompson. "brace up, man, unless you want to admit your thrashing," urged ted butler. "i'll attend to that mucker when i feel like it," growled fred ripley. the form of the remark was unfortunate for the one who made it, for it caused one of the freshman class to call out exultantly: "he sure doesn't feel like it just now. look at him!" "come, if you don't hurry in you've get to admit the beating," muttered ted butler. ripley's reply being only a snort, butler suddenly drew forth his handkerchief, rolling it rapidly into a ball. "in default of a sponge," called butler, "i throw this up for my man---i mean principal." "ripley being unable to come to the scratch, the fight is awarded to prescott," announced frank thompson. "whoop! hoo-oo-ray!" the freshmen clustered about were wild with excitement. "you'll have a fine time squaring this with the sophomore class," uttered ted butler, disgustedly. "your class, ripley, will be sore enough, anyway, over losing the paper chase for the first time that any of us can remember. now, for a soph to be thrashed, in three rounds, by a little freshman-----" butler didn't finish, but, turning on his heel, walked over to join the rest. there were two sophomores there who had come over at the end of the paper chase, but neither went to the assistance of his defeated classman. ripley, alone, got his sweater back over his head. the crowd was around dick prescott, who felt almost ashamed of the fight, unavoidable as he knew it to have been. when he had finished getting his clothes on, ripley stalked moodily past the main group. "you mucker," he hissed, "i suppose you feel swelled up over having had a chance to fight gentleman. you-----" "oh, ripley, dry up---do!" interjected ted butler. "you call yourself a gentleman, but you talk and act more like well, more like a pup with the mange!" "a pup with the mange! great!" came the gleeful chorus from a half score of freshmen. "i'm not through with you, yet, prescott!" fred ripley called back over his shoulder. "i'll settle my score with you at my convenience!" then, as he put more distance between himself and the other gridley high school boys, ripley added to himself: "that settlement shall stop at nothing to put dick prescott in the dust---where he belongs." "oh, freshie, but you've coolness and judgment," cried thompson, approvingly. "and you've broken one cad's heart today." "i'm sorry if i have," declared dick, frankly, generously. "i wouldn't have had any heart in the fight if he hadn't started in to humiliate me. i wouldn't have cared so much for that, either. but he started to say something nasty about my parents, and i have as good parents as ever a boy had. then i felt i simply _had_ to fit a plug between ripley's teeth." fred ripley had pain in his eyes to help keep him awake that night. yet he would have been awake, anyway, for his wicked brain was seething with plans for the way to "get even" with dick prescott. chapter vi fred offers to solve the locker mystery for a week gridley high school managed to get along without the presence of fred ripley. that haughty young man was at home, nursing a pair of black eyes and his wrath. yet, in a whole week, a mean fellow who is rather clever can hatch a whole lot of mischief. this dick & co., and some others, were presently to discover. all outer wraps were left in the basement in locker rooms on which barred iron doors were locked. in the boys' basement were lockers a and b. each locker was in charge of a monitor who carried the key to his own particular locker room. as it happened dick prescott was at present monitor of locker a. if during school hours, one of the boys wanted to get his hat out of a locker the monitor of that locker went to the basement with him, unlocking the door, and locking it again after the desired article of apparel had been obtained. thus, in a general way, each monitor was responsible for the safety of hats, coats, umbrellas, overshoes, etc., that might have been left in the locker that was in his charge. wednesday, just after one o'clock one of the sophomore boys went hurriedly up the stairs, a worried look on his face. he went straight to the principal's office, and was fortunate enough to find that gentleman still at his desk. "what is it, edwards?" asked the principal, looking up. "dr. thornton, i've had something strange happen to me, or to my overcoat, if you prefer to put it that way," replied edwards. "what has gone wrong?" "why, sir, relying on the safety of the looker, i left, at recess in one of my overcoat pockets, a package containing a jeweled pin that had been repaired for my mother. now, sir, on going down to my coat, i found the pin missing from the pocket." "did you look thoroughly on the floor, edwards?" "yes, sir; hunted thoroughly." "wait; i'll go down with you," proposed the principal. both principal and student searched thoroughly in the locker. dick, as in duty bound, was still there, on guard at the door. "mr. prescott," asked puzzled dr. thornton, did any student have admittance to the locker after recess today?" "none, sir," answered dick promptly. "hm! and you're absolutely sure, mr. edwards, that you left the little package in your overcoat pocket?" "positive of it, dr. thornton." "it's so strange that it startles me," admitted the good principal. "it startles me a good deal," confessed edwards, grimly, "to think what explanation i am to offer my mother." "oh, well, it _must_ turn up," replied dr. thornton, though vaguely. "anyway, edwards, there has been no theft. the door is locked, and the only two keys to it are the one carried by the monitor and a duplicate which is kept locked in my own desk. you'll probably find it in one of your pockets." "i have been through every pocket in my clothes at least seven times, sir," insisted the dismayed edwards. "and that is a rather valuable pin," he added; "worth, i believe, something, like fifty dollars." "rest assured that we'll have some good explanation of the mystery before long," replied the principal as soothingly as he could. edwards went away, sore and disheartened, but there was nothing more to be said or done. thursday morning dr. thornton carried the investigation further, but absolutely no light could be shed on the missing pin. but at recess it was frank thompson who came upstairs breathless. "dr. thornton," he cried, excitedly, "it's my own fault, of course, but i'm afraid i've seen the last of my watch. it's one that father carried for a good many years, and at last gave me. the works are not very expensive, but the case was a gold one." "how did you lose it?" inquired the principal, looking up over the gold rims of his spectacles. "why, i had to hurry to make school this morning, sir, and, as you know, it's a rather long walk. so i carried my watch in the little change pocket in my reefer in order to be able to look at it frequently. i reached the locker just in time not to be late, and forgot and left my watch in the reefer. when i went down just now i found the watch gone." "oh, but this is serious!" gasped dr. thornton, in dismay. "it begins to look like an assured fact that there is some thief at work. yet prescott alone has a key to that locker." "prescott is all right. he's no thief," put in thompson, quickly. "i agree with you, mr. thompson. i consider mr. prescott too manly a fellow to be mixed up in anything dishonest. yet something is wrong---very wrong. for the safety and good name of us all we must go to the bottom of this mystery." that, of course, was all the satisfaction thompson could expect at the moment. he went out to the remainder of his recess, feeling decidedly blue. nor was dr. thornton any less disturbed. when recess was over, the entire body of students was questioned in the general assembly room, but no light was forthcoming. "of course, in view of what has happened," counseled dr. thornton, "the young gentlemen will do well to leave nothing of value in their coats in the locker rooms. and while nothing distressing, has yet happened in the young ladies basement, i trust they will govern themselves by what has happened on the young men's side." dick prescott felt much concerned over it all, though he did not imagine that anyone suspected _him_ of any share in the disappearance of articles of value. friday there were no mishaps, for the very simple reason that no one left anything of value in the locker rooms. on monday fred ripley was back again. with the aid of a little help from the druggist the haughty young man presented two eyes that did not show any signs of having been damaged. fred himself offered no comment on his absence. he seemed anxious to be on especially good terms with all of the upper classmen with whom he usually associated. during the first period of the morning ripley had no recitation on. he sat at his desk studying. presently as permitted under the rules, he whispered softly with the boy seated behind him. then, suddenly, ripley rose and tip-toed down the aisle to the desk. the principal himself sat there in charge. "dr. thornton," began ripley, in a low voice, "i was away last week, and so didn't hear all the school news. i have just learned about the locker room thefts, and so i'm uneasy. just as the bell rang i was having trouble with the pearl and diamond scarf-pin that i often wear. there wasn't time to adjust it, so i dropped it in my overcoat pocket. i would like to go down to my coat, now, and get it." "prescott is reciting in iv. physics," replied dr. thornton, rising. "however, in view of all that has happened, i think we shall do well to go down and call him out of class. i don't want any more valuable articles to be missing." principal and student went quietly to the floor below. dr. thornton thrust his head into the physics laboratory and quietly called dick out, explaining what was wanted. "you'll come, too, won't you, doctor?" asked ripley. the principal nodded without speaking. as the three reached the barred door, dick inserted the key, then threw open the door. fred marched over to his coat, thrusting his hand into a pocket. "by thunder, it's gone!" gasped fred. in an instant dr. thornton bounded into the locker room. he himself explored every pocket in the boy's coat. "strange! strange!" muttered the bewildered principal. "all the other thefts happened in this locker, didn't they?" inquired ripley, suspiciously. "yes---if thefts they were," admitted dr. thornton. "nothing missing from the other locker room?" "nothing." "doctor," went on ripley, as though loath to utter the words, i hate to suggest anything of the sort. but---er---but---has the monitor of this locker been searched after any of the---er---disappearances?" "ripley, you forget yourself!" cried the principal. "what do you mean!" flared dick, in the same breath, turning crimson, next going very white. "doctor, i'm sorry," spoke ripley, with great seeming reluctance, "but that pin is a costly one. i ask that the monitor be searched!" chapter vii dick's turn to get a jolt "ripley, you don't realize what you are saying!" cried dr. thornton, gazing at the sophomore in very evident distress. "i only know that i'm all broken up, sir, over losing my costly pin," persisted fred. "and i know my father will be angry, and will raise a row at the school board's meeting." dick prescott, standing by, had turned from scarlet to white, and back again. "but ripley," explained the principal, almost pleadingly, "the act would be illegal. no one has a lawful right to search the person of anyone except a properly qualified police officer. and even the police officer can do so only after he has arrested a suspected person." "oh, then i suppose, sir, there's no show for me to get any real justice done in this matter," muttered fred, with an air of feigned resignation. but by now dick prescott felt that he must speak---or explode. "dr. thornton," he cried, chokingly, "the charge made against me, or, at least, implied, is an outrageous one. but, as a matter of justice to me, now that the hint has been cast, i ask that _you_, sir, search me right here and now." "then you've had time to hide the pin!" muttered fred, in a very low voice. dick prescott heard, but he paid no heed to the fellow. "dr. thornton, will you search me---_now_?" insisted the young freshman. "but i don't want to, prescott," appealed the principal. "i haven't the remotest suspicion of you, anyway, my dear boy." "i ask the search, sir, just as a matter of justice," dick insisted. "if it were not too strong a word, then i would say that i _demand_ to be searched here and now." suiting the action to the word, dick prescott, standing proudly erect, raised both arms over his head. "now, please, doctor, just as a matter of simple justice," begged the young freshman. "oh, very well, then, mr. prescott," sighed the principal. "but i never had a more distasteful task." into one of the side pockets dr. thornton projected a shaking hand. he drew out only some scraps of paper, which he promptly thrust back. then he inserted a hand in the jacket pocket on the other side. "ouch!" suddenly exclaimed the principal, in very real pain. he drew the hand out, quickly. a drop of blood oozed up at the tip of his forefinger. "mr. prescott," demanded dr. thornton, "what is that pointed object in your pocket?" "_what_?" demanded fred ripley, tensely. dick himself thrust a hand into that pocket, and drew forth---fred ripley's missing pin. "what---why---who-----" gasped the freshman, suffocatingly. "oh, yes, of course," jeered fred ripley. "astonished, aren't you---you mucker?" the last two words ripley uttered in so low a tone that the principal, gazing in horrified fascination at the pin that he now held in his own hands, did not hear. "you coward!" cried dick, hotly, and clenched his fist, intent on driving it against the sophomore's face. but dr. thornton knew enough about high school boys' fights, to galvanize himself into action. like a flash he bounded between the two boys. "here, here, prescott, none of that!" he admonished. "i---i beg _your_ pardon, sir," gasped dick, in a tone which made it very plain that he did not include his enemy in that apology. "may i trouble you for my pin, sir, now that it has been recovered?" asked fred, coolly. "why---um!---that depends," replied dr. thornton, slowly, speaking with a painful effort. "if you, or your father, have or would have any idea of a criminal prosecution, ripley, then it would be improper to return your pin. it would have to be turned over to the police as an exhibit in evidence. _but_ do you intend anything of that sort, mr. ripley?" "why, that's as _you_ say, doctor," replied the sophomore, quickly. "it's a matter of school discipline, and belongs to your province. personally, i know that i would rather not have this matter go any further." "i---i don't know what to do," confessed dr. thornton, in anxious perplexity. "in any event, before doing anything, i think i had better consult the superintendent and the board of education. mr. prescott, i will say, freely, that i am most loath to believe anything of this sort against you can be possible. there must be---must be---some---er explanation. i---i---don't want you to feel that i believe your guilt as yet assured. i---i-----" here dr. thornton broke down, dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief. almost unconsciously he passed the pin, which he was yet holding, to fred ripley. "lock the locker door, mr. prescott---and give me the key," requested the principal. dick passed over the key, then spoke, with more composure than might have been expected under the circumstances: "dr. thornton, i am as innocent of any thieving as you yourself can be. sooner or later the right of this will come out. then you will realize that i didn't steal anything. i'll prove myself innocent yet, sir." "i hope so, my boy, i---i---hope so," replied the principal. as they ascended, fred ripley stepped aside to let the other two go first. he was afraid to have dick prescott behind him just then. no sooner had the trio entered the general assembly room than it quickly dawned on all the students of both sexes that something was unusually wrong. dick's face was red as fire. had he been guilty of the thefts, he might have been cooler about it all. conscious innocence often puts on the appearance of guilt. somehow, dick got to his seat. he picked up a book, mechanically, and pretended to be deeply absorbed in study. "what's up?" whispered the fellow seated behind fred. ripley turned enough to raise his eyebrows significantly and let his questioner see him do it. instantly all seated near the lawyer's son became intensely curious. wondering glances strayed from over book-tops, even from the far corners of the big assembly room. then the curious glanced at dr. thornton so often that the much disturbed principal soon called another teacher to the desk and left the room. at recess, purcell, of the sophomore class, was found in charge at the door of dick's old locker room. ripley held his tongue until he was out in the school yard. then he broke loose before those who would listen to him---and the number was large. dick & co. had gathered by themselves in another corner of the yard. here, however, they were soon joined by a small mob of the fellows, especially of the freshman class. dick had his say. he didn't want to say much, but he related, in a straightforward way, what had happened. "it's one of fred ripley's mean tricks," declared one of the freshmen. "fred ripley can't fool anyone. he put that pin in dick's pocket himself." "but two thefts---two things were missed last week, when ripley wasn't at school at all," spoke one boy, in an undertone. "yes; that's the queer part of it," agreed another boy. "ripley couldn't have had anything to do with those other cases." this latter was the view that was occurring to mr. thornton, as he sat in the principal's room, poring and pondering over the whole distressing matter. thompson and the other football leaders came trooping over to dick & co. as soon as they heard the noise. prescott was a hero with the football crowd. there was no use in telling them anything against their little freshie hero. "prescott, it would look foolish to talk much," declared thompson, in a voice that was husky from real emotion. "just give me your hand, old man!" dick took the proffered hand, pressing it hard and gratefully. then the rest of the football squad pressed forward, each insisting on a hearty handshake. "nobody except those who want to, will stomach this silly charge against dick," grunted tom reade to dan dalzell. "see how it's turning out? our old pal and leader is holding a regular reception." "'scuse me," begged dan, hastily. "there's laura bentley beckoning to me." he hastened over to the girl's side. there were tiny drops in the corners of laura's eyes that looked like suppressed tears. "dan," she said, coming straight to the point, "we have heard, of course. what a silly charge! see here, you pals of dick's are going to walk home with him from school this noon?" "surest thing that ever happened in the world," declared dalzell, fervently. "just so," nodded laura. "well, if you won't think it strange or forward, six of us girls want to walk along with you boys. that will be a hint that the freshman class, if not the whole h.s., passes a vote of confidence in dick prescott, the most straightforward fellow in the class or the school." "bully for you, miss bentley!" glowed dan. "we shall be looking for you young ladies when school lets out." when the outside bell rang for reassembling, such a guard of honor had chosen to gather around dick, and march in with him, that it looked more like a triumphal procession. "i feel better," sighed the boy, contentedly to himself, as he dropped into his seat. "what a bully thing a little confidence is!" when school let out, dick & co., each partner escorting one of the freshman girls, strolled down the street. a good many more of the students chose to drop in behind them. dick could say nothing, but his heart swelled with pride. "the way to get famous and respected, nowadays, is to steal something, and to get found out," sneered fred ripley, bitterly, to clara deane. straight to his own door did some two score in all of the gridley h.s. students escort dick prescott. "three cheers for dick!" proposed some one. "and for dick and co.!" shouted another voice. the cheers were given with gusto. so much noise was made, in fact, that mrs. prescott came to open the door. something in his mother's face---a look of dread and alarm---spoiled the cheering for dick. as soon as he could he got inside the house. little did the young freshman suspect the ordeal that awaited him here. chapter viii only a "suspended" freshman now "what's wrong mother? have you heard-----" the boy began, as soon as the door was closed. "yes, richard." "but, mother, i am inno-----" "oh, dick, of course you are! but this fearful suspicion is enough to kill one who loves you. come! your father is in the store. dr. thornton is upstairs. he and---and---a policeman. "policeman!" gasped dick, paling instantly. "do they mean to-----" "i don't know just what they mean, dick i'm too dazed to guess," replied his mother. "but come upstairs." as dick entered their little parlor he was dimly aware that the high school principal was in the room. but the boy's whole gaze was centered on a quiet little man---hemingway, the plain clothes man from the police station. "don't look scared to death, prescott," urged dr. thornton, with a faint attempt at a smile. "we want to go through with a little formality---that is all. this matter at the high school has puzzled me to such a degree that i left early today and went to consult with mr. hemingway. now, he thought it best that we come around here and have a talk with you." "i can begin that talk best," pursued hemingway, "by asking you, prescott, whether you have anything that you want to say first-off?" "i can't say anything," replied dick, slowly, "except that i know nothing as to how any of the articles missed at school came to vanish. ripley's pin was found in my pocket today, and i can only guess that some one---ripley, perhaps dropped it in my pocket. ripley has some feelings of enmity for me, anyway. we had a fight last week, and---" dick could not repress a smile---"i thrashed him so that he was out of school for several days." "but ripley was not at school for the last few days, until today," broke in dr. thornton. "now, a pin and a watch were missed while ripley was not attending school." "i know it, sir," dick nodded. "as to those two articles i cannot offer even the ghost of an explanation." "i don't like to accuse you of taking ripley's scarf-pin, nor do i like to suspect him of putting up such a contemptible trick," explained dr. thornton, thoughtfully. "as far as the incident of the scarf-pin goes i am willing to admit that your explanation is just as likely to be good as is any other." "prescott, what did you do with the other pin and the watch?" shot in policeman hemingway, suddenly and compellingly. it was well done. had dick been actually guilty, he might either have betrayed himself, or gone to stammering. but, as it was, he smiled, wanly, as he replied: "i didn't do anything with them, mr. hemingway. i have just been explaining that." "how much money have you about you at this moment?" demanded hemingway. "two cents, i believe," laughed dick, beginning to turn out his pockets. he produced the two copper coins, and held them out to the special officer. "you may have more about you, then, somewhere," hinted the officer. "find it, then," begged dick, frankly, as he stepped forward. "search me. i'll allow it, and shall be glad to have you do it." so policeman hemingway made the search, with the speed and skill of an expert. "no; you've no more money about you," admitted the policeman. "you may have some put away, though." "where would it be likely to be?" dick inquired. "in your room, perhaps; in your baggage, or hidden behind books; oh, there's a lot of places where a boy can hide money in his own room." "come along and show me a few of them, then, won't you please?" challenged the young freshman. mrs. prescott, who had been hovering near the doorway, gave a gasp of dismay. to her tortured soul this police investigation seemed to be the acme of disgrace. it all pointed to the arrest of her boy---to a long term in some jail or reformatory, most likely. "madame," asked the plain clothes man, stepping to the door, "will you give your full consent to my searching your son's room---in the presence of yourself and of dr. thornton, of course? i am obliged to ask your permission, for, without a search warrant i have no other legal right than that which you may give me." "of course you may search richard's room," replied his mother, quickly. "but you'll be wasting your time, for you'll find nothing incriminating in my boy's room." "of course not, of course not," replied hemingway, soothingly. "that is what we most want---_not_ to find anything there. will you lead the way, please? prescott, you may come and see the search also." so the four filed into the little room that served dick as sleeping apartment, study-room, den, library and all. hemingway moved quickly about, exploring the pockets of dick's other clothing hanging there. he delved into, under and behind all of the few books there. this plain clothes man moved from place to place with a speed and certainty that spoke of his long years of practice in this sort of work. "there's nothing left but the trunk, now," declared the policeman, bending over and trying the lock. "the key to this, prescott!" dick produced the key. hemingway fitted it in the lock, throwing up the lid. the trunk was but half filled, mostly with odds and ends, for dick was not a boy of many possessions. after a few moments the policeman deftly produced, from the bottom, a gold watch. this he laid on the floor without a word, and continued the search. in another moment he had produced the jeweled pin that exactly answered the description of the one belonging to mrs. edwards. dick gave a gasp, then a low groan. a heart-broken sob welled up in mrs. prescott's throat. dr. thornton turned as white as chalk. hemingway, an old actor in such things, did not show what he felt---if he really felt it at all. "these are the missing articles, aren't they?" asked the policeman, straightening up and passing watch and pin to the high school principal. "i believe them to be," nodded dr. thornton, brokenly. mrs. prescott had staggered forward, weeping and throwing her arms around her son. "o, richard! richard, my boy!" was all she could say. "mother, i know nothing about how those things came to be in my trunk," protested the boy, sturdily. after his first groan the young freshman, being all grit by nature, straightened up, feeling that he could look all the world in the eye. only his mother's grief, and the knowledge that his father was soon to be hurt, appealed to the softer side of young prescott's nature. "mother, i have not stolen anything," the boy said, more solemnly, after a pause. "i am your son. you believe me, don't you?" "i'd stake my life on your innocence when you've given me your word!" declared that loyal woman. "the chief said i was to take your instructions, dr. thornton," hinted hemingway. "yes; i heard the order given," nodded the now gloomy high school principal. "shall i arrest young prescott?" at that paralyzing question dick's mother did not cry out. she kissed her son, then went just past the open doorway, where she halted again. "i hesitate about seeing any boy start from his first offense with a criminal record," replied the principal, slowly. "if i were convinced that this would be the last offense i certainly would not favor any prosecution. prescott, could you promise-----" "then you believe, sir, that i stole the things that you hold in your hand?" demanded the young freshman, steadily. "i don't want to believe it," protested dr. thornton. "it seems wicked---monstrous---to believe that any fine, bright, capable boy like you can be-----" dr. thornton all but broke down. then he added, in a hoarse whisper: "---a thief." "i'm not one," rejoined dick. "and, not very far into the future lies the day when i'm going to prove it to you." "if you can," replied dr. thornton, "you'll make me as happy as you do yourself and your parents." "let me have the watch and pin to turn over to the chief, doctor," requested hemingway, and took the articles. "now, for the boy-----?" "i'm not going to have him arrested," replied the principal, "unless the superintendent or the board of education so direct me." from the other side of the doorway could be heard a stifled cry of delight. "then we may as well be going, doctor. you'll come to the station with me, won't you?" "in one moment," replied the principal. he turned to dick, sorrowfully holding out his hand. "prescott, whatever i may do will be the result of long and careful thought, or at the order of the superintendent or of the board of education. if you really are guilty, i hope you will pause, think and resolve, ere it is too late, to make a man of yourself hereafter. if you are innocent, i hope, with all my heart, that you will succeed in proving it. and to that end you may have any possible aid that i can give you. goodbye, prescott. goodbye, madam! may peace be with you." half way down the stairs dr. thornton turned around to say: "of course, you quite comprehend, prescott, that, pending official action by the school authorities, you must be suspended from the gridley high school!" as soon as the door had closed dick half-tottered back into his room. he did not close the door, but crossed to the window, where he stood looking out upon a world that had darkened fearfully. then, without having heard a step, dick prescott felt his mother's arms enfold him. chapter ix laura bentley is wide awake suspended! that did not mean expulsion, but it did mean that, until the school authorities had taken definite action on the case, young prescott could not again attend h.s., or any other school under the control of the board of education. the five other partners of dick & co. had faced the school defiantly when taking dick's books from his desk and strapping them to bring home. dan dalzell thrashed a sophomore for daring to make some allusion to prescott's "thefts." tom reade tried to thrash another sophomore for a very similar offense, but reade got whipped by a very small margin. that fact, however, did not discourage reade. he had entered his protest, anyway. dave darrin extracted apologies for remarks made, from three different sophomores. all of the partners were diligent in protecting and defending the reputation of their chief. every day the "co." came to see dick. they made it a point, too, to appear on the street with him. not one member of the football team "went back on" the suspended freshman. all treated him with the utmost cordiality and faith wherever they met him. laura bentley and some of the other girls of dick's class stood by him unwaveringly by chatting with the suspended freshman whenever and wherever they met him on the street. "pooh, old man, a fellow who has all the brains you displayed in making that football stroke doesn't need larceny as an aid to getting ahead in the world," was the way frank thompson put it. "thank you, thompson. it's always good to have friends," smiled dick, wistfully. "but, just now, i appreciate them more than ever." "the football team and its best friends are giving fred ripley the dead cut," pursued thompson. "and say, you know the junior class's dance comes off the night after tomorrow night. juniors are always invited, but members of other classes have to depend on favor for invitations. we've fixed it so that ripley couldn't get an invite. he tried, though. now, prescott, you'll receive an invitation in tomorrow morning's mail. fix it to be there, old man. do! you'll find yourself flanked by friends. if any fellow looks at you cross-eyed at the junior dance, the eleven will throw him out through a window!" dick looked more wistful than ever. he had never had many lessons in dancing, but he took to the art naturally. had life been happier for him just then he would have been glad to take up the invitation. besides, dave darrin had told him that laura bentley was invited and meant to go. "now, you'll come along, of course," asked thompson, coaxingly. "no-o-o," hesitated dick, "i don't believe i shall." "oh, nonsense, old man!" "i believe i'd rather not," replied prescott, sadly; "though i'm tremendously grateful to those who want me to come and who would try to make it pleasant for me." thompson argued, but it was no use. "why, every one of your partners is going," said frank. "here comes dave darrin now. he'll tell you so." "nope," said dave, with all the energy at his command. "we understand we're to be invited, and we'd give almost anything to go, but dick & co. don't go unless the dick part of the firm is with us." the junior dance came off, and was a good deal of a success in many ways. only one of the ten boys of the freshman class who were invited attended. eight girls of the same class were invited, but only two of them accepted. laura bentley decided, at the last moment, against attending. within ten days two important games came off between the gridley h.s. and other crack high school teams. gridley won both. "it would be cheeky in me to go to the game, when i'm suspended---hardly a h.s. boy, in fact," dick explained to his partners. "but you go. "no, sir!" muttered greg holmes. "not if you feel that you can't go," protested harry hazelton. "dick & co. go together, or not at all." gridley h.s. won both games by the skin of their teeth. "we can't succeed much longer without our mascots," thompson declared impressively before all the members of dick & co. the six freshmen, walking along the street together had been rounded up and haled into the store where the football squad held its "club" meetings. "humph! i'd be a poor mascot for any body," muttered dick. "i haven't been able to bring even myself good luck." "you just come to a game once, all six of you," begged ben badger. "then you'll see how we can pile up the score over the enemy! don't let it get out of your heads that you're our real, sure-thing mascots. why, if it hadn't been for you six youngsters we probably wouldn't be playing football any more this season." other members of the squad tried to ply their persuasive powers, but all in vain. dick prescott, though not breaking down or wilting under the suspicion that lay against him, felt convinced that it would be out of place for him to attend high school affairs while on the suspended list. "humph!" grunted thomp. "the only thing i can see for us to do is to spend a lot of the athletic association's money in hiring a swell detective to come to town and find out who really did take the things at the old h.s. then we'd have you with us again, dick prescott." though under such long suspension dick was not going backward much in his studies. he had his books at home, and every forenoon he put in the time faithfully over them. one of these november evenings dick had the good fortune to have dave darrin and greg holmes up in his room with him. the other partners were at home studying. dick and his friends were talking rather dispiritedly, for the long suspension, without action, was beginning to wear on them all. dick's case was now quietly before the board of education, but a result had not yet been reached by that slow-moving body. of course, the members of the board had now more than a good idea that dick & co. had been behind that "dead ones" hoax; but the members of the board were trying to do their duty in the suspension case, and tried not to let any other considerations weigh with them. "we've all heard that old chestnut about the silver lining to the cloud," observed dave, dejectedly. "if it's true, then silver seems to be mighty scarce these days." "richard! ri-i-ichard!" called the elder prescott, loudly, from the foot of the stairs that led up from the store. "yes, sir," cried dick, bounding to the door and throwing it open. "laura bentley has called us up on the 'phone. she says she wants to talk to you quicker'n lightning, whatever speed that may indicate. she adds, mysteriously, that 'it's the biggest thing that ever happened!'" "coming, sir!" cried dick, bounding down the stairs, snatching at his cap and reefer as he started, though he could not have told why he picked up these garments. dave and greg, acting on some mysterious impulse, grabbed up their reefers and hats, and went down the stairs hot-foot after their chum and leader. "hullo!" called dick, reaching the telephone instrument in the back room of the store. "yes, miss bentley, this is prescott." "then listen!" came the swiftly uttered words. dick discovered that the girl was breathless with excitement and the largeness of her news. "are you listening?" "i'll catch every word," dick replied. "well, i'm at belle meade's house. belle and her mother are here. mr. meade is out. you know where the house is---corner of clark street and stetson's alley?" "yes; i know." "well, the room between the dining-room and the parlor is in darkness, and has been all evening. there's a window in that room that opens over the alley. the meade apartment is on the second floor, you know. well, belle was passing that window---in the dark---and she heard voices down below in the alley. she wouldn't have thought anything of it, but she heard one of the speakers raise his voice and say, excitedly: 'see here, i did the trick, didn't i? ain't dick prescott bounced out of school! ain't he in disgrace! and he'll never get out of it!'" "then another voice broke in, in a lower tone, but belle couldn't hear what was said. she's back in the dark by that open window now," laura bentley hurried on, breathlessly. "the two parties are still there, talking. it's hardly a minute's run from where you are. can't you get some one in a hurry, run up here and jump on the parties? _please_ do, dick! it'll be the means of clearing up this whole awful business!" "won't i, though?" answered dick, breathlessly, into the 'phone. "i have two chums here now. we'll be there like greased lightning---and, oh, miss bentley, _thank_ you!" neither dave nor greg needed to ask any questions, for both had stood close to the receiver, drinking in every word. now they shot out through the front of the store with a speed and turbulence that made studious mr. prescott gasp with amazement. "careful, now, fellows!" warned dick a few moments later. "we want to _hear_, as well as _catch_! softly does it." well practiced in running, not one of the three freshmen was out of breath by the time that they reached the head of stetson's alley. just before turning the corner at the head of the alley, dick and his freshmen chums halted to listen and reconnoiter. peeping cautiously around the corner, dick, greg and dave made out dimly one figure well down the alley. there was not light enough there to recognize the fellow. and the three boys could make out some one past this first fellow, but the second individual stood well in the dark shadow of the delivery doorway of a store. "let's see if we can't creep up a little nearer," whispered dick prescott, softly. "they may see us coming," warned dave. "if they do, we'll just make a jump in and nab them anyway," dick rejoined. "remember the main game---capture!" cautiously, a foot at a time, and in indian file, the three freshmen stole down the dark alleyway. then dick halted, passing back a nudge that dave darrin passed on to greg holmes. "now, ye needn't think ye're goin' to renig," warned the fellow who was nearer to the boys. "i done the whole job against prescott, and i done it as neat as the next one. why, _you_ never even thought of the trick of slipping that watch and pin into prescott's trunk, did ye? that was _my_ brains. i supplied the brains, an' you've got to raise the cash to pay for 'em! how did i do that trick of slippin' the watch an' pin into prescott's trunk! oh, yes! of course, ye wanter know. well, i'll tell ye when ye hand me the rest o' the money for doin' the whole trick---then i'll tell ye." something in a very low whisper came, in response, from the second party who was invisible to the prowling freshmen. dick prescott felt that there was no need of prolonging this scene. he had heard enough. "now, rush 'em! grab 'em---and hold 'em!" shouted dick, suddenly. as the three freshmen shot forward into the darkness something that sounded like an almost hysterical cheer in girls' voices came from the open, dark window overhead. but neither dick nor his chums paused to give thought to that at this important moment. the unknown who had been doing most of the talking wheeled with an oath, making a frantic dash to get out of the alley and onto the street. but dick shot fairly past him, dodging slightly, and made a bound for the second party to this wicked conference. just beyond the doorway in which this second party had keen standing was a yard that furnished a second means of exit from the alley. it was this second party to the talk that dick was after. he left the other fugitive to his two active, quick-witted chums. they were swift to understand, and grappled, together, with the rascal fleeing for the street. the three went down in a scuffling, fighting heap. like a flash the fellow that dick was after seemed to melt into the adjoining back yard. prescott, in trying to get in after him in record time, fell flat to the ground just inside the yard. yet, as he went down prescott grabbed one of his fugitive's trouser legs near the ankle. "let go!" hissed the other, in too low a voice to be recognized. before dick, holding on grimly, had time to look upward, the wretch lifted a cane, bringing it down on dick's head with ugly force. chapter x tip scammon talks---but not enough if that ugly blow hadn't proved a glancing one, dick prescott might have been for a long siege of brain fever. as it was, he was slightly stunned for the moment. by the time he could leap up and look about him, rather dizzily, his late assailant had made a clean escape. "no time to waste on a fellow who's got away," quoth dick. he staggered slightly, at first, as he hurried from the yard back into the alleyway. "now, you quiet down!" commanded dave darrin hoarsely. "no more from you, mr. thug!" "lemme go, or it'll be worse for ye!" threatened a harsh voice that, nevertheless, had a whine in it. "what use to let you go, tip scammon?" demanded darrin. "we know you, and the police would pick you up again in an hour." "lemme go, and keep yer mouth shut," whined the fellow. "if ye don't, ye'll be sorry. if ye _do_ lemme go, i'll pay ye for the accommodation." "yes," retorted dave, scornfully. "you'd pay us, i suppose, with money you picked up in some way resembling the trick you played on dick prescott." "well, money's money, ain't it?" demanded tip, skeptically. "some kinds of money are worse that dirt," growled greg holmes. this was the conversation, swiftly carried on, that dick heard as he stepped back to his friends. scammon was lying on his back on the ground, with dave seated across his chest. greg bent back the wretch's head, holding a short club that the two freshmen had taken away from tip in the scuffle. "where's the other one, dick?" gasped dave, as he saw young prescott coming back alone. "he got away," muttered dick. "he hit me over the head, and stunned me for a moment, or i'd be holding onto him yet." "who was he?" demanded greg, breathlessly. "i don't know," dick admitted. "i'd give a small part of the earth to know and be sure about it." that admission of ignorance was a most unfortunate one. tip scammon heard it, and the fellow grinned inwardly over knowing that his late companion had not been recognized. "what are we going to do with this fellow, dick?" asked dave. "i'm wondering whether he ought to be arrested or not," dick replied. "fellows, i feel mighty sorry for tip's father." and well might all three feel sorry. so, far as was known, this crime against dick was the first offense tip had committed against the law. he was a tough character, and regarded as one of the worse than worthless young men of gridley. tip was a handy fellow, a jack-of-all-trades, with several at which he might have made an honest living---but he wouldn't. yet tip's father was old john scammon, the highly respected janitor at the high school, where he had served for some forty years. "i say, fellows, i wonder if we can let tip go---now that we know the whole story?" breathed dick. "say, i'll make it worth yer while," proposed tip, eagerly. "how about the law?" asked dave darrin, seriously. "have we any right to let the fellow go, when we know he has committed a serious crime?" "i don't know," replied prescott. "all i'm thinking of is good, honest old john scammon." "it'd break me old man's heart---sure it would," put in tip, cunningly. at the first cry from belle and laura bentley, however mrs. meade, who was also in the secret, had hurried down into clark street. just as it happened she had espied a policeman less than a block away. that officer, posted by mrs. meade, now came hurrying down the alleyway. "oho! tip, is it?" demanded the policeman. "let him up, darrin. i can handle him. now, then, what's the row about?" thereupon dick and his chums had to tell the story. there was no way out of it. officer connors heard a little of it, then decided: "the station house is the place to tell the rest of this. come along, tip. and you youngsters trail along behind." though the station house was not far away, a good-sized crowd was trailing along by the time they reached the business stand of the police. tip was hustled in through the doorway, the three young freshmen following. leaning over the railing, smoking and chatting with the sergeant at the desk, was plain clothes man hemingway. "hullo," muttered that latter officer, "what's this?" "a slice out of one of your cases, i guess, hemingway, from what i've heard," laughed connors. "according to these boys, tip is the fellow who knows the inside game of the high school thefts." "let's have scammon in the back room, then," urged hemingway, leading the way to the guard room. the sergeant, also, followed, after summoning a reserve policeman to the desk. then followed a sharp grilling by the keen, astute hemingway. dick and his chums told what they had heard tip say before they pounced upon him. tip, who was a round-headed, short, square-shouldered fellow of twenty-four, possessed more of the cunning of the prize ring than the cleverness of the keen thief. "i've been caught with the packages on me," he admitted, bluntly, and with some show of bravado. "i guess i can't get outer delivering 'em." "then you stole that pin and the gold watch from the locker at the high school?" demanded hemingway, swiftly. "yep." "how did you get into the locker room?" shot out hemingway. "guess!" leered tip, exhibiting some cheap bravado. "maybe i can find the answer in your clothes," retorted the plain clothes man. "stand still." the search resulted in the finding of about ten dollars, a knife, and three queer-looking implements that hemingway instantly declared to be pick-locks. "you used these tools, and slipped the lock, did you?" asked hemingway. "didn't have to," grinned tip. "took an impression of the lock, then, and made a key, did you?" "right-o," drawled tip. "i'll look into your lodgings," muttered hemingway. "probably i'll find you've got a good outfit for that kind of work. i remember you used to work for a locksmith." tip, however, was not scared. he knew that there was nothing at his lodgings to betray him. "then you used these picklocks to open prescott's locked trunk with?" was hemingway's next question. "'fraid i did," leered tip. "what time of the day did you get into the prescott flat?" "'bout ten o'clock, morning of the same day ye went through prescott's trunk an' found the goods there." "the same goods that you placed in the trunk, tip, after breaking into the prescott flat while mr. and mrs. prescott were down in their store and young prescott was at the high school?" "that's right," tip grinned. "you picked the lock of young prescott's trunk, stowed the watch and pin away in there, and then sprung the lock again?" "why, say, ye muster seen me," declared scammon, admiringly. "the week before that day you must have been at the high school, helping your father, especially in the basement during session hours." "i sure was," tip admitted. "i had ter, didn't i, to have a chance ter get inter the locker room?" "what did you say the name of the fellow was who hired you to do the trick?" swiftly demanded hemingway, changing the tack. "i b'lieve i _didn't_ say," responded tip, giving a wink that included all present. "tell me now, then." "not if ye was to hang me for refusing," declared scammon, with sudden obstinacy. "yet you've told us everything else," argued the plain clothes man. "might jest as well tell ye everything else," retorted tip. "didn't these high school kids find the packages on me?" "then tell us who the chap was that you were talking with tonight." "not fer anything ye could give me," asserted tip scammon, with great promptness. "oh, well, then," returned hemingway, with affected carelessness, "prescott can tell us the name of the chap he grappled with in that back yard." "yep! let young prescott tell," agreed tip with great cheerfulness. that was as far as the police could get with the prisoner. he readily admitted all that was known, and he had even gone so far as to tell how he had stolen the watch and the pin, and how he had secreted them in dick's trunk, but beyond that the fellow would not go further. "did you have anything to do with placing ripley's pin in prescott's pocket?" questioned hemingway. "nope," declared tip, in all apparent candor. "know anything about that?" "nope." "then how did you know that that particular morning was the right morning to hide the other two stolen articles in prescott's trunk?" "i heard, on the street, what was happenin'," declared tip, confidently. "so i knew 'twas the right time ter do the rest of the trick." at last hemingway gave up the attempt to learn the name of the party with whom tip had been talking in stetson's alley on this night. then tip was led away to a cell. "come on, fellows," muttered dick to his chums. "since tip is under arrest, anyway, and has confessed, and since the whole thing is bound to become public, i want to run down to 'the blade' office, find len spencer, and send him up here to get the whole, straight story. _with this yarn printed i can go back to school in the morning_!" "now, see here, dick," expostulated dave darrin, as the three chums hurried along the street, "in the station house you told the police you didn't get a look at the other fellow's face." "well, that was straight," prescott asserted. "do you mean to say you don't know who the fellow was---you really don't?" persisted dave darrin. "i don't know," dick declared flatly. "you've a suspicion, just the same," asserted greg holmes, dryly. "possibly." "who was it, then?" coaxed greg holmes. "was it fred ripley?" shot out dave darrin. "will you fellows keep a secret, on your solemn honor, if i tell you one?" dick questioned. dave and greg both promised. "well, then," prescott admitted, "i'm convinced in my own mind that it was fred ripley that i had hold of for an instant tonight. but i didn't see his face, and i can't prove it. that's why i'm not going to tell about it. but this fellow wore lavender striped trousers, just like a pair of fred's. there is just a chance or two in a thousand that it wasn't ripley---and i'm not going to throw it all over on him when i can't prove it. fellows, i know just what it feels like to be under suspicion when you really didn't do a thing. _it hurts---awfully_!" chapter xi the welcome with a big "w" ben badger sat perched aloft among the bare, spreading branches of a giant maple near one corner of the school grounds. the maple stood at the curbing of the sidewalk. down below stood nearly a hundred high school boys of gridley. that ben was on sentry duty was apparent from the eager looks that those below frequently cast up at him. at times, too, the general impatience sought relief in questions hurled at ben. finally, from the lookout aloft came down the rousing hail: "here he comes! fellows! here he comes! no---here _they_ come! the whole crowd---dick & co.!" a flutter passed through the crowd below, vet not one of the gridley h.s. boys stirred from the ranks just within the school yard gate. back on the main steps of the high school building nearly three score of the young ladies were irregularly grouped. they were silent, but expectant. for "the blade" had been read in many a gridley home that morning. the news had traveled fast over gridley. though the paper had contained no announcement that prescott would return to school, every high school boy and girl had felt sure of that. down the street, three abreast, came dick & co., with proud, firm stride. very likely the partners were even more exultant than was prescott himself. then the freshman sextette came in full sight from the gateway. "who's this?" yelled ben badger in his loudest voice. from the crowded tanks below welled up the chorus: "dick & co.! dick & co.! good old dick! bully old co.!" prescott and his chums halted, thunderstruck by the volume and force of that unexpected chorus. immediately on top of it rolled out lustily the complicated high school yell, given with a vim never before heard off the football field. and then: "what's the matter with dick prescott?" demanded ben badger, in stentorian tones. from one half of the h.s. boys came the roaring response: "he's the whole cheese." then, from the other half: "-----for a _freshman_!" dick & co. recovering from their amazement, were coming on again now. young prescott's heart thumped hard. he was no popularity-chaser, but only the fellow who has been down hard, for a while, knows how good it is to be _up_ once more. as dick neared the gate ben badger dropped down out of the bare maple tree, for ben had yet other duties on the reception committee. he and frank thompson suddenly snatched dick prescott out of the ranks of his chums, and hoisted him aloft. this these two husky first classmen were well able to do. across the school yard they started with him, while the rest of the fellows followed, giving voice to the high school yell: "t-e-r-r-o-r-s! wa-ar! fam-ine! pes-ti-lence! that's us! that's us! g-r-i-d-l-e-y h.s.! rah! rah! rah! rah! gri-i-id-ley!" the girls grouped on the steps parted, letting the leaders and followers through. with the rush as of an army the excited youngsters bore dick prescott up a flight of stairs. half a dozen of the fellows sprang ahead of badger and thompson, throwing open one of the doors of the general assembly room. again the high school yell broke loose, sounding, in that confined space, as though it must jar the rafters loose. dr. thornton had risen from his chair behind the desk. it was before coming-in-hour, and there was no rule that commanded quietude before the bell rang. yet such a din had never before been heard in the room. but just then dr. thornton caught sight of red-faced, happy-looking dick prescott on the shoulders of badger and thompson. then the principal laughed in sheer good humor. wheeling, badger and thompson carried dick straight up to the platform, where they deposited their human burden at the edge. "welcome to our city!" yelled badger, sonorously. "mr. prescott," greeted dr. thornton, holding out his hand, "i am heartily glad to see you back here." "no more pleased, sir, than i am to be here," returned the young freshman. "and i must thank you, doctor, for the promptness with which you sent the note around to me informing me that the suspension had automatically ended." while the cheering was going on out in the yard, and while dick was being carried in triumph into the building, fred ripley and clara deane had just turned in out of a side street and come within view of the demonstration. "they're shouting out something about prescott," murmured clara. "oh, i suppose the mucker has been allowed to sneak back into school," returned ripley, in disgust. "it's a shame to allow that class of young fellows in a high school," declared miss deane. "if a higher education is necessary for such people, they ought to be sent to a special school of their own." "if gridley h.s. goes on being cheapened i shall go to some good private prep. school somewhere," hinted fred. "that _would_ be a splendid idea," glowed clara. "i wouldn't mind going to some good seminary myself." "if we do, let us hope we can find a town that will contain both schools," suggested fred, with an attempt at gallantry. "for that matter, clara, there are co-ed private schools, you know." "i don't want to go to one," retorted miss deane, promptly. "co-ed schools are just like co-ed colleges. the boys may have a good enough time, but the co-ed girls are shoved into the background. co-ed boys pretend they don't know that the co-ed girls are alive. the high school is better, for a girl, than any co-ed private school, for in the high school girls are treated on an even footing with boys." "we'll both of us keep that prep. school idea in mind, though," proposed ripley, just before the pair entered the school building. by the time that this exclusive pair entered the general assembly room the scene before them was none too pleasing. the congratulatory crowd being too large for dick alone, his five partners were holding separate little receptions for groups, relating how dick, dave and greg had captured tip scammon. such speculation there was as to who tip's unrecognized companion could have been the night before. as fred stepped into the big room he was conscious of many unfriendly glances that were sent in his direction. as early as possible dick prescott sought out laura bentley and bell meade, and to them he expressed his heartiest thanks for the splendid aid they had given him toward this present happy moment. so great was the clamor, in fact, that, when the gong outside struck the "minute-call" at . , no one in the assembly room seemed to hear it. then came the jingling of the assembly bell in the big room. a murmur of surprise ran around, for time had passed rapidly since dick's appearance. in another moment the only sound was that of quiet footfalls as the young ladies and gentlemen of the gridley h.s. moved to their seats. in a few seconds more only the ticking of the big clock was heard. chapter xii dick & co. give football a new boost by recess the feeling had quieted down. dick prescott was only a freshman, but it is safe to say that he was the most popular freshman who had ever "happened" at gridley h.s. however, the noisy spirit of welcome had spent itself dick & co. were given a chance to go away quietly by themselves and talk over their own affairs. fred ripley appeared to be the only unhappy boy in the lot. he kept to himself a good deal, and the scowl on his face threatened to become chronic. recess was nearly up when thomp and captain sam edgeworth, of the eleven, approached dick & co. a nod from edgeworth drew prescott away from his chums. "prescott, as you know, we don't usually allow freshmen to mix much with us in the athletic line. but the fellows feel that you are a big exception. you couldn't possibly make the team this year, of course, but we well, we thought you might like a bit of the social end of the squad. we thought you might like to come around to our headquarters and see us drill and hear our talk of the game. would it interest you any?" "would it?" glowed dick. "why, as much as it would please a ragpicker to be carried off to a palace to live!" "do you care to come around and see us this afternoon?" pursued captain sam. "say three o'clock." "i'd be delighted." "then come around and see us, prescott. maybe you'll be interested in something that you see and hear." "i wonder-----" began dick, wistfully. "well, what?" asked thomp. "could you possibly include my chums in that invitation? they're all mightily interested." "yes," nodded thompson, "they're interested, and they all helped you to spring that trick on the board of education. it's more than half likely that we owe the continuance of football this season to dick & co." "bring your friends along, then," agreed captain sam edgeworth, though he solemnly hoped, under his breath, that he wasn't establishing a fearful precedent by showing such wholesale cordiality to the usually despised freshmen. "we'll use all six of you as our mascots," laughed thomp. "and er---er---" began dick, a bit diffidently, "we have something that we've been talking over, and we want to suggest to you---if you won't think us all too eternally fresh." "anyway, the idea'll have to keep," muttered edgeworth, as the gong clanged out. "there goes the end of recess." the long lines were quickly filing in at two entrances? and the work of the school day was on again. it was barely a quarter of three when dick & co. walking two-and-two, came in sight of the otherwise unoccupied store that formed the football headquarters. "we're too early," muttered prescott, consulting his watch. "we'll have to take a walk around a few blocks yet, fellows." "why?" dan dalzell wanted to know. "what difference does a matter of a few minutes make?" "haven't you had it rubbed into you enough that you're only a measly freshman?" laughed dick. "and don't you know a freshman is called a freshman only because he can't dare to do anything that looks the least little bit fresh? from an upper classman's point of view we've had a thumping big privilege accorded us, and we don't want to spoil it by running it into the ground. so i vote for a walk that will make us at least two minutes late going into the football headquarters." "my vote goes with yours," nodded dave darrin. the good sense of it appealed to all the chums, so they strolled away again, and came back three minutes late, outside the door they halted. some of the awe of the conscious freshman came upon two or three of the chums. "you go in first, dick," urged tom reade. "it was you who got the invite, anyway," hinted greg holmes. laughing quietly dick turned the knob of the door. he went in bravely enough, but some of his chums followed rather sheepishly. fred ripley, who had dropped in five minutes before, saw them at once, and scowled. "'ware freshmen!" he called, rather loudly. nearly all the members of the regular and sub teams were present. most of them were going through an indian club drill at the further end of the room. at fred's cry several of them turned around sharply. "oh, that's all right," called out edgeworth. "these particular freshmen are privileged. welcome, dick & co.!" "privileged? welcome?" gasped ripley, in a tone of huge disgust. "what on earth is the high school coming to these days?" "if you don't like to see them here, ripley," broke in thompson, "you know-----" "oh, well!" growled fred, with a shrug of his shoulders. then, disdaining to look at dick & co., this stickler for upper class exclusiveness turned and stalked out of the store, closing the door after him with a bang. for some minutes dick and his chums stood quietly against the wall at one side of the big, almost bare room. then edgeworth called out: "now, fellows, we've had enough of indoor work. we'll take a brief rest. after that we'll go over to the field and practice tackles and formations until dark." released from the drills thomp came over to shake hands with the freshmen visitors. edgeworth presently strolled over, and a few others. "by the way, captain," spoke up thompson, finally, "i think prescott told us that the mighty freshmen intellects of dick & co. had been trying out their brains in the effort to get up some new football stunts." "that's so," nodded sam. "have we time to listen to them?" "yes," decided the football captain; "if it doesn't take them too long to explain." ben badger kicked forward an empty packing case. "here's a platform, prescott. get up and orate!" he called. dick laughingly held back from the packing case until badger and thomp lifted him bodily and stood him on top of the box. "and cut it short, and make it practical," admonished ted butler, "or take the dire consequences!" "why, i don't know, gentlemen of the football team, that it's much of an idea," dick began, "but my chums and i have been thinking over the complaint of the athletics committee that you haven't as much money, this season, as you'd like." "money?" echoed one. "now, you're whispering. whoop!" "money---the root of all evil!" shouted another. "get wicked!" adjured a third. "what my friends and i had to suggest," dick went on, "was that, as we understand it, the folks of the town don't contribute much cash for upholding the fame of high school athletics." "the school alumni association does pretty well in that line," replied edgeworth. "the public in general do pretty well by buying tickets rather liberally to our games. it's the expenses that are the great trouble. you see, prescott, instead of maintaining one team, we really have to support two, for the subs are necessary in order to give us practice. then the coach's expenses are heavy. now, the alumni association owns our athletic field, but a lot of lumber and carpenter work is needed there every year, making repairs and putting in improvements. then, when we play high school teams at a distance from here the railroad expenses eat up enormously." "and we have to play mostly teams at a good distance from here," laughed ben badger, "for we've played the nearby elevens time and again, and gridley has eaten up the other fellows in such big gulps that we have to get on dates, these days, with teams so far away that they don't know much about us." "but there's plenty of money in the town," replied dick. "the business men have some of it. the wealthy people have a lot of it, too. it is a gridley brag that the people of this city are public spirited to the last gasp. now, if you can get public spirit and money on good speaking terms there wouldn't need to be any lack of funds for high school athletics." "all right," nodded edgeworth, trying to conceal a slight impatience "but how are you going to introduce public spirit effectively to money?" "that's what we freshmen have been wondering," dick replied. "now, every student in the gridley h.s.---boy students and girl students---gets a share of the reflected glory that comes from the work of one of the best high school elevens in the united states. so, as we see it, the whole student body should get together in the raising of funds. and when i say 'funds,' i don't mean pennies or dimes." "this is becoming interesting," called out ben badger. "that my chums and i would suggest," dick continued, "is that the whole student body of gridley h.s. be enlisted, and sent out to scour the town, holding, out a subscription paper that is properly worded at the top." "how worded?" demanded ted butler. "my freshmen chums and i have prepared a draft of the paper. may i read what we suggest as a heading for the paper?" "hear! hear!" cried a dozen. "thank you," prescott acknowledged, gratefully. then, drawing a paper from his pocket, he read as follows: _"'gridley is justly proud of its public spirit, and rejoices in having the best in several lines. few if any cities in the united states possess a high school football team that can down the eleven from gridley h.s. we are proud of our high school, and as proud of its reputation in athletics. we believe that gridley prominence in athletics should be fostered in every way, and we know that real athletics cost money---a lot of it! we, the undersigned, therefore subscribe to the athletic committee of gridley h.s. the amounts of public spirit set down opposite our names in dollars.'"_ after dick prescott had ceased reading it took nearly a full minute for the cleverness of this direct appeal to local pride to strike home in the minds of the football squad. then loud applause broke loose. "freshie!" roared sam edgeworth, over the din, "that's genius, compressed into a hundred words!" "it's o.k.!" declared thompson, with heavy emphasis. "bully!" roared ben badger. then one pessimist was heard from: "it's good, but it takes something mighty good to force people to part with their own cash." "don't you think that, with every h.s. boy and girl going around with the paper, it will force subscriptions?" dick inquired. "oh, well," granted the pessimist, "i believe it will cost enough money out of the public to pay all the cost of printing the subscription papers anyway." "if we didn't need that kicker on the team, we'd throw him out of here," laughed sam edgeworth, good-naturedly. then the matter was put to informal vote, and it was decided to ask the permission of the athletic committee to put through the scheme presented by dick & co. "and now it's time to be off for the field," proclaimed sam edgeworth, with emphasis. coach morton will be waiting for us, and he isn't the man who enjoys being kept waiting." "come along with us, dick & co.," called thompson. "you'll have a chance to see whether you approve of our way of handling the game." so dick and his partners went along. though they could only stand at the edge of the field and look on, yet that was rare fun, for no other freshmen were on the same side of the fence. as all six of the boys knew considerable about the theories and rules of football, and as all of them watched closely the plays between gridley h.s. and the subs, they soon saw the reason why gridley had one of the most formidable high school teams in the country. "oh, for the day when _we_ can try to make the team!" uttered dick prescott, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. the fund-raising scheme offered by dick & co. went before the athletic committee that same evening. it was accepted, as prescott and darrin, hanging about outside the h.s. building, learned an hour later. in three days more the subscription papers had been printed and were distributed. every boy and girl in the school received one, with instructions to bring it back, "filled out"---or take the consequences. then the canvassing began. would it work? dick & co. felt that their own reputations hung in the balance. and it was bound to be the case that some of the students, though they took the papers, did a lot of prompt "kicking" about it. _would it "work"_? chapter xiii "the oath of the dub" for a full week the boys and girls of gridley h.s. scoured the town, trying their fortune everywhere that money was supposed to lurk. the great thanksgiving game was coming on. gridley was to play the second team of cobber university. this second team from cobber had beaten every high school team it had tackled for the two preceding years. gridley, in this present year, had not met with a single defeat in a total of nine games thus far played. in six of the games the opponents had not scored at all. but could cobber second be beaten? the cobber eleven was one of the finest in the country. even the second team was considered a "terror," as its record of unbroken victories for two years testified. so much awe, in fact, did cobber second inspire among the high school teams that gridley was the only outfit to be found that dared take up the proposition of a thanksgiving day game with the college men. "gridley can't win!" the pessimists predicted. even the heartiest well-wishers of gridley h.s. felt, mournfully, that too big a contract had been undertaken. dick & co., however, under the inspiring influence of their leader, were all to the hopeful. "we'll win," dick proclaimed, "because gridley needs the game. when gridley folks go after anything they won't take 'no' for an answer. that's the spirit of the town, and the high school is worthy of all the traditions of the town." "talk's cheap, and brag's a good dog!" sneered ripley. three sophomores who overheard the remark promptly "bagged" fred and threw him over the school yard fence. "come back with any more of that," warned one of the hazers, "and we'll scour your intellect at the town pump." being a freshman, prescott didn't say too much. neither did his chums. yet what they did say was bright and hopeful. their spirit began to soak through the student body. "you see, gentlemen," coach morton warned the football squad one morning at recess, "you've _got_ to win. the school believes you can do it, and the town is beginning to believe it. if you lose to cobber second you'll forfeit the respect of all the thousands of gridley folks who are now saying nice things about you." "write it down," begged thompson. "we're going to beat cobber second off the gridiron." "good!" cheered mr. morton. "that's the talk. and be sure you live up to it!" "we've got to live up to it," asserted thomp, solemnly. "right-o!" came the enthusiastic approval from as many members of the student body as could crowd within easy hearing. the girls were all there, too, for in these days the girls were as much excited as others over the prospects of winning. "shall i tell coach and students, cap?" called thomp to edgeworth. "it won't do any harm," nodded sam. "confession will make our deed more binding." "what deed?" demanded coach morton, scenting some mystery that he was not yet in on. "why, you see, sir," proclaimed thomp, "every member of the team, and every sub who stands any show to get into the game, has taken the oath of the dub." "'the oath of the dub'?" repeated sub-master morton. "that's a new one on me. "it's a new one on us all," admitted thompson, gravely. "we've taken the oath, but it's so dreadful that most of us shivered when it came our turn to recite the patter---the ritual, i mean." "what is this 'oath of the dub'?" asked the coach. "it's fearful," shivered thomp. "any of you fellows feel better able to explain?" he glanced around him at the other visible members and subs of the school eleven, but they shook their heads and shrank back. "well, then, i'll have to tell you myself," conceded thomp, with an air of gloom. "it's a fearful thing. yet, as i've been through with it once, one more time can't hurt me---much." thomp made an eloquent pause. then, reaching his right hand aloft, his eyes turned toward the sky, he recited, in a deep bass voice: "i have pledged my honor, as a gridiron specialist, that gridley h.s. shall lug away all the points of the game from cobber second. if we fail, then may everyone who espies me mutter: 'there goes a dub!' may the word 'dub' haunt me in my waking hours, and pursue me, mounted on the nightmares of slumber! may my best friends ever afterward refer to me only as a 'dub.' for if i fail the school, then am i truly a 'dub,' and there is no help for me. if i fail, then may i never, so long as life lasts, be permitted to lose sight of the patent fact that i _am_ a 'dub'! so help me _bob_!" a roar of laughter and approval went up from all who heard. coach morton tried hard to preserve his gravity, but his sides shook, and his face reddened from the effort. at last he broke loose. when he could control his voice mr. morton demanded: "what genius of the first class invented the 'oath of the dub'?" "it wasn't a senior, sir," thomp confessed. "what junior, then?" "not a junior, either." "_who_, then?" insisted the submaster. "tell him, sam." "that oath, mr. morton, required and received the concerted brainpower of-----" "dick & co.!" shouted the football squad in chorus. a good-natured riot followed. "dick & co. will soon get the notion that they're the whole high school," growled fred ripley to purcell. "they are a big feature of the school," laughed purcell. "you're about the only one, fred, who hasn't discovered it. rub your eyes, man, and take another look." "bah!" muttered ripley, turning away. just then the gong clanged the end of recess. "now, that 'the oath of the dub' has been given out," suggested dick prescott to his chums, after school, "we ought to find len spencer and give it to him. he'll print it in tomorrow's 'blade' and that will send local pride soaring. that'll help a whole lot to success with the subscription papers." after the papers had been in circulation a week the athletics committee held an evening session, in the room of the superintendent of schools, in the h.s. building. by eight o'clock nearly a hundred and fifty of the boys and girls had assembled. more came in later. the subscription papers, and the amounts for which they called, were turned in to coach morton. it was soon noticed that many of the subscriptions had been paid by check. laura bentley was the first to turn in a paper. "twenty dollars," she announced, quietly, though with evident pride. "eleven dollars," announced belle meade. after a good many of the girls had made accounting they boys had a brief chance. when it came dick prescott's turn he spoke so quietly that those nearest him thought he said six dollars. _"sixty dollars?"_ repeated mr. morton, more distinctly. "the best offering yet." "i've one more," added prescott, in the same low voice. "then speak up more loudly," directed the submaster. "there are a lot of young people here who want to hear." "here," continued dick, handing in another paper, "is a communication signed by the members of the city's common council. they signed as individuals. they agree to hire the gridley military band, of twenty-eight pieces, to be on hand at the thanksgiving game and to play for our high school eleven." none of dick's partners had secured less than twenty-five dollars. when all the subscriptions had been turned in, and the amount footed up by coach morton, that gentleman announced, in tones that betrayed excitement: "the total subscriptions amount to nineteen hundred and sixty-eight dollars. that will put us on a fine footing for this year, and leave a good balance over for next year!" then the enthusiasm broke loose in earnest. two score of fans turned, at once, to find dick & co., who had started the scheme. but dick & co. had quietly vanished. before it adjourned that night, the athletics committee, with the help of captain sam edgeworth, found one effective way of rewarding those who had conceived this highly successful subscription campaign. dick prescott was appointed cheer-master for the great thanksgiving day game. more, dick was to name any one of his chums as assistant cheer-master. as the cheer-master bosses the noise that is so indispensable a part of the game, the honor that had come to young prescott was no mean one. no gridley freshman had ever before achieved it. dick left to his partners the selection of assistant cheer-master. _they_ settled on dave darrin. chapter xiv on the gridiron with cobber second once upon a time thanksgiving day was an orgie conducted in honor of that national bird, the turkey. in these happier days, in every live community, the turkey must wait until the football game has been fought out. then the adherents of one eleven eat crow. gridley's great game of the year was scheduled to begin at three o'clock. however, a large part of the fun, at a really "big" game consists in being on hand an hour ahead of time and hearing and seeing all the fun that goes on. promptly at the tick of two o'clock the gridley band blew its first blast, to the tune of "hail, columbia!" the band was stationed close to the ground, in the center of the stand reserved for the high school student body. off the right of the band rose four tiers of bright-faced, wholesome-looking high school girls. to the left of the band sat the boys. across the field, on a much smaller stand, sat the hundred or so followers of the team from cobber. the cobbers had no band. few feminine faces appeared on the cobber stand. the cobber colors, brown and gray, floated here and there on the breeze in the form of small banners. gridley's stand was brilliant with the crimson and gold banners of gridley h.s. these bright-hued bits of bunting waved deliriously as the band's strains floated forth. but as "hail columbia" belongs to all americans, the cobbers elected to flash their bunting, too. suddenly the music paused. then came pressing contempt for the hostile eleven: "all coons look alike to me!" cobber's friends took the hint in an instant. to a man the visiting delegation arose, hurling out the cobber yell in round, deep-chested notes. just outside the lines, behind a huge megaphone mounted on a tripod, stood dick prescott, cheer-master. at his side was dave darrin, whose duties were likely to prove mainly nominal. dick swung the megaphone from left to right, as he called out through it: "now, then---number seven!" from the boy's side came the prompt response, in slow, measured cadence, every word of it distinct: "c-o-b-b-e-r! born in misfortune! reared on trouble. grew to be a disgrace---and died in tears!" cobber's friends had to "chew" over that. they had nothing in their repertory of "sass" that seemed to fill this bill. to return an inapt yell would be worse than silence. so the visitors sat scowling at the field. "score one on cobber's goat," grinned dave darrin. presently, after some whispering on the visitors' stand, this rather lame one came from the college crowd: "c-o-b-b-e-r! c-o-b-w-e-b! our trap for the foolish little fly!" one of the few girls on the visitors' stand rose to wave her brown and gray banner. she slipped and fell through between the seats. quick as a flash dave darrin sprang to the megaphone, swinging it around at the enemy, and bawling this atrocious pun: "now you spider! but now you can't!" that brought a laugh, even from the visitors. the hapless girl, with the help of some of her male friends, was hoisted up once more to a seat and safety. "look at the poor girl," laughed dick to darrin. "she's wearing our colors now---crimson face and a gold locket under it." "if she wasn't a girl, i'd yell that over to 'em," laughed dave. the band was playing again, in its most rollicking rhythm, the old air from "olivette," "then bob up serenely!" the laughter started on the gridley side, but it spread all the way around to the cobber seats. as the minutes flew by it became apparent, from a survey of the filled seats, that at least two thousand, outside of the cobber and the gridley h.s. delegations, were present at the game. this meant a healthful addition to the athletics fund. by and by cobber recovered its nerve on the seats. cobber yells floated forth on the air. yet, for every sing-song taunt the visitors found that the home fans had an apt retort. this was where dick prescott's ready wit came in, for it was his task to call for all the cheers, yells, songs or taunts. two-thirty came. dick called for the high school song. the band accompanied, while the entire student body sang. at its completion cobber answered, as might have been expected, with cat calls. within the next few minutes dick ran the h.s. boosters through nearly the whole repertory of cheers and songs. then, just after quarter of three, dave made an important discovery. "here come the teams," he whispered. dick, without turning to look, swung the megaphone so that its wide mouth aimed straight at the band leader. "you know what now, leader!" in a twinkling the musicians rose. a cornetist flared forth with a bugle call. down came the leader's baton. the bugle call shaded off into a single strain from the band. then out crashed: "see, the conquering hero comes!" with both teams marching onto the field the call was for courtesy. gridley h.s. and cobber rose in their seats. the other spectators, mostly, also stood up. cobber second came marching around in review before gridley h.s. seats, and received a rattling volley of good, staunch old american cheers. gridley h.s. eleven took the other side of the field. with sam edgeworth at their head they went past the visitors' seats, and received the most thundering welcome that cobber knew how to give. passing the two grand stands the captains wheeled their men marching them out into the field. two footballs bounded from the side lines, and both teams began preliminary practice plays. after that the band played a couple of lively airs. the people on the grand stands did not pay much heed to the practice work. they knew that the players were merely warming up. coach morton came down along the side lines, halting close to the cheer-master and his assistant. after the first greeting mr. morton turned his eyes anxiously toward the field. the day was ideal---not too cold. though the sun was out, there was some cloudiness, yet without a sign of rain or snow. the field was in excellent shape for a fast game. "why, dick, you're _trembling_!" grunted dave darrin, in amazement. "i know it," prescott confessed, half guiltily. "what's the matter?" "oh, nothing; only i'm so excited i can't quite keep still." "afraid for _our_ side?" "we're going to win!" asserted dick, stubbornly. "yet you're shaking!" "it is buck fever, i guess. o dave, i _do_ love this grand old game!" coach morton half turned, sending a comprehending smile at the earnest young freshman. "i wonder if you'd feel like that," ventured dave, "if you were one of our fellows out there on the gridiron." "not for a second," spoke up prescott, promptly. "i know what i would be doing though." "what?" "i'd he singing inside---singing songs of triumph over the game we were going to win---the game we just _had_ to win!" "you'd be pretty confident," smiled darrin. "yes, i would," dick asserted. "i believe it's the only spirit worth having---the firm conviction that you're going to win, and that nothing can stop you." coach morton turned long enough to say: "prescott, i wish you were old enough and big enough to be out there on our team now. when your time comes i certainly hope you'll make the eleven. your spirit is what every high school needs." blushing a bit, dick drew the score card out of his pocket. he knew the gridley side of it by heart, already, but he wanted to read it over again. this was the line-up that he saw: gridley h.s. positions cobber second evans .....left end..........paisley butler.....left tackle.......jordrey beck.......left guard........smith badger.....center ...........halsey thompson...right guard.......jennison edgeworth..right tackle......potter stearns....right end.........adams winters....quarter-back......bentley jasper.....right half-back...haddleston trent .....left half-back....dill gleason....fullback..........strope "why isn't edgeworth in center?" asked dave, glancing down over dick's shoulder. "played down a bit too fine to hold center in a big game like this," dick answered. "edgeworth is a corking center, and i wouldn't be afraid to see him there today. but ben badger is every bit as good." coach morton drew in his breath sharply. referee henderson had just signaled to badger, acting captain for the home team, and halsey, captain of the cobbers, to come in for the toss. the players halted in their work to await the result of that toss. "you call, halsey," nodded ben badger. "up!" warned the referee, and flipped the coin. "tails!" sang captain halsey. "heads it is," announced referee henderson. ben badger grinned. "it's all starting _our_ way," clicked dick prescott, in an undertone. he seemed lost in a transport of ecstasy. chapter xv gridley faces disaster "we'll kick from the north end," announced captain badger, promptly. with a grunt of satisfaction, gridley loped off for its positions. the band broke loose in a wild hurrah of a tune. spectators belonging to both sides took up a wild cheer until the referee raised his right hand for silence. the opposing teams were lined up. darting forward to center field the referee placed the ball, then ran backwards off the gridiron. his whistle went to his lips. it was an instant of strained attention. trill-ll! it was not a cheer, but a subdued, breathless gasp that rose from the two camps of fans as the opposing lines rushed at each other. dick could not help a slight groan, for adams, of cobber, reached the pigskin first. but adams kicked it off over the line. here was gridley's prompt chance. evans kicked the ball from the twenty-five-yard line. it was stopped by huddleston, who started to run with it. luckless plan! gridley's line came thundering down upon him almost ere huddleston had stepped off! bump! the combatants piled into and over each other. huddleston was downed on his fifty-yard line. at this instant dick bethought himself. placing his mouth to the megaphone, he roared: "h.s. cheer!" it rolled out with full volume while the referee was placing the ball. by the time it died out cobber's captain could be heard calling: "four---nine---thirty-three---eight!" trill-ll! here, the heavier boys from cobber began to do their fine work, and gridley hearts sank. cobber made a first down on three plays. it ended in a bad fumble, however, for steady thompson went down over the ball on the gridley forty-five-yard line. "h.s. cheer once more!" bellowed dick. the high school boys and girls answered with a will, drawing it out so long as to cause the referee to frown. when it ended badger's signals ripped out fast and clear. the ball came back to quarter-back winters. he started gridley faces to glowing again, for winters did one of the things that had made the team famous. this was the gridley fake kick. with any lesser team it would have been good for twenty-five yards. even against the big, alert fellows from cobber that fake kick was good for eight yards. but not yet did the full effect of the move come. for cobber was off-side and trent burst through the line on a spurt that was good for thirty-three yards. two snappy line plays followed that made the cobber boys feel the cold sweat ooze. it would have been gridley's first down, but a little slip penalized the home players for fifteen yards. most of the people of gridley back in the seats wore now standing up in their excitement. they had dreaded much from the bigger college boys, but now the spectators saw that gridley could hold its own for strategy, ruse and speed. cobber lost its temper just a bit, now, before the smiling faces of these high school boys. some rough playing followed, but the home boys kept their tempers. soon ben badger signaled another fake kick formation. that was gridley's specialty for this game, one long planned and worked for. quarter-back winters again got the ball. with a handsome forward pass he made it thompson's, and it went to the enemy's seven-yard line. "question---four!" appealed cheer-master prescott, through the megaphone. back from twenty boys on the home stand came the heavy query: _"where's cobber? where's cobber?"_ from all the rest of the h.s. fans came the roaring answer: "lost! suitable reward and no questions asked!" then the cobber fans hurled back this hint: _"brag's a great dog, brag's a smart dog, brag's a good dog, but----- look out for the cat!"_ cobber now developed their own famous bulldog tactics. from the seven-yard line gridley moved the ball less than two yards in three plays. cobber got the ball, and then other things began to happen. cobber's big fellows worried the ball back for eleven yards. then the visitors, who carried thirty per cent. more weight, began with heavy mass plays. gridley began to go down, to double up and collapse before that heavy, rough play, in which fatigue, not speed was the object of the opponents. it was not scientific play, but it was grueling on the high school boys. even confident dick prescott's heart began to sink. coach morton was breathing hard. unless gridley could hold the enemy's rush back effectively enough to get the ball once more on downs, the college boys seemed likely to rush it right over the high school goal line. had cobber tried any kicks, gridley would have had the ball, and would have known what to do with it. but captain halsey knew that. he depended, now, wholly on heavy mass rushes and plays. yet the gridley boys were by no means asleep---or lazy. "i won't tire our men all out in the first half," muttered badger to himself. "but i won't let them stroll through our line." even the heavy cobber men, though they advanced doggedly, did not make any too great progress. down at the gridley fifteen-yard line the high school boys developed their greatest stubbornness and strength. so well did they oppose the college boys that, by preventing progress in three successive plays, the home boys again got the ball. they could not move it sufficiently far forward, however. cobber took the ball again. "better let up on the cheers, don't you think, sir?" dick inquired. "yes," nodded coach morton. "it would only worry our boys now, and they've got enough on their minds as it is." again cobber took the offensive. at the next down a man had to be sent from the field, and a substitute sent out. but the casualty went to cobber, not to the high school team. that fact gave the major part of the audience grim satisfaction. "there they go, now!" muttered dave darrin, in disgust. "nothing is going to stop the big fellows!" "they're getting nearer our goal line," dick admitted. "but a game is never won until it's finished. cobber, as yet, hasn't even gotten the touchdown!" a minute later cobber _had_. to the gridley onlookers it sent a shock of dismay. the college men certainly had scored. "it's cobber's beef, not science," dick stoutly asserted. "our fellows play with more speed and real skill. _say_---look at that!" for bentley, of the college eleven, had just missed the kick from field. five points for the visitors! the teams swiftly changed ends and lined up. the whistle's call sent them off to the fray, for there were but three minutes left of the first half. cobber won the kick but didn't carry it far. gridley got down as far as the enemy's twenty-yard line. then the smaller high school boys were fairly pushed back into their own territory, losing twelve yards of their own side of the field. trill-ll! the first half was over. "sam, can you do better? do you want to go back on the job?" asked ben badger. "no," replied the gridley captain. "it's been tough on us, but you've done everything that i could have done. i'm satisfied, and i believe the coach is." "we'll ask him," proposed badger. morton was hurrying toward his boys. the coach's face was impassive. for all his looks showed he might have been congratulating himself on a winning. "no; there's no need to change captains," decided the coach. "it's like changing a horse in mid-stream. i don't see, badger, that you're lost any tricks that edgeworth could have made. "what's our weak point?" asked ben. "there isn't much of a weak point, anywhere, as far as your play goes," mr. morton responded. "in many respects your play has been better than cobber's. weight is your poor point." nevertheless the coach made several suggestions in the time that was allowed him. "whenever you get a proper chance, captain, and have the ball, open up the play as much as you can. don't give cobber a chance to bump you any when it can be avoided." in the meantime the cobber fans, as was their right, were hurling the most abusive cheers and taunts. dick, as cheer-master, allowed this to pass until nearly the end of the intermission. at last he gave the sudden call through the megaphone: "twenty-three!" the number sounded ominous; so did the cheer that was designated by it. the gridley h.s. boys on the grand stand responded hardly more than half-heartedly: _"com-pan-nee served first! that's our steady rule! manners the best are taught in gridley school! "but he who waits laughs best! 'tis but a distance short 'twixt laugh and weep--- your joy'll be short!"_ "h.s. cheer!" exhorted prescott, at once. it came, with a more thundering volley. yet gridley folks stirred uneasily. "that's what comes of putting a freshman, without judgment, on the calling job," muttered fred ripley sarcastically. the whistle blew. cobber got the ball, and kept it moving. once there was a brief setback when gridley got the pigskin and sought to push it back. after four yards, however, cobber took it and moved down the field with it. it seemed impossible to offer effective resistance to the heavy college men now. gridley hearts sank from sheer weight. gridley had met more than its match! chapter xvi the fake kick, two ways it was almost a touchdown for cobber when ben badger rallied his men enough to fight the college men back some twenty-odd yards. but then the tide turned once more, and cobber began to fight its way back to the high school goal line. the spectators had given up hope, all save those who sat in the cobber seats. this was to be the first defeat of the season, and the whipping was to come from worthy foemen. yet are home folks ever satisfied to see their own youngsters beaten? defeat was now conceded, however. even coach morton, though his face did not betray him, had given up all hope. dick, however, kept calling for the cheers and yells. the student body did their best, but their spirits were low. once morton turned and frowned, but freshman prescott did not see him. the coach feared that this jubilant racket would get on the nerves of the gridley battlers. "how many minutes will it take cobber to cross our line?" murmured dave in dick's ear. "they won't do it before next year," prescott staunchly retorted. just then cobber lost fifteen yards on penalty, and gridley h.s. had the ball at the moment when it was sadly needed. "band, four bars of 'hot time in the old town!'" yelled prescott through the big megaphone. the leader's baton fell like a flash. the band itself sharing in the excitement fairly ripped the air out in gallop time. as ben badger heard he straightened up for a moment, shaking his long locks in the wind. a smile crossed his face. then he bent over the ball for the pass. "nine---fourteen, eighteen---seven!" he called. evans darted quickly out on his end. quarter-back winters moved his feet somewhat to left. trent, left half-back, shot swiftly away to an altered position. captain halsey, of the college team, saw instantly that it looked like a long pass and a sprint around gridley's left end. a football general must change front swiftly. at the signal, cobber disposed itself to bunch against the high school left. the whistle blew. winters got the ball, and made the movements for a kick. cobber men, in the air on the jump, halted somewhat uncertainly, some of them. it was a fake kick, and a royally good one. the ball went to stearns instead. out around the right end dashed the little left, with gridley support thumping over the ground to back him up. but stearns was the best gridley runner on the field today. moreover, he had not been worked as hard as had evans. a nimble dodge, and stearns was past the first cobber interference. a howl of delight went up from the home fans. then cobber's secondary defense made a dash for stearns. the latter found himself balked, so headed straight for them. through the line he made a dash. it was too much for little stearns. down he went, and a groan of disappointment went up from the gridley seats. yet only to one knee went the swift little end. he was up and off again like a shot. one cobber man wheeled and would have grabbed the little right end, but there was where frank thompson played for all there was in him. he pitched forward, falling headlong, and smith, of cobber, fell over him. it was a sprint, now! for an instant the field close to stearns was clear of opposition. wild cheering broke loose. dick prescott fairly danced for joy. ah! here came some of the belated cobber men, supporting their fullback. there was a heavy crash. stearns, caught in the midst of the mixup, went down, but he covered the pigskin! then the linesman hurried up. the news was so good that it flew from mouth to mouth along the east side boards: "forty-two yards!" cobber's captain gasped. it had been close playing all afternoon. he had looked for nothing like this. clearly, gridley's fake kick tactics were all of the real thing. for the first time halsey and his best men felt much of their confidence ooze. down almost over the line, gridley soon had the ball, while the home fans were again standing up and cheering. then a penalty set the ball back. but gridley soon had the ball again. in two plays the doughty high school boys carried the pigskin eight yards. only nine to go! as badger's signals rang out for the third pass, badger's men were seen to spread. another fake kick? then the ball went backward. winters, of course, took it. like magic, while watchful cobber stood opened up, the gridley line closed in again. artful dodger winters still had the ball. thompson, edgeworth, badger and beck butted in solidly behind the lithe quarter-back. the rest of gridley followed. cheek of cheek! the out-weighed high school boys were giving cobber a dose of cobber medicine. it was a mass-play---a battering-ram assault. and gridley got it over! an inch past the line winters tripped and went down, covering the ball. touchdown! five to five a tie score! "kick the goal!" came the hoarse appeal from the east side seats. "kick as you never kicked before!" gridley fans could fairly hear themselves shake now. hats were off and waving. the high school girls stood up, frantically waving their crimson and gold banners. cool, steady, like one without nerves, thompson went back into the field and poised himself for the kick. at the whistle the dull thump of a boot against the pigskin was heard all over the field. the ball arched and soared. even before it came toward earth a wild "hurrah!" went up from the east side. the ball went straight between the bars! score: "six to five!" badger and his young reliables were quietly smiling, now. captain halsey began to look glum. "four bars of 'hot time' once more!" begged dick prescott, in a voice that sounded as if palsy-touched. the band blared out while the teams were changing ends. once more cobber got the ball on the kick-off. a massed rush was made for gridley's goal, but it didn't get far. with eleven minutes left to play, and a lead on the score, badger had resolved on using up all the reserve strength, if need be. gridley had not yet called on any substitutes, and several capable young "subs" waited just outside the lines, frantic for a call. let cobber be rough, if that suited the college men. cobber lost the ball on downs. then gridley took the pigskin. "play for time," was badger's signaled order. not much in the delay line is possible under a vigilant referee, yet all the time that strategy _could_ gain was taken advantage of. thrice the ball was fought over the center of the gridiron. then it settled slowly toward the high school goal, making slow, stubbornly fought advances. three minutes left to play! gridley h.s. got the ball once more, under the distance rule. now badger called out the same signal that had been used for that most effective fake kick. captain halsey smiled as he saw the high school fighters spread out swiftly, just as they had done before. halsey thought he knew this time! that same old ruse of dashing around the left end; then a fake kick and a dashing race by stearns. halsey's swiftly telegraphed orders disposed his men to meet the former dodge more effectively. the whistle sounded, and the ball was passed. but what halsey didn't know was that, the second time this signal was called it meant the players were to do exactly what they seemed spreading out for. so the ball actually went around the left end this time, evans making the best sprint that was left in his stiffening muscles. he covered twenty-four yards before he was brought to earth. here was where delay came in. while cobber was fighting stubbornly to regain the pigskin, the whistle sounded the end of the second half. gridley had won from the big enemy! now pandemonium broke loose. two thousand people leaped up and down, yelling themselves hoarse. so many hats went into the air that it was a miracle if every man recovered his own headgear. the band didn't play; the student body didn't sound a yell. what would have been the use? there was too much noise. dick made a bound, landing beside the band leader. "hustle your men, please! get out into the field and lead our men off." it needed quick work, for the players were already leaving the grounds. the wildest fans were getting over the lines, mingling with the late players. but the band got there on the run. above all the din ben badger was quick to realize the meaning of the new move. he caught his men back, forming them just behind the forming band. off marched the victorious team to the air of "hot time!" that brought down the cheering harder than ever. while it lasted, dick and dave, by frantic movements, succeeded in holding a large proportion of the student body back in their seats. as soon as the band had reached the far end of the field, and the human racket had died down somewhat, freshman prescott succeeded in making himself heard: "now! our final yell of victory!" this was the high school yell, followed, instantly, by the taunting query: "is there any game you _do_ play, cobber?" but there came no answer from the depths of the gloomy cobber fans. chapter xvii dick's "find" makes gridley shiver that closed the football season in a blaze of glory. gridley h.s. had closed the year without a defeat. the day after thanksgiving football is deader than marbles. gridley h.s. boys and girls settled down to study until the holidays came on. the next thing of note that happened in the student world jarred the whole town. there might have been a much bigger jar, however. dave darrin often worked, saturday nights, in the express office. one night in early december he was employed there as usual. at about nine o'clock dick prescott and tom reade dropped in. "pretty near through, old fellow?" dick asked. "i will be when the : gets in and the goods are checked up," replied dave. "the train is a few minutes late tonight." there being no one else at the office, except the night manager and two clerks, dick and reade felt that they would not be in the way if they waited for dave. twenty minutes later the wagon drove up with the packages and cases that had arrived on the : train. "you two can give a hand, if you like," invited dave, as the packages were being passed up to the counter, checked and taken care of. prescott and reade pitched in, working with a will. "here, don't shoot this box through as fast as you've done the others," counseled dick, as he picked up a small box, some eighteen inches long and about a foot square at the end. "the label says, 'extra fragile. value two hundred and fifty dollars.'" dave reached out to receive it, as dick laid it carefully on the counter. "packages of that value have to be handled with caution," muttered dave. "when a fellow puts on a valuation like that, it means that he intends to make claim for any damage whatever." "hold on," muttered dick, eyeing the counter. "there's something leaking from the box now." dave took his hands away, then bent over to have a look with dick. a very tiny puddle of some very thick, syrupy stuff was slowly forming on the counter. "i wonder if the contents _have_ been damaged?" muttered dave, uneasily. then added, in a whisper: "the night manager will blame us, and hold me responsible, if there _is_ any damage." both boys carefully inspected the tiny puddle for a few moments. "say, don't touch the box again," counseled prescott, uneasily. "do you know what that stuff looks to me like, dave?" "what?" "do you remember the thick stuff that dr. thornton showed us in iv. chemistry the other day?" "great scott!" breathed dave darrin, anxiously. "you don't mean nitroglycerine?" "but i _do_!" dick nodded, energetically. "wow! don't stir from here. i'll call the night manager." night manager drowan came over at once, eyeing the box and the tiny pool of thick stuff. "i never saw nitroglycerine but once," remarked mr. drowan, nervously. "i should say this stuff looks just like it. we won't take any chances, anyway. dave, you go to the telephone, and notify the police. your friends can stand guard over the box so that no one gets a chance to go near it." but, while dave was at the 'phone, mr. drowan hung over the box as though fascinated. "it takes fire to set this stuff off, doesn't it?" he asked. "no," dick replied. "if it's nitroglycerine in that box, a light, sharp blow might be enough to do the trick. at least, that was about what dr. thornton said." dave came back with word that the police would send some one at once. "they asked me whom the stuff was addressed to," dave continued, "and i had to admit that i didn't know." "it's addressed to simon tripps, to be called for. identification by letter herewith," read dick prescott, from the label. "yes; i have the letter," nodded mr. drowan. "it contains the signature of the party who's to call for the box. that's all the identification that's asked." at this moment officer hemingway, in plain clothes, came in, followed by a policeman in uniform. hemingway took a look at the stuff slowly oozing out of a corner of the box. "my bet is nitroglycerine---what the bank robbers call 'soup,'" declared hemingway, almost in a whisper. "all right; we'll take it up to the station house. then we'll send for dr. thornton, who is the best chemist hereabouts. as soon as we get this stuff to the station house i'll hustle back and hide against the coming of mr. tripps. if he comes before i get back, jump on the fellow and hold him for me, no matter what kind of a fight he puts up." dave gazed after the retreating figures of the policemen. "bright man, that hemingway," he remarked. "if tripps shows up, we are to jump on him and nail him---no matter if he hauls out two six-shooter and turns 'em on us" "we can grab any one man, and hold him," returned dick, confidently. "all we've got to do is to get at him from all sides. see here, dave, if a fellow comes in and tells you he's tripps, you repeat the name as though you weren't sure. as soon as we hear the name, tom and i can jump on him from behind, and you can sail in in front. eh, reade?" "it sounds good," nodded tom. "i'll take a chance on it, dick, with you to engineer the job." in ten minutes officer hemingway was back. he stepped into a cupboard close to the counter, prepared for the coming of tripps. half an hour later the police station's officer in charge telephoned that dr. thornton had carefully opened the box, and had declared that it contained four pounds of nitroglycerine. nor had dr. thornton taken any chances of mistake. he had taken a minute quantity of the suspected stuff out in the yard back of the station house, and had exploded it. at a moment when the office was empty of patrons mr. drowan stepped into the cupboard for a moment, as though searching for something. "how late do you stay open?" whispered hemingway. "ten o'clock, usually, on saturday nights, but we'll keep open as late as you want, officer." "better keep open until midnight, then." so they did, dick telephoning his parents at the store to explain that he was at the express office helping dave. midnight came and went. a few minutes after the new day had begun hemingway came out of the cupboard. "you may as well close up, drowan," the plain clothes man decided. "the fellow who calls himself tripps isn't going to show up. if he had been going to claim his box he'd have been here before this." "you think he got scared away?" asked the night manager. "the fellow was probably keeping watch on this office. he saw what happened, and decided not to run his neck into a noose. you'll never have any word from tripps." "isn't it just barely possible," hinted one of the clerks, "that the man wanted the stuff for some legitimate purpose?" "a man who knows how to use nitroglycerine," retorted hemingway, gruffly, "also knows that it's against the law to ship nitroglycerine unlabeled. he also knows that it's against the law for an express company to transport the stuff on a car that is part of a passenger train. so this fellow who calls himself tripps is a crook. we haven't caught him, but we've stopped him from using his 'soup' the way he had intended to use it." "wonder what he did want to do with it?" mused dick prescott. "there are any one of twenty ways in which the fellow might have used the stuff criminally," replied the plain clothes man. "of course, for one thing, it could be used to blow open a safe with. but safecracking, nowadays, is done by ordinary robbers, and they're able to carry in a pocket or a satchel the small quantity of 'soup' that it takes to blow the lock of a safe door, or the door off the safe." after thinking a few minutes, hemingway went to the telephone, calling up the chief of police at the latter's home. the plain clothes man stated the case, and suggested that the story be told to "the blade" editor for publication in the morning issue. then, if anyone in town had any definite suspicion why so much nitroglycerine should be needed in that little city, he could communicate his suspicions or his facts to the police. "the chief agrees to my plan," nodded hemingway, leaving the 'phone. "me for 'the blade' office." "see here," begged dick, earnestly, "if there's to be a good newspaper story in this, please let me turn it over to len spencer. he's one of our best newspaper men. he'll write a corking good story about this business---and, besides, i'm under some personal obligations to him." "so i've heard," replied the plain clothes man, with a twinkle in his eyes. hemingway heard a good deal in his saunterings about gridley. he had picked up the yarn about dick & co., len spencer and the "dead ones." "so that 'the blade' gets it, i don't care who writes the story," replied the policeman, good-humoredly. dick swiftly called up "the morning blade' office. spencer was there, and came to the telephone. "how's news tonight?" asked prescott, after naming himself. "duller than a lecture," rejoined len. "would you like a hot one for the first page?" pursued dick. "would i? would a cat lap milk, or a dog run when he had a can tied to his tail? but don't string me, dick. there's an absolute zero on news tonight." "then you stay right where you are for two or three minutes," dick begged his reporter friend. "officer hemingway and some others are coming down to see you. you'll want to save three or four columns, i guess." "oh, now, see here, dick-----" came reporter spencer's voice, in expostulation. "straight goods," dick assured him. "when i say that i mean it. and, this time, i not only mean it, but _know_ it. wait! we'll be right down to your office." nor did it take len spencer long to realize that he had in hand the big news sensation of the hour for the people of gridley. everyone in gridley either wondered or shivered the next morning at breakfast table. four pounds of nitroglycerine are enough to work fearful havoc and mischief. chapter xviii fred slides into the freeze monday's "blade" contained additional light on the nitroglycerine affair---or what passed as "light." len spencer and the local police had discovered that at least three of the wealthiest men in town had received, during the last few weeks, threatening letters from cranks. these cranks had all demanded money, under pain of severe harm if they failed to turn over the money. it now developed that the police chief and officer hemingway had, some time before, arrested a nearly harmless lunatic, who, it was believed had written the letters. the man with the unbalanced mind did not appear dangerous, yet, in view of his threats, he had been quietly "railroaded" off to all asylum for the insane. now, the arrival of four pounds of nitroglycerine at the local express office was believed to show that the lunatic had had comrades, or else that the crazy man had been used merely as a tool. hemingway hurried off to the asylum, to interview the unfortunate one. all the plain clothes man succeeded in getting, however, was a rambling talk that didn't make sense. monday's "blade" announced that the chief of police had been authorized to offer a reward of five hundred dollars for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the party or parties behind the criminal shipment of the giant explosive to gridley. everyone believed that the frightened rich men had combined to offer the reward. many wondered that the offered reward was not larger. all of the student body at the high school were busy talking about the affair in the big assembly room before the session opened. "i see where my parents have made a great mistake," sighed frank thompson. "how?" demanded ben badger. "instead of wasting my time at the high school they should have apprenticed me to a good journeyman detective," grumbled thomp. "oh, but couldn't i use that five hundred, if only my training had fitted me for such deeds as running down a nitroglycerine peddler!" "it isn't anything to joke about," shuddered one of the girls. "it's awful! would four pounds of the dreadful stuff destroy the town of gridley?" "no," badger informed her; "but it would be enough to blow up several wood-piles and destroy a lot of clean monday wash." "there you go joking again," protested the girl, and turned away. "oh, well," declared fred ripley, "we must possess ourselves with patience. we shall soon know the whole truth." "do you really think so?" asked purcell. "it's one of the surest things conceivable," railed ripley. "that bright constellation of freshmen known under the musical title of dick & co. will solve the whole affair wit, in forty-eight hours. indeed, i'm not sure but dick & co., even at this moment, carry the secret looked in their breasts." fred glanced quickly around him to see how much of a laugh this had started. to his chagrin he found his bantering had fallen flat. "oh, well," gaped dowdell, gazing out of the window near which he stood, "i know one important fact about the mystery." "what's that?" asked half a dozen quickly. "none of the five hundred is destined to come my way. "that jest saddens a lot of us with the same conviction," muttered ted butler, shaking his head. "but this i _do_ know," continued dowdell, "if the weather continues cold there'll be some elegant skating before the week is out." gridley did not slumber over the nitroglycerine mystery. len spencer, though he could gain no actual information, managed to have something interesting on the subject in each morning's "blade." the people of gridley talked of the mystery everywhere. there was one other mild sensation this week that lasted for a part of a day. tip scammon came up for his trial. he pleaded guilty to the thefts from the high school locker room, and also guilty to the charge of entering the prescott rooms in order to hide his loot in dick's trunk. by way of leniency toward a first offender the court let tip off with a sentence of fourteen months in the penitentiary. this sentence, by good behavior on the part of tip, would shrink to ten months of actual imprisonment. in every way the police and the prosecuting attorney tried to make tip reveal the name of his confederate. but tip, for reasons of his own, maintained absolute, dogged silence on this head, and went to the penitentiary without having named the person who met him in the alleyway that evening when tip himself was caught. the promise of skating was made good. wednesday afternoon it was discovered that the ice in gaylor's cove was in splendid condition, and strong enough to bear. thursday a series of high school racing contests were planned for saturday afternoon. there was so much money left over in the athletics committee's treasury that it was voted to offer a series of individual trophies for boy and girl skaters in different events. moreover, in these skating events members of the freshman class were to be allowed to compete. "now, see here, fellows," urged dick, when he had gotten his partners aside, "some of the freshman class ought to be winners of some of the events. we want to give our class a good name. and, out of the six of us, there ought to be one winner for something. i wish you'd all do your best to get in shape. you'll all go over to the cove with me this afternoon, of course." they did. more than a hundred of the student body, most of them boys, were on the ice that afternoon. some went scurrying by for all they were worth. these were training for the races. others gathered in the less traveled parts of the cove, which was a large one, and practiced the "fancy" feats. tom reade and dan dalzell put themselves in this class. dick and his other partners went in for speed. friday afternoon there was an even larger attendance. gaylor's cove was about half a mile long, with an average width of a quarter of a mile. at the middle the cove was open for a long way upon the river. at some points on the river proper the ice was strong enough to bear. near gaylor's cove, however, the river current was so swift that the river ice at this point looked thin and treacherous. no one ventured out on the ice just beyond the cove. friday night many a high school boy and girl studied the sky. there was no sign of storm, nor did the conditions seem to threaten a thaw. saturday morning was cold and clear. the temperature, at noon, was just above freezing point, though not enough so to bring about a "thaw" in the ice. by one o'clock saturday afternoon gaylor's cove was a scene of great activity. two thirds of the high school students were there, most of them on skates. there were three or four hundred other youngsters, and more than a hundred grown-ups. "all we need is the band," laughed dick prescott, as he skated slowly along with laura bentley. "the click-clack of the skates is enough for me," laura replied. "you are not down in any of the girls' contests, are you?" he asked. "no; does that disappoint you, dick?" "n-no," he said, slowly. "still, it's fine to see every event all but crowded." "in how many events are you entered?" asked the girl. "only one, the freshman's mile. that will be swift work, and there are two turns, the way the course is to be laid out." "why didn't you enter more of the freshman events?" laura asked. "well, it will take a lot of good wind to keep going at a swift pace for a mile. i want to save all my strength and wind for that one event." "what is the prize in the freshman's mile?" asked laura, fumbling in her muff for the card of the day's events. "you noticed that handsome canadian toboggan, didn't you?" "the one with the side hand-rails?" laura asked, looking up brightly into his face. "yes; that ought to have been one of the prizes in the girls' events." "why?" queried dick, looking a bit disconcerted. "why, those hand-rails are meant for timid girls to take hold of. a boy would never want a toboggan with hand-rails." "perhaps the fellow who's going to win the freshman's mile expects to invite some of the young ladies to go out tobogganing with him," hinted young prescott. "is it _fixed_ who shall win that race?" demanded laura, teasingly. "hardly that," dick rejoined, dryly. "then how do you know the coming owner's intentions, if you don't know who is going to win the race?" miss bentley insisted. "well, you see, it's this way?" dick admitted, "i've made up my mind to win that race." "so you regard the race as being as good as won by yourself?" smiled the physician's daughter. "it's one of the rules of dick & co.," prescott answered, as they turned and skated slowly back toward the center of the cove, "when we go into anything we consider it as good as won from the outset." "well, i like that spirit," laura admitted. "faint heart never yet won anything but a spill." laura had her card out by this time, and was studying it leisurely, trusting to her companion to guide her. "i see fred ripley is entered for the grand event in fancy skating," she observed. "yes; are you interested in him?" something in the directness of the question caused the girl to bite her lips. "now, that's hardly fair, dick," she cried, flushing with vexation. "no; the fact is, i'm hoping he'll lose." "why?" "because, fred has never been very nice to you, dick." that was direct enough, and dick flushed with pleasure. "thank you, laura; that's more handsome than what i said to you." "i accept your apology," she laughed. "look! there goes fred ripley now! how foolish of him." fred was heading straight out of the cove toward the river. he was a fine skater, and now he was showing off at his best. he had adapted a "turn promenade" step from roller skating, and was whirling along, turning and half dancing as he sped along. it was a graceful, rhythmical performance. despite the fact that young ripley was not widely liked, his present work drew considerable applause from the spectators. that applause acted like incense under the young man's nostrils. he determined to go farther out, maintaining his present step unbroken. "look out, ripley!" warned thomp. "the ice won't bear out there." fred didn't reply by as much as a look. he kept on out toward the thin ice. cra-a-ack! splash! the thin ice had broken. ripley, moving backwards, did not realize his fix until his feet; shot into the water. down he came on his back, breaking more of the ice. a yell, and he was gone below the surface. and now everybody seemed shouting at once. a hundred people ran to and fro, shouting out what ought to be done. "get a rope! run for a doctor! bring fence rails! telephone for the police!" that's the usual way with a crowd, to think up things that others ought to do. dick prescott espied dave darrin ahead. dropping laura's arm without a word, dick skated swiftly up to dave, called darrin, then lightning. as he worked young prescott shot out a few hurried orders. then another great cry went up. dick prescott was sprinting fast toward the thin ice. close to where fred ripley had gone down there was another great rent in the ice. dick prescott was "in the freeze," in quest of his enemy! chapter xix dick & co. show some team work so suddenly and heavily did he break through the thin ice that dick went underneath the surface. "help!" roared fred, in a frenzy, as he came to the surface. the skates on his feet clogged all his movements, and acted like lead. "there's ripley, but where's prescott?" shouted several. "a-a-ah!" that last cry went up as a sound of relief, when prescott's brown-haired pate, hatless, bobbed up close to where he had gone down. "good boy, prescott!" "go in and get ripley." "save yourself, anyway! don't be over-foolish!" a dozen more cries went up from cove and shore. yet it is doubtful if prescott heard any of them. in the first instant that his eyes came above the level of the water, dick took in the details of ripley's whereabouts. dick had to calculate at lightning speed. "o prescott," gasped fred, when he saw his would-be rescuer, "can't you break the ice between us? i can't keep up much longer." "get hold of the edge of the ice, ripley," called dick. "just rest lightly on it. don't try to make it bear your weight---it won't! it'll help hold you up, though, if you keep cool." "cool?" groaned fred. "i'm freezing. in pity's name get to me quickly." fred was so wholly self-centered that it didn't occur to him that the freshman must be just as chilled as he himself was. dick's legs ached with the cold chill of the icy water. he was free of the weight of skates, however, and he trod water during the few seconds that he needed for making up his mind what it was best to do. much depended upon the help that those on shore gave, but dick had left his orders with dave darrin, and he trusted the shore end to his capable lieutenant. fred, though hardly more than able to keep himself afloat, managed to reach the nearest edge of ice. he clutched at it eagerly, then, disregarding excellent advice, he tried to climb out upon it. there was another crash. with another yell, ripley sank again, to the horror of those on shore. but prescott did not see this. the freshman, after trying to calculate the exact distance across the intervening ice, dived below the glassy surface. he was swimming, now, under the ice. as he swam the freshman kept his eyes open, swimming close to the ice, yet not touching it. so he came up, in the open. but where was fred? "ripley just sank!" came the hoarse chorus from shore and cove. this was serious enough. he who sinks for the second time in icy waters, especially when hampered by skates, may very likely not come up again. "it must have been about here that he went down," calculated prescott, deliberately, as he swam through the open water. "now, then!" down went dick. to those looking on, it was heroic---sublime? yet it looked as though the rescuer must be dooming himself. "one prescott is worth a dozen ripleys" murmured one man who, unable to swim, was obliged to stand looking uselessly on. there were still many who were shouting confusing advice as to what others ought to do. a few were even running about trying to do something. dave darrin was actually "on the job." he had pressed dick's other partners into service and as many of the high school boys as possible. they got off their skates in a rush. "tom," shouted dave, "you and greg get some of the fellows and rush down as many ties as you can from that pile by the railroad tracks. dalzell, you and harry get down at the edge of send him your way. make a raft by laying four ties side by side, and lash the ends. do it as quick as a flash. i'll be there by that time." tom and greg quickly had a dozen men running for railroad ties, a pile of which stood less than an eighth of a mile away. by the time that the man with ropes arrived, and two more behind him, bringing more, there were a dozen railroad ties on the ice by the outer edge of the cove. harry hazelton and dan snatched short lengths of rope and knotted them around either end of the raft. "some of you men make another raft, just like that one!" shouted dave, who, at the time, was busily engaged in making a noose at one end of a long coil of half-inch rope. "here, you two men get hold of the other end of this," ordered dave, running up with the coil of rope. then, hardly waiting to make sure that they had the rope, dave turned to harry and dan, calling to them to help him push the raft out beyond the cove. a dozen men and boys tried to help, all at once, but dave and harry saw to it that no speed was lost by blundering. the raft was not difficult to push out over the ice. "now, let me have it alone," shouted dave. "the ice may break at any point beyond." so dave tugged and pushed, guiding the small raft before him. cra-ack! dave and the raft went through the ice, but darrin quickly climbed up astride of the ties. out beyond, dick was holding up fred ripley, whom he had found and brought to the surface. fred's eyes were nearly closed. after his second drop below, the ripley lad was nearly spent. glancing back, dave saw that another raft was being pushed out by the two men who held the rope that was noosed under his shoulders. "now, halt where you are!" dave darrin shouted back. "toss me a long rope that i can throw out to prescott!" the rope came swirling. dave caught it easily enough. then, still sitting on the raft, his legs, of course, in the water, darrin recoiled the rope. "can you spare a hand to catch, dick?" shouted dave. "surely!" came back the steady answer. the coil flew out across the thin ice. one end splashed in the water. guiding the all but helpless fred, dick swam to the rope's end. further back the two men who held to the rope connecting with dave had seated themselves across the second raft. if the ice broke at _that_ point they would have little difficulty in making themselves safe. "ripley, stir yourself!" ordered dick. "can you take hold of this rope, and keep hold of it" can you climb across the thin ice, holding onto the rope and being towed if the ice breaks?" "i---i---i'm afraid," chattered ripley. "you come with me!" "it'll be a good deal easier if you can go first, and alone," spoke the freshman, rather sternly. "i think i can keep myself afloat until you get over to solid ice. then the rope can be thrown back to me." "i'm afraid, i tell you," insisted fred, his teeth clicking against each other. "can't you see that i'm all in?" "you'll have us both all in, if you don't get some courage together," young prescott insisted. "come, be a man, ripley!" "i'm freezing to death here," moaned ripley, closing his eyes. somehow---he could never tell just how, afterwards, dick managed to slip the rope under fred's shoulders. with infinite effort---for he had to keep them both afloat, the freshman double-knotted the rope. "come, now, you've got to help yourself across the ice, while dave hauls on the line," urged dick. fred made a motion as though to bestir himself but he did it so feebly that prescott gave him a sharp pinch. "ouch!" flared fred, now seeming to be wide awake. "prescott, you have the upper hand here. don't be a bully!" "i don't want to," spoke dick, quietly, trying to keep his own teeth from rattling. "but you've got to stir yourself, or else i must do it for you. now, get started over the thin ice. dave will haul. never mind if the ice breaks under you; the rope is tied around you. you're sure to be hauled to safety if you help yourself. now, then, dave! begin to haul in!" it needed another pinch to make fred ripley bestir himself properly. he half whimpered in protest, but prescott was past minding _that_. hardly had ripley gotten his full weight upon the ice than it broke under him. he splashed into the water with a great howl, but alert dave darrin hauled in just enough of the rope. ripley was safe, and could make the next attempt to get out on the ice. meanwhile, prescott swam to another part of the ice edge. he rested his hands on that edge, not heavily, but just enough for some support. at the same time he kept his tired, aching, almost frozen legs in motion just to keep himself from growing any more numb. four times fred ripley broke through the thin ice, but each time dave darrin, astride the first raft, pulled in on the rope just in time. after getting himself out of the water for the fifth time, ripley crawled over stronger ice, and went on past the hole in which dave sat on the raft. then ripley was able to get to his feet, tottering toward the shore, shaking as though with fever and chills. a cheer went up from those who watched. the enthusiasm would have been vastly greater had not the crowd had its eyes on dick prescott, who must yet be saved if aid could reach him before his numbed limbs could sustain him no longer. "get that rope off, ripley," bawled dave darrin. "hurry! i must throw it to dick, or he'll go down!" "i can't get it off," mumbled fred, tugging vainly, almost aimlessly, as he still moved coveward. as he was on staunch ice, now, three or four men ran toward him. one, with a sharp knife, waved the others away and quickly slashed the noose away from fred's shoulders. "go on, you pup!" grumbled the man with the knife. "now, we'll try to get help to the _man_!" fred was not too far spent to flash angrily at that taunt. "you'd better be careful whom you speak to like that!" snarled ripley. "you're a low-bred fellow, anyway!" but the man who had slashed the rope free didn't even hear. he had turned toward darrin, to make sure that dave could draw the rope toward him fast enough. "one of you people get ripley's skates off for him, and help him ashore," called tom reade. "why don't _you_?" some one in the crowd answered. "because my job," retorted reade, "is keeping my eyes on my chum, ready to help if anything comes up that i can do." four or five hurried to fred's aid. he had been walking on his skates, which, at best, is an awkward style of locomotion. two men held him up, while two of the h.s. boys quickly took off his skates. after that fred, leaning on one of the h.s. boys, made much quicker time to the shore. here a man with a sleigh waited. "pile him in here," directed the driver. "dr. gilbert has gone up to the avery house and is getting things ready. i'll have ripley back in a jiffy." "oh, that's all right," sang out a boy in the freshman class. "but the main thing is to hustle back and be ready to take dick prescott." "and i'll pray all through the round trip that you may get prescott back to shore alive," fervently replied the driver, as he brought the whip down across the horse's back. dave darrin, too, was chilled. that was why, when he had drawn all the rope in and had coiled it, he made a throw that fell short. "courage, dick, old fellow," he shouted. "i'll get it to you, in a jiffy." nervously, quickly, dave hauled in the rope. he coiled rapidly, yet with care. "now, may heaven give me the strength to throw this coil far enough to do the trick!" prayed dave darrin, as he made the second cast. there was frenzy behind that throw. hurrah! there was four feet of rope to spare as it splashed into the open part where dick still hung, though he was fast weakening. "there's a noose on the end---i fixed it, dick! get it over your head and under your shoulders!" bawled dave darrin. it was only the coolness of a last desperate hope that enabled the freshman to adjust the noose sufficiently. "all r-r-r-i-ight!" he called, unable to make any further effort to stop the rattling of his teeth. "come on, then!" cheered dave. it was team play between two freshmen, but it was worked out. dick, after a while, reached solid ice. tom reade and dan dalzell risked themselves a good deal in going far out to meet him. but they got their leader and rushed him toward the cove. soon a dozen h.s. boys were running around dick. some of them had him upon their shoulders; others were trying to help. as they rushed him across the cove to the sleigh that had just arrived, the cheering was deafening. others in the crowd had already run up along the road, which was lined as dick and darrin were driven along as fast as the horse could go. tom reade stood on the runners behind. as soon as the door of the hotel was reached, reade aided the driver in rushing the boys inside. even here the cheering followed them in volleys. "come on---into a cold room with you, at first," ordered dr. gilbert, appearing, while a dozen h.s. boys came in his wake. "you don't want to get near a fire yet. strip them, both, lads, and rub them down for all you're worth. don't mind peeling a little skin off!" dick and dave were rushed into a room. with so many hands to help, they were soon stripped. then rough turkish towels were plied upon them until even their skins began to show the red of blood and life. "now, wrap blankets about them, and bring them into a warm room," ordered the doctor. as they entered the other room they espied fred ripley, already seated in an arm-chair by the stove, a bowl of something hot in one hand. the driver of the sleigh now came in. "you lads will want something warm and dry to put on," he declared. "give me your orders. the distance isn't far. i'll drive to your homes and get the clothes and things that you want." "no, thank you," returned ripley, stiffly. "i've already had a telephone message sent, and my father's auto will bring out what i need." "but you youngsters will want something?" asked the driver, turning to the plucky freshmen. dick and dave stated their requests, prescott adding: "but please be sure to make our parents understand that we're safe. we don't want them seared to death." fred ripley took a long swallow of the steaming stuff in his bowl. as he did so he took a furtive glance in the direction of the freshmen. was he going to attempt to thank them for having risked their own lives to help him back to safety? chapter xx out for that toboggan! ben badger came to the shore edge of the ice, megaphone in hand announcing in stentorian tones: "our friends are safe---even jolly. the sports will now go on!" first on the card was a free-for-all dash of a half mile, standing start. the trophy was a regulation target revolver. badger, of the first class, and purcell, of the sophomore, held the lead and all but tied each other at the outset. third in order came stearns, the agile little right end of the eleven. when half the distance had been traveled it was noticed that stearns was creeping up on the leaders. "look out, ben, or the little fellow will get you!" roared friends. stearns continued to gain, slowly. purcell dropped back to third place. none of the other eight in the race seemed likely to do anything effective. "a little more steam, ben!" "stearns, you can get it!" in the last eighth of the distance stearns made good. summoning all his football wind and speed the little right end closed and shot ahead. not once in the remainder of the course did ben badger quite catch up with his smaller opponent. stearns won by some fifteen yards. the racers came slowly back, breathing harder than usual. as soon as jovial ben felt equal to the task of further announcing, he picked up the megaphone, shouting: "as i didn't win, all the further events are postponed!" there was stupefied silence for a few moments. grown people and the students looked from one to another. then a guffaw started that swelled to a chorus of laughter. "the next event on the card," called ben, satisfied with the effect of his joke, "is the free-for-all fancy skating event. the contestants will come before the judges one at a time. each entrant is limited to two minutes, actual time." there should have been some girls entered in this event, but there were none. six h.s. boys from the different classes came forward. "fred ripley loses his chance," muttered some one. "he _had_ his chance. a fellow who prefers to skate into the freeze is counted out," replied thomp. just as the contestants were moving out greg holmes came hurrying down to the ice. "am i too late?" he called. "not if you think you've got anything good," replied badger. greg promptly proceeded to put on his skates, covertly watching the performance of the first fellow to show off. it was good work that greg watched, but he thought he could beat it. "you'll have to go last on the list," nodded ben, as greg came skating up. greg merely nodded, though inwardly he grinned. "that just suits me," he told himself. "the fellow who skates last will be freshest in the minds of the judges." when it came greg's turn he avoided most of the fancy figures that the other fellows had shown off amid much applause. still, greg showed a bewildering assortment of "eights," "double-eights" and some magnificent work along the "turn promenade" order that ripley had been doing before the accident. then greg came in, promenading backward on his skates. "i'm going to fall," he called to the judges, "but it will be intentional." "fall it is, then," nodded sam edgeworth, one of the judges. greg was moving jauntily along, still doing the backward promenade. suddenly one of his skates appeared to catch against the other. down went greg, backwards. despite his announcement the moment before, a sympathetic murmur went up from many of the onlookers. but greg, sitting down suddenly as he did, pivoted around like a streak. throwing his hands back of his head, he sprang to his feet. at the first he was doing the forward promenade. the whole manoeuvre, including the fall, had occupied barely four seconds. now, wheeling into the back promenade greg glided before the judges. "time," called the holder of the watch. "i'm willing," nodded greg. "and i'm willing any contestant who wants should try my stunt before the verdict is given." the conference between the judges did not last long and greg got the decision. "the freshman mile will come along later," announced ben, through the megaphone. "the committee want to put in a freak race first." the "freak" was a quarter mile, nearly go-as-you-please. in this race each contestant had on his left skate, but no skate on the right foot. the contestant who reached the finish line first won---"even if he slides on his back," ben announced, sagely. tom reade hurried onto the ice as one of the entrants in this race. he had practiced it well, and won it easily, securing a silver medal. greg's prize had been a gold medal, but over this fact tom allowed himself to feel no envy or disappointment. several other events came along in quick succession. everyone seemed to forget that the freshman mile had not yet been skated. it was called last on the list. just as the skaters were moving forward some one detected a figure hurrying down the slope over the snow. "here comes dick prescott!" "is he going into the race after all?" a lively burst of cheers greeted the freshman as he reached the edge of the ice. dick looked as cheery and as rosy as ever. no onlooker could see that prescott's late adventure had injured him in the least. "going to race, dick?" called some one. "surest thing," laughed the freshman, "if i can find my skates. if not, i'm going to try to borrow a pair of the right size." "here are your skates," called laura bentley, gliding forward over the ice. "i picked them up for you, and i've been holding 'em ever since. "that's what i call mighty good of you," glowed dick. "thank you a thousand times." dick sat down on a wooden box. he could have had the services of half a dozen seniors to fasten on his skates, but he preferred to do it for himself. clamps adjusted, and skates tested, dick struck off leisurely, going up before the starter and judges. these were grouped near the starting line. "standing start," announced ben. "each man exactly to the line. pistol signal. false starts barred, and the usual penalties for fouling. get on line, all!" then the starter moved forward, pistol in hand. "on your marks!" "get set!" bang! dick, at the left end of the line, crouched forward somewhat. nearly the whole of his right runner rested on the ice. his left foot was well forward, the toe of the skate dug well into the ice. his right arm pointed ahead, his left behind. crack! at the sound of the shot dick let his right foot spring into the air. as it came down, ahead, he gave a vigorous thrust with his left. the style of start was his own, but it worked to a charm. a hearty cheer went up when the spectators saw that dick was leading by five yards. at the first turn, however, prescott's adherents---and they were many this afternoon---felt a thrill of disappointment. walter hewlett, whose skating had been strong and steady so far, passed dick at the turn. "hardly fair, after all," murmured several. "_of course_, after what he's been through, no matter how much nerve prescott may have, he can't be anything like up to his usual form." had dick heard them he would have smiled. he knew that the skating was warming him up and taking away whatever of the chill had been left. as they neared the second turn the distance between dick and hewlett was about fifteen yards. the other freshmen were far enough behind both not to appear to count. now prescott turned on steam. he reached the second turn only eight yards behind hewlett, and that latter freshman made the poorer turn. down the home stretch now! dick began to work deep breathing for all he was worth. instead of taking slow, deep breaths, he breathed rapidly, pumping his lungs full of air. that _rapid_ deep breathing started his heart to working faster, sent the blood bounding through his arteries. it would have been exhausting if carried out too long. but now, on what was left of the home stretch, it acted almost like pumping oxygen into his lungs. swiftly the distance melted. "hurrah!" rang the yell. "there goes prescott ahead!" not only ahead, but gaining in the lead. five yards to the good, then ten, twelve, fifteen. dick prescott shot over the finish line a good eighteen yards ahead. then the victor came to a stop, panting but happy. five minutes later, when all the congratulations were over, he skated up beside laura bentley. "you saved my skates for me, laura, and brought me luck all through. i want _you_ to have the first ride on that toboggan." chapter xxi thanks served with hate it didn't take long for the gridley boys who were most interested in athletics to figure up that three out of the eight prizes offered had gone to the freshman class. more than that, the three freshmen winners were all members of the firm of dick & co., limited. "saturday's work, and some other things, show us that dick & co. are going to be heard from a whole lot in the athletics of future years at this school," ben told dick at recess monday morning. "whew! but i'm sorry i'm not going to be here to watch the progress of you freshmen!" monday afternoon, while he was eating the midday meal, just after school had been dismissed, dick received, by messenger, a note from lawyer ripley, asking the young freshman to call at his office at three o'clock. though actually retired, the wealthy lawyer maintained an office in one of the big buildings on main street. to this office mr. ripley went once in a while, to transact business. "as i haven't a dollar in the world," smiled young prescott, "it is hardly likely that he has been engaged to bring a suit against me. oh, hang it, i know! he means to thank me for hauling fred out of the water. what an infernal nuisance!" for a few minutes dick was inclined to disregard the invitation. he spoke to his mother about it. "have you any good reason for not going?" asked mrs. prescott. "no, mother; except that i don't like the ripley crowd particularly. then, besides, i have no use for being thanked. i'd have done as much for a tramp that i had never seen before." "i am afraid you have reasons for disliking fred ripley," admitted mrs. prescott. "but has the elder mr. ripley ever given you any cause for disliking him?" "no; of course not." "then wouldn't it be the part of courtesy for you to go, since he requests it?" "but, if he wants to thank me, why shouldn't he come here?" "my boy, it is one of the privileges of older persons to expect younger ones to come to them." "i guess that's right," nodded dick. "oh, well, i'll go. but, if mr. ripley has anything to pass in the way of thanks, i hope he'll cut it short." so, at three o'clock, dick climbed the stairs and knocked at the office door. the lawyer himself opened. "oh, how do you do, prescott?" demanded lawyer ripley, holding out his hand. "i'm most heartily glad to see you. you didn't see anything of my indolent son on the street, did you?" "no, sir," the freshman answered, adding, to himself: "i should hope not!" "come into my private office won't you, prescott?" asked the lawyer, leading the way through his outer office. the elder ripley placed a comfortable arm-chair for his freshman caller, asking him to be seated. though lawyer ripley was, ordinarily, a rather pompous and purseproud sort of man, it was plain that he realized a debt of gratitude, and meant to pay it as graciously as he knew how to do. "you have performed a most valuable service for me, prescott," began the lawyer again, in a heavy, solemn voice. "you are quite welcome to the service, mr. ripley, and i hope you won't think any more about it," dick replied. "but it is impossible that i forget it," replied the lawyer, raising his eyebrows in some astonishment. "you saved the life of my son, my only child." "at not very much risk to myself, sir," smiled the freshman. "i was able, soon after, to go in and win a skating race." "at not much risk?" repeated the lawyer. "why, your life was in very considerable danger. do you call that little?" "almost any of the high school fellows would have done it, mr. ripley." "but none of them did." "because i happened to be right at hand, and jumped in first---that was all," dick insisted. "young man, i am not going to allow you to make little of the great service that you did me. i---ah, here comes the young man we've been discussing." the lawyer changed the subject as fred entered. "frederick, you are late, and, on an occasion of this kind, i could hope that you would be more prompt." "my watch was slow," replied fred ripley, using one hand to cover a slight yawn. "don't you see who is here?" demanded his father. "yes, sir." "is that all you have to say?" "how do you do?" nodded dick, for lawyer ripley was looking curiously from one boy to the other. "don't you---er---consider, frederick, that it would be an excellent idea if you were to offer your hand to mr. prescott?" demanded the lawyer. the ordeal was as distasteful to dick as it could possibly have been to the ripley heir. yet dick got quickly up out of his chair, accepting the slowly proffered hand of the sophomore. "that's better," smiled the lawyer. "now, i'll leave you two together for the moment." the lawyer closed the door behind him as he stepped into the outer office. fred ripley glanced covertly at dick, who had remained standing. even as big a sneak as young ripley had shown himself at times to be, he knew perfectly well that he owed it, even to himself, to try to be gracious with the lad who had saved his life. but dick said nothing, nor did he glance particularly at the sophomore. that made it all the harder for fred to find something to say. the clock in the room ticked. dick, to relieve the awkwardness of the situation, strolled over to a window and stood looking out. that, therefore, was the situation when lawyer ripley came back into the room. "what a jovial, friendly pair!" railed the lawyer, who held a slip of paper in his hand, as he advanced toward the freshman. "prescott," declared the lawyer, "i can't tell you what is in my heart. i can't even pay you adequately for what you have done for me and for my boy. but i ask you to accept this as a slight indication, only, of what i feel." dick took the paper, glancing at it curiously. it was the lawyer's check for two hundred and fifty dollars. "accept it," begged the lawyer, in a rather pompous voice. "do whatever you please with it." dick colored. "whatever i please with it?" he asked, a bit unsteadily. "yes; certainly, of course," murmured the lawyer. "i have no doubt whatever that a live? healthy boy can find something to do with a check like that." flushing still more deeply, while fred ripley looked on, at first enviously, dick prescott tore the check into several pieces. the lawyer stared at him in amazement. "i appreciate your intention, mr. ripley," dick went on, his voice a bit husky, "and i thank you, sir. but i can't take any money." "can't take it?" repeated the astonished lawyer, while fred ripley fairly gasped. "i can't accept money, sir, for an act of humanity." "oh! but i think i can convince you, my boy, that you _can_." "i'm equally sure that you can't mr. ripley," persisted the freshman, smiling. "but again i thank you for the intention." lawyer ripley was a good deal of a judge of human character. he began to feel sure that the freshman was speaking the truth. just at that moment some one entered the outer office. mr. ripley glanced out, then said: "i shall have to ask you to excuse me for a few moments. fred, of course you have just thanked mr. prescott again for his heroic act?" "n-n-no, sir," stammered fred. "when i return i don't want to have to hear another answer like that," warned the lawyer, sternly. then he closed the door behind him. dick turned, with a dry smile. "since you're under orders to thank me, fred, get it over with quickly," laughed the freshman. "i'll help you all i can." young ripley's better nature really was stirred for a moment. "of course i thank you, prescott," he stammered. "it was a splendid thing for you to do. i---i don't know as i had any right to expect it, either, for i've been pretty mean to you." "i know," replied dick, with the same dry smile. "you put tip scammon up to the high school locker thefts, to get me in disgrace, and unlucky tip had to go to jail for it." fred ripley glared at the freshman with terror-stricken eyes. then, without warning, fred made a leap for ward, to clutch dick by the throat. chapter xxii the only freshmen at the senior ball side-stepping, the freshman put up one arm to ward off further attack. "come, don't start a fight here, fred," dick cautioned the other, in a low tone. "for one thing, you couldn't win anyway. besides, your father would hear the racket and come in." "how do you know i put tip up to that job?" demanded young ripley, his face as white as chalk. "did tip tell you all about it?" "not a word." "then you don't know," cried fred, in sudden triumph. "if i didn't," grinned dick, "you've just confessed it." "you tricked me---i mean it's a lie." "no; it isn't, either," asserted dick, coolly. "though the second chap, in that mix-up in stetson's alley one night, got away before i had time to recognize his face in the black darkness there, yet as i fell and grabbed for the chap's ankle, i noticed his trousers with the lavender stripe. i had seen those trousers on you before, fred, and you're wearing them again at this minute." fred glanced downward, starting. "you see," insisted the freshman, "there's no sense in denying that you put tip up to the game that got him into the penitentiary." "how many have you told this to?" demanded fred, fright showing in his face. "my chums suspect," dick answered, frankly. "i'm pretty sure i haven't told anyone else." "good thing you haven't, then," retorted fred, recovering some of his usual impudence. "my father is a lawyer, and he'd know how to make you smart if you started libelous yarns about me." "your father being a lawyer, i think he would also be likely to show an investigating turn of mind. you can put it up to your father if you want to, fred." young ripley winced. prescott laughed lightly. "now, see here, fred, i don't want to live on bad terms with anyone. you've got good points, i'm sure you have." "oh, thank you," rejoined the sophomore, with exaggerated sarcasm. "and i'll be glad to begin being on good terms with you at any time, if you should ever really want such a thing," continued the freshman. "if you were a thoroughly good fellow, wholly on the level, like badger, thomp, purcell, or any one of scores of fellows that we know, then i'd hate to know that you didn't like me. but, as to the kind of fellow you've sometimes shown yourself to be, fred, i've been really glad that i wasn't your sort and didn't appeal to you." at this style of talk the sophomore seemed all but crushed with mortification. "come, fred," pursued dick, not waiting for the other to answer, "be a different sort of chap. make up your mind to go through the high school, and through life afterwards, dealing with everybody on the square. be pleasant and honest---be a high-class fellow---and everyone will like you and seek your friendship. that's all i've got to say." "it's quite enough to say," retorted ripley, but he spoke in a low voice that had in it no trace of combative energy. "well, boys, how are matters going?" asked lawyer ripley, reentering. "fred, have you remedied your boorishness by thanking prescott?" "oh, yes, he has thanked me," dick replied, cheerily. "and we've been chatting about---some other matters. and now, mr. ripley, if you will excuse me, i feel that i must run along." i have other things that i really must attend to." "won't you be more sensible, and let me make you a duplicate to the check you tore up?" asked the lawyer. "thank you, sir; but i don't want to; couldn't, in fact. my father and mother would be ashamed of me if i took home a check for such a service. good afternoon, mr. ripley. so long, fred." dick went out of the lawyer's offices almost breezily. fred even found the nerve to respond to dick's parting salutation with something very close to an air of cordiality. the instant he reached the street dick took in several deep breaths. "whew! it seems mighty good to be in the fresh air once more, after being in the same room with fred ripley," muttered the freshman. "hello, dickens, kid," called a voice from behind, and an arm rested on his shoulder. "hello, ben," replied prescott, looking around. "i just wanted to say that the senior ball comes off saturday night of this week. you're going to get one of the few freshman tickets. the ticket allows you to invite one of the girls. now, remember, freshie, we depend upon you to be there." dick started to object. well enough he knew that there would be few freshmen at the senior dance, which was the most exclusive affair in the high school year. "you can't kick," rattled on badger. "you'll get thrashed, if you do. didn't i tell you that there'll be very few freshman tickets sent out? only six, in fact. dick & co. are going to hog all the freshman tickets. that's largely on account of what you youngsters have done for football and athletics in general. lad, this is the last year that the seniors will have a chance to see anything of dick & co. so you simply can't stay away from the senior ball. not a single member of dick & co. can be excused from attending." "we'll see about it," replied dick. "no, you won't! it has all been seen to. the six of you are going to be on hand---with six stunning girls, too!" "i thank you, anyway; i thank you all heartily for this very unusual honor," dick protested. "that's all right, then; it's settled," proclaimed ben badger, with an air of finality. "the dance begins at nine. it's all stated on the ticket." by the next day it _was_ settled that dick & co. were going to attend. besides the senior class, a good many of the juniors were also invited. there was to be a fair sprinkling of sophomores, but of the freshmen dick & co. were the only ones invited. up to the middle of the week fred ripley felt rather certain that he was to be invited. then, feeling less certain, he went to thomp and badger. "say, fellows," began fred, with a confident air, "i just want to mention the fact that i haven't received a card to the senior ball yet." "maybe you will, next year," suggested thomp coolly. fred flushed, then went white. "oh, very well, if you mean than i'm to be left out," grunted ripley. "i'm afraid, fred," hinted badger, "that you were overlooked until the full number of soph tickets had been issued. it was an oversight, of course, but i'm afraid it's too late to remedy it." fred ripley went away, furious with anger, for he already knew, as did everyone else in gridley h.s., that dick & co. were to be among the elect at the senior ball. and fred had been so sure of a card to the ball that he had gone to the length of inviting clara deane to accompany him to the affair. that young lady had most joyously accepted. now, as he walked home with miss clara this afternoon, fred suddenly broke out: "i say, clara, you don't very much mind if we don't go to the senior ball, do you?" "yes," miss deane retorted. "why, what's the matter, fred. didn't you receive an invitation?" "of course, i could get an invite," lied young ripley. "but the plain truth is, i want to keep out of the affair." "why, what's the matter?" asked clara, gazing at her escort in astonishment. "haven't you heard the news?" "what news?" "that mucker crowd, who call themselves dick &s co., have been invited." "there's no harm in that, is there?" asked clara deane, quietly. "why, they're quite popular young fellows; certainly the best-liked freshmen." "well, _i_ don't like them," retorted fred, sullenly. "and so, after inviting me to go to the ball with you, now you're going to invite me to remain at home instead?" "oh, of course, if you really want to go, i'll see about it," muttered the sophomore. but he didn't see about it, nor did clara deane again refer to the matter. however, being an enterprising girl, miss deane was not long in discovering that fred was not going to the senior affair for the very good reason that he _couldn't possibly_ get himself written down on the invitation list. apart from the moral side of the question it is rarely worth while to lie---to a girl, especially. chapter xxiii the nitroglycerine mystery speaks up in one phase of its social life gridley h.s. was especially sensible. since only a few of the boys could be expected to be able to afford evening dress suits, it was a rule that none, even the seniors, should appear at any of the class functions in these fashionable garments. hence, dick & co., when they arrived with their girl friends, did not feel out of place on the score of clothes. each of the freshmen wore his "sunday" suit, and each wore a flower at his lapel. unfortunately, no limitations were placed on the dress of the girls. therefore, while some rather plain frocks were in evidence, many of the girls were rather elaborately attired. laura bentley, though her father's means rather permitted, did not "overdo" in respect of dress. dick felt sure, however, as he offered his arm, and conducted her out on the floor, that laura was quite the prettiest, sweetest-looking girl there. all of dick's chums felt satisfied with their partners of the evening, for each young man had invited the girl whose company he was sure to enjoy most. somehow, though they did not feel just out of place at the senior ball, the six young freshmen and their partners, all of the freshman class, happened to come together at one end of the hall. "what do you all say," proposed dick, "if, in the grand march, we freshies keep together, six couples all in one section?" "we'll feel more comfortable, surely," grinned dave darrin. "why? are you scared?" asked laura, looking at him archly. "not so that the band-leader could notice it," replied dave. "yet i think we'd all be making more noise if this were a freshman dance." "but the freshmen don't have a dance until just before commencement time," put in belle meade, who was there with dave. "anyway, the seniors are not so very important," laughed laura. "the average age of the freshman class is about fourteen or fifteen. the seniors are only three years older pooh! who's afraid?" "i am," broke in ben badger, coming up behind them. "desperately afraid." "you? of what?" asked laura, turning around upon him. "afraid that i'm too late to write my autograph on your dance card," admitted ben, with a rueful smile. "but you're a senior," murmured laura. "is that a crime?" demanded ben, in a tone of wonder. "why, we were planning," put in belle, "that the freshmen boys and freshmen girls should dance together this evening." "i see a ray of hope," protested ben. "i'm going to college, so i shall be a freshman again next year. isn't that enough to entitle me to one---square---dance, anyway?" without waiting for another reply, ben caught up laura's card, and looked it over. "may i have number nine, please?" he begged. "yes, thank you," laura answered, so badger scribbled his name. "my hopes are rising," cried frank thompson, gliding into the group. thereupon other seniors and juniors came up. it wasn't long before dick & co. had to bestir themselves in order to be sure of having dances enough with the girls of their own class. "you can retaliate, you know, by going after some of the girls of the two upper classes," suggested laura. "i don't believe i'll try that," dick replied. "it's all right for the upper class boys to want to dance with some of the freshman girls, especially when the freshman girls are such a charming lot-----" "our thanks!" and six girls bowed low before him. "but it would be regarded, i'm afraid, as rank impudence, if we little freshmen wanted to dance with senior or junior girls. when a freshman is in doubt the tip is 'don't!'" the orchestra was playing a lively waltz that made most of the girls and many of the boys tap their feet restlessly. the perfume of flowers was in the air. lively chatter and merry laughter rang out. "this is the brighter side of school life," murmured dick, enthusiastically. "one of the brighter sides," suggested laura. "your remark, as you made it, sounds ungrateful. it is a delight to be a high school student. there are no really dark sides to the life." "but some sides are much brighter than others," dick insisted. "i like study, and am glad i have a chance to go further in it than most young people get. yet these class dances give us something that algebra, or chemistry, or geometry can't supply us." "this is the brightest spot of the year," put in tom reade, in a low voice. "it must be the brightness of the girls' eyes that fill this part of the room with so much radiance." "bravo!" laughed laura and belle together. "have you been quiet the last fifteen minutes on purpose to think that up?" dave asked enviously. "tom can say lots of nicer things than that," spoke up bessie trenholm, half shyly. "oh, can he?" demanded harry hazelton. "please search your memory then, bessie. let's have a few specimens of what tom can say under the influence of luminous eyes." bessie blushed. when she tried to speak she stammered. "i---i guess i can't remember anything," she pleaded. freshman laughter rang out merrily at this. but the waltz had ended, and now the prompter was calling for the grand march. "let's find our places," urged dan dalzell. "we're on the side, so we might as well remain right where we are," proposed dick. "that is, unless the floor manager or some aide comes along and chases us to the rear of the procession." but no one interfered with the freshmen taking their places in the line just where they stood. as the grand march ended the orchestra drew breath once or twice, then burst forth in a gallop. dick offered laura his guidance, and away they flew together. by the time the gallop ended the freshman couples were rather well scattered over the hall. dick danced well. he enjoyed himself immensely. so did his partners. some of the freshman girls finally drifted off with upper class partners. toward midnight, dick, alone, drifted to dave darrin and harry hazelton. "i haven't a thing to do, now, for four dances, unless some senior drops dead," dick remarked. "i'm in as bad a plight," admitted harry. "and i," nodded dave. it wasn't many moments ere the other three partners happened along, all disengaged. "we don't want to be wall-flowers," muttered dick. "it's going to be more than half an hour from now before any of us are due to dance again. see here, fellows, what do you say to our getting our hats and coats and getting out into the air for a while? a ballroom, isn't the worst place in the world, but i'm so much a fresh air fellow, that i'm half stifling here." "good! come along to the coatroom, then," nodded greg holmes. "going home?" asked laura bentley, in a tone of protest, as she whirled by on thompson's arm and saw dick & co. headed for the coatroom. she was gone before dick could answer by word of mouth. but he saw her regarding him from the other end of the room, and smilingly shook his head. "feels good to be out, doesn't it?" asked dan dalzell, as the freshman sextette struck the open air. "yes; but what has happened to the blooming town?" demanded greg holmes. even this main street of gridley presented a curious look. it was a freezingly cold december night and it looked to the freshman as though the senior ball must be the only live thing left in the little city. all the stores were closed, and had been for some time. all lights were out in the nearest residences. at first the boys thought they beheld held a policeman standing in front of the first national bank, half a block away, but a closer look revealed the fact that he was only some belated loiterer---the sole human being in sight save themselves. "come off this other way, and let's go down the side street," proposed dick. "yes; if we're to find signs of life anywhere, it will have to be on the smaller side streets," observed greg holmes. music wafted to them from the hall. "there's life going on up there," remarked dave. "we left it behind us." "it isn't life," laughed dick, "when some other fellow is dancing with your girl." along the side street the first corner was at the beginning of a broad back alley that ran parallel with main street. along this alleyway they turned. "by looking up at the windows," suggested prescott, "we may get some glimpses of the dance that are not so apparent when you're up in the hall." true, as they passed by the rear of the dance hall they caught some glimpses of moving couples going by the windows, but that was all. "and i want to remark," grunted tom reade, "that it's cold outdoors tonight." "an outdoor fellow like you ought not to mind that," chaffed dick "oh, i'll stand it as long as the rest of you do," challenged reade. dick and dave were in the lead, the other chums coming behind them in couples. so prescott and dave darrin were the first to catch a glimpse down the short lane that led from the alleyway to the back of one of the buildings. here stood a man, with cap drawn well down over his forehead. he was beside an automobile---a big black touring car. dick saw and guessed. he almost jumped. giving dave's arm a quick squeeze, prescott marched by without appearing to pay any heed to the man and the autocar. once past the lane, dick kept on walking, but he turned and walked backwards. he signed to the other four, putting a finger to his lips for silence. all six of the chums had guessed swiftly what the man and the auto, at that particular point, must mean! "keep walking, fellows," whispered dick, as the other startled freshmen reached him. "and laugh---loudly!" their forced laughter rang out. then dick, again at the head with dave, started in on the first bars of the latest popular song. again the chums understood, and joined in with a will. when he had gone two hundred feet further, dick countermarched his little force. still singing they went back by the head of the lane, but not one member of dick & co. allowed himself to glance down the lane at man or automobile. then the song died out. "i say, fellows," called dave darrin, banteringly, "we'd better get back to the hall if we don't want to find other fellows going home with our girls." "i'll fight before i'll let that happen," proclaimed dick prescott. "hustle, then!" urged dan. once out of the alleyway and into the side street the freshmen halted for an instant. "fellows," spoke dick prescott, "you all know what that means? one lookout in front of the bank, and another at the rear. an auto at the rear, too. greg, you hustle to the police station as fast as you can make your feet fly. no use trying to find a place open where you can telephone. come, the rest of you fellows." there was a side entrance to the hall from the side street. dick and his four remaining chums ran in at this side door, that the man in front of the bank might not see them. up the stairs the freshmen rushed. "dave, take care of the orchestra," panted dick. "the music mustn't stop for an instant after we get the fellows out." something in the looks of the five freshmen, as they burst into the hall attracted the attention of nearly everyone present. dick held up his hand as a sign for the dancing to stop. but dave darrin was already up on the platform, talking in the leader's ear, and the music did not cease. as quickly as could be dick got the upper classmen away from the girls, at the lower end of the hall. "what is it? what can be the matter?" all the girls wanted to know. but dick called out, loudly enough to make himself heard: "young ladies, it is highly important that the music and the sounds of moving feet be kept up. won't you young ladies please dance with each other until we bet back? then we'll tell you an interesting story---if you're good." in the meantime tom reade was telling thompson, badger and edgeworth, and as many more as could get close enough, what had happened. "see here, fellows," spoke thomp, "there's a big chance fer the crowd to win fun and glory for good old gridley h.s. seniors and dick & co. will steal down the alleyway, and be upon that lookout before he can say 'batter-cakes and coffee.' juniors and sophs go in a bunch, prepared to catch the lookout on main street. all get your coats and come softly down the _side_ stairs!" in many gatherings the speed and comprehension with which all the gridley high school boys acted would have been regarded as marvelous. but they were always in training for athletics. team work and the spirit of speed and discipline prevailed among them. almost in a jiffy, so it seemed, the masculine part of the senior dance party was out on the sidewalk of the side street. "don't you juniors and sophs show yourselves on main street for a full sixty seconds, unless you hear us raise a row at the back of the bank," advised dick. somehow, none of the upper classmen seemed to think it strange for young prescott thus to take command. he and his chums had discovered the attempt on the bank, and it seemed natural, just now, for the freshman leader to lead the whole school. on tiptoe dick and his chums led the way into the alley, the seniors following just as stealthily. when the freshmen were within thirty feet of the lane dick prescott held up his hand, then signed to all hands to make the grand rush forward. just an instant before the high school boys could start, the earth suddenly shook and swayed under them, while on the frosty night air there came a great, sullen, fearsome--- boom! that was the explosion designed to blow open the door of the bank's vault. chapter xxiv the capture of the bank robbers in answer, a rousing defiance, the gridley h.s. yell was roared out. and by this time, seniors dick & co. were in full motion. "four---thirteen---eleven!" bellowed sam edgeworth. the football men heard that signal and understood the application of it. though the flying wedge is now no longer tolerated in football, there are other plays evolved from it, and the signal called for one. edgeworth himself formed the point of the wedge. "freshies in the center!" he bawled back lustily. as the high school crowd rushed around the corner, giving their vocal chords full play, dick and his chums were hustled inside of the inverted "v" formation. it was a human battering ram that launched itself into the lane---filling that narrow passage, choking it. one of the bank robbers was still on the lookout duty. at the first sound he had drawn his revolver, prepared to shoot right and left. but this avalanche of torsos, arms and legs was more than the fellow had bargained for. if it be true that a community can't be indicted, then it is still truer that a community can't be murdered. the armed rascal gasped at the magnitude of his task of defense. in another second he had been bowled clean over off his feet, and a half a dozen seniors were reaching for his weapon. as dick prescott and his chums got out of the wedge they made a dash for the automobile. at that same instant the air bore to them the battle-yell of juniors and sophs at the front of the bank. the rear door of the building was yanked hastily open. two masked men shot the rays of their bulls-eye lanterns out into the lane, while their right hands held revolvers. bang-bang! bang-bang! the rear door slammed, the robbers retreating behind that barrier. in the first moment the high school boys themselves were a good deal startled, though they didn't make any effort to run. then the news pulsed swiftly through the senior crowd. the noise hadn't come from pistols. dick & co. had shut off any possibility of automobile flight by falling upon the tires with their pocket knives. any robbers that could bluff their way through the crowd and start the engine would have to hobble along on flat tires! the rear lookout of the robber band was now a safe prisoner in the hands of four stalwart seniors. ben badger had the fellow's revolver. out in front of the bank the juniors and sophs held the enemy at bay inside. the lookout, after trying to hold up the rush at the point of the pistol, had turned without firing, and had tried to get away. but four of the juniors had sprinted after him and caught him. thus the forces stood. inside the bank building were at least two of the robbers, armed and presumably desperate. yet they knew they couldn't shoot their way out through a multitude, either at the front or the back of the building. on the other hand, the high school boys didn't care about rushing into a darkness that was held by armed men. thus the opposing sides stood holding each other at bay until new actors came upon the scene---the police reserves. four officers ran to the front of the bank. chief coy and four more appeared in the lane among the high school boys. "now, young gentlemen, jump out, if you please!" rang the chief's order, "we've got to get inside at those fellows, and there may be a good many bullets flying." "huh!" objected thomp. "we penned that gang up for you. now, are you going to chase us off just as the real fun starts?" "if you stay, it'll be at your own risk, then," answered chief coy, with a rather pleased grin, for he had followed the fortunes of gridley h.s. on the football gridiron, and well enough he knew the school grit. pushing their way through, the police made their way to the closed rear door. "within, there!" summoned coy, knocking lustily on the door. "you are surrounded, and may as well give up. open the door, and come out, and you'll be safe." there was a pause. then a gruff voice demanded: "if we open you don't fire on us?" "not if you come out with your hands held up high." "all right, then. give us time to open the door." the light from the police dark lanterns played on the door as it swung open. then two very crestfallen robbers, holding their hands well aloft, came out on the steps. the windows of the hall, some distance away, had been thrown up. a lot of white-gowned girls, some with covered heads, and some not, looked wonderingly out at the spot lighted up by the dark lanterns. chief coy and two of his officers quickly entered the bank. it was ten minutes before they reappeared. "somebody has done us the good turn of discovering this thing just in time tonight," announced coy, with a grave face. "the vault door is blown entirely off, and the vault is stacked high with sacks of money. who first discovered this thing anyway?" "don't you know?" called ben badger. from a score of throats at once the information broke forth: "dick & co.!" "it'll be a good night's work for dick & co., then, when the bank directors meet" declared chief coy. "in three or four minutes more these robbers would have been going sixty miles an hour with an automobile loaded down to the guards with real money!" the police party being large enough to take care of everything, it was not many minutes more before the high school boys were back in the hall. it took half an hour, however, for the young men to gratify the natural curiosity of the girls. at last the orchestra leader, tiring of the long delay, passed the word to his musicians. then the music pealed out for that good, stirring old eulogy: "for he's a jolly good fellow!" in an instant bright-faced boys and girls caught up the refrain, making the hall shake with the din of their voices. in the midst of it thomp and badger made a rush for dick prescott, caught him, and rushed him to the platform. but they had to hold him there. "speech! speech!" roared the boy and girl assemblage. there was a volley of hand-clapping. but dick, as soon as he could make himself heard, responded: "you've got my number---nothing but the freshman class. when a freshman is in doubt he doesn't dare do it!" suddenly turning, dick bolted for the floor once more. then the next number on the dance programme began, and laughter reigned. but these events had not been in the dance programme, and it was now late. for an hour or more the chaperons had been fretting, so they brought the dance to a close. then followed the merry bustle of departure, the hasty goodbyes, the rattling of wheels through the sleeping town and all was quiet in gridley. but many a household was awakened to hear the story of the attempted burglary and the part that dick & co. had taken in preventing it. chapter xxv conclusion it isn't all play in a high school. a vast amount of study has to be mastered. there are nerve-racking examinations. it is a tremendously busy life despite its sport. so here we would better take leave of gridley h.s. so far as this volume is concerned. it was soon known that, had not dick & co. taken their little walk the robbers would have gotten away with one hundred and twenty thousand dollars in cash. as it was, however, all four men were in the police toils, and they were presently sent to the penitentiary, where they are serving long terms. the bank directors _did_ vote to reward the h.s. boys as individuals, but dick & co. and all the upper classmen refused to accept anything for their own pockets. in despair, the directors finally hit upon the scheme of subscribing one thousand dollars to the funds of the athletics committee. the catching of the bank robbers solved the nitroglycerine mystery. one of the safe-blowing quartette was recognized by the police as having been in gridley at the time when that nitroglycerine package was received at the express office. had they gotten their box in safety the robbers would have entered the bank that night, and there might have been a different story---one of great loss to the bank. fred ripley? his further story belongs to the following volume. dick & co. went through their freshman year with credit all around. when next we meet them we shall find them sophomores, with all the privileges of upper classmen. we shall meet these young sophomores in a sparkling tale of high school life and doings, ambitions and work, sports and pastimes. the next volume will be published under the title: "_the high school pitcher; or dick & co. on the gridley diamond_." this will be a rousing story of baseball in particular, but likewise replete with other situations of absorbing interest to all high school boys and girls. the end ladies in the field sketches of sport edited by the lady greville new york d. appleton and company preface. it is scarcely necessary nowadays to offer an apology for sport, with its entrancing excitement, its infinite variety of joys and interests. women cheerfully share with men, hardships, toil and endurance, climb mountains, sail on the seas, face wind and rain and the chill gusts of winter, as unconcernedly as they once followed their quiet occupations by their firesides. the feverish life of cities too, with its enervating pleasures, is forgotten and neglected for the witchery of legitimate sport, which need not be slaughter or cruelty. women who prefer exercise and liberty, who revel in the cool sea breeze, and love to feel the fresh mountain air fanning their cheeks, who are afraid neither of a little fatigue nor of a little exertion, are the better, the truer, and the healthier, and can yet remain essentially feminine in their thoughts and manners. they may even by their presence refine the coarser ways of men, and contribute to the gradual disuse of bad language in the hunting field, and to the adoption of a habit of courtesy and kindness. the duties of the wife of the m. f. h. fully bear out this view. when women prove bright and cheerful companions, they add to the man's enjoyment and to the enlarging of their own practical interests. when, in addition, they endeavour to love nature in her serenest and grandest moods, to snatch from her mighty bosom some secrets of her being, to study sympathetically the habits of birds, beasts and flowers, and to practise patience, skill, ingenuity and self-reliance, they have learnt valuable lessons of life. lastly, in the words of a true lover of art: "the sportsman who walked through the turnip fields, thinking of nothing but his dog and his gun, has been drinking in the love of beauty at every pore of his invigorated frame, as, from each new tint of autumn, from every misty september morning, from each variety of fleeting cloud, each flash of light from distant spire or stream, the unnoticed influence stole over him like a breeze, bringing health from pleasant places, and made him capable of clearer thoughts and happier emotions." violet greville. contents. page riding in ireland and india. _by the lady greville._ hunting in the shires. horses and their riders. _by the duchess of newcastle._ the wife of the m. f. h. _by mrs chaworth musters._ fox-hunting. team and tandem driving. _by miss rosie anstruther thomson._ tigers i have shot. _by mrs c. martelli._ rifle-shooting. _by miss leale._ deer-stalking and deer-driving. _by diane chasseresse._ covert shooting. _by lady boynton._ a kangaroo hunt. _by mrs jenkins._ cycling. _by mrs e. r. pennell._ punting. _by miss sybil salaman._ ladies in the field. riding in ireland and india. by the lady greville. of all the exercises indulged in by men and women, riding is perhaps the most productive of harmless pleasure. the healthful, exhilarating feeling caused by rapid motion through the air, and the sense of power conveyed by the easy gallop of a good horse, tends greatly to moral and physical well-being and satisfaction. riding improves the temper, the spirits and the appetite; black shadows and morbid fancies disappear from the mental horizon, and wretched indeed must he be who can preserve a gloomy or discontented frame of mind during a fine run in a grass country, or even in a sharp, brisk gallop over turfy downs. such being the case, no wonder that the numbers of horsemen increase every day, and that the hunting field, from the select company of a few country squires and hard-riding young men, has developed into an unruly mob of people, who ride over the hounds, crush together in the gateways, and follow like a flock of sheep through the gaps and over the fences, negotiated by more skilful or courageous sportsmen. women, too, have rushed in where their mothers feared to tread. little girls on ponies may be seen holding their own nobly out hunting, while hyde park, during the season, is filled with fair, fresh-looking girls in straw hats, covert coats and shirts, driving away the cobwebs of dissipation and the deleterious effects of hot rooms by a mild canter in the early morning. unfortunately, though a woman never looks better than on horseback, _when she knows how to ride_, the specimens one often encounters riding crookedly, all one side, to the inevitable detriment of the horse's back, bumping on the saddle like a sack of potatoes, or holding on with convulsive effort to the horse's mouth, are sufficient to create a holy horror in the minds of reasonable spectators. park-riding is not difficult compared with cross-country riding, yet how seldom do you see it perfect? to begin with, a certain amount of horsemanship is absolutely necessary. there must be art, and the grace that conceals art; there must be self-possession, quiet, and a thorough knowledge of the horse you are riding. take, for instance, a fresh young hunter into the park for the first time. he shies at the homely perambulator, starts at the sound of cantering hoofs, is terrified by a water-cart, maddened by the strains of the regimental band, or the firing of the guards at their matutinal drill, and finally attempts to bolt or turn round as other horses, careering along, meet and pass him in a straggling gallop. if he backs, rears, kicks, shies and stops short, or wheels round suddenly, with ears thrown back, his rider need not be surprised. horses cantering in every direction disturb, distress and puzzle him. on which side are the hounds? he wonders. why does not his rider extend him? where are the fences, and when will the fun begin? these, no doubt, are some of the thoughts that pass through a well-bred hunter's mind, for that horses _do_ reason in their own peculiar fashion i am convinced, and that they fully recognise the touch and voice of the master, no one can doubt who has noticed the difference in the behaviour of a hunter when ridden by different persons. if the park rider wishes for a pleasant conveyance i should strongly recommend a hack, neither a polo pony nor a cob. but where, oh where, are perfect hacks to be found? they should be handsome, well-bred, not quite thorough-bred, about · , with fine shoulders, good action, and, above all, perfect mouth and manners. no irish horse has manners, as a rule, until he comes to england, or has the slightest idea of bending and holding himself, owing to the fact of his being usually broken and ridden in a snaffle bridle. this practice has its uses, notably in that it makes the horses bold fencers, and teaches them not to be afraid of facing the bit, but it is not conducive to the development of a park hack, which should be able to canter round a sixpence. i remember in my young days seeing mr mackenzie greaves and lord cardigan riding in the park, the latter mounted on a beautiful chestnut horse, which cantered at the slowest and easiest of paces, the real proverbial arm-chair, with a beautifully arched neck, champing proudly at the bit, yet really guided as by a silken thread. _that_ was a perfect hack, and would probably fetch now-a-days four or five hundred guineas. no lady ought to ride (if she wishes to look well) on anything else. men may bestride polo ponies, or clatter lumberingly along on chargers, or exercise steeple-chase horses with their heads in the air, yawing at a snaffle; but, if a woman wants to show off her figure and her seat she should have a perfect hack, not too small, with a good forehand, nice action, and, above all, a good walker, one that neither fidgets nor shuffles nor breaks into a trot. bitting is, as a rule, not sufficiently considered. in the park, a light, double bridle, or what they call in ireland a ward bit, is the best, and no martingale should be required. people often wonder why a horse does not carry his head in the right place. generally, unless the horse is unfortunately shaped, this is the fault of the bit, sometimes it is too severe, or too narrow, which frets and irritates the horse's mouth. a horse with a very tender mouth will stand only the lightest of bits, and is what they call a snaffle bridle horse, not always the pleasantest of mouths, at least out hunting; for i cannot think that a lady can really ever hold a horse well together over a deep country, intersected by stiff fences, with a snaffle, especially if he is a big horse with somewhat rolling action. it has been said by a great authority on riding that no horse's mouth is good enough for a snaffle, and no man's hands good enough for a curb. i remember the late lord wilton, one of the finest cross-country riders, telling me to be sure never to ride my horse on the curb over a fence. but, as i suppose there is no absolute perfection in horse or man, each rider must, to a certain extent, judge for himself, and ride different horses in different ways. but you may be sure of this, that the bitting of grooms is generally too severe, and the hands of a man who rides all his horses in martingales, snaffles, and complicated arrangements of bit and bridle, are sure to be wrong. the matter practically resolves itself into hands. they, after all, are the chief essentials in riding. the "butcher" on horseback who tugs at his horse's head as if it were a bedpost, who loses his temper, who digs in the spurs incessantly, and generally has a fight with his horse over every fence, invariably possesses bad hands as well as a bad temper. i believe the reason that women who ride hard generally get fewer falls than men, is to be accounted for by the fact that they leave their horse's head alone, do not interfere with and bully him, and are generally on good terms with their mounts. for this reason i disapprove strongly of women riding with spurs, and think that in most cases _men_ would be better without them. i had a personal experience of this once, when i one day lent a very clever hunter, who had carried me perfectly, to the huntsman. he rode her with spurs, she went unkindly all day and refused several fences, a thing i had never known her do before. many men are too fond of looking upon horses as machines, ignoring their wishes and peculiarities, whereas the true horseman is in thorough sympathy with the animal he bestrides, and contrives by some occult influence to inspire him with confidence and affection. a horse, bold as a lion with his master on his back, may very often refuse with a timid, nervous or weak rider. one man, like the late george whyte melville, can get the rawest of four-year-olds brilliantly over a country, while another finds difficulty even with an experienced hunter. i believe thoroughly in kindness and gentleness in stable management. i would dismiss at once a groom or helper who hit, or swore at, or knocked about a horse. horses are very nervous creatures, and keenly susceptible to affection. i had once a beautiful chestnut hunter, quite thorough-bred, and a perfect picture, with a small, beautifully-shaped head, and large, gentle eye. he had evidently been fearfully ill-treated, for, if anyone came near him he would shrink into the corner of his box, tremble violently, and put his ears back from sheer nervousness. after a bit, seeing he was kindly treated, he learnt to follow me like a dog. another mare, who came with the reputation of a vicious animal, and was supposed to bite all those who approached her, used, after a time, to eat nicely from my hand, much to the astonishment of her late master, who saw me go freely into her box. no man can be a really good rider who is not fond of horses, and does not care to study their peculiarities and tempers, and govern them rather by kind determination than by sheer ill-treatment. a lady rider should look to her bit before she starts, see that the curb chain is not too tight, and the bit in the proper position. she should visit her horse daily, and feed him in the stable till he knows her voice as well as one of mine did who, on hearing it, would rise up on his hind legs and try to turn himself round in his stall whinnying with pleasure. and, above all, she should study her saddle. sore backs are the terrible curse of a hunting stable, and are generally produced by bad riding, hanging on to the stirrup, instead of rising when trotting, from the body, and sitting crooked on a badly-fitting saddle. the woman's seat should be a perfectly straight one. she should look, as she sits, exactly between the horse's ears, and, with the third pommel to give her assistance, she ought to maintain a perfect balance. every lady's saddle should be made for her, as some women take longer saddles than others. the stuffing should be constantly seen to, and, while the girths are loosed, the saddle itself never taken off till the horse's back is cool. if it is a well-made saddle and does not come down too low on the withers, a horse should very rarely have a bad back. i have always preferred a saddle of which the seat was flat and in old days used to have mine stuffed a good deal at the back so as to prevent the feeling of riding uphill. messrs wilkinson & champion now make saddles on that principle, on which one can sit most comfortably. numnahs i do not care for, or if they are used they should only be a thin leather panel, well oiled, and kept soft and pliable. no lady should hunt till she can ride, by which i mean, till she can manage all sorts of horses, easy and difficult to ride, till she knows how to gallop, how to jump, and is capable of looking after herself. half the accidents in the hunting field occur from women, who can scarcely ride, being put upon a hunter, and, while still perfectly inexperienced, told to ride to hounds. they may have plenty of courage but no knowledge. whyte melville depicts pluck as "a moral quality, the result of education, natural self-respect and certain high aspirations of the intellect;" and nerve "as a gift of nature, dependent on the health, the circulation and the liver. as memory to imagination in the student, so is nerve to pluck in the horseman." women are remarkable for nerve, men for pluck. women who ride are generally young and healthy. youth is bold and inconscient of its danger. yet few men or women have the cool courage of jim mason, who was seen galloping down a steep hill in leicestershire, the reins on his horse's neck, his knife in his mouth, mending the lash of his whip. in fact, a good deal of the hard riding one sees is often due to what is called "jumping powder," or the imbibing of liqueurs and spirits. for hard riding, it should never be forgotten, is essentially not good riding. the fine old sportsman, ripened by experience, who, while quietly weighing the chances against him, and perfectly aware of the risks he runs, is yet ready to face them boldly, with all the resources of a cool head and a wide knowledge, is on the high road to being a hero. these calm, unassuming, courageous men are those who make their mark on the field of battle, and to whom the great duke of wellington referred when he spoke of the hunting field being the best school of cavalry in the world. most of us want to fly before we can walk. this vaulting ambition accounts for the contemptible spectacles that occasionally meet our sight. a city man, who has had half-a-dozen riding lessons, an enriched tradesman, or an unsportmanlike foreigner, must needs start a stud of hunters. we all remember the immortal adventures of jorrocks and soapy sponge, but how often do we see scenes quite as ludicrous as any depicted in sartees' delightful volumes. because everyone he knows goes across country, the novice believes fondly that he can do the same. he forgets that the real sportsman has ridden from earliest childhood; has taken his falls cheerfully off a pony; and learned how to ride without stirrups, often clinging on only bareback; has watched, while still a little chap in knickerbockers or white frocks, holding tight to the obliging nurse's hand, some of the mysteries of the stable; has seen the horses groomed and shod, physicked or saddled, with the keen curiosity and interest of childhood, and has grown up, as it were in the atmosphere of the stable. every english boy, the son of a country gentleman, loves the scent of the hay, not perhaps poetically in the hay field, but practically in the manger. he knows the difference in the quality of oats, and the price of straw, the pedigree of the colts, and the performances of the mares, long before he has mastered the intricacies of euclid, or the diction of homer. to ride is to him as natural as to walk, and he acquires a seat and hands as unconsciously as the foals learn to trot and jump after their mother; and consequently, as riding is an art eminently necessary to be acquired in youth, everything is in his favour, when in after life the poor and plucky subaltern pits himself on his fifty-guinea screw against the city magnate riding his four-hundred-guinea hunter. fortunately this is so, for riding, while entrancing to its votaries, is also an expensive amusement; yet so long as a man has a penny in his pocket that he can legitimately dispose of for amusement, so long would one wish him to spend it thus, for the moral qualities necessary to make a good rider are precisely those which have given england her superiority in the rank of nations. the irish with their ardent and enthusiastic natures, are essentially lovers of horses; and an irish hunter is without exception the cleverest in the world. he has generally a light mouth, always a leg to spare, and the nimbleness of a deer in leaping. _apropos_ of the latter quality, i remember the answer of an irishman who was selling a horse, when asked if he could jump,-- "is't lep, ye mane, yer honour? well there never was a leper the likes of him!" "does he feed well?" "feed, yer honour? he'd fatten on a bowling alley!" hunting in ireland, while rougher and more unconventional, is certainly safer than in england. the fences are big, but you do not as a rule ride so fast at them, and are therefore not so likely to get a bad fall; in addition, there is rarely if ever any timber to jump. but against that, there are a great many stone walls, and nasty big black ditches, called drains, which are boggy and unfathomable, and the banks of which are rotten; and there is no road riding possible, and few gates, while lanes are rare and far between. nevertheless, i believe it is the best hunting country for ladies. it has no big hairy fences to scratch your face and tear your habit, and no ox-rails; the country is grass and beautiful going; you can ride a horse a stone lighter than in england, and on a good bold horse you can go pretty nearly straight. the vexed question of habits appears now to be one of the most serious matters, in consequence of the many accidents that have happened to ladies. when i began riding, we wore habits that tore if they caught, and, consequently, no one was ever hung up or dragged. the strong melton cloth of the present day does not give at all, and therefore is a source of great danger if the habit catches on the pommel. none of the so-called safety habits up to the present seem to be absolutely satisfactory, nor any of the dodges of elastic or safety stirrups. mr scott, jr., of south molton street, has invented the latest safety skirt, but this is in reality no habit at all, only an apron, and therefore can scarcely be called a skirt. one great security is to have no hem to the habit. another is, to be a good rider (for the bad riders always fall on the off side, which is the reason their habit catches on the crutch). the third is to have a habit made of tearable material; and this, i believe, is the only solution of the question, unless ladies decide definitely to adopt a man's dress. meanwhile, i would impress upon all women the great danger of hunting, unless they are fully capable of managing their horses, choosing their own place at a fence, omitting to ride over their pilot, or to gallop wildly with a loose rein, charging every obstacle in front of them, and finally, unless they have some experience in the art of horsemanship. military men possess great advantages in the hunting field. to begin with, they are taught to ride, and probably have passed some years in india, where the exercise is commonly preferred to walking. ladies of all ages and figures ride there, and, no doubt, in so doing, preserve their health and their looks. there is a peculiar charm in indian riding. it is indulged in in the early morning, when the body is rested, the nerves strong, and the air brisk and fresh; or at eventide, when the heat of the day is over, and a canter in the cool breeze seems peculiarly acceptable. how delightful are those early morning rides, when, after partaking of the refreshing cup of tea or coffee, your "syce" or groom brings the pawing steed to your door, and once in the saddle, you wander for miles, with nothing to impede your progress but an occasional low mud wall, or bank and ditch, which your horse takes in his stride, or a thorny "nullah," up and down whose steep sides you scramble. there is something fascinating in the sense of space and liberty, the feeling that you can gallop at your own sweet will across a wide plain, pulled up by no fear of trespassing, no gates nor fences nor unclosed pastures with carefully guarded sheep and cattle, no flowery cottage gardens; the wide expanse of cloudless sky above you, the golden plain with its sandy monotony stretched out in front, broken only by occasional clumps of mango trees, or tilled spaces, where the crops grow, intersected by small ditches, cut for the purposes of irrigation--free as a bird, you lay the reins on your horse's neck, and go till he or you are tired. or in northern india, on a real cold, nipping morning before sunrise, you gather at the accustomed trysting-place and hear the welcome sound of the hounds' voices. a scratch pack, they are, perhaps, even a "bobbery" pack, as the name goes in india; but the old excitement is on you, the rush for a start, and the sense of triumphant exhilaration, as the hounds settle to their work, and the wretched little jackal, or better still, the wolf, takes his unchecked course over the sandy hillocks and the short grass. a twenty-minutes' run covers the horses with lather, and sets your pulses tingling. presently the sun is high in the horizon, and its rays are beginning to make themselves felt. a few friendly good-byes, some parting words of mutual congratulation, and you turn to ride gently home, with a feeling of self-righteousness in your heart, as you greet the lazy sister, or wife, or brother, who stands in the verandah looking for your coming. a bath--that inestimable indian luxury--a lingering toilette, and so to breakfast. and what a breakfast, with a lovely appetite to eat it. fish, beefsteaks, cutlets, the most savoury and delicate of curries, fruit and coffee, ought to satisfy a sybarite. after which a cigarette on a lounge in the verandah may be indulged in. by this time the day is only just begun, and you are free to fill the remaining hours with work or the claims of society. most lovers of horseflesh, seizing their sun-hats from the peg, sally out into the "compound" (a kind of grass enclosure with a few mango or tamarisk trees planted in the middle, the low roofs of the stables and the native servants' dwellings forming a background to it), and talk that cheery rambling talk all true sportsmen delight in. the horses, some in their stalls, some picketed outside under the trees, are munching large bundles of fresh green lucern (a kind of vetch, and a substitute for grass); while the ebon grooms, seated on their haunches on the ground, hold bits and bridles between their toes, and rub away at them with praiseworthy energy. on one side are the polo and harness ponies, the match pair which the lady shows you with pride; on the other, the pony unbroken and savage, just bought at a fair while beyond are two or three "whalers," fine sixteen-hand upstanding horses, all pronounced excellent fencers and first-rate pig-stickers. the grey yonder, a compact, neat-looking animal, resembling an irish hunter, was out this morning. like most australian horses, he is a great buck-jumper, and going to covert his master has some trouble in keeping a steady seat, but when settled down into his gallop, no mud wall is too high, no ditch too broad, and no day too long for him. many are the prize spears he has won on hardly-contested pig-sticking expeditions. then on sunday, the day voted to sport in india, merry paper chases fill an idle hour or two just before sunset. any old screw, country-bred pony or short-shouldered arab may be brought out on these occasions. the hard ground resounds with a noise like the distant roll of thunder, as the line of horsemen clatter along, raising a cloud of dust behind them. falls abound, for the pace is good, and the leader of the chase well mounted. the sugar canes rattle crisply like peas on a drum, as you push your way quickly through the tall grass crops, which, forced violently asunder by your horse's progress, fall together again, and leave no trace of your passage. down a soft, sandy lane, you canter, while your horse sinks in up to his fetlocks, past a dirty little native village, swarming with black children, where women in picturesque attitudes lean and chatter by the shady well; then over a rough, stony plain, intersected by cracks and crevices in the hard gaping earth, where you must pick your way carefully, and hold your horse together lest he break his leg and your neck, for (drawback of all in india) the ground is dreadfully hard, and falls do hurt. at last the chase is over, and your wearied beast stands with legs apart and nostrils heaving, trying to get his wind. the sun has gone down in the sudden fashion peculiar to tropical climes. gloaming there is none, but a lovely starlight, and the clear rays of the moon to guide you safely on your way home. ruddy lights shine out from the native huts, sundry fires shed a wild lustre, the faint, sickly odour of tobacco and opium fills the air, and the weird beating of a tom-tom is heard in the distance. for those to whom such a wild hot scramble, or the long free gallop over the plains does not appeal, there is the pleasant ride along the mall under the flowering acacia trees, where friends meet you at every step, and your easily-cantering arab, with flowing mane and tail, is in harmony with the picturesque oriental scene. everyone rides in india, for in many places it is the only means of transit. in assam and central india, where roads are bad, or non-existent, and the railroads are many miles away, it is absolutely necessary for the tea-planter to reach his plantations on horseback, riding long distances over rough ground; while the commissioner or civilian making his judicial rounds, or the sportsman in search of big game, rides his twelve or fourteen miles a day, camping out in the jungle at night. the lowest subaltern owns a pony or two, and rides to and from his military duties, and the pony may be seen led up and down in front of the mess house, or standing playfully flicking the flies off with his tail, while the faithful syce, his lean brown limbs trained to exceeding fineness by the long distances he runs, squats meekly on the dusty ground, and calls his charge by all sorts of endearing names, which the animal seems perfectly to understand. hand-rubbing, or what is vulgarly called "elbow grease," is much practised in india, and a groom attentive to his duties takes a pride in polishing a horse's coat till it is smooth and glistening as satin. notwithstanding this personal care, however, indian horses, especially country-breds, are not famed for the sweetness of their tempers, and generally disagreeably resent their masters' attempt to mount. this has accordingly to be done in the most agile manner. animals may be seen kicking, biting, plunging and even flying at one another like savage dogs, with teeth exposed, lips drawn back, nostrils heaving and eyes flashing. yet few people would exchange the wild, daring horsemanship of india with its pig-sticking and its wild game hunting, necessitating the utmost degree of nerve and determination, for the flat and unprofitable constitutional in rotten row, the country ride along a road, or even the delights of fox-hunting in england. riding men, who love the sport for its own value, are usually sunny-tempered, kindly at heart, and generously disposed. women, who ride, are easy to please and unaffected; in fact, what many men describe as "a good sort." in conclusion, my advice to girls is, to take a riding man for a husband, and to follow themselves as far as possible all out-door pursuits and amusements. their moral qualities will not suffer from it, while their physique will gain considerably, for bright eyes, a clear complexion, and a slim figure are beauties never to be despised. violet greville. hunting in the shires. "there are emotions deeply seated in the joy of exercise, when the body is brought into play, and masses move in concert, of which the subject is but half conscious. "music and dance, and the delirium of battle or _the chase_ acts thus upon spontaneous natures. "the mystery of rhythm and associated energy and blood-tingling in sympathy is here. it lies at the root of man's most tyrannous instinctive impulses." considering that j. addington symonds was a permanent invalid, exiled to davos by his health, he shows in this paragraph extraordinary understanding. fox-hunting is not merely an idle amusement; it is an outlet for man's natural instincts; a healthy way of making him active, and training his character. whether it exercises his mental faculties in a like degree is another question. i do not think a man can be very stupid who rides well to hounds. the qualifying remark that "he is so perfectly mounted" rather adds to his credit than otherwise, for, with unlimited means, and the best possible intention it is difficult in these days of competition to get together a stud of hunters of the right stamp. people vary considerably in their notions of the right stamp; but most men and women who know anything about horses look out for quality, good bone, loose elbows, active shoulders, strong back, clean hocks, and a head put on the right way; whether in a horse over sixteen-hands or a pony. a judge of horse flesh will never be mistaken about these qualifications, either in the meanest-looking cab horse or a rough brute in a farmyard. hunting people of long experience will tell us they have had one horse in their lives. one that suited their temperament, that they took greater liberties with, that gave them fewer falls, and showed them more sport than all the others. whyte melville says, "forty minutes over an enclosed country establishes the partnership of man and beast in relation of confidence." the combination of pluck, decision and persuasion in a man, and nervous susceptibility in a horse, begets intimacy and mutual affection which many married couples might envy. one horse may make a man's reputation, and pleasantly raise the average of an unequal, even shady, lot in his sale at tattersall's. i had a brown horse that did a great deal for me. he was nearly thorough-bred; by lydon, dam by pollard, · , with beautiful limbs and freedom. he had poor ribs, rather a fractious mouth, and the courage of an army. i hunted him for six seasons; in cheshire, yorkshire, lincolnshire, wiltshire, gloucestershire, bedfordshire, leicestershire, buckinghamshire, and northamptonshire, and he never gave me a fall. i once fell off him. after an enormous jump over an average fence, prompted by a feeling of power and capacity, he gave a sort of skip on landing, and on this provocation i "cut a voluntary," to use a sporting phrase. he died of lockjaw, to my unceasing regret. i remember in being mounted on an extraordinary hunter. i had not gone ten strides before i knew i could not hold him. my patron, on receiving this information, said, "what does it matter! hounds are running--you surely don't want to stop?" "oh, no!" i replied, "but i cannot guide him." "that doesn't matter--they are running straight," so, stimulated by this obvious common sense, i went on in the delirium of the chase, till i had jumped so close to an innocent man that my habit skirt carried off his spur, and, in avoiding a collision at a ford, i jumped the widest brook i have ever seen jumped; and after that i got a pull at him. he could not put a foot wrong, and was perfectly unconscious of my wish to influence him. i began hunting with the inestimable advantage of possessing no horses of my own. for four years i rode hired horses, and had many uncouth falls, but i never hurt myself or my horse. there is freemasonry among "hirelings," i think: they know how to protect themselves and their riders. they jump without being bold; they are stale without being tired; and they live to be very old; by which, i presume, they are treated better than one would suppose. the first horse i ever possessed of my own cost £ , and was called pickwell, after a manor house in leicestershire. he was · , with a swivel neck. for the benefit of people who do not understand this expression, i will say he could almost put his head upon my lap. he was a very poor "doer," and, towards the end of the season, assumed the proportions of a tea-leaf, and had to be sold. he could not do a whole day even when only hunted three days a fortnight. he was an airy performer, and i was sorry to part with him. i hunted him with the grafton, the bicester, and selby lownides. parts of the grafton country are as fine as leicestershire, without having quite its scope or freedom. it is a very sporting country, with fine woodlands and good wild foxes. when i hunted there we had, in frank beers, as good a huntsman as you could wish to see. in a paper of this length any criticism of the various merits of hunting countries would be impossible. in a rough way this is how i should appraise them. the cottesmore for hounds. the burton for foxes. the holdernesse for horses. the pytchley for riders, and the quorn for the field. this needs some explanation. the cottesmore is the most beautiful hound country in england. it is wild and undisturbed: all grass, and carrying a good scent. no huntsman can interfere with his hounds, and no field over-ride them, for the simple reason that they cannot reach them easily. the drawbacks of this from a horseman's point of view are as obvious as the advantages to a houndman's. the country is very hilly in parts, and a good deal divided by unjumpable "bottoms," which the experienced do not meddle with, and which are only worth risking if you get away on good terms with the pack, "while they stream across the first field with a dash that brings the mettle to your heart and the blood to your brain," and your instinct tells you that you are in for a good thing! you gain nothing by chancing one of these bottoms in an average hunting run. the scientific subscriber who knows every inch of the country will be in front of you, and you are fortunate if you get your horse out before dark. brookesby thus describes the cottesmore:--"a wide-spread region, scarcely inhabited; ground that carries a scent in all weathers; woodlands which breed a travelling race; and mile upon mile of untracked grass, where a fox will meet nothing more terrifying than a bullock." if hounds really race over the hilly part of the cottesmore, no horse or rider can follow them straight. he must use his head and eyes, not merely test his pluck and quickness. he need never lose sight of the pack if he is clever, and he will see a vision of grass landscape stretching away below him, and all around him, that will not fade with the magic of the moment. there are people who predict the abolition of fox-hunting in england. these think themselves the penetrating observers of life; they are really the ignorant spectators, who take more trouble to avoid barbed wire than to prevent it being put up; people who join in the groan of the times, without energy or insight. prophecies of this kind should have no value, unless it be to make hunting people more consciously careful. since there are larger subscriptions than ever, and more people hunt, we can only trust that compensation will be given liberally, but not lavishly, and upon principles of good sense and justice. i have thus digressed merely to say that if such a day should arrive, hunting is likely to survive longer in the cottesmore than in most countries. the burton (lincolnshire) presents a striking contrast to the cottesmore. it is as flat as holland, and you must be on the back of hounds if you wish to see them work. most of the country is ploughed, and, by a time-honoured custom which brought both credit and money to the lincolnshire farmers, many of the fields are double ploughed. this latter, to ride over, is only a little better than steam plough. as the price of wheat in england has fallen by per cent. the farmers are ruined, and they are laying down more grass every year. the characteristic fence of the county is a wide drain set a little away from the hedge and cut very deep. the upstanding fences, although lower than those in the shires, are pretty high if you look at the depth of the ground from which you take off. the gorse covers are splendidly thick and overgrown and take a long time to draw; a good many of the fashionable packs, i know, would hesitate to expose themselves to such rough work as drawing toff newton or torrington gorse. the foxes are more like scotch foxes, large and grey. they are wild, and take some killing, sometimes running for two hours. there are not enough inhabitants to head them or cheer the discouraged huntsman by occasional information. in cheshire i saw five foxes killed on one day, but a huntsman in lincolnshire will be lucky if he kills two in a week. i hunted two winters with the burton hounds, and i am sure the largest field i ever saw was twenty people. the master, huntsman and two whips included. hunting in a big country with a small field and wild foxes is the best way of learning to be independent. if, as was my experience, you have a hard-riding huntsman, who gets down early in the run; one whip who takes the wrong turn out of cover, and the other who hangs back after a refractory couple of hounds, a few poorly-mounted farmers and unlucky gentlemen, you can realise with moderate difficulty the possibility of the proud position of being alone with hounds; although this distinction may be capable of the same explanation as was the position of the scotch boy who, when boasting of being second in his class, was compelled to admit that it consisted of "me and a lassie." i said the holdernesse for horses, and i certainly never saw a better mounted field or a finer lot of riding farmers--all of them sportsmen and gentlemen. they ask long prices for their young horses, if they will sell them to you at all, but the chances are they have already promised them to some london dealer. yorkshire horses are, perhaps, after irish, the most famous. they are mostly thorough-bred, and can gallop and stay. i shall never forget a horse i held for a young farmer which would not allow him to mount. i can see it now. a long, loose-limbed bay, with a small, keen, bony face, and an eye that looked through you. i have a great weakness for a horse's face, and think in a general way it shows as much character as a man's. his back was perhaps a trifle too long, but his girth was deep, and he moved like an athlete. he was as wild as a hawk, and could hardly keep still for love of life, dancing at every shadow, and springing feet into the air when anyone passed too near him. he was beautifully ridden and humoured and ultimately settled into the discouraging trot known as "hounds pace." i asked his owner what he wanted for him, and how old he was. the man said that he was rising six, that he wanted £ , and had often refused £ . we had a long talk, as we trotted down the road to draw the next cover, about horses in general and his bay in particular. i fancy his feats lost nothing by being repeated, but i shall not relate them, as what they gained by tradition they would lose by print. the holdernesse is a light plough country, and, like lincolnshire, its common fence is a deep drain, into which your horse can absolutely disappear. i saw eight men down in one, all at the same time, and a young thorough-bred horse in a deep drain is about the worst company in the world. there is not a finer country to ride over in england than the pytchley. unfortunately, too many people agree with us, which is a slight objection to hunting there. they have wonderful sport, a first-rate huntsman and a rich community. lord spencer is the keenest of masters and best of sportsmen. whyte melville says of him in his riding recollections: "the present lord spencer, of whom it is enough to say he hunts one pack of his own in northamptonshire, and is always in the same field with them, never seems to have a horse pull, or, until it is tired, even lean on his hand." i should like to have been praised by whyte melville. he is one of the few novelists whose heroes are gentlemen, who can describe english society and a straight forty minutes over countries that we recognise. the pytchley is not cut up by railroads, like the quorn. there is not nearly so much timber as there is in leicestershire, but it is as big if not bigger. in old days, lord spencer told me, they said, "you may, perhaps, go through the pytchley, but you must get over the quorn." if anything will teach one to gallop, it is riding for a bridle gate in the company of three or four hundred people, none of them morbidly civil. you must get there, and get there soon, as it is the only visible means of securing a start, or getting into the next field. sometimes one's horse has a sensitive habit of backing when he is pressed, which allows everyone to pass you. in any case, you will have a horse's head under each arm; a spur against your instep; a kicker with a red tape in his tail pressed towards your favourite mare, with the doubtful consolation of being told, when the iron of his hoof has rattled against her fore-leg that "it was too near to have hurt her." your hat will be knocked off by an enthusiast pointing to the line the fox is taking, and your eye will dimly perceive the pack swaying over the ridge and furrow, like swallows crossing the sea, two fields ahead of you. if you harden your heart and jump the generally gigantic fence at the side of the gate, you expose yourself to the ridicule of the whole field; for it is on these occasions that your favourite is pretty sure to fall on her head. no one is responsible for the manners of a field which is largely made up of "specials" from rugby, leamington and banbury. a northamptonshire hunting-man is as nice a fellow as there is in england, and outside his own country has the finest manners; but the struggle for existence in the field with hard-riding casuals has hardened his heart and embittered his speech. every field has its own character; an indescribable "something" which one feels without being able to define. there is a friendliness and distinction about the melton field peculiarly its own. the quorn fridays are joined by mr fernie's field, the cottesmore, belvoir and others, and is in consequence very large. tom firr, the huntsman--and a man who can very nearly catch a fox himself--is less moved by a large crowd than anyone i ever saw, unless, perhaps, it be his hounds who "come up through a crowd of horses, and stick to the line of their fox, or fling gallantly forward to recover it, without a thought of personal danger, or the slightest misgiving; that not one man in ten is master of the two pair of hoofs beneath him, carrying death in every shoe." a friend of mine--a cricketer--said that he did not know which country he preferred hunting in--leicestershire or northamptonshire--but there was the same difference between them as playing at lords and playing at the oval. melton mowbray is about three hours and a half from london. by leaving london at · you can hunt with the pytchley at an eleven o'clock meet. you must get up earlier to hunt with the quorn. i doubt if many people would risk leaving london between five and six in a climate like ours, where you cannot be quite sure that between five and eleven heavy snow may not have fallen, or that the damp in one county is not hard black frost in the next. some say that melton is not what it was. perhaps this is because there are no poets left to sing of it. bromley davenport, whyte melville and others have left us. perhaps the red town has spread, and the old fox-hunters who grumble have grown older. of course the old days were better when they found themselves leading "the cream of the cream in the shire of the shires." these days do not come twice. a man is fortunate to have had them once, and be able to say with the poet and philosopher,-- be fair or foul, or rain or shine, the joys i have possessed in spite of fate are mine. not heaven itself upon the past has power. what has been _has_ been, and i have had my hour. it is no small consideration to a meltonian that he can hunt six days a week, and never leave his house at an undue hour. the duke of beaufort told me that the three best huntsmen living were tom firr, old mr watson (of the carlow hounds), and lord worcester, and he is pretty sure to be right on any sporting matter. whatever people may think of the last two named, tom firr's reputation is as firmly established as was fred archer's in another line. from criticising the countries, i should like to pass on to the riders, both men and women, that i have seen and admired; but, not being a journalist, i could not commit this indiscretion. i shall content myself, and perhaps not offend anyone, by writing a few general observations on women's riding. no woman can claim to be first-rate over a country, unless she can take her own line. most women have pluck, and would follow their pioneer were he to attempt jumping an arm of the sea; but place them alone in an awkward enclosure, they will not know how to get out of it. they need not of necessity take a new place in every fence, but if a gap is away from the line they imagine to be the right one, it is irritating to see them pull out to follow one particular person. they don't diminish the danger by surrendering their intelligence, if they are well mounted and conscious of what they are doing. a good rider chances nothing, but must of necessity risk a good deal. i do not think women are good judges of pace, and although they are seldom afraid of jumping, they hardly ever gallop. men will say it is because they sit on one side and have not the power to make a horse gallop. this is obviously true in the case of many horses, but there are some who, roused by the nervous force in their riders, will gallop without being squeezed, and who want nothing more than to be held together and left alone. there is a great deal of nonsense talked about "lifting" and "recovering" a horse. more horses have recovered themselves by being left alone in moments of difficulty than by all the theories ever propounded. when a horse pecks with a man he is thrown forward; a woman, if she is sitting properly and not hanging her toe in a short stirrup, is, if anything, thrown back, and, from the security of her seat, is able to recover her horse with more natural advantage than a man. a woman's seat is strong, but never balanced; a horse refusing suddenly to the left may upset her balance without moving her in her seat. when a horse bucks, from the very fact that to keep on, she must sit tight, it is so tiring that the chances are she will be bucked off sooner than a man. if she gets the least out of her saddle she cannot, by reason of the pommels, get back, whereas a horse may play cup and ball with a man for a long time without missing him. there are two classes of hunters that a woman should not be mounted on; the two that whyte melville says want coercion. "the one that must be steered, and the other smuggled over a country." a nervous, fractious brute will go as well, if not better, with a woman than with a man on him. it is, i suppose, a want of independence in the feminine character that makes most women follow some particular man. they are nearly always beautifully mounted, and have keen enough observation to measure the height of a fence, and see the weak place. you will hear a man say to his wife,--"i must give favourite a turn, dear, she is getting sticky," and he will take his wife's mare, an accomplished hunter, wise as a chaperon, and ride her with a cutting whip. it is probably the result of always following another horse, which has taken the spirit of emulation out of the mare, robbing her of a sense of responsibility and a chance of being among the first few in a fine run. a man seldom rides as hard if he is followed by a lady. he loses his dash. at one time no woman could fall without a certainty of being dragged by her habit skirt, or her stirrup; but now, at anyrate, that danger has been removed, by scott's[ ] apron skirt, and mayhew's[ ] patent side saddle. [ ] scott in south molton street; and mayhew in seymour street, edgeware road. i saw a narrow escape once, some years ago. a young lady of indifferent nerve, mounted by a male relative on an uncongenial horse, trotted slowly down hill to a high fence to see what was on the other side. the horse, supposing he was meant to jump the fence, not unnaturally proceeded to do so, much against the lady's will. her weak resistance succeeded in landing him on his head, in a deep ditch on the other side. she fell off, and was hung up by her habit skirt. the horse recovered himself, and, feeling a heavy weight on one side of him, was seized with a panic of fear, and, laying back his ears, thundered along in the ditch which had a gravelly bottom. a gentleman, unconscious of what had happened, rode down to the fence from the other side, and cannoned upon landing against the loose horse and prostrate lady; they all rolled over together. as the lady's head had apparently been bumping the grass bank for some twenty yards, we supposed she was killed; but, on extrication, she was discovered to be unhurt. the man had broken his collar-bone. her habit was of the old-fashioned kind, and did not give way. everyone has seen similar casualties, and men, as well as women, dragged on their heads; it is the most alarming part of hunting. i am told that there is a great art in falling, and certainly it requires judgment to know when to hold on and when to let go of the reins. there can be nothing more exasperating to a man than to loose his horse in a trifling accident, when he has a first-rate place at the beginning of a run. a friend of mine looking over a dealer's yard stopped before a flea-bitten mare. he said he would like to see her run out, as she looked like suiting him. the dealer replied,--"i could not honestly recommend her to you, sir, she would run away with you." "but," said my friend, "she is the very animal i want! the last one i had ran away without me." loose horses are trials that go far to proving your character; you may make a friend for life by catching his horse. there are, of course, occasions when it would be mere waste of time attempting anything of the sort, when a stupid animal careers wildly away in the opposite direction of hounds; but i am often struck by the way self-centred people let the easiest opportunities pass of serving their neighbours. i have been delighted by seeing men, purposely looking the other way, punished by the confiding animal going straight up to them, making it impossible, with the best show of clumsiness, to avoid bringing him back to his grateful owner, who perspiring, runs across the ridge and furrow, in breeches and boots of the most approved fashion. there is one other and last side of fox-hunting with which i will conclude. r. l. stevenson says, "drama is the poetry of conduct, and romance the poetry of circumstances." there is only one sport that combines drama and romance; the sport for kings. there are days when your very soul would seem to penetrate the grass, when, with the smell of damp earth in your nostrils, and the rhythm of blood-stirring stride underneath you, you forget everything, yourself included. these days live with you. they console you for the monotony of swiss scenery. they translate you out of fierce indian sunshine; they rise up between you and the gaslight, and shut out the grey grinding streets. you wake up to ask the housemaid half unconsciously whether it is freezing; the answer leaves you uncertain, and you jump out of bed. there is a damp fog on the window, which you hastily wipe away, to see the paths are brown, and the slates wet; there is no sun and no wind. you hear the tramp of the stable boy's feet below your room, and snatches of a song whistled in the yard, you can see the clothes line hung with stable breeches, and a very old dog poking about the court. you tie your tie, left over right, with the precision of habit, and, seizing your letters, run down to breakfast. you are independent of your host; he has a hack. you ask your hostess what she is going to do with herself, while she walks across the yard to see you start in the buggy. you let the boy drive while you read your letters. you thrust them into your pocket and bow faintly over a high coat collar as you swing past the different riders and second horsemen. you see your horses at a corner of the road, and are told you cannot ride molly bawn, as she "'it 'erself" in the night--an unsatisfactory way horses valuable have of incapacitating themselves. you get on your horse and ride through a line of bridle gates till you find yourself in a bewildering throng of people and horses, just outside the village. ladies leaning over their splash boards, talking to fine young gentlemen, unconscious of their shaft, which is tickling a horse of great value, the groom leading it, too anxious about his own mount to observe the danger. children backing into bystanders, with their habits in festoons over the crupper; ladies standing up in their carriages divesting themselves of their wraps, and husbands unfastening their hat boxes; dealers discreetly and conspicuously taking their horses out of the crowd and cantering them round the field to show their slow paces, looking down at the ground and sitting motionless, as if unconscious of any onlookers. hard, weather-beaten men in low crowned hats, with double snaffles in their horses' mouths, are feeling their girths, and ladies in long loose coats explaining to their pilots that they wear their strap on their heels, not on their toes. your host comes up now, and you wonder, to look at his hack, that he ever arrived at all. you ask as delicately as you can what he is riding. "old s----n," he replies, and you find yourself criticising the winner of a former grand national. in all this fret and fuss tom firr sits like a philosopher, surrounded by the questioning pack; vouchsafing an occasional remark to a farmer or a patron of the hunt. at last the vast field is set in motion, and, with an eye on firr, you jog down the road to draw. instead of following the knowing ones, and standing outside the covert at an advantageous point down-wind, you go inside and watch the hounds dancing through the little copse, shaking the dewdrops on the undergrowth, and scattering with indifference the startled rabbit. in perfect stillness you thread your way slowly through the tangled tracks, your horse arching his neck and pointing his toes as if he were stepping to the drum and fife. there is a spring in the grass path, and a thrill in the air which makes you lift your face to the open sky as if to receive the essence of the day, and a blessing from the unseen sun. suddenly, without warning, a silver halloa rings through the air, driving the blood to your heart, and you find yourself wheeling your horse round and crashing through the undergrowth to a gap you had noticed as you came along. the whole field is thundering round the cover as you jump out of it with the last hound, and the pack makes hard for a fence of impassable thickness. luckily for you they turn up it, and a lagging hound joins his friends half-way up the fence, where the growers are thinner. the gate is locked, but the rail at the side is jumpable, and your horse takes off accurately and lands you in the same field as hounds. you find yourself with firr and five or six others, who have galloped twice your distance, to catch them. you avoid a boggy gap, which the two riders ahead of you are making for, and catch hold of your horse for a clean "stake-and-bound." it is down hill, and you feel as if you never would land. you jump into a road, and nearly fall off as your horse turns suddenly down it, following the other horses. the hounds cross, and you are carried down the road past the few places where you could jump out, and the people behind profit by their position and get over where hounds crossed. you hammer along the road with twenty people shouting "go on!" whenever you want to stop, till an open gate takes you into the field, where you see five or six men a good way ahead of you. nothing but pace serves you then, and all the warnings in the world that there is wire, or a brook, will not turn you from your intention to catch them again. by luck, which you hardly deserve, the wire is loose upon the ground, and you only twing-twang it with one shoe as you land, and are off again before it curls like a shaving round your horse's leg. you have put wire between you and the field, and are now free to go as you please for the next twenty minutes. firr and five others are your only rivals, and they are ready to whistle a warning where the country gets complicated. the pack check for a moment outside a small cover, but the fox is too tired and too hard pressed to go into it, and firr gets their heads down with a sound, quite impossible to spell, and five minutes after, the hounds are tumbling over each other like a scramble at a school-feast, and firr holds up the fox with an expression in his face as if he could eat him. * * * * * you tuck the rug round you, with your mouth full of buttered toast. your lamps are lit, and the sky is aglow. "let 'em go please. _come!_" and with a bound and a clatter you leave the sun behind you, and, shaving the gate-post, swing down the turnpike home. horses and their riders. by the duchess of newcastle. why are ladies sometimes considered nuisances out hunting? because the generality of riders are unfortunately in the way of their neighbours, and have not the remotest idea of what they ought to do. before they inflict themselves on the hunting field, they should learn to manage their horses, to keep out of the way, and should they wish to jump, to ride straight at their fences, not landing too near their pilots, and not taking anyone else's place. when once they can accomplish so much, they will no longer be considered troublesome. in fact, few things are more dangerous than riding in rotten row, simply because the greater part of the riders have not the faintest idea of the risks they incur. you will see both young men and young women galloping recklessly along with a perfectly loose rein, sometimes knocking down the unfortunate ones who happen to be in their way, and followed by grooms who have usually even less idea of riding and finish the mischief their owners have begun. then the untidy, slipshod way the riders are often turned out is a disgrace to a country which is considered to have the best horses and riders in the world. what must foreigners--hungarians, for instance, who know something of riding, of horses, and of horsemen--think of the doubtful spectacle two-thirds of the riders present. poor old screws, who have usually to pull the family coach of an afternoon, broken-down hunters, an apology for hacks, are to be seen carrying their fair burdens, who look anything but at home in their saddles, with hair piled up in latest but most unworkmanlike fashion, flapping blouses, and habits that look as though night-gowns, still worn, were beneath. of course many people cannot afford expensive hacks, but i would sooner any day have a broken-winded or broken-kneed screw that was well-bred and well-shaped, than a sound one who looked an underbred, lazy, three-cornered beast. besides, there is no reason why anyone who can afford a horse at all, should not have it well groomed, with neat saddle, and brightly-burnished bit, and be at the same time smartly turned out herself. it is as cheap to be clean as to be dirty; and a little extra trouble will go a long way in the desired direction. for the safety of the multitude, it would be a good thing if all people who are going to ride or drive on the public highway were made to pass an examination as to their capabilities, and i do not believe, if that were so, that half of the present riders in the road would be admitted. children are taught to ride quite on the wrong principle. how can a child of three understand or appreciate a ride in a pannier on some fat shetland's back? the age of eight years is quite soon enough for any child to begin; before that time it is impossible for them to control the smallest pony, and this very experience often destroys their nerve. in buying a pony, be very sure that it is sound, with a nice light mouth; twelve hands is quite small enough. most children's hands are spoilt by letting them learn to ride on a pony destitute of any mouth, the result is they learn to hold on by the poor thing's bridle, and anyone who does that can never ride well. let girls first learn to stick on a cross saddle before putting them on a side saddle, it teaches them to sit straight, and is much better for them in every way. anyone with bad hands can never be a really good rider. you can go hard, be able to ride a horse that has bad manners, such as kicking, bucking, rearing, running away, for that is simply a matter of nerve; but a good rider means someone whose horse always goes nicely and kindly, who does not hang on his mouth, who knows how to make him gallop, and can ride really well at a fence. half the falls out hunting come from putting your horse crookedly at the fence, and from losing your head when he has made a mistake. always endeavour--should your horse come down with you, and you have not parted company--to keep your presence of mind. do not try to get off, as that will probably lead to a worse accident. leave the reins alone, for nothing frightens a horse more when he is down than touching his mouth with the bit. sit quite still, and it is more than likely that you will be able to continue your ride without the smallest mishap, or even a dirty back. a great deal has been said on the subject of ladies' horses. one thing is quite certain--they cannot be too good, and for a side saddle a fine shoulder is indispensable; for, if you ride a horse without it, the sensation is most unpleasant. you feel as though you were sitting on his ears. before mounting, always see that the saddle is not put on the top of the withers, but just behind them, so that the weight does not fall on the top of the shoulders. besides being less likely to give a sore back, the rider is much more comfortable. the reason why ladies give a sore back so often is that they ride with too long a stirrup, and do not sit straight. sit well to the off side, and, should you think your saddle is not quite straight, either get someone to alter it for you or go home, for anything is better than to have your horse laid up for a month with a bad back. i think a well-bred horse about · , with a nice light mouth, is the nicest mount for a woman. for if one gets a really good fencer and galloper this size, he is far better than a big underbred horse that tires one out immediately. but, of course, everyone has to be mounted according to her weight. a nice light weight can see a great deal of sport on the back of a really good pony about fourteen-hands. it is wonderful the big fences many such ponies will contrive to get over, if they really mean business. the first pony i ever had was a little twelve-hand welsh mare, and there was nothing that pony wouldn't jump or scramble over somehow. what was too high for her she would get under. she could crawl and climb like a cat, and gallop faster than most horses; and, when she was twenty years of age, was as fresh as a three-year-old. in fact, my brother won three races of five furlongs on the flat with her, against much bigger ponies. the best thing i can wish any of our readers is to have another, whether horse or pony, as good and as game as she was. k. newcastle. the wife of the m. f. h. by mrs chaworth musters. if there is one calling in which a real helpmate can be of more use to a man than any other, it is in that many-sided and arduous undertaking called "hunting a country." not that it is to be desired that a lady should take an active part in the field management, like the well-meaning dame who is reported to have said to an offender, "if i were a gentleman i would swear at you." but without letting zeal outrun discretion, how much may a "mistress of hounds" (as we will call her for brevity's sake) do to promote sport and good feeling, besides deciding on the cut of a habit, and on who is to be invited to wear the hunt colours. "i have been a foxhunter myself, and i know how selfish they are," was the remark once made to the writer by an old gentleman in leicestershire, and it must, in candour, be admitted that there was some truth in his agreeable frankness. now, the mistress of the hounds should do all in her power to make hunting acceptable, by trying to counteract the overbearing egotism which no doubt is apt to be the effect of an absorbing pursuit on men's characters. she should bear in mind that hunting was, after all, made for man, and not man for hunting, and that because some people are fortunate enough to be born with a taste for that amusement, combined (which is important) with the means of gratifying it, there is no reason why others less happily gifted should be despised and sent to the wall. the cause of fox-hunting was never yet furthered by votaries, who appear to think everything else in the way of sport unworthy of thought or notice. "give and take," should be their motto, as well as that of all conditions of men, in fact, "more so" considering that, in the present day, most followers of hounds are indebted to others for their fun, and do not own a yard of the land they ride over. many a man is "put wrong" for life, and hastily designated as a "beastly vulpecide," who would have been pleased to find a fox for his neighbours now and then, though not caring for the sport himself, if he had been treated with the consideration generally shown in other matters. therefore, the lady we have in our mind will do all she can to sympathise with the pursuits and amusements of others besides hunting people, and will do her best to destroy the idea that a fine horsewoman must necessarily be "horsey," or a lover of fox-hounds "doggy." since the extraordinary popularity of whyte melville's and surtee's novels and songs, a generation has grown up, who have flattered themselves into the belief that the fact of riding after hounds at once makes heroes and heroines of them, and that they are almost conferring a benefit on their fellow-creatures by emulating kate coventry or the honourable crasher. formerly people went hunting because they liked it, now with many it is a means to an end, a passport to good society, a fashion rather than a taste. in the true interests of fox-hunting this is to be deplored, but as it is impossible to separate the wheat from the chaff, a mistress must content herself with smoothing over difficulties, with trying to avoid collisions between those who _live_ in a country, and those who _hunt_ in it; and it will be her aim to make up for any roughness or seeming neglect on the part of those who follow her husband's hounds. as jorrocks told james pigg, "there must be unanimity and concord, or we sha'n't kill no foxes." a lady should herself set an example of courtesy when meeting at a country house by dismounting and paying her respects to the hostess, especially if the owner is not a habitual follower of the chase. she may also sometimes make an opportunity to call on her way home for a few minutes, not obviously with the desire of snatching a few mouthfuls, like a hungry dog, and then tearing out again, but in a neighbourly, pleasant fashion, for no one likes to be unmistakably made a convenience of. these little amenities go a long way towards what is called "keeping a country together," and, when the lady at the head of affairs sets her face against rudeness and "cliqueishness" there is likely to be less friction between those whom a melton sportsman once designated as the "cursed locals," and the sporting gentry who are only birds of passage. politeness in the field is, of course, part of our ideal lady's nature, and she could no more omit to thank the sportsman, farmer, or labouring man, who showed her an act of civility, than if he were her partner at a ball; though a story _is_ told of a gentleman in a crack country, who said to a fair follower of the chase, that she was the forty-second lady he had held a gate for, and the first who had said "thank you." but let us turn to the farmer, who with his farmyard gate in his hand, is anxiously watching some young stock crowding against his valuable ewes in an adjoining field, while a light-hearted damsel is leading a select party over the wheat, so as to outstrip the riders who follow the headland, on their way to draw a favourite covert. possibly that farmer in "a happier day than this," rode his own nag horse with the best of them, and talked cheerily to his landlord about the cubs in the big rabbit hole, and the partridge "nesses" in his mowing grass, but now neither he nor "the squire" can afford nag horses or shooting parties. it is toil and moil, all work and no play, for the occupier; and very likely the landlord has had to let the pleasant acres on which he and his forefathers disported themselves, and feels shy of the tenants for whom he is unable to do all they have been accustomed to. it is in these cases that "the lady" will come to the front, with all the tact and kindliness that is in her. instead of rushing rudely past him, she will pull up and listen to the poor man's remarks, and, perhaps, help him to restrain his straying beasts. there are so many occasions in a day's hunting, when a few minutes more or less are of little importance, that it is a pity they should not be utilised in promoting good feeling and mutual understanding, instead of being wasted in grumbling at the huntsman, and abusing the sport he shows. the mistress of the hounds can do something, surely, by precept and example, to discourage the outrageous lavishness coupled with meanness, which is the curse of modern life, and is nowhere more odious and out of character than in the hunting field. people who spend every sixpence they can afford, and some they cannot, on their habits and boots and saddles, cannot, of course, produce one of those useful coins at an opportune moment, but if they _could_ stint themselves now and then of an extra waistcoat or tie, they would find that the spare cash would go a long way towards mending a broken rail; to say nothing of the different feeling with which the advent of hounds would be regarded, if it meant money _in_ the pocket, instead of _out_ of it. munificence in the few, but meanness in the many, is, unfortunately, too much the rule among hunting men and women. they find it apparently much easier to write tirades to the _field_ on the subject of "wire" for instance, than to produce a few shillings and quietly get it taken down, as in some instances could easily be done. a wooden rail costs sixpence, a day's work half-a-crown, and it does seem rather pitiful, that, considering the three millions more or less annually spent on hunting in the united kingdom, it should be found impossible, except in a few well-managed districts, to provide funds for fencing. our mistress might well turn her attention to this matter, and she may induce other ladies to look round their own neighbourhoods, and see what can be done in this way in a friendly spirit, without the formalities of committees and subscriptions. it is not unlikely that among the tenant farmers or freeholders of our lady's acquaintance may be one, who from age or "bad times" has been obliged to retire to a smaller sphere, but whose heart is still true to fox-hunting, and who would delight in being of use, if he only knew how. such a man, mounted on an old pony, could be of the greatest service in a hunting country. he would follow in the track of the horsemen, shutting the gates they have invariably left open, and would have an eye on the perverse young horses and wandering sheep which do not "love the fold," but prefer to _rush_ madly, like their betters, after the fascinations of a pack of hounds. there may be instances in which the mistress of the hounds herself is content to "take a back seat" and to humbly watch her husband's prowess without emulating it, and in such a case she can do a good deal in the way of shutting gates, calling attention to stray stock, and noting damage done to fences and crops. it is quite impossible for a master to see half the delinquencies committed by his field, though he is, of course, held responsible for them, but if the rearguard of the merry chase, so to say, was brought up by an official, whose business it was to detect the offenders who get off and "jump on top" of fences, it would be a cheaper and more satisfactory arrangement in the long run. in a wet season it should be borne in mind that it hurts _all_ crops to be ridden over, grass as well as arable, and therefore roads and headlands should be strictly adhered to when going from covert to covert. any considerable damage should be apologised for, if possible at once, and if people were not so desperately afraid of paying for their amusement (because that amusement is called hunting), an acknowledgement given there and then to the sufferer would do him no harm, and the cause of fox-hunting a great deal of good. a season or two ago, a whole field of ardent (?) sportsmen in a crack country allowed themselves to be delayed for a long time bandying words at an occupation bridge, with a man who had "turned awkward," and who was completely in his rights within stopping the way if he chose. it seems curious that among a hundred horsemen, worth among them, probably, as many thousands a year, no one seems to have been struck with the idea of producing a sovereign to pay for the cutting up of the grass that must follow the passage of such a squadron. but perhaps we have dwelt too long on the seamy side of the duties of a mistress of hounds. let us turn to the more agreeable contemplation of her pleasures. should she belong to a hunting family, she will have heard from her father, ever since she can remember, stories of the "brave days of old," of meynell, and musters, and the giants of those days. she will have learnt to sing "osbaldeston's voice, reaching the heavens, boys," to repeat the "billesdon coplow" and "ranksborough gorse," and in the intervals of schoolroom lessons she will have been taken to see packs now, perhaps, become historical. if a dweller in the north country, the name of ralph lambton will be familiar to her; and in the south, legends of john ward and mr farquharson of badminton, and berkeley, have been the delight of her youth. should she be fortunate enough to live in "the shires" she may, from an early age, have looked up at the towers of belvoir, where hunting and hospitality are a byword and a delight, and she may just remember the glories of quorn, and sir richard, of lord henry, and the burton, like mr bromley davenport, "nourishing a verdant youth, with the fairy tales of gallops, ancient runs devoid of truth." the kind cheery voices of captain percy williams and mr anstruther thomson, always indulgent and encouraging to young people, may have fostered her natural love of the chase, and she may, while hunting with the former, have imbibed some idea of riding, from the sight of the celebrated dick christian handling the young horses at rufford. she will have looked with a reverential awe at blind mr foljambe of osberton, who was able to judge of any hound by the sense of touch, long after that of sight was denied him, and who still hunted led by a groom. perhaps a little private hunting with beagles, or foxhound puppies, may have given our future mistress an interest in individual hounds, their treatment and characteristics, so that by-and-by, when she has to do with things on a larger scale, it is easier for her to know one hound from another, and to appreciate their differences, than if she had never seen less than seventeen or eighteen couple together. very likely it may have been her dream from childhood to marry a master of hounds, so when, as the old song says,-- "a young country squire requested her hand, whose joy 'twas to ride by her side, so domestic a prospect what girl could withstand, she became, truly willing, his bride." then would follow the interest of making acquaintance with the country, with all classes of people in it, with the coverts, lanes, and bridle-paths, the lovely little bits that most people never see at all, to say nothing of the pleasant companionship of hounds, horses, and hunt-servants. captain percy williams's advice to a young m. f. h. was, "stay at home with your wife and your hounds," but how can a man do so, if his wife is all agog to drag him to london or abroad directly the hunting season is over? hounds should be a summer as well as a winter pastime, but whether they are so or not depends almost entirely on the wife of their possessor. when all is said and done, two people who are young, happy, and like-minded, can scarcely find an enjoyment greater than that of going out hunting together with their own hounds. to be starting on a nice horse, on a fine morning, for one long day of happiness, is a delight that can only be enhanced by sharing it with a kindred soul, and best of all if that soul is a husband's. then the greetings from all classes at the meet, the feeling of giving pleasure to so many, the pride in the hounds, and the skill of the huntsman, tempered though it be with anxiety for the success of the day's sport, all go to warm the heart and fire the imagination as nothing else does. and as the hours pass imperceptibly, and the brown woods open their vistas, and yellowing pastures alternate with dark hedgerows, and the chiming of hounds with the distant holloas, there is the anticipation of an "oak room with a blazing fire to end a long day's ride, and what to them is chance and change while they sit side by side." years afterwards, when many other things have turned to bitterness or disappointment, comrades of the hunting field will be a solace and a pleasure to each other, and the mistress of the hounds, when no longer following their cry, will be with them in spirit, will be interested to the points of each run, the performance of each pack, and her heart will ever beat true to "the friends for whom, alive or dead, her love is unimpaired; the mirth, and the adventure, and the sport that they have shared." lina chaworth musters. fox-hunting. "the sport of kings, the image of war without its guilt, and only five-and-twenty per cent of its danger." there are many ladies very well qualified to write a valuable paper on the art of riding over a country, but, possibly, the following short sketch--from the _hunting_ more than the riding point of view--may be of interest, as i am sorely afraid ladies are sometimes apt to forget the presence of the _hounds_, and little consider the trouble and anxiety it takes to bring into the field a really efficient pack. some masters may have the good fortune to start with a ready-made and perfect pack of hounds--a most perishable possession--as a very short time of unintelligent management will reduce the finest pack in the kingdom to a comparatively worthless one--but the majority have to begin from the bottom for themselves. fortunately, draft hounds are plentiful, and a hundred couple or more can easily be bought--out of which (taking care to get quit of any _good-looking_ ones) forty couple sufficient for a start may be got. now as to horses. many people suppose that any sort of screw is good enough for a servant's horse. no more fatal or uneconomical error exists. a huntsman's horse should be as near perfection as can be got; and this cannot be had for little money. a huntsman has sufficient to do to attend to his business, without being a rough rider at the same time, and ought to feel himself to be the best mounted man in the field, or thereabouts. if he is put on inferior animals, he has a very strong temptation to feed his hounds back to his horse. a really strong pack of hounds on a _good_ scent will run away from any horse living. and that wonderful huntsman one hears of "who is always with his hounds," nine times out of ten always has his hounds _with him_. all servants' horses should be well-bred, strong, and short-legged, for it must be borne in mind that they have much harder work than gentlemen's horses, therefore care should be taken that they are qualified to carry a good deal more weight than would appear necessary to the uninitiated. hounds and horses having been bought, we must now proceed to man the ship. to begin with--the master. let us suppose an m. f. h., who has been properly taught the trade (for it is impossible for anybody, be he never so rich, to satisfactorily perform the duties of this important position, unless he has been thoroughly grounded in the _rudiments_). such an one is always courteous and kindly to those with whom he is brought in contact, be they connected with the agricultural interest, or members of his field. there is a vast deal of human nature in people, and a little civility goes a long way. an ill-mannered master is a curse to any country, and a mere "field-damner" is a creature unfit to live. few know the troubles of keeping a country, and the cordial co-operation of the master in this work is of vital importance. our supposititious m. f. h., however, thoroughly appreciates this obligation, and, bearing this in mind, he will select for his huntsman a respectable, well-mannered servant. nothing farmers and keepers detest so much as an ill-conditioned, uncivil man. the first necessity in a huntsman is, that he should be a man whom hounds are fond of, and who is fond of them. he should be in constant companionship with his hounds, taking the greatest care in keeping them off their benches as much as possible. the neglect of this somewhat troublesome duty in many kennels results in lameness. he must be an early man in the morning, as hounds ought to be finished feeding by eight o'clock the day before hunting. he should carefully watch the constitution of each hound, and feed it accordingly. it is _impossible_ for hounds to drive and run hard unless they are fed strong, and are full of muscle. a thin hound is a weak hound and tires at night. hounds ought always to be cast in front of their huntsman, but this cannot be done unless they are really strong and vigorous. if to these important qualifications can be added a fine horseman, so much the better; but riding is really a secondary consideration in a huntsman, provided he is workman enough to keep pretty handy with his hounds. there is no occasion to give young gentlemen a lead over the country, let them find the way for themselves. a good cheery voice is also a valuable property in a huntsman. for his whipper-in, he will have a young man who has learnt his duty, as described in a little book called _hints to huntsmen_,[ ] by heart. if he knows that, and _practises_ it, he will have all the necessary knowledge. [ ] _hints to huntsmen_, by colonel anstruther thomson, published by fifeshire journal office, cupar-fife. a more abominable sight does not exist than the _hard-riding_ whipper-in, he is, for the most part, a useless, conceited lad, who will never do any good in this world or the next. the second whip should be a nice, quiet boy, and a good horseman. having got our establishment into working order, we will now take it out for a hunt, which i will try to describe from the point of view indicated in my opening paragraph. for a right good place to find a fox, give me a smallish wood. as a rule, hounds come away from a wood _settled_ to their fox, which is not the case from a gorse, the first whip having been sent on to view the fox away. the field being placed by the master (who remains with them)[ ] in a favourable position, our huntsman throws his hounds into covert, encouraging them to spread and draw, being careful that they are in front of his horse. when a well-known voice proclaims the hitting of the drag, he cheers the pack to that hound, calling it by name, as "hark to melody! hark to her! hark!" but they fly to one another of themselves, and shortly there is a grand cry. [ ] you will recollect that our master has been _taught_, and knows that whip's work is not his duty. one ring round the wood, and the whipper-in's "tally-ho, gone awa-a-a-y" is heard, he having taken good care to let the fox well away before holloa-ing. the huntsman now makes his way as fast as possible to the holloa, at the same time blowing his horn for the information of the field-- [music] --as the hounds leave the covert, well settled to the scent. and now, i think, you can appreciate my preference of a wood to a gorse. then, what a scene of excitement. men and women in such a fuss and hurry. in the whole lot only about three really calm and collected--the master (seeing a useful scent, and hounds with a fair start, is, for once in a way, delighted to say, "catch them if you can!"), and an oldish man or two still able to take their part, if hounds _really_ run. let me, like black care, sit behind one of these latter, and view the chase through his spectacles. he knows every gate and gap in the country for miles round, but this morning he sees he must desert his favourite paths if he wants to see the hounds run. all the dash of twenty years ago returns to him, as he slips his steady old hunter over a somewhat awkward corner, and (before most of the young ones take in the situation) is making the best of his way to the down-wind side of the now flying pack.[ ] [ ] if you have a chance, always get the down-wind side of hounds running, because, even if you lose sight of them, you can still hear the cry, while, if you are up-wind, it is extraordinary what difficulty you have in hearing them. well, here we are. and, first, let us take a look at the hounds. for a scratch lot, they are well together, and the careful kennel management of the summer shows itself. now for the horsemen, see the _hard_ gentleman of tender years galloping from sheer funk at fences, that one of the old school jumps out of the most collected canter. and then, oh, ye gods, the girls! brave beyond words, jamming their unfortunate horses into every sort of difficulty, with elbows squared, and the sole of their foot exposed to the astonished gaze of those behind them. alas! alas! the art of equitation will soon be a lost one. fifteen minutes racing pace takes the nonsense out of all. the fox turns sharply down-wind, and the huntsman--who has been riding carefully and quietly--knows they have overrun it. not one word does he say, letting his hounds swing their own cast. as they do not recover the line, he is compelled to give them a bit of assistance. with such a scent, he can go a little fast; so, at a sharp trot, he makes his cast back, his whip putting the hounds on to him. no noise nor rating, such as is only too frequently heard. an ugly black-and-white brute hits the scent down a hedgerow. he cheers the pack to him, well knowing it was not the lack of beauty that caused the old dog to be where he is. now, stand back and see them hunt, with nothing to mar your pleasure in watching the wonderful instinct of a high-bred foxhound, except the chatter of the male and female thrusters, describing to each other the wonderful leaps they have severally surmounted.[ ] [ ] if you go out hunting, _hunt_. there is nothing more irritating to the real sportsman than the incessant chatter and laughter of people who take no intelligent interest in the business of hunting. the fox now runs the road for a quarter of a mile. whatever you do, keep off them, and give hounds room to turn.[ ] [ ] when hounds run down a road, get your horse on the grass siding. nothing is so apt to force hounds beyond the scent as the rattle of horses' feet behind them. the chase continues down-wind. how they swing and try. look how they drive as they hit the scent, then spread themselves like a fan, only to fly together again as a trusted comrade speaks to the line. "all this comes of condition," as my old gentleman says. hark! a holloa forward. do you think a sensible man will lift them? no; so long as they can carry on, he knows they will go quicker than he can take them. more patient hunting, through sheep and over bad ground, the huntsman cheering his hounds, but never interfering with them, as they work out all the turns of a sinking fox for themselves. they'll have him directly, one can see by the determined rush of the older hounds. sure enough! in another minute they run from scent to view, and pull their fox down in the open. five-and-forty minutes, and i ask you if this is not a sporting hunt. my old friend dismounts, leading his horse away, at the same time remarking,-- "it is a nasty sight to see ladies watching a poor fox pulled to pieces." although a note on the subject of blowing a hunting-horn may not be of great interest to many people, still, i venture to think, no harm can be done in placing before your readers how a huntsman ought to communicate on that instrument with his hounds and field. when he views a fox-- [music] in-drawing (especially in a big wood)-- [music] if hounds are wide of him, they stop to _listen_ to the first note, and _go_ to the second. to stop hounds off heel or riot-- [music] to call hounds in the open to cast-- [music] "gone away"-- [music] to draw hounds out of covert-- [music] when a fox is killed-- [music] also, [music] some people only use the long rattle at the death, but my opinion is that the eight very sharp notes should be blown, as hounds know that they mean a _fox_, and a fox _only_, whether alive or dead. team and tandem driving. by miss rosie anstruther thomson. being almost a beginner myself, it is with diffidence that i commence to relate my small experiences in four-in-hand driving. it is only because i have had the advantage of watching a first-rate coachman in my father that i venture to do so--having taken care to gather from him many hints and wrinkles as to what to do, and _not_ to do, and more especially the _reason_ why. it is, i know, supposed to be easier to drive a team than a tandem, because two horses abreast are believed to be less foolish than two single horses. personally, i think _all_ horses are astonishingly foolish at times, and, for a lady, a tandem is much less heavy. of course it depends in a measure on people's _hands_ whether horses feel heavy and hang, but the weight of four horses on a woman's wrist is decidedly a strain, until, through practice, she becomes accustomed to the feeling--that is, unless the team is so perfectly trained that they almost drive themselves. in driving a team, the first thing to be learnt is the art of "catching" a four-in-hand whip. it certainly _looks_ easy enough, and many a time have i watched my father, with one upward turn of his wrist, catch it unerringly every time, and felt--"of _course_ any duffer could do that!"--eagerly proclaiming my ability to do it too. this, however, is an altogether different affair. no twisting, no jerking is allowed, but simply a turn of the wrist, making something like a figure eight in the air, and leaving the thong caught on the stick (never try to catch your thong _with_ the stick) with a loop above and a few turns round the stick below, which brings both lash and stick into your hand together. it is an impossible thing to describe, and the only way to learn it is to get some patient friend to show you how. and you will require all your job-ish propensities, for it is by no means easy at first, and it makes you feel very foolish when all your efforts fail, after it has looked so ridiculously simple in the hands of an expert. nothing looks worse than people essaying to drive a team _without_ knowing how to catch their whip, and their wild attempts to attain that end are almost pathetic, for the flourishes they make, end invariably only in a hopeless complication and tangle. having mastered your whip, the next thing to do is to defeat your reins--and beware that they do not defeat you, for they are very mixing, and the numbers one has to deal with make one almost giddy, after the ordinary single pair. in driving a team, or a tandem, you should not hold your reins one through each finger, as in riding, but put one rein--your near leader's--over the top of the fore-finger of your left-hand, and the other leader's rein--the off--and the near wheeler's reins both between your first and middle fingers (the leader's upmost), while your off wheeler's rein comes lowest of all, between your middle and third finger. it looks rather complicated on paper, but is really very quickly learnt, especially if the wheeler's reins are a little different in colour, having probably become darker through more constant wear. mind you take your reins _before_ you get on to your box, and _never_ commit the folly of getting into a carriage before your coachman, or coachwoman, has hold of the reins, for it is both dangerous and foolish. before you take the reins, it is well to look round all the harness and satisfy _yourself_ that the curb chains and throat-lashes are loose enough (grooms are so fond of pulling everything up as tight as it will go, and often seem to treat throat lashes and curb chains on the same principle as girths). see that the bits are not too short in the horses' mouths, that your leaders are properly coupled, and also your wheelers. you cannot be too particular about detail in this case, and mind the pole chains are not too tight. they should be easy, so that they can just swing--the pole carrying itself without resting any weight on the horses' collars. after you have seen that all is right, go round to the off side wheeler and take your leader's reins from off his pad, put them in your left-hand, with forefinger between, then pick up your wheeler's in your _right_-hand, with forefinger between. now pass them on to their ultimate destination (one on each side of the third finger of your left-hand), and draw the _near_ reins through your fingers till you get them so short (while you are still on the ground) that they will all come even when you are sitting on your box. nothing denotes a muff more than omitting to do this. of course the driver must judge how much rein to take in, with his or her eye, before getting up. as you cannot swarm on to your box hampered by the reins in your left-hand, you must take them in your right until you have settled yourself comfortably, and are sitting (not standing) firmly on your seat, which should not slant up too much, for one gets more purchase if one is not merely leaning against the box. once there, change your reins back into your left-hand, take the whip out of the socket, catch it, drop your hand, and set sail. the correct thing, i believe, is to have the whip ready caught and laid across the wheeler's quarters. that is what they did in old coaching days, and the driver used to take it up with his reins together in his right-hand, with the whip pointing towards his right shoulder. he then got up, with reins and whip all ready to start as soon as he said the word "go!" it would be a good thing if grooms at the horses' heads _would_ let go the _instant_ you give them the hint to do so. nothing is more irritating to both horse and driver than a man who will hold on after you have started. in starting, you should have your leaders a little shorter by the head than the wheelers, as the wheelers should start the coach. letting the leaders start first is very likely to end in disaster. like buckets in a well, they jump off with a jerk before the wheelers are ready. just as they subside, off go the wheelers. the result is confusion, and possibly a broken trace.[ ] take up your reins then, to avoid this calamity, feeling all your horses' mouths, but with the leaders' accentuated; and, when you are quite ready to start, just drop your hand and chuckle to them. never "kiss" at your horses, and never say "pull up,"--both are shocking and unpardonable. [ ] one should always go out provided with an extra trace, in case of accidents. as to the use of a four-in-hand whip, there is almost as much art in hitting the leaders as there is in throwing a fishing-fly. you should always hit your leaders under the bars, and quietly, to avoid startling the other horses. in driving anything, whether one horse or four, you should always begin by touching your horse quite gently at first, just drawing the whip across his shoulder. if this hint is not enough, repeat it a little harder and a little harder still, so that he improves his pace gradually, this obviates the uncomfortable jolts and jerks caused by bad coachmen when using their whips; they make the mistake of hitting hard the _first_ time, the horse jumps forward and the passengers nearly dislocate their necks in consequence. also, you should always hold them a little tighter when you are going to use the whip to prevent their starting forward, for many horses will jump at the first touch, no matter how lightly it is laid across them. in turning a corner with a team or tandem, take up your leaders' reins a little and give them the hint which turn to take _before_ you get to the corner (this is technically called "pointing your leaders"). they are generally quick enough at taking your hint, and then mind you allow enough space for the hind wheels of your coach. always go quite slow off the top of a hill. take up your leaders _before_ you get to it. you can get safely down any hill, no matter how steep, provided you start slow enough off the top. the pace is bound to increase the further down you get, so it is wise not to start too fast, otherwise you end in an uncomfortable sort of gallop, with the coach overhauling the horses all the way. sometimes it is a good plan to increase your pace, supposing there is a hill to be got up just in front of you; in that case, get your horses into a gallop going _down_ so as to get a run at the next hill, and the impetus will carry you up much easier if you have a real good swing at it. of course a long hill is a different thing, especially if it is off the flat, and in every case your horses must be considered. it is important that horses should be brought in cool, therefore one should do the last mile of the journey slowly and quietly that they may not be too hot on arriving at their stable. it is a bad thing to keep horses waiting at the start, they are not generally gifted with much more patience than we are, and it is worse to check them once they are on the move, therefore it is best, when all the passengers are on board, that the last to get up should sing out "right," to let the coachman know they are really ready to be off, and so prevent the risk of being implored to "wait just one moment" for the forgotten coat or umbrella, or the thousand and one things people always _do_ forget until the very last instant, notwithstanding what is usually the fact that they have been dawdling about hours before hand, with nothing else to do but to prepare themselves for the cold and rain which, in this climate, is about the only thing one can count on. once off, try to leave your reins alone as much as possible; it is irritating to your horses' mouths, and looks bad, to be always fidgeting and pulling at either one rein or the other. don't let your leaders do all or nearly all the work, and going down hill don't let them do any, but catch hold of them pretty short just before you get to the brow of the hill and pull them back--a tiny bit on one side to prevent the wheelers treading on their heels. in taking up and shortening your reins, many people say you should always push them from in front with the right-hand, and not draw them through the fingers from behind, though the latter way often seems the most natural, and all coachmen do not agree on this point. it looks better to drive with _one_ hand, the left, and to keep the right for the whip and an occasional assistance only; but a woman must have wrists of iron to drive a team with one hand for long, especially as the wrist should always be bent in driving as well as in riding. driving with straight wrists is altogether wrong. one thing never to be forgotten is always to make your wheelers follow your leaders, thereby you can generally assume an air of nonchalance, and pretend that you _intended_ the sudden deviation off the middle of the road caused by the digression of the leaders, if your wheelers immediately follow in their footsteps. should it be only a slight digression, a pull at the two reins between your first and second fingers _both at once_, will put them right immediately, as that gets at your off leader and near wheeler at the same time, and is a very quick way of getting the team straight again. it is better form not to use the break unless it is absolutely necessary. people bore one so who are always putting their drags on and off. i do not mean the "shoe," as that, of course, must be put on, on occasions when the hill is steep to prevent the coach running on to the horses. i remember once driving with my father in the fife country, where the roads resemble switchback railways more than christian highways. we had arrived at the top of a very steep pitch, and the grooms having slipped on the shoe, we were trundling serenely down, when, just as we reached the middle of the hill where the whole impetus of the coach was at its worst, snap went the chain and away rolled the shoe off down the hill on its own account, of course the sudden release sent the coach with a great lurch on the top of the wheelers, while we all clung on, craning our necks to see what was going to happen next. quick as thought out flew the whip thong, and in an instant my father had touched the horses all round and we were flying down the hill at racing pace. we got to the bottom all safe and had galloped to the top of the next hill before he took a pull. it was very exciting for the time, and the only thing to be done under the circumstances to keep the horses going quicker than the coach, but not an experiment one would care to try with an inferior coachman. we have all been mercifully blessed with nerve, and many a time has our courage been severely put to the test. we had a very near shave one day some years ago coming back from ascot. we were driving all the way home to london after the last day's racing. our off leader was a very violent, hot horse, called "the robber," who kept raking and snatching at his bridle from morning till night. as we were passing through a little town--brentford--we tried to worm our way between the pavement and a baker's cart, which was proceeding slowly in front and giving us very little room to pass. this irritated the robber, who, making a wild bounce forward, wrenched the bridle clean off the wheeler's head! (his rein was passed through the upright terret on the top of the wheeler's bridle, and must have got caught somehow). the bridle flopped against the pole, which frightened the whole lot and they started off at a gallop. the baker, seeing this, thought we were anxious to race him, and set sail too. naturally his increasing pace excited our horses more than ever, and the three with bridles pulled their hardest, while the loose one pegged along with his head in the air. the off-horse being bitless, it was only the near-side rein that took effect on their mouths, so the end was that we edged nearer and nearer to the pavement, till, at last, the leaders turned and jumped on to it. at the same moment captain carnegy (who, luckily, was just sitting behind the box) leapt to the ground, and made a grab at the loose wheeler, catching him by the nose, and so saved us from some trouble. the leaders, in the meantime, had run straight into a draper's shop, and were curveting about on the top of four or five school children, whom they had hustled to the ground. it looked very nasty for a minute, but they were mercifully extracted all unhurt, and a few coins soon mollified their gaping parents. _apropos_ of having the leaders' reins through the top terret, it is supposed to look smarter, but that it is not a very good plan is proved by the aforesaid catastrophe. the rings on the wheelers' throat-lashes are really much better for ordinary use. my father used to drive a great deal, and, before he joined the four-in-hand club, he used to drive the exeter and london mail-coaches regularly, three or four times a week, fifty years ago, when he was in the ninth lancers. it must have been hardish work, for he drove all night. he started at seven p.m. after his day's soldiering, and drove forty-four miles each way, getting back to barracks at seven p.m. next morning. he tells me they only took eight passengers with them, four inside and four out, besides the coachman, and the guard who sat by himself behind, with his feet resting on the lid of the box in which lay the mail-bags, and always armed with two pistols and a blunderbuss, besides the horn. there is nothing so pretty as hearing a coach-horn really well blown, and very few indeed can do it properly. it is, unfortunately, a thing which people have no conscience about attempting, though their listeners are not left in doubt as to whether they are proficients in the art from the first moment they seize the instrument. how senseless of failure they are, too, as they puff out their cheeks in fatal perseverance, while tears start from their eyes, and the noise!--well, that once heard, is not easily forgotten. though it is not within the province of a coachman, it is well to know how to make "music on three feet of tin," for it is often very necessary to arouse sleepy carters and all the other drowsy souls who encumber the earth and the queen's highway. like catching a whip, it is an impossible thing to explain, beyond saying that you should begin by putting the tip of your tongue _into_ the mouthpiece, and bring it sharply out again with a little tip sort of sound, and without puffing out your cheeks _at all_. the higher the notes you want to get, the harder you should compress your lips to the mouthpiece. and after all is said and done, the horn it is that generally retains the mastery, and blessed indeed is he who achieves anything beyond the air generally associated with the decrease of our ancient friend the cow. the first tandem i ever drove was a long time ago, when i was quite small, and exceedingly proud i was of my turnout. it was very smart, all _white_. it certainly had the merit of being unique, for my wheeler was a milk-white goat of tender years, while my leader was a disreputable-looking old bull-dog of equally snowy hue, and the harness was--well, pocket-handkerchiefs--mostly _other_ people's. i drove them in a little go-cart on low wheels, and they went very well, poor little things, though i always had to run in front myself and call them, if i wanted them to go at all fast. that tandem came to a very sad and tragic end, for i grieve to say that, after many months of close friendship, my leader found it in his heart to devour the wheeler, which black deed brought my tandem to an abrupt termination. some years ago i got a lot of practice driving a scratch team down from banffshire to fife. a long journey, which took three days to accomplish, and over a very rough road too, for the first stage was forty miles right across the moors. splendid wild scenery, but most horrible going, up hills and down dales, through water courses, and scrambling along old stage-coach roads, which could hardly be dignified now by the title of tracks. we scrambled up and down the steepest of mountains, and altogether felt rather relieved when at length we deserted the moor and gained the level road quite close to balmoral.[ ] it is a beautiful road from balmoral into braemar, broad and level, with wide verges of grass on either side, and bordered by fir trees, lighted up here and there by the silver stems and golden leaves of graceful birches, while the river dee dances along over the rocks and stones by the side of the road, brawling its running accompaniment to the rattle of the bars and the rhythm of the horses' hoofs. passing below the "lion's face," and just outside the beautiful "policies" of invermark, we trotted cheerily into the little town of braemar, and there put up for the night. [ ] balmoral, with its grey pepperpots and tunnels, standing out closely against the dark background of pine trees and fir woods, and overshadowed by the high mountain of loch-na-gar, veiled by the soft, blue haze of distance peculiar to the highlands. the second stage was further still, and we guessed it at about sixty miles on to perth. happily the horses came out looking fresh and fit, having fed and rested well, and, by ten o'clock, we were once more on the move. this time the roads were better, but still rather elementary in some places, and we encountered several of those old hogbacked bridges which are very trying to the pole, and more than likely to break it as it jerks up, on the top, when the leaders are going down one side, while the wheelers are still climbing up the other. we stopped an hour at blair athole on the way, and fed the horses, while we ourselves had lunch. the team was pretty well steadied by this time, and as easy to drive as a single horse; though, of course, it needed judgment to keep them trotting steadily on for the ten or eleven hours it took to do the journey. the last stage, from perth to fife, was on the beautiful old north road all the way, and, as it was only a distance of twenty miles, we did it leisurely, and turned into our own stable-yard about three hours after we started. it was great fun, and, after driving for so long, i felt i could have gone on for weeks, but for an acute knowledge of where every bone began and ended in both my arms and back. we accomplished that same journey twice that year; the first time in spring, and again in september we came down after the grouse-shooting with a different team. that second time was not quite such a success, as the cold was something frightful, and the hurricanes that swept over the tops of those moorland hills nearly blew us all away (we had a brake instead of the coach, as being lighter for the horses and handier for the luggage, etc.). the whole of the first two days it _poured_ unceasingly, a good, honest, unrelenting deluge, and i never shall forget our plight on arriving at blair athole, soaked to the skin, while my coat pockets were so full of water that my pocket-handkerchief was floating about on the surface like a boat on a pond. we dried ourselves as best we could at the kitchen and laundry fires of the hotel, but we were just as sopped as ever ten minutes after we had started again. however, 'tis a poor heart that never rejoices, and we all revived later in the evening, after we had become dry and warm and _recurled_ (which is very important to a lady's happiness). _nothing_ makes one feel so miserable and dejected as the knowledge one is "quite unbanged," as an american was once heard to exclaim, on catching sight of her straightened fringe in the looking-glass. i have always been very fortunate in my cargo, which makes a vast difference to one's pleasure in driving. i do not object to my passengers clinging on to the carriage, nor even to their pinching each other, but people who shiver and squeak, and, worse than all, make clutches at the reins, ought really to be condemned to take the air in handcuffs, or else to walk. my particular friends have always rather erred on the side of foolhardiness, and i shall never forget my intense surprise at the rashness displayed by a large party at a house where i was staying two years ago. our host, being the possessor of a very nice team, had promised to drive us over to an agricultural show about to be held in an adjacent town on a certain wednesday. we were all looking forward to our outing with great glee, and nothing occurred to agitate our minds until the very day of the anticipated treat, when early that morning a pencil scrawl was brought me from my host saying he had been suddenly called away to attend some important function at the opposite end of the country; he therefore could not come to the show, but if i cared to take his place and drive his team they should be ready at eleven o'clock. i immediately thought--the question was not so much would i like to drive the party, as would _they_ like to be driven by _me_? however, after most anxious and searching inquirings on my part as to whether they were all insured, to my amazement they bravely asserted they would in any case risk it and come! so round came the coach. i must confess to a slight misgiving on beholding that the usual near wheeler had been put off leader for a change, and in his stead they had given me an ancient and ill-favoured roan mare, who, i knew, had never been driven in a team before. no sign of apprehension escaped me, however, as i clambered sternly on to the box. the start was a little sketchy, as the roan mare began by making a series of low curtseys, instead of progressing in the ordinary way, while the ex-wheeler was a little out of his element too, as a leader. by the mercy of providence i succeeded in landing my coach-load safely through the narrow gateway, and on to the field (filled as it was by a stupid scotch crowd) and i pulled up in triumph by the barrier of the show-ring. i am afraid i must in honesty confess that i _did_ run both my chariot and horses into one wire fence on the way--but the leaders would think, and the horses were all so determined, that _they_ knew the way better than _i_ did, that they had borne us half-way past the corner before i could get hold of them to turn down the way _i_ wished to go. there was no harm done, luckily, and i managed to haul them out again undamaged, and proceeded without further misadventure. there are not many things much more calculated to annoy, than a horse who always "_thinks_," the stupid beast who _will_ stop at every shop passing through his own village on a sunday, when he must surely see that all the shops are shut, or the animals who turn eagerly down every lane and corner that they come to, albeit they have passed by that road a thousand times before and have never been called upon to turn either to right-hand or to the left. and yet a horse who _wont_ think is almost equally exasperating. such a beast seems glad enough to lame himself or stamp on one's toes without thinking even for a moment whether it might be inconvenient or otherwise distasteful to his employers. one thing i have forgotten to put down, is what to do in the event of a wheeler lying on the pole (which of course shoves it to one side, and the coach must needs follow in its train). supposing, then, your off wheeler happens to be performing this antic and is pushing the whole coach by his weight to the left side. you should pull your leaders to the _right_, and, by so doing, make them pull the pole across until you get the concern straight again. the only upset my father ever had with a team was caused by his omitting to do this, and that is why he told me never to forget it. i have been implicated in many other strange drives, notably two with tandems and one with three horses abreast. i will begin with the last one first, as it was a very transient experience. one very snowy winter we had to take recourse to a sledge to get about the roads at all, and although it is very delightful at first, when one hopes that every night will bring a nice thaw (how the frozen-out fox-hunter prays for that night), after three or four weeks' incessant frost and snow the novelty of sleighing wears off and one longs for some new excitement. we had arrived at these extremes, my father and i, so, struck by a happy inspiration, we one day determined to "yoke" three ponies abreast in our sledge and see what would happen. we had not long to wait for the result, for no sooner were they harnessed and we leapt in, than away they all went with one accord down the avenue as hard as ever they could rattle, kicking great hard snow-balls into our faces all the way. down the hill and across the grass like mad things. my father put the whip between his teeth and held on with all his might. i relieved him of his whip and sat tight, until we reached a big beech tree, with a sort of mound round its roots. here the ponies disagreed as to which side they should go, but, to avoid any jealousy or ill-feeling, they settled the question by one going to the right, while the other two elected to take the left-hand side of the tree. this fairly finished our flight, for the sledge dashed up sideways against the roots and then turned over like a turtle. of course we were both precipitated on to the road and were dragged along some little way by the rugs. fortunately there was a gate which happened to be shut a little further on, and this ended our troubles by stopping the ponies altogether, and there they all stood with their heads craning over the fence, while we picked ourselves up and disentangled ourselves from the _débris_. luckily the sledge being so very near the ground we were not hurt, and really, being dragged along by the rugs was rather a pleasant sensation. though it is a good thing to remember, when one is being run away with, under ordinary circumstances in a carriage, to undo the rugs and keep your legs clear, in case of accidents. how often have rugs and petticoats caused one to fall headlong in getting in and out of "machines" (as our scotch people say). never shall i forget one sunday morning, on our arrival at the church door, when i proceeded (in all the glory of my sunday-go-to-meeting apparel) to climb down from the dog-cart, which was pretty high and fitted out with the most inhuman arrangements of steps. i tripped jauntily off the first step towards the second when i became aware that my body was extended on the cold, cold ground, and my head was resting confidingly between the horses two hind feet. what had happened? oh, _only_ my frock had remained swathed round the top step, that was all. mercifully the horse was tame, and made no objection to my unexpected arrival among his hind legs. i had to crawl out from under the cart, covered with mud and speechless with fury. two broken knees, and two scratched palms, gloves destroyed beyond all hope, and my hat jobbed over one eye, everybody in fits of laughter, of course, especially my own family. why is it, i wonder, that one's own relations always display such extreme lack of good taste on such occasions? i must say i arose from that puddle in anything but a christian-like and sabbatical frame of mind. i fared better, however, than another young friend of mine, who, in dismounting out of the very same cart, turned a catherine wheel and alighted on the road with a broken arm. be cautious, therefore, and always scramble out of a cart or carriage backwards, and, if the step be high, see that your dress descends with you and does not remain at the top. one of the tandem drives i mentioned happened some two years ago, when my sister and i were staying with some friends about sixteen miles from home. we had been out cub-hunting all morning, found an old fox, and had a capital run, which landed us quite close to our own front door just in time for luncheon. this, of course, we could not resist, so we put our horses in and to our joy discovered a dog-cart had arrived--sent by our kind hostess to convey us back to her house, while the groom led our horses home. having sent them off under his charge we proceeded to put the harness horse into his dog-cart, and were just about to start when a telegram arrived from my father (who was also away from home), ordering our groom to take a horse over to k---- for him to hunt next day. as "k" happened to be the very place we were starting for, we determined to take his horse over ourselves. but how? that was the question. we did not quite like the idea of tying him on behind, for well we knew he would be certain to tumble over something during the journey and contrive to break his knees. why not tie him on in _front_ we both exclaimed, with that "one great mind which jumps." of course that was obviously the way to get him over those intervening sixteen miles of hill. as he was the bigger of the two, and had never been driven in tandem before, we thought we had better put him in wheeler. hastily pulling out the horse which was already harnessed we proceeded to try and fit our own rotund steed between the shafts. his figure, however, was hardly slim enough for the position, and he began to resent the suggestion with some asperity. satisfied that we should do no good with them that way on, we reversed the order; replacing the original horse in the wheel, we hitched our obese animal on in front. we then started. i must say he fired some most alarming salutes with his heels going down the avenue, and terrified us for the safety of our borrowed wheeler, but the ensuing hills very soon settled him down and brought him to reason, which was well for us, as we had not started on our journey till pretty late, and it was rapidly becoming dark. needless to say we had no lamps, the road was horribly rough and mountainous, and we had still many miles to go. at last we turned in to the lodge gates and up the avenue at k--. it was dark enough outside on the road, where i could just see my wheeler's outline in the gloom, but here among the trees (for the approach is more of a wood than an avenue) it was so pitch dark i positively could not see my own hand in front of me. having no light, we proceeded by faith, and appeared to be getting on extremely well, when suddenly, with an awful jolt and a bump, the whole concern stopped short and i nearly flew off my perch with the jerk. my sister was out like a shot and got to the wheeler's head. he was still there, that she could feel; groping a little further she collided with the leader, he was there too, that was a comfort, anything further she could nob discover without the aid of a light. fortunately we had provided ourselves with some matches just _in case_, and, on striking one, we discovered both horses standing on three legs, one of the leader's traces having caught round his off hind leg, while the other trace was twisted over the wheeler's near fore-leg! they both behaved like true britons, and waited patiently until we got them disentangled and set straight again, when we set off once more and managed to get to our destination without further mishap. the last exciting drive i had with a tandem was again with my father, and again in the snow. the roads were barely passable with snowdrifts piled up on either side six foot high or more. it so happened that colonel gardyne had been staying with us, and it behoved him to get away by a certain train on a certain day. inexorable to our entreaties to postpone his departure, we were obliged to accede to his request that he might be borne somehow to the station. as the roads were very bad and too heavy with snow for one horse, we selected another out of the stable and put him on in front; we then scrambled into the dog-cart and prepared for the worst. as it happened, however, we were _not_ prepared for what followed. the leader had not been in before and did not fancy the game, nor did he approve of the snow walls; notwithstanding this we got to the station fairly intact and deposited our guest in safety. we had not proceeded far on our homeward journey when a great black puffing engine made its appearance round a corner, with crimson eyes, and snorts, and noise, and all the honours attendant on a perambulating thrashing machine. horrid things they are at the best of times, but more especially objectionable when one has a couple of three-cornered horses, one behind the other. of course the effect of this apparition was wild confusion, the leader waltzed round and round till he got tied up into a knot, then set to work, and kicked himself free, breaking every stitch of harness on his body. we had no extra tackle (which was foolish), therefore the only thing to be done was to get him home. luckily we were not far away, so i scrambled on to his back and rode him, using the remains of the pad as a pommel and got him in all safe. my father having some business in the neighbouring town went on in the cart alone. soon he overtook an ally, who, bent on the same errand, was stumping bravely through the slush (having wisely refrained from taking out his own horses on such a road). on being offered a lift he mounted gladly, thankful to curtail his disagreeable tramp, and reassured by the sight of a single and confidential-looking quadruped. his joy, however, was shortlived, for the very next turn happened to lead straight up to our park gates. dobbin (being one of the genus i object to so strongly who "_think_") instantly _thought_, and made a dive for the corner. the wheel, colliding violently against the curb-stone, precipitated the unfortunate passenger headlong into a snow-drift, where he remained half buried, with only a large pair of feet flapping in the air to indicate the spot where the casualty had occurred. rosie anstruther thomson. "tigers i have shot." by mrs c. martelli. my personal experiences of tiger-shooting in india have been neither on a large scale nor of a very heroic and exciting nature; yet, such as they are, i gladly place them upon record for the sake of those who may not have had the good fortune to see sport of this particular kind. tiger-shooting, however, has been so well and so often described that i cannot hope to be able to tell anything of a novel character about it. it has been my good fortune to "assist" (in the french sense of the word) at the death of five tigers. and here i should premise that, according to the laws of indian sport, a tiger is considered the trophy of the gun that first hits it, whether that shot prove fatal or not. as will be seen presently, i succeeded in killing the third of the five, but it was my husband's tiger and not mine, as my first shot missed it. i did _not_ kill the first and second of the five, but they were my tigers because i was the first to hit them. in the case of the fourth tiger i was the first to hit, and with a second shot i killed it; but the tiger was mine by virtue of the first shot, not the second. this is a not unfair rule, because the first shot often proves fatal, even though for a time the tiger manages to get away, and if some rule of the kind were not in existence, and the tiger were supposed to belong to the gun that appeared to administer the _coup de grâce_, there would be a great deal of indiscriminate firing, which would result, to say the least of it, in the skin being hopelessly ruined. but to come to my story. in january , my husband, colonel martelli, who was at the time political agent and superintendent of the estates of rewa, central india (the maharajah being a minor), was making his annual tour, and we were in camp at govindghar, about fourteen miles from the capital. there were with us my sister, the agency surgeon and the usual tribe of camp followers. after we had been in camp about a week, a shikari brought us news that there was unquestionably a tiger not many miles away. to discover more exactly where he was, buffaloes were tied as bait to trees in four or five places, at a radius of three or four miles from the camp, and we waited in much excitement for further intelligence. as apparel of a very noticeable or attractive character is obviously unsuited to a tiger-hunt, i gave my native tailor overnight some plain cotton material, and he presented it to me in the morning, dyed green and made up into a serviceable dress. he had also covered my terai sun-hat with the same material. early in the morning word came into camp that we were to be on the alert, and, about ten a.m., news reached us that the tiger had been seen. we started off immediately, my husband and i on one elephant, and the doctor and my sister on another. seated behind us in the howdah was a shikari, carrying our guns. _my_ weapon was a double express rifle, by alex. henry. we had had chota hazrie, so took a lunch-breakfast with us. passing on our way what we thought would be a charming spot for our _déjeuner_, we left our servant francis there with our hamper. imagine our disgust when, upon reaching this spot, hungry and expectant, on our return, we found that francis had disappeared, and with him all traces of the hoped-for meal. it turned out afterwards that some bears had come unexpectedly upon the scene, and francis had, not altogether unnaturally, sought refuge in flight. ignorant of the fate of our breakfast, however, we pushed on, and about two miles from camp met the head shikari--mothi singh by name. acting under his instructions we dismounted and followed him through the jungle. we pushed along what professed to be a path, but of which all i can say in its favour is that it was slightly better than the jungle of grass and underwood through which it passed, more than once indeed boughs and branches had to be cut down to make it possible for my sister and myself to get along. we at length reached a rock, fifteen or twenty feet in height, on the summit of which mothi singh placed us, and past which the tiger would be driven. i was to have first shot. the beaters, three hundred or four hundred in number, now began their work, shouting, beating drums and tom-toms, blowing bugles, firing blank cartridges, and steadily pressing forward in our direction. we, of course, maintained the most profound silence, and watched with the deepest interest for the appearance of the tiger. as we waited, all sorts of creatures, scared by the beaters, passed us--pig and deer, pea-fowl and jungle fowl, the majestic sambhur, and the pretty nilghai, not to mention foxes and jackals, went by within shot, but for to-day, at anyrate, they were safe. at last came the tiger. he advanced like an enormous cat, now crouching upon the ground, now crawling forward, now turning round to try and discover the meaning of the unwonted noise behind him. when he was about eighty yards from us i fired and hit him on the shoulder; then the others fired, and the tiger bolted. at this moment hera sahib, the commander-in-chief of the rewa army, and who had been directing "the beat," came up on an elephant, and, as he had brought with him a spare elephant, my husband mounted the latter, and they went off together in search of the tiger, leaving us upon the rock. two hours later they came upon the wounded tiger hiding in the jungle. the moment he saw that he was discovered, he charged hera sahib's elephant, and the latter, being a young animal, bolted. the tiger then turned and charged the elephant my husband was riding, which stood his ground. the tiger, charged underneath the elephant, but fortunately my husband got a snap-shot at him and rolled him over. he crept into the jungle again, however, but was now past serious resistance, and although he made a brave attempt to reach his enemies, he was easily despatched. he measured over nine feet in length. my husband's tour over, we returned to our head-quarters at rewa, and a very few days later, in the dusk of the evening, news came that another tiger had been seen in the same neighbourhood as that in which we shot the first. my husband and i started off at three the next morning in a dog-cart; our horse was only half broken in, and i was driving. about eleven and a half miles from govindghar our steed deposited us in a ditch, and we were compelled to walk the rest of the way there. at govindghar elephants were in waiting for us, and we made our way in much the same fashion as on the previous occasion to the rock of which i have already told. the beat, too, was precisely similar to the former one. presently the tiger appeared. i was so struck by his magnificent appearance, that, although i was to have first shot, i waited so long that eventually my husband and i fired together. the tiger facing us, i fired again, and then, in his rage, he charged straight at the rock on which we were standing. as he came on i fired a third time, and hit him between the shoulders. he disappeared somewhere at the base of the rock, and, although he was out of sight, we could hear him growling with pain. we did not dare, of course, to come down from our rock, as we had no idea where he was, or to what extent he was crippled, but, after waiting about half-an-hour, hera sahib came up on an elephant and killed him. it turned out that the tiger had crept under another rock at the base of that on which we were standing, and was too badly wounded to come out and face his foes. this tiger was a much handsomer, and a larger one than the first. not long after the above, my husband was appointed political agent, eastern states, rajputana, which consists of bhurtpore, dholepore, and karowlie. each state has its own rajah. i did no more tiger-shooting until the early part of the year . in february then we went to karowlie, and on our arrival there we were met by the maharajah, who at once informed us that news had just arrived that a tiger was in the neighbourhood, and courteously asked us to accompany him in pursuit of it. we gladly accepted this invitation, and were told to hold ourselves in readiness, as a gun would be fired from the palace as soon as definite information arrived, and it would then be necessary to start at once. the gun was fired at about noon and off we went, the maharajah and his retinue, and our two selves. we were conducted through very thick jungle to the maharajah's shooting-box, about nine miles distant. we were able to ride only a portion of the way, part of the remainder i was carried in a "tonjon" (sedan chair), and for the rest of the journey i had to walk and struggle through the dense jungle as best i could. the shooting-box we found to consist of a small stone tower, built on the edge of a ravine. we were posted upon the top of the tower, and the tiger was to be driven up the ravine and within shot of our rifles. the maharajah is a very keen sportsman and a capital shot, but with great politeness he insisted upon my firing first. alas, when the moment arrived--and the tiger--the jungle was so thick that i could hardly see the animal, and, i regret to say, i missed him altogether. my husband fired and wounded the tiger severely; i then fired again and killed him. news was brought to us not to leave our post as there was another tiger in the jungle. the maharajah had been much put out at my missing my first shot and so losing the tiger, but insisted courteously on my having an opportunity of retrieving my disaster; of course i was only too glad to avail myself of his kindness. a few minutes later the second tiger appeared, and, getting a better view of him than of his predecessor, i succeeded in hitting him in the chest. the maharajah then fired and put a second bullet into him; i fired and gave him his _coup de grâce_. within a week news was brought to karowlie that another tiger had made his appearance, this time about ten miles away, and in quite another direction. the whole country in this neighbourhood was cut up by ravines, and when we arrived at the place indicated to us, we found that there was no rock which we could turn into a citadel, no handy tree from whose branches we might fire upon the foe, and of course no shooting-box; and, as in addition, it was quite impossible to bring the elephants along, we had to take our stand on foot and hope for the best. should the wounded tiger charge us, we should have to make sure of stopping him before he could reach us. with us, on this occasion, were three young officers, who had never been present at a tiger-hunt, and who probably had never seen a tiger out of the zoological gardens. accordingly, they were allowed to draw for choice of places and for first shot. they naturally selected the coign of vantage, and between them slew the tiger. i did not even see him till he was dead. they went off immediately, in a great state of elation; but the maharajah told me that there was a panther in the jungle. presently the animal came in sight with a tremendous rush, and i fired, wounding him severely; but although we traced him for some miles we saw no more of him and he got away. this is all i have to tell. if, from the description i have given, anyone should be inclined to say that the tiger does not appear to have much chance of escape, the answer is that it is not intended that he should have any. tigers are shot in india, not as game is in england for hunting, to give amusement to men, horses and dogs, not as in pheasant or partridge shooting, with a remote reference to the demands of the table, but to save the lives of the natives and their cattle. if you don't kill the tiger he will kill you. but although the odds are on the shikari and against the tiger, whether you fire from the back of an elephant, from the top of a rock, or in the branch of a tree, there is always room, unfortunately, for a misadventure, and consequently tiger-shooting will always be a useful school for endurance, judgment and self-reliance. kate martelli. rifle-shooting. by miss leale. at the bisley meeting of , i took part in some of the competitions open to all comers. the measure of success which i achieved has gained a publicity for which i was scarcely prepared, and has brought around me a group of correspondents who have plied me with questions as to my experience in rifle-shooting, and the rise and progress of my devotion to an accomplishment so unusual for ladies, and even deemed by many to be somewhat out of their reach. i purpose, therefore, to put a few notes together, in which i shall endeavour to answer some of the questions proposed to me, and to relate such passages of my experience as may serve to encourage those of my own sex who may have some ambition in this direction. it was a little more than four years ago when i first handled a martini-henry rifle. i was looking on at the shooting one afternoon at the guernsey "wimbledon," and wondered if it was a very difficult thing to hit the target, which appeared to me to be such a mere speck when seen from so great a distance. i had, some time before this, fired a few shots with a fowling-piece at an impromptu target, but rifle-shooting looked to me far more real and interesting. at length i succeeded in persuading my father to allow me to try my hand at a shot with a rifle. i remember that there was some discussion, at that time, about the recoil, but as i was so very ignorant of the management and powers of the rifle, i did not give this really serious question the necessary attention. i believe that had i heard, at this early stage, as much about recoil as i have since, i should probably have been afraid to shoot with a martini. a certain militia man, who is now one of our best shots, related to me a curious incident which happened to him when he first fired with a service rifle. he was shooting in the prone position; and, after pulling the trigger, he heard a great noise, and immediately there was a good deal of smoke about; but the rifle had disappeared. on looking round, however, he saw his rifle behind him! he had been resting the under part of the butt lightly on his shoulders, and holding the rifle loosely; thus the force of the recoil had actually driven it past him over his shoulder. i have heard of many other cases of the recoil becoming dangerous; but i believe it is from fear of being "kicked" that recruits fail to hold their rifles properly while pulling the trigger. in my own case, certainly, "ignorance was bliss"; for, in firing my first shot, i was enabled to give my whole attention to keeping the rifle steady, and placing it firmly against my shoulder for that purpose alone undisturbed by any fear of recoil. and i believe that this absence of fear is the chief reason why i have been able to use a martini-henry rifle without suffering from the recoil. thinking from the experience of my first shot that shooting was easy, i was anxious to go on with it. many experienced shots volunteered information which was very helpful; but i soon discovered that i was wrong in thinking that rifle-shooting was merely a matter of seeing the bull's eye over the sights. the first difficulty was that of keeping the rifle steady. i had to learn exactly how to hold it and for this i had to study _position_. i had fired my first shot in the kneeling position. i did not then know of any other, except the standing and lying down. the former i could not manage, as the rifle was too heavy to hold up without any support for the arms; and the lying down position seemed to me, then, to require a great deal of practice. this conjecture has been well justified by my subsequent experience. i have never since fired from the kneeling position, as a much better one was recommended to me, namely, the sitting position. in this way i can have a rest for both arms, which is an advantage over the other method in which it is only possible to rest one. having chosen a position, i found that it needed a great deal of studying. it was then that i discovered another great difficulty, _i.e._, that of pulling the trigger without disturbing the aim. i received some advice on this subject which at first sounded rather curious. i was told to squeeze the trigger "like i would a lemon" and to let it go off without my knowing. this accomplishment requires a great deal of practice, but is well worth the trouble of learning; for i am confident that it is the great secret of good shooting. during my first few months of shooting, i only used to think of taking a correct aim at the bull's eye, and trying to keep still while pulling the trigger. i was so absorbed in this effort, that it did not occur to me for some time that there was much more than this dexterity to be gained in order to be sure of making a good score. there remained the great question of finding the bull's eye. this, of course, involves the scientific part of rifle-shooting; and although, at first, i was alarmed at the difficulty of the subject, i soon saw that the shooting would become tame and monotonous without it. the range where i was in the habit of practising (and still do practise) is near the sea. the targets have the sea for a background, and, as is often the case near the sea, we have a great deal of wind. it was quite easy to understand that the wind would affect the course of the bullet; but it did not turn out to be so easy as it appeared, to calculate in feet and inches how much allowance should be made for this source of disturbance. fortunately "young shots" are not expected to be able to find out this for themselves by the long and painful discipline of repeated failure; and it is always easy for them to obtain advice from persons on the range who have had more experience than themselves. i was very fortunate in that way myself, and feel very grateful for the good instruction i have received from several "crack-shots." there are two things to be considered--the elevation and windage. the elevation does not vary so much as the windage. having once found the normal elevation of a given rifle for the different ranges, it will not afterwards need very great alterations. but the different effects of wind, light, and atmosphere upon it are interesting, and require careful attention. if the wind is blowing straight down the range from the targets, it will naturally increase the resistance for the bullet. also, by retarding its speed the trajectory will be lowered, thus causing the shot to strike below the spot aimed at. to counteract this the aim must be taken higher, but the rifle is so constructed that by raising the slide of the backsight a little, aim may be taken at the original spot. when the wind is blowing towards the targets, from the firing point, it has little or no effect upon the bullet, as the speed of the latter is so much greater than that of the wind. a side wind will slightly alter the elevation of the bullet, in a ratio to its strength. most good shots agree that it is safer always to take up the same amount of foresight into the alignment; as by taking a large foresight at one time and a small one at another, one is apt to get confused, especially when other matters have to be considered at the same time. but it must also be remembered that the different degrees of the light's intensity have a marked effect upon the appearance of the foresight, and must be allowed for. if the light is very dull, the foresight will not be very distinctly seen; and, unconsciously, more of it will be brought up. this has the effect of bringing up the muzzle end of the rifle, and of giving the bullet a higher trajectory, thus causing the shot to strike high. but, on the other hand, if the light is bright the foresight is easily seen, and less of it is unconsciously taken up, so causing the shot to drop. these differences in the appearance of the foresight are corrected by raising the backsight in a bright light, and lowering it when dull. mirage and refraction are very troublesome matters to deal with, for the bull's eye appears to be where in reality it is not. and it is almost impossible to ascertain the allowances which should be made for this source of error without the advantage of a trial shot. the condition of the atmosphere as to temperature and humidity has much to do with the fouling inside the rifle. in hot, dry weather it is apt to get hard and dry. after a few shots have been fired, it cakes and fills up the grooving of the rifle. consequently the amount of the spin of the bullet is affected, often causing the shots to drop, and spoiling all chance of accurate shooting. this can be avoided by blowing down the rifle after each shot, when the moisture of the breath will greatly improve the condition of the encrusted barrel. many rifle shots have indiarubber tubes for this purpose, and blow down the barrel through them from the breech end. some competitors even take more trouble; for, after each shot, they shut the breech, and get up from their position in order to blow down from the muzzle end. this method involves more exertion, but it is evident that any moisture blown down with one end stopped, and thus permitted to accumulate, must of necessity be more effective in cleansing the barrel. in warm, damp weather, the fouling becomes moist and greasy, letting the bullet slip through easily. these differences in elevation caused through fouling can also be allowed for by altering the elevation on the rifle between the shots. an ingenious little instrument called the vernier is used for measuring the elevation, when it is considered, that, at yards distance from the targets, the difference of / th of an inch on the backsight will be equal to half a foot on the target, it will evidently be of the greatest importance to be able to adjust the sights accordingly. for this purpose verniers are made so delicate as to move the backsight through such a small space as the / th of an inch at a time. by this means of adjustment, should a shot strike straight above the bull's eye, you have only to notice the exact amount of the error in inches, and then the elevation can be lowered / th of an inch, or a "degree" as it is called for every six inches the shot is above the mark; provided always that the other conditions are the same as before. theoretically, wind is far more easy to deal with than elevation; for, if the wind blows across the targets from the left, it would naturally drive the bullet to the right. therefore, by aiming in the direction the wind is blowing from, proper allowance can be made. the difficulty lies in the practical part, _i.e._, of judging exactly how far the bullet will be driven from its true course. practice is the only possible teacher in this matter; and it is wonderful to see how some experienced shots will estimate the strength of the wind, acting only on their own judgment, and succeed in hitting the bull's eye at first shot, and especially when we learn that at yards as much as fifteen feet of windage is sometimes required. but at times there seems to be a certain amount of chance attached to the "finding of the bull's eye." i have heard of a competitor who had fired several shots and could not find the bull's eye. he was firing in a competition called "cartons," in which the most central hit takes the highest prize. after several unsuccessful shots, he wished to alter some part of his rifle and for this purpose turned it upside down. in doing so he accidently pulled the trigger. this turned out to be a singular instance of good luck, for the shot not only was fired without harming anyone, but actually hit the very centre of the target! this undesigned shot proved to be the best carton of the meeting, bringing the competitor a prize of several pounds. i have often heard it said on the range that "there is no luck in shooting except bad luck;" and it certainly is very disappointing to lose several points in a competition before you succeed in finding the bull's eye; but it is still more disappointing, when, having found it, the wind keeps changing its force or direction, and so increasing your perplexity. the only consolation in this disagreeable experience is, that a great deal more is learnt from one bad score under these circumstances, than from many good ones made with a steady wind. all my remarks have referred to target-shooting only, in those cases where competitors are not hurried, but can take their own time to paint their sights and adjust them with "machines," carefully marking the allowance for windage on their sights, so that they may aim at the bull's eye every time, and have no more to think of but holding the rifle steady. i use all these helps myself, finding them a great advantage; and i believe that studying all these minute but necessary particulars is a good training for those who may have to use their rifles for more serious purposes than competing for prizes at rifle meetings. for, although in practical shooting they will be obliged to use the rifle just as it is served out, they will prove themselves to be experienced shots, and know how to handle their weapons with that skill which is always the result of careful training and practice. winifred louis leale. deer-stalking and deer-driving. by diane chasseresse. deer-stalking is like marriage, it should not be "enterprised nor taken in hand unadvisedly or lightly," nor should it be undertaken by those who are weak and delicate, for it entails many hardships and much exposure to wet and cold. imagine the state of a thorough-bred racehorse, if it were kept standing for hours in a snowstorm, with no clothing on, directly after it had run a race. yet, a like sudden change from violent exercise taken in great heat, to hours of immovability in the most bitter cold, is of constant occurrence when stalking deer in the late autumn, in the highlands of scotland. for instance, the stalker may have to toil with wearied feet up a steep hill, under the burning rays of an october sun, when, suddenly and unexpectedly, some deer will come in sight, hurrying over the ridge in front of him to seek for shelter from an impending storm. retreat is impossible, there is no time even to choose a hiding-place; the stalker must throw himself face downwards, most likely in the middle of a bog, and remain there without moving hand or foot as long as the storm lasts and the deer remain in sight. in the meantime the sun has vanished, and the day has changed from broiling heat to piercing cold; and, while the wind gets up and the hail beats pitilessly on his prostrate form, the stalker must be ready, with numbed and aching finger to pull the trigger of his rifle, the moment the darkness has lifted sufficiently, for him to make out which are the largest and most shootable deer. it will be seen from this that deer-stalking is not all pleasurable excitement, and that those who go after deer must be prepared to endure a certain amount of physical discomfort. pipes cannot be smoked, nor can whisky be imbibed within sight and within shot of deer; neither can sandwiches be munched, nor may you even take a drink at a burn. the soul of the sportsman must soar above hunger and thirst--such luxuries as two o'clock lunch and five o'clock tea are not for him--even the simple use of a pocket-handkerchief is denied him under certain circumstances. the paraphernalia needed by the stalker is very limited in extent. it consists of a rifle, a dozen cartridges, a telescope, and a long knife. stout, easy-fitting nailed boots are _de rigueur_ for walking; also thick stockings--not necessarily rough or irritating to the skin--and neutral-coloured clothes, light in weight. nothing else is essential. i have given elsewhere a detailed description of the dress i myself found most suitable for the hills, so i will only repeat here that it should be of either drab or grey cloth--water-proof, but not air-proof--with a dash of pink, green, or orange in it according to the prevailing colour of the ground over which you have to stalk. a long grey macintosh of the best quality can be carried in the forester's pocket and put on during heavy storms. this should have a separate hood, which may be used either to sit on, or as a protection to the head and neck from rain and wind. the fewer people the stalker has to accompany him the more likely he is to get sport. one man to carry the rifle, or stalk for him, is sufficient. it is quite unnecessary to have a second forester with dogs, as they only disturb the deer and are seldom required. foresters, whether from an imperfect knowledge of english or from "thinking the more," are usually a silent and uncommunicative race. the sort of way an ignorant--or supposed to be ignorant--sportsman is treated when sent out with an experienced stalker for the first time, is much after this fashion. the forester shoulders the rifle and goes up the side of a hill with quick, elastic step, and you follow with aching muscles and panting breath. at last there is a halt, and he takes out his glass and looks carefully over the ground, first searching the places where deer are usually to be discovered, then scanning the rest of the vast expanse of hill and valley spread out before him. you, also, take out your glass and strain your unaccustomed eye in looking for deer. after a time you find some, and wonder if by chance they have escaped the keen eye of the forester, for he has shut his telescope, and is silently descending the hill again. "sandy!" you call out. "surr--mem?" correcting himself as he remembers your sex. "did you see those deer?" "hwhich deer was it?" "there are some deer feeding on that green patch, didn't you see them?" "ou--ay." "but wouldn't they do to go after?" "they're no verra bug, but i'm thunkin' one of them micht do," and sandy moves on again. "but, sandy!" "surr--mem!" "why can't we go after the one that _might do_?" "we'll require to go round a bittee and come doon on them." to "go round a bittee" you find to your cost means to go right back to the bottom of the hill whence you came, to tramp miles round the base of the mountain, and finally to climb up over the top so as to come down on the deer. on the way you come across some small staggies which decline to move, being quite well aware that they are not worth shooting. fearing they will spoil all your sport by moving the other deer, sandy lies still and taps two stones together to frighten them a little, but they still refuse to go away and only stare stupidly at you. "ye'll jist wave yer hwhite mop," whispers sandy. you wonder what he means, as you do not generally carry _mops_ about the hills. then sandy, seeing your bewilderment, makes a gesture with his hands over his face in the most solemn manner, and you are reminded of the children's game:-- "i wipe my face with a very good grace, without either laughing or smiling." and produce your white pocket-handkerchief--which certainly, there is no denying, _has_ been used as a mop pretty often on the way up--and waving it at the deer, have the satisfaction of seeing them trot away in a direction where they will do no harm. after that sandy says nothing more, but goes trudging on ahead till he stops to take the rifle out of its case and load it. then he begins to crawl very slowly and cautiously, taking care not to scrape the heather, or knock the stones, and you do exactly the same till you join him behind a big boulder; when he puts the rifle in your hand, saying in a whisper,-- "noo then, ye'll tak yon beast that's feeding to the west." and you look up excitedly, not knowing in the very least the whereabouts of the deer; but while you are trying to make out which is the "beast that is feeding to the west," a greater beast that is feeding to the east, in the shape of a hind, has already made you out, and the whole herd of deer have galloped away without giving you the chance of a shot. you turn and look blankly at sandy, and sandy looks disgustedly at you, and behind your back he exclaims, that you "jist mak' him seeck." little of the science of deer-stalking can be learnt from following blindly behind a silent forester; though no doubt a novice would get more deer and disturb less ground by putting himself entirely into the hands of a first-rate stalker than by attempting to go his own way, and acquiring experience at the expense of repeated failure. the two great difficulties with which the amateur has to contend are, the wrong impression given by the appearance of ground when seen from a distance, and the imperfect knowledge of the direction from which the wind will blow when he gets within reach of deer. the other difficulties, such as keeping out of sight of the deer he wishes to shoot, and avoiding other deer or sheep, can be overcome, with practice, by any intelligent person; but to know the direction in which certain winds will blow in certain places, is a constant puzzle even to the oldest and most experienced sportsman. if a valley lies east and west, and the wind blows east or west, you can generally count on being able to stalk _up_-wind. but should the wind be _north_ in a valley lying east and west, it will constantly blow _south_ on the southern side of a northern mountain, or it _might_ blow east or west. there is only one manner of ascertaining the direction of a light and doubtful breeze, and that is by continually plucking little bits of the fluff off your homespun coat, and allowing them to float about in the air. deer are far more frightened at getting the wind of a human being than they are at seeing him; consequently they will gallop away faster, and run to a much greater distance after scenting a person than they will after seeing him. they are also far more frightened at sight of a man walking upright at a considerable distance, than at seeing one crouched up and immovable quite near them--though in the latter case he may be so close that his face, hands, and even the rifle are discernible. when a seal is doubtful about anything floating on the water, it will take a long circuit round, and keep out of shot until it has got to windward of the suspicious object. once to windward all doubt is at an end, and, if the object should prove to be an enemy, the seal will immediately disappear under water. but, fortunately for sportsman, deer are not clever enough to adopt this plan, or we should find stalking even more difficult than it is now. for if deer catch sight of a suspicious-looking object, the hinds generally come a step or two nearer to it, instead of going round to get the wind, and when they have quite decided that it looks like something uncanny, they will go off with a bark, occasionally stopping to look back. in the meantime the stags will be preparing to rise, so you must be ready to seize your chance of a broadside shot--for a stag lying with face towards you, will generally, on rising, turn his body broadside before bolting away. should the deer, however, get a puff of your wind, it is of no use to wait; you must either take a snap-shot at their retreating heels, or refrain from firing at all, and trust to getting another stalk when they have settled down again later in the day. you can never, under any circumstances, take a liberty with the wind; but, on wet and stormy days, it is extraordinary how you may crawl about in full view of deer without frightening them, so long as they do not happen to be looking at you while you are actually moving. to begin with, the wet deadens any sound you may make in crawling; ferns do not crackle, nor does the grass rustle, and, as there is no light and shade, objects are less distinctly seen. but a sky line must always be avoided when possible, or, if not, it should be crossed with the utmost care by keeping flat and moving slowly; as deer are quick to note any strange excrescence on the edge of a hill. there are only two really important things to avoid when out stalking. one is the unnecessary disturbance of deer by firing shots late at night, or by careless stalking--both of which will send them off the ground you are on, and over to that of your neighbour--and the other is shooting at deer when the chances are more in favour of wounding them than of killing them outright. sport is sometimes cruel--_though never so cruel as nature_, as any observer can bear witness--but that is no reason why sportsmen should be careless about giving unnecessary pain. there are so many different sorts of rifles turned out by the various gunmakers, that it would be difficult to say which kind is the best. i have not had a large experience, but, having tried a single-barrelled henry--with which i regularly missed--a double-barrelled lankaster, and a purdey, besides the various kinds of small rifles made by rigby, adams, and holland, i do not hesitate to say that the best shots i ever made were at running deer with an old-fashioned _muzzle-loader_, with solid conical bullets! one of the great charms of deer-stalking, besides the delightful feeling of being out all day long in the fresh air surrounded by the most beautiful scenery, is, that there is so much variety in it, as no two stalks are ever in the least alike. one might go season after season over the same ground, but it would be impossible to shoot two deer under precisely similar conditions. a beginner can scarcely understand the fascination which deer-stalking exercises over a more practised sportsman. when a novice is taken out, the stalker is naturally anxious to give him every chance, and, at the same time, is not over-particular about the size of the deer--which may possibly be missed; so he generally manages to bring him up to within easy distance of a single stag, standing broadside. the novice knows nothing of the intricacies of the stalk, or of the difficulties which have been overcome. he has, perhaps, been taken up one deep burn, and brought down another on the same hillside, possibly without having had any climbing, crawling, or wading to do; after which he is told to look between some tufts of heather over the edge of a bank, when he will see the stag feeding just below. he then raises up the loaded rifle, and, feeling rather as though he were going to shoot at a red cow, calmly takes a deliberate aim, with his elbows resting on the bank, and hits the beast right through the heart. the whole business has appeared so easy that he cannot understand the excitement of the stalker over it; and he feels rather ashamed than otherwise of the fuss that is made about him on his return home. but, the next time he goes out, he may have to shoot immediately after a stiff climb uphill; the deer is further off than he thinks, and is very much the same colour as the ground; he is out of breath, and more careless about his aim, and the consequence is that he misses it clean, and fires the second barrel with no better result. after this, the novice begins to see that it is not altogether so tame and easy a business as it appeared at first; and, when next he gets a chance at a stag, his heart will commence to beat, he will feel nervous about his aim, his knees will tremble and his hand shake, and he will at last feel that there is some excitement about deer-stalking after all. deer-driving is by no means such good sport as deer-stalking. when deer are driven, if they go the way that is intended--which depends chiefly on the weather and not at all on the skill of the sportsmen--all that is necessary to obtain a large number of stags is to keep a cool head, and to take a steady aim. but these qualifications are usually just those which are conspicuous by their absence at the generality of deer drives; consequently, the number of shots that are fired at deer--all within easy distance--in proportion to the number of deer slain or wounded, is quite remarkable. i have often wondered how soldiers behave on a field of battle, where there is danger to life and limb, added to the noise, smoke, bustle and excitement. _do they ever hit a man at all except by accident?_ and is it likely that the time, ammunition and money annually wasted on firing at a mark will teach men not to lose their heads on a field of battle, with the enemy advancing towards them, when they cannot even keep cool at a deer drive, where there is absolute silence and stillness, and the deer are often too frightened and bewildered to do more than stand still to be shot at! it would be very interesting to keep a record of the number of drives which come off properly, compared with those which are failures; and of the number of shots fired at each drive, in proportion to every deer killed. i also fancy it would improve the sport in a forest far more if a record were kept of all the misses which were made out stalking, than if a high average of weights were insisted on, as this can only be accomplished by sparing the old deer, which, being past their prime and deteriorating every season, should certainly be killed at the expense of the average. deer-driving, more than any other kind of sport, depends on weather. when out stalking one generally succeeds in getting more deer on a stormy than on a fine day, but with driving it is just the reverse. the day cannot be too fine, as the mist and rain, which so constantly accumulate about high mountains, are the chief reasons why drives are such frequent failures. the way a drive is arranged is as follows. every available stalker, forester and gillie is sent out before daylight to make an immense circle round the corries and mountains from which the deer are to be driven. unfortunately the mist usually comes low down in the night, and the men cannot possibly tell, when they make their early start, whether it will lift or not. deer have certain passes which they use when going from one corrie to another, and, if they are disturbed, they make for one of these passes _up_-wind. but when everything has been settled, the guns are placed in a pass which is _down_-wind to the deer, and out of sight of the corrie, into which they are being collected by the beaters. it is a very difficult matter to force deer to go down-wind, as it is against all their instincts to do so, and, if they have had much experience, they will be perfectly aware that men with rifles are awaiting them on the ridge, and, instead of going forward over the pass, they will break back at the last minute and rush through the beaters--who can only pelt them with sticks and stones--rather than face the known danger of the guns in front of them. in a deer drive it is necessary for the day to be clear, in order that the beaters may see each other as well as the deer. it is equally important that the deer should see the beaters, as these latter are placed as stops to prevent them going to the passes up-wind where there are no guns. if the deer are quite determined not to go down-wind over a pass, nothing that the beaters can do to force them will make any difference, and the drive is consequently spoilt. if the wind changes, or does not blow fair, the guns know at once that their chance of sport is over, for deer would rather face an army which they can see, than a puff of wind from an unknown foe. shooting at driven deer is much less fatiguing than stalking. the drive is fixed to come off at a certain hour, and the sportsmen ride ponies or walk to their posts, each carrying his own rifles--as the foresters are all employed in beating. the ponies are then left in charge of some boys, and each man is allotted a post in which he can make himself comfortable, put on his cloak and eat his lunch; pipes also are not forbidden for a while. but, after a bit, he must, on no account, move or leave his place, even if there is snow on the ground and he is perished with cold, for it is very possible that a few deer, not belonging to the drive, might be feeding just below the ridge of the hill, and, seeing other deer disturbed and coming towards them, they would probably feed quietly over the pass close to all the guns. if they were to see anyone move, they would at once bolt back whence they came, and every deer in sight would know that they were fleeing from danger, and would refuse to come up the pass. but if they were allowed to move quietly on till all the guns were passed, they would soon disappear, and their fresh tracks would be of use in keeping the deer which followed from being suspicious of any lurking danger. the first deer to appear over a pass are usually a hind and calf; and hearts begin to beat furiously as, after many hours of waiting, they walk slowly past the line of guns, pricking their long ears forward and staring right and left suspiciously. suddenly the hind gives a start--she has come across a footprint; she sniffs at it, quickens her pace, and trots away with her little calf beside her. all at once she gets a puff of the wind and away she goes--bark, bark, bark--but as there are no other deer in sight she can do no harm. then some more hinds come on, followed by a few small staggies, and the excitement among the guns becomes intense as they know now that the drive has begun. as the first deer get the wind and begin to gallop, a grand royal appears. he passes most of the rifles scathless--for there is no greater crime than to fire at one of the first few deer and so turn all the others back--but the last gun, seeing that there are now plenty of good stags over the brae, lets fly at him and may bowl him over (this is purely imaginary, for my experience is that he _does not_ bowl him over), then crack, crack, go the other rifles as barrel after barrel is fired--two or three rifles to each man, and two barrels to each rifle--and the fat and heavy deer come panting by, bewildered by the incessant firing and the whizz of the bullets about their ears, driven forward by the shouts of the beaters behind, who are pressing them on to their death, and terrified when some magnificent beast makes a plunge forward on receiving its death-wound, and tears up the soft ground with its hoofs as it rolls over and over, its thick horns crashing against the rocks. then the last and heaviest of the deer come rushing down the pass followed by the beaters, capless and perspiring. the ground is strewn with dead and dying, the sportsmen leave their posts and each claims his deer (many more claims being made for the large than for the small ones); the dogs are let loose after the wounded, and thus the most successful drive of the season comes to an end. the ponies which have conveyed the sportsmen up the mountain now come in useful to carry home the dead beasts; and, in the evening, after dinner, the ladies, in their dainty dresses and flashing diamonds, come out across the yard to inspect the trophies of the chase which are laid out on the ground in front of the larder; while the weird and fantastic scene is lighted up by blazing torches held aloft by kilted highlanders. diane chasseresse. shooting. by lady boynton. "the reason firm, the temperate will, endurance, foresight, strength, and skill." "a mingled yarn--good and ill together." a few years ago a "shooting-lady" was almost as much a _rara avis_ as the great auk; if here and there one member of the sex, more venturesome than her fellows, were bold enough to take to the gun in preference to the knitting needle, she was looked upon as most eccentric and fast, and underwent much adverse criticism. now, however, _nous avons changé tout cela_. ladies who shoot, and who shoot well, too, are springing up on all sides, and the clamour raised by their appearance is gradually subsiding. there are still dissentient voices here and there, it is true, voices which proclaim aloud that women have no place in the covert and among the turnips, and that the cruelty of the sport should be an insuperable objection to their joining in it. a discussion of all these pros and cons is, however, outside the scope of these notes, we have simply to deal with facts as they stand, and, undoubtedly, the "shooting-lady" is now as much an established fact as is her sister the "hunting-woman." that a woman who is fond of sport need lose nothing in grace, charm, or refinement, we have ample evidence to show. she does not necessarily become masculine either in manner or conversation; but she should, nevertheless, endeavour to master the rudiments of whatever sport she engages in; and it is with the hope of assisting some of my fellow-sportswomen to accomplish this, that i here record some of my experiences, not omitting my mistakes, and adding a few hints to beginners; though i regret that i have no moving accidents by flood or field, nor "hairbreadth 'scapes" to recount! there is certainly a pleasant amount of excitement about shooting--not perhaps equal to that afforded by "forty minutes without a check," but quite enough to make one willing to brave the elements, even on a raw november morning, and to stand with one's fingers aching with cold behind a fence waiting for the advent of that little brown bird who will flash past you like a meteor--alas! too frequently only to leave a feather or two floating behind him, and then to continue his course rejoicing! i well remember the first running rabbit i ever killed. i was armed with an old-fashioned muzzle loader--we were walking round the hedgerows in some pastures. the rabbit was sitting in a tussock about thirty yards from the fence. i cautiously advanced in such a manner as to get a crossing shot. the rabbit was put up, and i, taking a _very_ deliberate aim, had the intense satisfaction of seeing him double up just as he reached the fence! _what_ a moment! no 'royal' killed at yards could have afforded more delight than did that wretched little bunny. of course, previously to this, i had fired at a mark and at sitting objects, in order to get into the way of handling the gun, aiming and so forth. it is of the _first_ and greatest importance on beginning to shoot to learn to be careful, and the golden rule is, _always_ to handle a gun as though it were loaded and cocked; the habit once acquired, it is just as easy to carry a gun safely as not. coolness and confidence are equally necessary--but practice alone will bring these. a beginner is apt to be flurried when the game gets up; she sees nothing else, thinks of nothing else but killing it, and takes no account of the beaters, guns, or dogs surrounding her. she points the gun at the bird or beast, and perchance (horrid thought!) follows it all round the compass with her finger on the trigger! wherefore it is better she should not take the field with other guns (unless she wishes to make enemies of her best friends), until she has full command over the gun and can put it up easily and quickly. if the game gets up too near, she must wait till it has reached the proper distance, _then_ raise the gun to her shoulder and fire at once. this is the only way to become a quick and steady shot. _apropos_ of following; once when grouse-driving i was placed in a butt between two other guns, both of them strangers to me. they looked _very much_ askance at me, and i fancy one of them thanked his stars he'd insured his life the week before! the one in the left hand butt at once moved both his "guards" on to the side of the butt next me. soon three birds, the forerunners of the army to follow, came over between my right-hand neighbour and me, two of them making straight for his butt. to my surprise he did not fire. the third bird i hit with my first barrel, and seeing as it passed me that it had a leg down, i turned round and killed it going away from me with the left barrel. after the drive was over i asked him why he hadn't shot. "to tell you the truth," he said, "i was watching you. i was a little anxious to see if you would _follow_ that bird, but after that, i saw you were _all right_!" my left-hand warrior confessed, later on, that he had been peppered by the gun on the other side of him! whereat i chuckled! as to the gun used, everybody must please themselves. i shoot with a -bore, the left barrel slightly choked, weight lbs., and loaded with - / drachms black powder, / oz. no. shot. for covert shooting, e. c. or schulze is better, it is quicker up to the game and almost smokeless. a -bore makes killing easier, but the extra weight, at the end of a long day, counterbalances this advantage. i shot with a -bore belonging to a friend one day last winter, and was perfectly astonished at the way and the distance it killed, but you have to be _very_ dead on to make good practice with so small a bore. a gun to fit you should come up to the shoulder quite easily, and, without any adjusting, you must bring the sight straight on to the object. if you see all down the barrel, the stock is too straight, if, on the contrary, you see nothing but the breech, it is too much bent and you will shoot under everything. but i would advise the beginner to go to the "worth" of london gunmakers (mr purdey), put herself in his hands, and, like the sartorial genius of paris, he will turn her out fitted to perfection. an indiarubber heel-plate is sometimes a wise precaution, to avoid a bruised shoulder and arm, which if you happen to be going to a ball, does not perhaps add to your beauty! the left-hand should be held _well forward_. this gives much more power over the gun, it also looks much better. with regard to the position of the feet, it is well to recollect that elegance _is_ compatible with ease! it is a matter of some difficulty, at first, to judge distance correctly. the novice generally begins by blowing her game to bits, to make sure of killing it, i suppose, though in reality this makes it far harder. the other extreme, firing very long shots, is equally reprehensible, as nine times out of ten the game goes away wounded, even when occasionally it is dropped by a fluke. any distance between twenty and forty yards is legitimate, though the latter is rather far for a hare going away from you. _never_ hand the gun cocked to an attendant, and always unload when getting over a fence, and on putting the gun down for luncheon. now for a few words on aiming; but i must here protest that this does not profess to be a shooting "bradshaw," but merely, as it were, an a b c guide! for a beginner, no doubt the easiest way, in the case of any ordinary crossing shot, is to put up the gun on the object, then fling it forward as far in front as is thought fit, and fire, but, after a time, i think this kind of double action will no longer be found necessary. the gun will be put up _at once_ in front of the game, the eye taking in by instinct and practice the line of the object, and experience telling how far in front of the game to hold the gun. this is certainly true with regard to ground game. quite high-class aiming is to put the gun up a little before the head of the object, and swing the gun forward with the bird, pulling the trigger _without stopping_ the gun. this is beyond doubt the best and most correct method, but not easy to accomplish. i take it for granted that you shoot with both eyes open. it is impossible to lay down a rule how far in front to hold the gun for a crossing shot. it depends upon the pace the bird is going, and its distance from you, but, roughly speaking, for an ordinary shot at twenty-five yards, the object's own length in front _may_ be enough (but i write this with some diffidence). for a driven bird or high pheasant, my experience is, you can't get too far ahead! for a rabbit or hare going away from you aim at the back of its head; coming towards you, at its chest. one of the greatest charms of shooting is its "infinite variety." let us take for example, to begin with, a day's covert shooting. the waggonette with its pair of matched bays (of course we have the best of everything--on paper) stands at the door. you pack yourselves in, with a goodly amount of rugs and furs, and away you go, ten miles an hour, through the park. there has been a sharp frost, the cobwebs are all glistening in the sun, and the road rings under the horses' feet in a manner ominous to the lover of the chase proper, but music in the ears of the shooting-man. the leaves are mostly off the trees, but here and there some few remaining ones shiver gently to the ground; the bracken is brown and withered, and rustles crisply as the deer brush through it, startled at the sight of the carriage. the wind is keen and biting, but you turn up your fur collar and defy "rude boreas." arrived at the starting point you take, on your way to the first cover, two or three rough grasses. the rabbits having been previously ferreted and otherwise harried, have forsaken their strongholds, and have, so to speak, gone under canvas--they are dotted about all over the fields in seats. (it is astonishing how easy it is, until the eye becomes practised, to miss seeing a rabbit in a seat.) you form a line, a beater or two between each gun across the pasture. before you have gone ten yards, a rabbit jumps up from underneath a beater's foot, and makes tracks for the nearest hedgerow or plantation, only, however, to fall a victim to the right-hand gun. the report alarms another, who, without delay, seeks to follow in the steps of his predecessor, but a charge of no. interferes with his scheme, and he also succumbs to fate. soon the fun becomes "fast and furious," four or five rabbits are on foot together, necessitating quick loading and steady shooting. here one breaks back through the line, and comes past you full tilt. you take a rapid look round to see that no unlucky beater lurks in the rear picking up the wounded--bang--ah! you didn't allow for the oblique line of bunny's course, and were half a foot behind him. the second barrel, however, stretches him a corpse on the field of battle. at the end of the pasture runs a narrow strip of plantation. here the shooting is more difficult. the brambles are very thick; you have to take snap-shots as the rabbits bounce from one thicket to another. you must fire where you think he'll _be_ (not where he is), but even this manoeuvre is not always successful, as that old man who has been acting as stop at the end of the strip will tell you. "nobbut eleven!" says he, "there's bin fortty shots fired! ah coonted 'em!" conscience-striken, you look at one another, and positively tremble before the scorn depicted in that old man's eye. then comes a small outlying covert. two guns placed back to back command the end--the rest go with the beaters. a wood-pigeon is the first to make a move, which it does with a tremendous bustle and fuss; it affords a pretty shot, coming straight overhead, and falls with a "plop" behind you. next to take alarm is an old hare. she scampers through the brushwood, staring _behind_ her, and makes for her usual exit--a hole in the hedge, little knowing, poor thing, that she is galloping straight into the jaws of death, for your neighbour's unerring weapon promptly does its duty. then, maybe there arises a wild shout, a discordant "tally-ho!" followed by sundry yells of all shades, and a banging great fox breaks away across the stubble, disappearing in the fence only to emerge again in the pasture. i think a fox one of the most beautifully-proportioned animals there is. he is built on such racing lines! with those long galloping quarters, that deep chest, and muscular neck. look at him as he steals away over the grass without an effort; he doesn't appear to be going any pace at all, and yet in a moment he is out of sight! no hurry, my friend! you may take it easy to-day, but in a very short time you'll dance to another and a quicker tune played by - / couple of the "best hounds in england!" meanwhile, four rabbits have taken advantage of your soliloquy to make good their escape. you fire a snap-shot at one as he bobs into the fence. "mark over," and a pheasant whirrs over the top of the wood. you hastily cram a cartridge into your gun, raise it and pull, only to find that you've forgotten to cock the right barrel; you change on to the left trigger, but this has put you "off," the pheasant goes scathless, and is handsomely knocked down by your companion-in-arms. perhaps this is an argument in favour of a hammerless gun! on reaching the big covert the aspect of things is changed. the guns are placed at intervals down the rides, and the beaters go to the far end to bring it up towards you. it is always well to let the guns on either side of you, know your whereabouts, both for your own sake and theirs. only let us hope you won't meet with the treatment that a friend of ours received. he was placed next to a very deaf old gentleman. aware that he could not make him hear by calling, or (which is much preferable) by whistling, he took out his handkerchief and waved it to attract his attention. the old gentleman caught sight of it, put up his gun and took a steady and deliberate aim at it! you can easily imagine how our friend ducked and bobbed, and threw himself prone on the grass round the corner! after a pause a distant shot is heard, then another, and soon you hear the tap tap of the beaters, and "rabbit up," "mark over," "hare to the right," may be continually heard, unless, as in some places, silence is enjoined on the beaters. "mark cock" is, however, everywhere an exception to this rule, and at the magic words, every gun is on the alert! i never understand why a woodcock should be productive of such wild excitement and reckless shooting as it generally is! the bird flits through the trees a little above the height of a man's head, looking as easy to kill as an owl, but it is a gay deceiver, for barrel after barrel may discharge its deadly contents at it, and still that brown bird flits on as before, turning up and down as it goes. of course (on paper) _you_ are the one to kill it, when you are loaded with congratulations--their very weight testifying how unexpected was the feat. rather a doubtful compliment! half the wood being shot, the guns move round to the outside. what has hitherto been done, has been chiefly a means to an end. the pheasants have been driven with the object of getting them into this particular corner. possibly the wood stands on the slope of a hill; this gives the best shooting, as the birds fly over the valley affording high and difficult shots, especially if coming down-wind. i think there is nothing prettier than to see real high birds well killed. they fall like stones, with heads doubled up--not waving down, wings and legs out-stretched like the arms of a semaphore! "thick and fast they come at last, and more, and more, and more." but do not let this tempt you into firing too quick. pick your bird and kill it, though i grant you this is not an easy thing to do. many men seem quite to lose their head at a hot corner. they fire almost at random, though, in the case of a few birds coming, they will scarcely miss a shot. by this time it is growing dusk. the december afternoon is closing in. there is a mist rising from the river, the air feels damp and chill, and your thoughts turn to a bright fire, a tea-gown, and those delicious two hours before dinner. to my mind, grouse-shooting is the cream of sport. to begin with, scotland itself has a charm which no other country possesses. then it is such nice clean walking! however much you may curtail your skirt, _mud_ will stick to it, but on the heather there is nothing to handicap you--you are almost on a level with man! from the moment you leave the lodge on a shooting morning, your pleasure begins. the dogs and keepers have preceded you. a couple of gillies are waiting with the ponies. you mount, and wend your way over the hill road, ruminating as you go, on the possible bag, and taking in, almost unconsciously, the bewitching feast that nature with such a bountiful hand has spread before you. on either side a wide expanse of moorland, one mass of bloom, broken here and there by a burnt patch or some grey lichen-covered boulders. the ground gently slopes on the right towards a few scrubby alders or birches, with one or two rowan trees, the fringe of green bracken denoting the little burn which to-day trickles placidly along, but in a spate becomes a roaring torrent of brown water and white foam. beyond is a wide stretch of purple heather, then a strip of yellow and crimson bents, dotted with the white cotton-flower. the broken, undulating ground, with its little knolls and hollows, tells of nice covert for the grouse when the mid-day sun is high, and the birds are, as an old keeper used to say, "lying deid in the heather." further away rise the hills in their stately grandeur, green, and olive, and grey, and purple; how the light changes on them! one behind the other they lie in massive splendour, and, more distant still, the faint blue outline of some giant overtops the rest, with here and there a rugged peak standing out against the sky. and, pervading all, that wonderful, exhilarating, intoxicating air! rounding a bend in the road, you come across three or four hill-sheep, standing in the shade of the overhanging bank. startled, they lift their heads and gaze at you, then rush away, bounding over the stones and heather with an agility very unlike the "woolly waddle" of our fat leicesters. anon, in the distance, you see donald and the dogs on the look-out for you, the dogs clustered round the keeper, a most picturesque group. when you reach them and dismount, a brace of setters are uncoupled and boisterously tear around, till peremptorily called to order. you take your guns, etc., the dogs are told to "hold up," and the sport begins. in a few moments "rake" pulls up short, and stands like a rock; "ruby" backs him. you advance slowly, always, when possible, at the side of the dog standing, and pause for your companion to come up. rake moves forward, a step at a time, his lip twitching and his eyes eager with excitement; another second and the birds get up. seven of them. (here let me give the beginner a hint. take the birds nearest you and furthest from your companion, never shoot across him, don't change your bird, and don't fire too soon.) you re-load and walk up to where they rose, there will probably be a bird left. up he gets, right under your feet. you let him go a proper distance, then neatly drop him in the heather. this kind of thing is repeated again and again, varied by an odd "bluehare," or a twisting snipe. the dogs quarter their ground beautifully, it is a pleasure to see them work, for grouse are plentiful, the shooting good, and they are encouraged to do their best. perhaps there may be a bit of swamp surrounded by rushes in which an occasional duck is to be found. the dogs are taken up, and the guns creep cautiously forward, taking care to keep out of sight till within shot. you then show yourselves simultaneously on the right and left, when the birds will generally spring. remember to aim _above_ a duck--because it is always rising. later on in the season grouse get wilder, and the shooting consequently more amusing. the old cocks grow very wary, but sometimes, coming round the brow of a hill, you light suddenly on a grand old fellow, who, with a "bak-a-bak-bak," rises right up into the air, turns, and goes off down-wind forty miles an hour. catch him under the wing just on the turn--a lovely shot. if you miss him he won't give you another chance that day! by way of variety you are sometimes bidden to assist at a neighbouring "drive" for black game and roe. on one occasion we were asked to join a party for this purpose. we set off with an army of guns and beaters, some of the former decidedly inexperienced ones. it is, of course, essential in roe-driving, that you should, when in position, keep absolutely still. it was known that two bucks with exceptionally fine heads frequented the wood, and our host was anxious to secure them. my husband was placed in a very likely place, and there, in spite of midges and flies galore, he possessed his soul in patience. suddenly he thought he heard a footstep; the sound was repeated, and, cautiously moving to discover what it might portend, he saw the gun stationed next him calmly patrolling up and down, flicking away the midges with his white handkerchief! my husband didn't get that buck. after luncheon, our party was reinforced by the butler and the french cook. both arrived with guns, which they carried "at the trail," at full cock over the roughest ground. the chef was a long, lean, lank, cadaverous man looking as if he wanted one of his own skewers run down him. he was dressed in shiny black clothes and wore _enormous_ slippers. comfortable enough, no doubt, on the _trottoir_ of his "beloved paris," but scarcely suitable for the hill! so he seemed to find, for he shortly retired, when we felt considerably happier. another time, the best wood, the _bonne bouche_, was carefully beaten through while we were discussing a _recherché_ champagne luncheon. just as we finished, the shouts, cries, and discordant noises which denote the approach of beaters, were heard, and shortly after, one of the keepers came up and informed us that the whole wood had been gone through and that seven roe, to say nothing of a red deer had been seen! evidently "someone had blundered." i do not myself think there is much sport in roe-driving. to begin with they are such pretty graceful animals, one cannot kill them without remorse. also it requires very little skill to put a charge of shot into them even at a gallop. nor is a grey-hen a difficult bird to kill. heavy and slow--what mr jorrocks calls "a henterpriseless brute"--it flops along through the birch trees (though, when driven, and coming from some distance it acquires much greater speed), looking more like a barn-door fowl than a game bird; but the sultan of the tribe is quite a different thing. wild, wary and watchful, he is ever on the _qui vive_. when you do get a shot at him he is travelling by express, and having, most probably, been put up some distance off, he has considerable "way" on. you see his white feathers gleam in the sun, and the curl of his tail against the sky. shoot well ahead of him. ah! great is the satisfaction of hearing the dull thud as he falls, and of seeing him bounce up with the force of the contact with mother-earth. truly, an old black-cock is a grand bird! his glossy blue-black plumage, white under-wings and tail, and red eye make such a pleasing contrast. i remember once, when grouse-driving towards the end of the day, the beaters brought up a small birch wood which stood near the last row of butts. there were two or three ladies with us. one of them, a most bewitching and lovely young woman, accompanied a gallant soldier into his butt, to mark his prowess. as luck would have it, nine old black-cock flew over that brave colonel's butt, but, strange to say, _four_ went away without a shot, and not one of the nine remained as witnesses of his skill! now, let me point out, had that said charming girl been _shooting_, she would have been stationed in a butt by herself, and, judging by that soldier's usual performance, at least five of those old black-cock would have bitten the dust that day! and "the moral of that is"--give a graceful girl a gun! the hill ponies are wonderfully sagacious animals. when they have been once or twice over a road, they will never mistake their way. once, when staying in sutherlandshire, two of us started at · a.m. we rode about four miles, before beginning to shoot, over a very bad bit of country. there were two burns to ford, some curious kind of grips to jump, and several boggy places to circumnavigate. we shot away from home till about · , then met the ponies and started on our ride home--about nine miles. we neither of us knew the way, beyond having a vague idea as to the direction in which the lodge lay. the first part was easy enough, a narrow sheep-walk guided us, but at length that failed, and there was nothing for it but to trust to the ponies. we could only go at a foot's-pace. the september evening fast closed in, and it came on to drizzle, until, for the last two miles, we could scarcely see two yards before us, and yet those ponies brought us home--over the two fords, avoided the treacherous grips and the boggy places, never putting a foot wrong the whole way! it was long past nine when the lights of the lodge hove in sight. truly that night's dinner was a "thing of beauty" and bed seemed a "joy for ever!" two days later found me keen as mustard to scale the heights of ben hope for ptarmigan. it was almost the only game bird, except capercailzie, i had never shot, and i was extremely anxious to seize an opportunity of doing so. five guns set out. we rode a considerable distance, until the ground became too soft for ponies to travel. arrived at the foot of the hill i gazed in dismay at its steep, stony height, and felt like the child in the allegory who turns back at its first difficulty! but pluck and ambition prevailed, and i struggled gamely up, though, hot and breathless, i was forced to pause more than once ere we got even halfway. we had agreed that, on no account, were we to fire at anything but ptarmigan. when we had ascended about feet a covey of grouse got up. one of the sportsmen, nay, the very one who had been foremost in suggesting that ptarmigan only should be our prey, turned round, and feebly let fly both barrels, wounding one wretched bird which disappeared into the depths below, never to be seen again! as the report reverberated through the hill, the whole place above us seemed to be alive with the cackling of ptarmigan, and, in a moment, without any exaggeration at least twenty brace were on the wing at once, making their way round the shoulder, over the green corrie to the highest part of ben hope. i think the spectre of that grouse must haunt that sportsman yet! of course there were a few odd birds left, and, before we gained the top, we had each picked up one or two, though, through another contretemps, i missed my best chance. i had unwillingly, over a very steep and rocky bit of ground, given up my gun to the keeper. the moment after i had done so, two ptarmigan got up to my left, offering a lovely cross shot, and, before i could seize the gun, they fell, a very pretty double shot, to our host on my right. when we reached the summit, we found ourselves enveloped in a thick fog, although down below it was a brilliant hot day; so dense was it, that, notwithstanding we were walking in line, some of us got separated, and it must have been almost an hour before we joined forces again. altogether it was a hard day's work, but, having attained my object, i was sublimely indifferent to everything else. driving is certainly the form of shooting that requires the most skill, whether it be grouse or partridge, and is most fascinating when you can hit your birds! grouse-driving appears to me the easier of the two; partly because they come straight, and partly because you can see them much further off, also they are rather bigger, though they may, perhaps, come the quicker of the two. nothing but experience will show you how soon you can fire at a driven grouse coming towards you. some people get on to their birds much quicker than others. i have heard it said that as soon as you can distinguish the plumage of the bird, he is within shot. aim a little above him if he is coming towards you--a long way ahead if he is crossing. if you shoot with two guns, i assume that you have practised "giving and taking" with a loader. otherwise there will be a fine clashing of barrels and possibly an unintentional explosion. the cap and jacket for driving must be of some neutral tint, any white showing is liable to turn the birds. of course you must be most careful never to fire a side shot within range of the next butt. a beginner is more apt to do this, from being naturally a slow shot at first. the same rules hold good for partridge-driving, only there you usually stand behind a high hedge, consequently you cannot see the birds approaching. you hear "ma-a-rk" in the distance, and the next moment--whish! they are over, scattering at the sight of you to right or left; take one as he comes over you, and you may get another going away from you--or a side shot--provided there is no gun lower down whom you run the risk of peppering. walking up partridges in turnips affords the same kind of shooting as grouse over dogs; not bad fun when they are plentiful, but hardish work for petticoats! if a hare gets up and bounds away, the moving turnip-tops will be your only guide to her whereabouts, aim rather low, or the chances are you fire over her back. a curious incident once happened when we were partridge shooting. two hares were put up, and running from opposite directions up the same row they "collided," and with such violence that one broke its neck and the other was so stunned that it was picked up by a beater! the irishman might with truth have said--"man, they jostle one anoither." and this in spite of the ground game act! you will occasionally come across snipe in turnips. they are horrid little zig-zagging wretches! if you wait till their first gyrations are over, they do, for a second, fly straight (for them), and even a -bore can sometimes lay them low. i once shot a quail. i mistook it for a "cheeper" minus a tail, and gazed placidly at its retreating form, murmuring to myself, "too small," when i was electrified by a yell--"shoot, shoot!" being trained to habits of obedience, i promptly did as i was told, and brought the "little flutterer" down. a quail in a turnip field! i should as soon have expected to meet one of the children of israel. on a winter afternoon, _faute-de-mieux_, shooting wood-pigeons coming in to roost, is a pastime not to be despised, but it is very cold work. a windy evening is the best; luckily pigeons always fly in against the wind, so you can get on the leeside of the plantation and shoot them coming in, or you can ensconce yourself under the shelter of some fir-boughs near the trees in which they are accustomed to roost. a pigeon takes a lot of killing, he possesses so many feathers; then he has an eye like a hawk, and can turn with incredible speed. if there are several guns in different woods you may easily get in an hour or two, and often many more. of the grandest sport of all i grieve to say i can write nothing. i have never had the chance of a shot at a stag. it is not possible to describe a stalk by hearsay only; besides, in my remarks hitherto, i have recorded nothing which has not come within my own actual experience. i can, however, easily imagine the intense pleasure of being well brought up to within, perhaps, yards of a good stag, the excitement of having the rifle thrust into your hands with a whispered "tak' time," the cautious raising of the weapon to a rest, the anxious moment as you take your sight and gently press the trigger, and the supreme delight of hearing the "thud" of the bullet as it strikes, and as the smoke clears off, of seeing him stagger a few paces and fall "never to _rise_ again." i forbear to draw the reverse side of the picture. of course, in many forests, stalking is quite feasible for ladies, though not within reach of all. i confess i envy those fortunate individuals who have, more than once, compelled some "antlered monarch of the glen" to bow his lofty head and lower his colours at their bidding! with regard to dress--i believe, for those who can endure the feel, wearing all wool is a great safeguard against rheumatism, chills, and all evils of that ilk. but, on this subject, every woman will of course please herself. i will therefore merely give an outline of my own get-up. a short plain skirt of harris tweed, with just enough width to allow of striding or jumping, a half tight-fitting jacket to match, with turn-up collar and strap like a cover-coat, pockets big enough to get the hands in and out easily, a flannel shirt and leather belt, or, for smarter occasions, a stiff shirt and waistcoat. knickerbockers of thin dark tweed, high laced boots with nails, or brown leather gaiters and shoes. if a petticoat is worn, _silk_ is the best material for walking in. i have neither mackintosh nor leather on my dress, i dislike the feel of both. for wet weather, a waterproof cape, with straps over the shoulders so that it can be thrown back, if required, in the act of shooting, is very convenient. but there is really only one essential in a shooting costume. it must be loose enough to give the arms _perfect freedom_ in _every_ direction--without this, it is impossible to shoot well or quickly. one last hint. never go on shooting when you are tired. it will only cause you disappointment, and others vexation of spirit, for you will assuredly shoot under everything. bird after bird will go away wounded, time after time your mentor (or tormentor) will cry "low and behind, low and behind," until, in angry despair, you long to fling the empty cartridge at his head. take my advice "give it up, and go home!" that the above notes may not be free from numerous sins of omission and commission, i am well aware. it would be great presumption on my part to suppose that my feeble pen could do what many men have failed to accomplish. but if any hints i have given prove of service to beginners and encourage them to persevere (even though at present, like the old woman's false teeth "they misses as often as they hits"), my pleasant task will not have been in vain. mildred boynton. a kangaroo hunt. by mrs jenkins. it has been said "an englishman is never happy unless he is killing something," and nowadays, at any rate, his happiness seems increased if members of the weaker sex share this propensity with him; and so a short account of a kangaroo hunt may not be inappropriate in a book about women's sports. this is an exclusively australian pastime, and has peculiar incidents of its own from the start to the finish. we do not see pink coats and heavy hunters, the bay of the hounds does not break on our ear, there are no hedges to leap, nor brooks, followed by a flounder through a ploughed field; we do not come home in a cold drizzle at the end of a delightful day, and sit near the fireside, wondering whether there will be a frost before morning, and whether the mare's legs will last this season. no, our hunting is done under a bright sun and balmy breezes, and, though we miss the prettiness and order which accompany a meet in the "auld countree," still, there is a rugged beauty about our surroundings. the horses are well-bred, though many of them not well groomed; the riders are graceful and plucky, and the _tout ensemble_ makes a fair picture to the lover of horseflesh and sport. well, friends have come together, the kangaroo hounds (they are a cross between the deerhound and greyhound,) are let loose and gambol round the horses, letting out short barks of satisfaction as the riders mount. off we go. the country is hilly and thickly-wooded, logs lie in all directions, but our horses, bred in the district, pick their way, and go at a smart canter in and out of trees, and jump the logs as they come to them. a low hist! from the leader of the chase--he is the owner of the station--mounted on a thorough-bred bay, the hounds stand a second with pricked up ears, and their heads high in the air, for they run by sight; then off they go, and off we go after them. the kangaroos, six in number, led by a big "old man," spring along at an amazing pace, crash goes the brushwood, here and there a hound rolls over, making a miss at a log, but, in a second, he is up again, straining every nerve of his graceful body to reach his companions. we are nearing a wire fence; will the kangaroos be caught before we come to it? if not, some pretty riding will be seen, and british pluck will be needed to carry horse and rider over a five-feet fence, topped with barbed wire. however, our courage is not to be tested this time; the fleetest hound has the "old man" by the throat, the rest of the pack come up, and in a few moments all is over. a boy skins the victim and the tail is cut off, later on to make soup. now we have a consultation as to which way we shall go. it is getting near luncheon time and our host wants us to camp on a pretty bend of the river, so we take our course in that direction, spreading over a good space, and all keeping a good look-out. we are ascending a mountain, the way is stony, and, as we go along, the scenery continually varies. hill after hill rises before us, separated by deep gorges, all thickly timbered and abounding in ferns and flowering shrubs. the magpies warble and the thrush whistles its piping note, interrupted now and then by the shrill laugh of the jackass. but some kangaroos have been sighted, and even the most ardent lovers of scenery are at once on the alert. up and down hill we go, with many a slip and a scramble, horse and rider none the worse. the kangaroos rush at a tremendous speed, some of them carrying a young one in their pouch; one poor beast is so hard pressed she throws the young one out of her pouch; it hops away through the grass, to be caught later by friendly hands and carried home as a pet. no such luck for the mother, the hounds are on her and she is rolled over, and on they go again in pursuit of her fleeter companions. a big fence has scattered them, but one, more plucky than the rest, makes a frantic spring. alas! the quick run has been too much for his powers and he gets caught on the merciless barbed wire. the foremost rider, thinking the kangaroo would clear it, is preparing to take the fence in a flying leap, but the sight of the kangaroo caught makes the horse baulk, and crash they all come down together. with a wonderful quickness the rider rolls himself away from the fallen horse and is helping the animal up, both none the worse, except for a few scratches and a good shaking. everyone is now agreed that luncheon has been well earned, so we ride and drive (for a buggy and pair of ponies have been following in our tracks) to a favourite spot. and what a sight breaks on our eyes! we are in a valley, with hills towering around us, the river makes a sharp bend, along the banks are a mass of wattle trees in full bloom, the beautiful yellow flowers lighting up the dark green leaves and reddish brown bark. the sky is cloudless, and a little way off, lies a herd of devon cattle, quietly chewing the cud, and mildly wondering what has brought such a large party, evidently bent on play instead of work, to their retreat. we see a ripple on the still, deep, flowing water, and a platypus swims along quickly to his nest on the bank. a little lower down we hear the whirr of the wild duck, which have been disturbed by our coming. a fire is soon lighted; one is told off to unpack the basket of good things; another grills some steak, someone else undertakes potatoes, the oldest bushman of the lot says he will regale us with "johnnie cakes." these are made of flour and water and a little salt, rolled very thin and cooked in the ashes, and very good they prove to be; and last, but not least, we make the tea, boiling the water in a tin pot and putting the tea into it. in about half an hour our various cooks have all ready, and we lie about on the grass and satisfy the cravings of hunger. after that pipes are lighted and stories go round of former exploits, how wild horses have been caught and tamed, how thousands of kangaroos have been driven into yards made for the purpose and died of suffocation in the crowd; of adventures with wild cattle and blacks, etc., etc. more serious subjects, too, are being discussed in twos and threes; for there is something quiet and soothing in the scene around, that brings to mind memories long forgotten, joys and sorrows long past, and amid this picture of peace and beauty, friends talk and open their hearts to each other, and realise the fact that nature can preach a more eloquent sermon than is heard from many a pulpit. but everything in this world must come to an end; the horses are caught and harnessed and we all jog homeward. on the way the younger spirits of the party have a gallop after stray kangaroos and bring the tails back with them as trophies. one incident in the last chase may be worth mentioning. the kangaroos are bounding along, with the hounds and horsemen close behind them. they come to a three rail fence of heavy timber; without a miss the kangaroos take it in a flying leap and apparently without any extra exertion; over go the hounds, and the horsemen follow to a man, then the excitement increases for they are coming to a big lagoon; splash goes a kangaroo into it and now we see a real fight. the kangaroo stands up to his neck in the water, beating about with his legs, and the hounds swim around. a young one, not knowing the danger, makes a snap at his throat, he is instantly seized in the animal's arms and his back broken. poor daisy! your hunting days have been short and you had yet to learn that discretion was the better part of valour. the older hounds keep swimming round, gradually coming nearer, and several at once make snaps at different parts of the kangaroo. a hand-to-hand fight takes place, the kangaroo ripping and wounding the hounds with his powerful hind claws; but the plucky beasts keep their hold, and amid yelps of rage and pain, the splashing and reddening of the water, and the shouts of the huntsmen to encourage the hounds, the victim sinks, after a vigorous struggle for his life. as we drive down the mountains the sun is setting, banks of heavy clouds are rising, tinged with purple, and prophesying a thunderstorm, which is made more sure by the distant roar we hear. there is a stillness in the air, broken by the cracking of the brushwood and the ominous cry of birds. suddenly a streak of lightning startles us, followed by a loud crash which echoes round and round. we hurry home, and only arrive just in time to escape a thorough soaking, for the rain comes streaming down. beatrice m. jenkins. cycling. by mrs e. robins pennell. "there should be nothing so much a man's business as his amusements." substitute _woman_ for _man_, and i, for my part, cannot quarrel with mr stevenson's creed. our amusements, after all, are the main thing in life, and of these i have found cycling the most satisfactory. as a good healthy tonic, it should appeal to the scrupulous woman who cannot even amuse herself without a purpose; it has elements of excitement to attract the more adventurous. it is a pleasure in itself, the physical exercise being its own reward; it is a pleasure in what it leads to, since travelling is the chief end of the cycle. that women do not yet appreciate it at its true worth, that, as a rule, they would still rather play tennis or pull a boat than ride a bicycle, is their own great loss. cycling is the youngest of woman's sports. it did not come in until the invention of the tricycle, or three-wheeled machine; necessarily it was out of the question for anyone wearing skirts, divided or otherwise, to mount the tall bicycle, or "ordinary." in tricycles, invented at a still earlier date, were first practically advertised, and one of the authors of the book on cycling in the _badminton library_ says, that already in that year "tradition told of a lady rider, who, in company with her husband, made an extended tour along the south coast; and in quiet lanes and private gardens feminine riders began to initiate themselves into the pastime." but, despite the courage of their pioneer, not until a few years later did they desert private lanes for public roads, and then it was only in small numbers. had they been more enterprising, a serious hindrance in their way was the fact that at first makers refused to understand their requirements. the early tricycles made for us were meant to be very ladylike, but they were sadly inappropriate. it was really the tandem which did most to increase the popularity of the sport among women. the sociable, where the riders sit side by side, was the first of the double machines, but it is an instrument of torture rather than of pleasure, as whoever has tried to work it knows to his or her cost. its width makes it awkward and cumbersome even on good roads, and when there is a head wind--and the wind always blows in one's face--the treadmill is child's play in comparison. the tandem, on which, as the name explains, one rider sits behind the other, takes up no more space than a single tricycle and offers no more resistance to the wind, and this means far less work. besides, for many women to have a man to attend to the steering and braking, in those early days was not exactly a drawback; but even with the tandem progress was not rapid. i remember my first experience in , when i practised on a coventry "rotary" in the country round philadelphia, and felt keenly that a woman on a cycle was still a novelty in the united states. i came to england that same summer, but the women riders whom i met on my runs through london and the southern counties, i could count on the fingers of one hand. the humbers had then brought out their tandem, and for it my husband and i exchanged our "rotary," and started off in the autumn for italy, where we rode from florence to rome. i have never made such a sensation in my life, and, for my own comfort, i hope i may never make such another: i ride to amuse myself, not the public. it was clear that italian women were more behindhand than the english or americans. there are, nowadays, more women riders in france, probably, than in any country, but in the summer of , on the road from calais to switzerland, by sterne's route, i was scarce accepted as an everyday occurrence. single tricycles improved with every year, and the introduction of the direct-steerer, or well-known "cripper" type, assured their popularity. more attention being paid by makers to women's machines, more women were seen on the roads. then came the greatest invention of all, the "woman's safety." a certain benevolent mr sparrow, had, some years before, in to be accurate, built a woman's bicycle, a high one with the little wheel in front, something like the american "star"; but the awkwardness of mounting and dismounting made it impracticable. men had been riding the dwarf bicycle for two or three years before one was introduced with a frame that made it as suitable and possible for women. how near this brings us to the present, is proved by the fact that in the badminton book, published in , though there is a chapter on "tricycling for ladies," there is nothing about bicycling for them. i experimented in with a tandem safety, on which the front seat was designed for women, and then the single safety, with a dropped instead of a diamond frame, was already in the market. but it had made slight headway. in america it grew more rapidly in favour. the average road there is worse than here, and therefore the one track--the bicycle's great advantage--was much sooner appreciated. cycling for women has never become fashionable in the united states, but, in proportion, a far greater number of american women ride, and with almost all the safety is the favourite mount. in france also the sport is more popular with women than in great britain, and one might almost say that it is the safety which has made it so. riding through prussia, saxony and bavaria in the summer of , i met but two women cyclists, and they both rode safeties. in england, however, women, until very recently, have seemed absurdly conservative in this matter; they clung to the three wheels, as if to do so were the one concession that made their cycling proper. a few of the more radical--"wild women" mrs lynn linton would call them--saw what folly this was, and many have now become safety riders; but not the majority. only the other day, in bushey park, i met a large club on their saturday afternoon run; half the members were women, but not one was on a bicycle. this, i know, is but a single isolated instance, but it is fairly typical. and yet the safety is the machine of all others, which, were my advice asked, i would most care to recommend. and i would have the wheels fitted with cushion tyres--the large rubber tyre with a small hole down the centre--or, better still, with pneumatics, the tyres that are inflated with air. both deaden vibration. the latter necessitate carrying an air-pump and a repairing kit, for if the rubber be cut or punctured, as frequently happens, the air, of course, escapes at once, and the cut or puncture must be mended and the tube blown up again, which means trouble. but the many improvements introduced make the task of repairing easier every day. my career as a bicyclist began in , but, short as it may seem, i think it has qualified me to speak with authority. for my little marriot, and cooper's "ladies' safety," carried me across central europe, and as far east as the roumanian frontier. my experience agrees with that of all other safety riders, men or women. the chief advantage of the machine is, as i have said, its one track, but this cannot be over-estimated. roads must be, indeed, in a dreadful condition if space for one wheel to be driven easily over them cannot be found. the bicyclist can scorch in triumph along the tiniest footpath, while the tricyclist trudges on foot, pushing her three wheels through the mud or sand. moreover, there is less resistance to the wind, and in touring, it is far easier to dispose of the small light safety than of the wider machine when you put up in a little inn at night, or are forced for a time to take the train. many a night in germany, austria, and hungary did my bicycle share my bedroom with me. the chief drawback to the safety is usually found in learning to mount and steer. i shall be honest, and admit that there is a difficulty. the tricycle has the grace to stand still while the beginner experiments, but the safety is not to be trifled with. sometimes it seems as if a look were enough to upset it. of course, at first, it is well to let someone hold and steady it until its eccentricities are mastered, for it is entirely in the balancing that the trouble lies; the mount in itself is as simple as possible. the rider stands to the left of the machine by the pedals; taking hold of the handle bars she slowly wheels it until the right pedal is at the highest point, turns the front wheel a little to the right, and puts her right foot on the right pedal; this at once starts the machine and raises her into the saddle, and as the left pedal comes up, it is caught with her left foot. the great thing is to have confidence in the machine; she who shows the least fear or distrust is completely at its mercy. to dismount is as simple: when the left pedal is at its lowest point, the right foot is brought over the frame and the rider steps to the ground. if a sudden stop be necessary, she must put the brake on, not too abruptly, or she may be jerked out of the saddle. the steering is the true difficulty in safety riding, and yet it cannot well be taught; it must come by practice, with some very painful experiences in the coming. the obstinacy of the safety seems at first unconquerable. during my apprenticeship, many a time have i been going in a straight line with every intention of keeping on in it, when, without warning, my safety has turned sharply at a right angle, rushed to the ditch and deposited me there. but the funny part of it is, that the woman who perseveres, gradually, she can scarcely explain how, gets the better of its self-willed peculiarities until she has it under perfect control. the best plan is, in the very beginning, to take a few practical lessons. there is an excellent teacher to be found at singers' shop, in holborn viaduct, where a cellar paved with asphalt is kept as a school. the beginner would do well to practise there until she can at least sit up on the machine and balance it a little, and until she begins to understand the first principles of steering. at this point in bicycling education i would urge her to leave the schoolroom for the high road. if she waits until she is too far advanced on asphalt, where the machine goes almost by itself, she may have to commence all over again on an ordinary road. she should learn what is called ankle action from the start. once the cyclist gets into a bad style of riding it is hard for her to get out of it; and the more the ankle comes into play the less strain is there on the muscles of the legs. a good rider expends half as much energy and makes far better time than the woman who has not mastered the art. if going up hill be exhausting, why, then it is wise to walk. going down, if the hill be long, the brake must be used from the start, and to know how to back-pedal is important. to back-pedal is to press on the pedal when it is coming up instead of when it is going down. nothing could be more dangerous than to lose control of a machine on a down grade. some of the most serious accidents have been the result of the rider's letting her cycle run away with her in coasting. i have enumerated the virtues of the bicycle. as to its vices, i do not find that it has any. an objection often is raised against it because, if brought to a stand-still by traffic or any other cause, the rider must dismount at once. but i do not count this a serious hardship; i have never been inconvenienced by it. again, it is urged that the luggage-carrying capacity of the safety is small compared to that of the three-wheeled machine. this is truer of the woman's than of the man's bicycle, since we, poor things, must carry our knapsack behind the saddle or on the handle bars, while a most delightful and clever little bag is made by rendell & underwood to fit into the diamond frame of a man's safety. but, for a short trip, actual necessities--that is, a complete change of underclothing, a night-dress, and a not too luxurious toilet case--can be carried in the knapsack slung behind. for a long trip it is always advisable to send a large bag or trunk, according to the individual's wants, from one big town to the next on the route. luggage suggests the subject of dress, as important to the woman who cycles as to the woman who dances. a grey tweed that defies dust and rain alike, makes the perfect gown; if a good, strong waterproof be added, a second dress will not be needed. for summer, a linen or thin flannel blouse and jacket--perhaps a silk blouse, for evening, in the knapsack--and, for all seasons, one of henry heath's felt hats complete the costume. for underwear, the rule is wool next the skin, combinations by choice. woollen stays contribute to one's comfort, and each rider can decide for herself between knickerbockers and a short petticoat. there is something to be said for each. this is practically the outfit supplied by the cyclists touring club for its women members. as for style, an ordinary tailor-made gown, simple rather than elaborate, answers the purpose of the tricyclist. the bicyclist does not get off so easily. even with a suitable dress-guard, and, no matter what the makers say, the dress-guard should extend over the entire upper half of the rear wheel, there is ever danger of full long skirts catching in the spokes and bringing the wearer in humiliation and sorrow to the ground. many strange and awful costumes have been invented to obviate the danger--one that is skirt without and knickerbockers within; another that is nothing more nor less than a shapeless bag, when all that is needed is a dress shorter and skimpier than usual, with hem turned up on the outside, and absolutely nothing on the inner side to catch in the pedals. now, the trouble is that for the tourist, who carries but one gown, and who objects to being stared at as a "freak" escaped from a side show, it is awkward, when off the bicycle, to be obliged to appear in large towns in a dress up to her ankles; she might pass unnoticed in great britain, but on the continent she becomes the observed of all observers. at the risk of seeming egotistic, i will explain, as i have already explained elsewhere, the device by which i make my one cycling gown long and short, as occasion requires. there is a row of safety hooks, five in all, around the waistband, and a row of eyes on the skirt about a foot below. in a skirt so provided, i look like every other woman when off the machine. just before i mount, i hook it up, and i wheel off with an easy mind, knowing there is absolutely nothing to catch anywhere. i have read in cycling papers many descriptions of other women's bicycling costumes, but never yet have i discovered one which, for simplicity and appropriateness, could compete with mine.[ ] [ ] since printing this, a few englishwomen have appeared on the public roads in knickerbockers, and have made, as was to be expected, great talk in the cycling press. frenchwomen gave them the example; in france, there is scarce a woman bicyclist who has not adopted knickerbockers, or else a sort of gymnasium dress. of the greater comfort and safety secured, there can be no question; the chief drawback to this costume, especially for the tourist, is its conspicuousness. on all that concerns touring, it is important to dwell, for it is in travelling on the road that women must find chief use for their cycles, and this they have had the common sense to realise. quite a number belong to the cyclists' touring club, and are among its more active members. true, a few have appeared on the path, have turned the highway into a race course, and occasionally, have broken records and done the other wonders to which i, personally, attach no value, whether they be performed by men or women. mrs j. s. smith, whose husband is the manufacturer of the "invincible" cycles, has with him, on his "sociable" and tandem, run at several surrey meetings and in other places, and her feats are included in the list of the world's records. mrs allen of birmingham, once rode two hundred miles in twenty-four hours. fraulein johanne jörgensen, the woman champion of denmark, is fast breaking the records of her own country, and threatens to come over and break those of england. the ease with which mrs preston davies (wife of the inventor of the preston davies tyre) rode up petersham hill, though not exactly a record, made quite a little talk among cyclists. miss reynolds, who rode from brighton to london and back in eight hours, is the heroine of the day. we have even seen a team of women professionals imported from america only to meet with the failure they deserved. but, fortunately, these are the exceptions. i say fortunately, because, while i am not prudish enough to be shocked by the mere appearance of women on the path, i do not think they have the physical strength to risk the fearful strain and exertion. if men cannot stand it for many years, women can still less. cycling is healthy; to this fact we have the testimony of such men as dr richardson and dr oscar jennings, whose books on the subject should be consulted by all interested; especially dr jenning's "_cycling and health_," since in his chapter on "cycling for women," he has collected together the opinions of leading authorities. like everything else, however, if carried to excess, cycling becomes a positive evil. it can be overdone on the road, but here the temptations are not so great. i know many women who have toured often and far, and are none the worse for it. there are few, however, who have taken notable rides. mrs harold lewis of philadelphia, once, with her husband, travelled on a tandem from calais across france and switzerland, and over some of the highest swiss passes. in the elwell tours from america--a species of personally-conducted tours on wheels--women have more than once been in the party. but of other long journeys so seldom have i heard, that sometimes i wonder if, without meaning to, i have broken the record as touring wheel-woman. but the truth is, that, while every racing event is chronicled far and wide in the press, the tourist accomplishes her feats without advertisement, solely for the pleasure of travelling by cycle. and what stronger inducement could she have? hers is all the joy of motion, not to be under-estimated, and of long days in the open air; all the joy of adventure and change. hers is the delightful sense of independence and power, the charm of seeing the country in the only way in which it can be seen; instead of being carried at lightning speed from one town to another where the traveller is expected and prepared for, the cyclist's is a journey of discovery through little forgotten villages and by lonely farm-houses where the sight-seer is unknown. and, above all, cycling day after day and all day long will speedily reduce, or elevate, her to that perfect state of physical well-being, to that healthy animal condition, which in itself is one of the greatest pleasures in life. women have used cycles for other purposes. doctors ride them to visit their patients, the less serious go shopping on them. clubs have been formed here, and more successfully in america. there is at least one journalist, miss lilias campbell davidson, who is on the staff of the _bicycling news_ and the _cyclists' touring club gazette_. but, when all is said, the true function of the cycle is to contribute to the amusement and not the duties of life, and it is in touring that this end is best fulfilled. elizabeth robins pennell. punting. by miss sybil salaman. that punting is an art, and a very graceful one, was borne in upon me late one hot, lazy, summer afternoon, while idly musing under the verandah of a houseboat on the upper thames, and from that day to this, one of my most ardent desires has been to become an expert punter. it was in the prettiest reach on the river, just above the lock, that the houseboat lay. the sun was setting behind the trees, and tinting with a rosy glow the mist that was creeping up from the bank. perfect peace was over the scene, and did not nature abhor silence as much as she does a vacuum, i might almost say that silence rested upon the river. but birds sang, now and then a fish would jump, curl its silver body in the air, and return to its watery home with a splash, the mooring chains of the houseboat were grating as the river rippled by, and in the distance was the hissing sound of the weir. suddenly there came a noisy intrusion, the peacefulness was disturbed, the air was full of discordant voices and the irregular splashes of ill-managed oars, for the lock-gates had opened and let loose a crowd of noisy, scrambling, saturday half-holiday folk. happily, they soon passed by, and the sound of their incongruous chatter and laughter, and intermittent splashing followed them out of my ken, and then all was quiet and peaceful again, and i was left gazing dreamily at the disturbed fishes darting about in the shallow water where the houseboat lay. presently a gentle rippling sound caused me to look up. a girl was punting past, there was no splashing, no scramble, apparently no effort. the girl never moved from where she stood, only her body swayed backwards and forwards on her pole, easily and evenly, and the long straight craft glided by, answering to every touch. i hardly realised then that this slim, graceful girl was doing all the work herself, it looked so easy and simple. the water bubbled aloud under the bow of the punt, and the girl's shadow floated on the water, the red sunlight lay like a pathway before her, and the ripples seemed to part to make way for her as she brought her punt steadily along. she made a lovely picture, and i watched her as she went down the river, in the rising mist and the sunlight, marvelling at the straight line she kept, watching the monotonous motion of the pole rising and falling, and listening almost unconsciously for the hollow ring of the shoe striking on the hard ground, till a sudden bend in the river took her out of sight, though, for some time, i still saw the top of her pole over the bushes rhythmically rising high in the air and disappearing from view. from that moment i decided to be a punter--this girl was once only a beginner--surely, i thought, there was hope for me. i need not dwell on all my personal experiences--there is a great sameness about the first efforts of all punters, they all go round in circles. but there are certain hints which beginners will do well to follow. first of all they must not be discouraged by the inevitable clumsiness of their first endeavours, the ease and grace of punting comes only after much experience. to the girl who wishes seriously to become a punter, it is far better, having once understood the principle by which a punt is propelled and steered, to go out and struggle alone. if someone is always by to take the pole from her, should any difficulty arise, she will not gain that independence which is so absolutely essential to every punter. just a word as to dress. a good punter can dress as she pleases, but all beginners get wet; no one can teach them how to avoid this until they have acquired a certain style. therefore i should recommend a serge skirt, not too long, that will stand any amount of water, a loose blouse, with sleeves which can unbutton and roll up; shoes with low heels, and, for preference, india-rubber soles, as they prevent slipping if the punt be at all wet. as in rowing and sculling the work in punting is distributed all over the body, and does not only exercise the arm, as so many beginners imagine. in punting, all the weight of the body should be thrown back on the pole with the push, which, by the way, should never be given until the shoe has gripped the ground. this brings into play all the muscles of the back, shoulders, and arms, also the hips. this upright position is attained by swinging the body back on the pole when the shoe has gripped the ground, while one foot is firmly planted a little in advance, and the other leg rests behind with bended knee, thus enabling the arms to be kept nearly straight and the hands well over the water. punting in this stationary position is technically called "pricking." of the different styles of punting i shall speak more fully later on. the greatest difficulty for the beginner is to keep the punt straight, but to achieve this it is only necessary to be always watching the bow of the punt, and to remember that whichever way the top of the pole points, the bow will run in the opposite direction. in steering there are, practically speaking, two strokes--in one the pole is thrown in away from the side of the punt, which brings the bow in towards the bank, and in the other the pole is dropped in under the bottom of the punt, which turns the bow away from the bank. a punter, by the way, always punts from the side nearest the bank. but the steering should not be perceptible, and must never be allowed to detract from the strength of the stroke. it is effected, as i have said, by the angle at which the pole is thrown in, and also by the position of the shoe on the ground at the finish of the stroke. the direction of a punt with "way" on is altered by the slightest touch. the very bad habit of steering with the pole behind off the ground, using the pole as a rudder, is never practised by good punters. in very deep water, or in a strong stream, it must either break or strain the pole, and it is not nearly so quick or effectual a way of steering as the proper method i have described. there are two ways of punting, known respectively as "pricking" and "running." roughly speaking "running" is more general on the upper river, that is, above windsor, and "pricking" on the shallower and less muddy waters of staines and sunbury; though "pricking" is much more popular in all parts of the river than it was a year or so ago--very few people "run" punts below maidenhead now. for "running" all the weight should be in the stern. the punter must not go too far forward up the bow or she will stop the "way" of the punt. a steady pressure should be kept up while walking down the punt once the pole is thrown into the water, and a strong push given at the finish in the stern. if the pressure is too great at the commencement of the stroke, by the time the stem is reached the bow will have run out into the stream, so that, at the finish of the stroke, too much force has to be used to bring the punt in again. this detracts from the speed and causes a zig-zag course. as in "pricking," there should not be too much steering. it is impossible, in "running" a punt, to steer entirely without the effort being perceptible. against a strong stream and wind, and with a heavy load it is often far easier to "run." for "pricking," the punter assumes a stationary position in the stern, about a third of the way up the punt and facing the bow, while all the weight to be carried is put in front of the punter. the pole must never be reversed to bring the punt in or out, but kept the same side, that is, in the shallow water nearest the bank. the pole should be thrown in as near the side of the punt as possible without scraping it each time. this enables the punter to keep an upright position, and exert more force than if the pole were held far away from the punt. a pole is taken out hand over hand, and should be recovered in as few movements as possible. in racing especially a quick recovery is a very great advantage. it should be taken out in two movements in shallow water, so that a fast punter would be ready to throw in her pole for the next push before a punter with a slow recovery had taken her pole out of the water. of course, in very deep water, two movements will be found impossible. in an ordinary way, and going up stream, the pole is thrown about opposite to with the body, but going down, in a very strong stream the pole should be thrown in some way in advance of the body, otherwise the punter loses her grip on the ground in consequence of the stream carrying the punt so rapidly on that the pole floats uselessly out in the stream, and no time is given for the push. a punt can be stopped dead by reversing the pole--not to the opposite side of the punt, but by throwing it in in the opposite direction to that in which the punter is pushing. a punt is sometimes considered somewhat awkward to turn, but the distance of her own length is nearly enough in reality if she is turned properly! when the "way" on her is stopped the pole should be thrown in the other side, across the deck--the shoe pointing a long way off from the punt, so that the pole slants right across, the punter facing the stern. this stroke repeated once or twice will turn a punt almost in her own water. when crossing strong streams, the bow must be kept well up against the stream, or the current will carry the punt right round. in a strong wind the same precaution is necessary. it is sometimes easier in much wind to push the punt backwards--the stern foremost, the punter standing in the bow. a punt is not so much influenced by the wind with all the weight in front, and is therefore easier to keep straight. if the bow is out of the water, it is blown from one side to the other, and it is often very difficult to steer. in the wash of a steamer punters should keep away from the bank, or the punt may be swept on to it, when it will probably ship water. in going over new ground, it is well to be prepared for mud or loose shingle. if there has been any dredging, the ground is always loose, and it is easy to lose one's balance if quite unprepared for the ground crumbling away under a hard push. the same thing takes place with an unexpected deep hole, where the pole is flung in and cannot reach the bottom. if a punter be always prepared for these things, there is no danger, but an unthinking beginner is apt to throw in her pole fiercely, and on finding it stuck fast in the mud, she will probably fall in herself if she clings to it valiantly but foolishly. never cling to a pole therefore--rather let it go. for this reason, or in case of accidentally breaking a pole, punters should always carry an extra one in the punt. some people have straps on the outside of their punts for extra poles, but these are apt to be a nuisance in locks, and they spoil the trim and neat appearance of a punt. beware of a wooden bottom to a lock, for the shoe of the pole may stick fast in the wood and the bow of the punt swing round across the lock-gates. a punt has one great disadvantage. in a lock full of boats, perhaps half the number of people do not know how to manage their own boats, and have not the least idea how to get out of the lock. therefore they are apt to dig their boat-hooks into the nearest punt, if they can, and expect to be towed out. so, while looking out for a wooden bottom to the lock, beware also of those "boat-hooks fiends" who do not think it necessary to learn how to manage their boats so long as they can splash about with a pair of sculls, and trust to a punter guiding them safely out of locks. keep the pole between the punt and the side of the lock to avoid the greasy sides. double punting, that is two persons punting together simultaneously, is very effective on the river. to do this the punter may stand in various ways, but i consider the best is for both punters to stand in the stern, almost back to back, one a little in advance of the other, to set the stroke. this necessitates hardly any steering, for, with a pole on each side, the punt will keep itself straight if both strokes are of equal strength. in turning, the inside one should hold the punt steady, while the other pushes--the punt will then turn as on a pivot. some people stand at opposite ends of the punt, with both poles one side, but i cannot recommend this method, because too much weight is then thrown on to one side, and a punt will not travel well unless properly balanced. in all double punting little or no steering should be required if both work well together. but wherever the punters may stand, the most important point is to keep time--perfect time. this is a _sine qua non_ in all good double punting. nothing looks so bad as to see two persons double punting when quite regardless as to time. both poles must be recovered together and in the same number of movements, otherwise it looks a scramble, and the poles appear to be of different lengths. the principle of steering is, of course, the same in double punting as in "pricking" and "running," only that here the work is divided, the business of one being to bring the bow in, the other to take it out. punters must never interfere with each other's stroke, and never seem to be waiting. if the last stroke has been too strong, so that it has sent the punt out of the ordinary course, or not strong enough, so that she has run in, the punter should not wait till her fellow punter's stroke has corrected the fault, but should throw in her pole in time with the other, even if no pressure be required at all, just to keep the time. the strongest punter should be at the back, if there be any difference. punts vary from the heavy fishing ones to the narrow and unsteady racing craft. but a useful punt for ordinary work is about feet wide and feet long. the seat is arranged about to feet from the deck, allowing just room for the punters to stand. this is, of course, intended for "pricking" from the stern. a semi-racer, to hold one person besides the punter, is about inches or feet wide, about feet long. a racing punt about or inches wide and from to feet long. really the most important item to a punter is the pole, though many inexperienced people give all their attention to their punts, while they think almost any pole will do, in which they are very much mistaken. the pole is, if anything, more important than the punt itself. for my own part, i prefer to any other a made pole about or feet long. for hard work and long distances this is certainly the best. great attention must be paid to the shoe. if the prongs be too close they will pick up stones continually, and probably split the pole or break. the best shoe for ordinary work is shaped something like a horse-shoe, but the prongs must not incline inwards on account of stones. the prettiest and most graceful shoe is one with rather long prongs, not too close, made of nickle-plated iron. the shoe should always be heavy enough for the pole. poles are made of various woods, and steel tubing has been tried, but these, however, have not been found very practical. larch poles are apt to splinter, red larch are better, but they are not very strong, and they are very difficult to obtain, while they are seldom quite straight. bamboo poles are very well for a calm river, with little or no stream, but they are not much use for hard work, they are so light that they are always inclined to be top-heavy. all bamboos should have very heavy shoes, and even then they must be heavily weighted in addition. it is almost impossible to get them heavy enough at the bottom. a pole should sink at once, and not require pushing down. it will be found that a bamboo has to be held down, or it will rise of its own account and float out, giving no time for the push. they are considered unbusiness-like by serious punters. but sometimes at regattas they are found useful. the henley course, for instance, is very deep all the way along the meadow side, even quite near the bank, therefore a long pole is necessary, and these are apt to be very tiring and heavy when punting all day. a bamboo must never be left out in a hot sun when it is wet, or it will crack between the joints and when put back into the water will fill, so that the water runs out over one's hands and arms. but of whatever kind the pole may be it must be properly balanced, and not top-heavy. the lightest punt will not make up for a badly-balanced pole. in racing this should be remembered. it is customary to "prick" from the middle of the punt in racing. a stroke called the overhand push is much used for speed. after the first push is given, and the pole is bent with the chest, without moving the back foot, only the heel of the front one, and, turning the body, a second push is given. the advantage of this is that the punter is able to push twice without taking the pole out of the water, and a longer swing of the body is accordingly obtained. when women race, they do so in ordinary punts, not in racing punts. there are not many punting races open exclusively to ladies; in fact, as far as i can ascertain, they are only included in the programmes of the regattas at goring and streatly, at wargrave and at cookham, and the thames ditton and hampton court aquatic sports. at the maidenhead and taplow town regatta there is a lady's and gentleman's double punting race, and there is some talk of a ladies' punting championship competition being inaugurated at maidenhead. in spite of the paucity of punting races for ladies, however, there are several ladies in various parts of the thames whose style and speed have won for them something more than local renown. for instance, at staines, there are mrs hamilton, miss kilby and mrs george hunter; at maidenhead, miss ethel lumley and miss annie benningfield; at bray, miss maud lumley; at hampton, miss d. hewitt, who in ' won the ladies' punting competition at the hampton court and thames ditton aquatic sports. in addition to these, there is mrs sharratt of surly hall hotel, better known, perhaps, as miss ada morris, the daughter of the lock-keeper at bray, who has the reputation of being one of the best punters, if not the best, on the thames. some people punt canadian canoes, but this, though pretty when well done, does not come under the heading of serious punting. the practice of paddling punts is often indulged in on crowded courses, such as henley in the regatta week, but this i need hardly say is never done by good punters. even there it is far better to use a long pole. in conclusion, i think i may say that there is no prettier sight on the whole river than a girl, neatly dressed, punting well and gracefully; but, like riding, it is an exercise which must be done well. a hot-looking girl struggling with her pole is a spectacle that must excite anything but admiration from either the river or the bank. good style and ease, so important in punting, come only after much practice. sybil salaman. the end. colston and company, printers, edinburgh new publications. the ghost world. by t. f. thiselton dyer, author of 'church lore gleanings.' s. d. 'the literature of what may be called ghost-lore is familiar to him. so far as we know there is no book in our own or any other language which exactly corresponds with mr dyer's book.'--_notes and queries._ social studies. by lady wilde, author of 'ancient legends of ireland.' s. 'lady wilde's "social studies" is a clever book of essays.'--_saturday review._ gossip of the century: personal and traditional memories--social, literary, artistic. with more than portraits. by the author of 'flemish interiors.' vols., royal vo, pp., s. 'in these two large and beautifully-printed volumes we have a great amount of the century's best gossip.... the two volumes are, in fact, a kind of encyclopædia of gossip about monarchs, statesmen, doctors, writers, actors, singers, soldiers, men of fashion.'--_daily news._ from kitchen to garret: hints for young householders. by mrs panton. a new and revised edition. s. this work of mrs panton on the furnishing and decorating of houses, and the management of a household, was first published in december . it has since been seven times reprinted. the work has now been closely revised by the author, and new information on many subjects incorporated in the text. many new illustrations have been added. _new edition._ that hated saxon. by the lady greville. illustrated by e. j. ellis. s. d. 'lady greville's book is wholesome in tone and spirited in incident, and its soundness in equine and canine matters is of course beyond suspicion.'--_times._ the twilight of love. being four studies of the artistic temperament. by charles h. brookfield. s. d. 'one is charmed throughout with the profound knowledge of human nature, the keenly humorous, even where scornful, appreciation of character, and the terse, bright style of the author.'--_saturday review._ by a himalayan lake. by 'an idle exile.' author of 'in tent and bungalow.' s. d. 'the picture of anglo-indian society, with its lights and shadows, is done with an admirably light and effective touch, and the dialogue is both natural and crisp. altogether a clever, bright book.'--_pall mall gazette._ _new books for boys at three shillings and sixpence._ england's great generals (marlborough, clive, wellington, napier, gough). by the late professor c. d. yonge. s. d. roy of roy's court: a story of the napoleonic wars. by william westall. illustrated by e. j. ellis. s. d. 'mr william westall is among our best adventure writers, and "roy of roy's court" is quite one of his best tales.'--_times._ those midsummer fairies. by theodora elmslie, author of 'the little lady of lavender.' with many illustrations. s. d. 'it is a picturesquely and gracefully-written account of a few summer months spent in a lovely country place by a small boy and his chums.'--_pall mall gazette._ ward & downey, ltd., york street, covent garden. w. belch's _british sports_. (price ^d. col^d.) [illustration] _printed, published & sold by_ w. belch, _newington, butts, london_. w. belch's editions of children's books. _price d. coloured._ entertaining views scenes from nature rural scenes youthful sports birds beasts fishes and insects fruit and flowers alphabet of nations british sports foreign sports capitals of europe nursery calculations, or a peep into numbers. s. & s. d. children's books, plain and coloured. _plain & coloured lotteries, very great variety._ d. d. s. and s. d. drawing books, plain and coloured. british sports, for the amusement of children [illustration: pheasant shooting.] see the fowler takes his aim, to bring down the feather'd game; september season is the time, when these birds are in full prime. london. _printed, published & sold by w. belch, newington butts._ [illustration] rabbit shooting. how happy & frisky the rabbits appear, prancing & skipping without any fear; but alas, their enjoyment is like to be short, by the aim of a gunner who seeks them for sport. [illustration] badger baiting. baited by dogs, the badger dies, a cruel sport it thus supplies, the skin is by the furriers bought, and thus for gain & pleasure sought. [illustration] horse racing. goaded with spurs they seem to fly, like lightning to the human eye, stretch out their necks to gain the post, while thousands on the course are lost. [illustration] stag hunt. the timid stag with eager bounds, strives to escape pursuing hounds; in vain he flies he's doom'd to die, whilst shouts of huntsmen rend the sky. [illustration] coursing. they beat the bush to find a hare, and thus for a long chace prepare; poor gentle puss thy fate is hard, and it with pity i regard. [illustration] fox chace. the fox is reynard sly and cunning, often with our poultry running; to hunt him yields a manly sport, and numbers to the chace resort. [illustration] angling. angling will oft our patience try, ere we a dish of fish supply; yet many love the rural sport, and to the brook or lake resort. school pieces, (in very great variety) with three whole-sheet flourishing ditto, _plain and coloured_. isaiah jehu isaac and rebekah samuel and saul queen elizabeth christ's sermon on the mount nathan's parable life of saint paul miraculous draught of fishes jeptha's rash vow whittington and his cat coronation life of christ life of joshua life of solomon life of moses life of joseph life of job life of jonah life of pharoah life of abraham acts of the apostles adam and eve deserted village pope's prayer pilgrim's progress lord's prayer ten commandments apostles' creed naaman cured of his leprosy creation of the world morning hymn evening hymn revelation of st. john queen sheba's visit to king solomon noah's ark david and goliah daniel in the lion's den robinson crusoe king alfred beggar's petition chevy chase economy of human life seven wonders of the world conversion of st. paul captain cook horse soldiers balloon god save the king rule britannia edward the black prince death of ananias pharisee and publican three warnings end of time. _with additional new ones annually._ slip copies, black lines, map files, and flourishing school-piece books. the sportswoman's library. vol. ii. [illustration: _from a sketch by w. l. wyllie, a.r.a._ _for the sportswoman's library._ _punts racing._ (_the start._)] the sportswoman's library. edited by frances e. slaughter. volume ii. [illustration] with illustrations by w. l. wyllie, a.r.a., cuthbert bradley, and from photographs. westminster: archibald constable & co., new york: longmans, green, & co., . dedicated by permission to the marchioness of worcester a keen sportswoman and wife of one of the foremost sportsmen of the age. birmingham: printed at the guild press. , great charles street. the sportswoman's library. vol. ii. contents. preface. . cruising and small yacht racing on the solent. miss barbara hughes. . punt racing. mrs. w. l. wyllie. . in red deer land. mrs. penn-curzon. . chase of the carted deer. the editor. . women's hunters. the editor. . otter hunting. mrs. wardell. . salmon fishing, with notes on trout and coarse fishing. susan, countess of malmesbury. . fly fishing. the editor. . driving. miss massey-mainwaring. . cycling. mrs. a. c. hills. . fancy figures and musical rides. miss van wart. . tennis. miss maud marshall. appendix a. glossary of nautical terms. appendix b. rules of lawn tennis. preface. when i look at the completed mss. of the first volumes of the _sportswoman's library_, i feel deeply grateful to the many good sportswomen who have aided me in my work, not only for the great stores of practical knowledge they have brought to bear on the several subjects of which we have treated, but for the way in which they have collaborated with me. for this my warmest thanks are due to them one and all. the object we have placed before us, is to give women the information and help they are not likely to find in those books, which are written chiefly from a man's point of view, and we have therefore avoided, as far as possible, trenching on ground that has been already adequately covered by those who, to sportsmen and sportswomen alike, are the best authorities on the various subjects. if, therefore, our writings sometimes seem to be wanting in completeness, it is, i venture to think, to be attributed to this cause. when i first gathered round me the body of contributors, some of whom were personally unknown to me, i could but feel that the many threads i held in my hand might prove to be a very "tangled skein," before the work was brought to completion. this foreboding, however, i am glad to say, was entirely without foundation, for each writer threw herself into her part with such genuine determination to do the best she could for the _matter_ of her work, that the minor details as to the _manner_ in which it should be given to the world, did not assume undue proportions, and there has been nothing to throw the slightest shadow over the harmony in which we have worked. that the effort we have thus jointly made to give some help to our sister-sportswomen may be successful, is to wish the writers the best reward they can have, for the labour they have bestowed. besides my fellow workers, i have a debt of gratitude to discharge to all who have so kindly assisted me. foremost among these i must acknowledge the valuable help given by lady gifford, mrs. pryse-rice, mrs. cheape, and miss lloyd, of bronwydd, without whose assistance i could not have ventured to write on the subject of hare-hunting: by mr. t. f. dale, author of _the game of polo_, whose great practical knowledge of sport has made him an invaluable referee on many important questions: by another good sportsman, captain the hon. r. c. drummond, who generously gave me the benefit of his advice on matters which have been a lifelong study to him: by elizabeth, lady wilton; lady theodora guest, lady gerard, lady dorothy coventry, mrs. wrangham, mrs. t. e. harrison, miss serrell, mr. c. h. bassett, late master of the devon and somerset staghounds; mr. ian heathcoat-amory, master of the tiverton staghounds; mr. w. l. wyllie, a.r.a.; miss maud earl, miss walrond, mr. cuthbert bradley, dr. lewis mackenzie, miss florence ritson, and mrs. dudley smith. i must also acknowledge the help so readily given by mr. charles lancaster, and messrs. holland and holland, on the sport with which their names are so closely connected, and i must thank those photographers who have exercised their skill on our behalf, viz.: messrs. lombardi and co., who, from the first, have helped us largely; messrs. lambert weston, j. weston and son, stuart, becken, and a. debenham. my thanks are also due to the proprietors of _baily's magazine_, _the field_, _the gentlewoman_, and _the lady's pictorial_. lastly, i must discharge the debt of gratitude i owe messrs. a. constable and co., for the unfailing courtesy i have met with at their hands, and for the hearty way in which they have thrown themselves into the interests of the book. whether we have all succeeded in our object, viz., to give clear, practical directions to women in the several outdoor recreations of which we have written, it is for our readers to determine, and on their verdict will depend the extension of our plan to other branches of sports and pastimes. to the great body of sportsmen, who so far have held almost undisputed sway in the realm of sporting literature, i would plead: "softly, my masters! do me this right--hear me with patience." the editor. beeding, march st, . [illustration: _miss barbara hughes._ _debenham and smith._ _southampton._] cruising and small yacht racing on the solent. how can i with my poor pen do justice to all the delights of yachting as practised on the solent? we need a nautical whyte melville to describe the joys of yacht-racing, and the real good sport which is its chief characteristic. what an exciting game it is, how enthralling, how interesting, and more important still, how wholesome. what a benefit for city men to get right away to the sea, and enjoy such a complete change and relaxation as this racing affords. and how much they do appreciate it is shown by the number of little boats owned by stockbrokers and others who can only get down occasionally, but, nevertheless, keep their boats out the whole season through, so as not to lose the chance of a sail when their opportunity comes. not on the principle that race-horses are kept, either, as every one knows there is no chance of a racing boat doing more than pay her own way at best, for the prizes are barely adequate to meet the expenses. yacht-racing makes quite a new interest in life. the clever mathematician can find a large field for his energies in the designing line, and the keen sailor a never-wearying delight in developing to the utmost the powers of the boat confided to him. how much better than the london drawing-room's close atmosphere is the fresh sea air, and the delightful freedom of bounding over the waves in a well-equipped craft, with the additional pinch of excitement afforded by racing. let me assure you no fear of sea-sickness need deter any. many of us would not be proof against a long channel swell in a large steamer, but the motion of our little boats over the diminished waves inside the wight, is not likely to upset any but the most pronounced bad sailor. besides, the excitement of racing drives away all qualms of that sort, sea-sickness being, i believe, in most cases the result of boredom and nervous anticipation as much as anything else. no one could hate "yachting" as generally accepted more than i do. anything so boring as a long sea voyage in a great lumbering schooner, i cannot imagine. the fact of "being taken," in nine cases out of ten, "where one would not," without having a hand in the matter, with a large crew of slow men to do all the work and take all the fun off one's hands, is to me nothing but an aggravation. the deliberate "cut and dried" way in which everything is done, the foresail being lowered and the peak eased when about two miles from the moorings, and such cautious measures, fidget me to death. there is this about racing, that one can never enjoy cruising in the same way after one has experienced its far superior joys. i must say, however, it is rather nice after the scrimmage of a long day's racing, to get on board a solid old cruiser and bundle peacefully home. but woe betide you if the wind is ahead, for you won't get home that night. no, you must be of a very leisurely disposition, and a great lover of nature, for you to appreciate stereotyped cruising. this kind of thing is about as different from our solent yachting, as the derby is from a margate donkey ride. of course i can understand the pleasure of cruising if the owner is also master of his vessel, but such a state of things is the exception, the owners mostly passing their time in standing about deck, or having large meals below, utterly oblivious of their course, their compass, or anything else. this must be a very stagnant amusement at the best, impossible to an energetic disposition, and only suited to an invalid, or man in his declining years. to people who lack any sporting instincts, racing, i suppose, seems ridiculous, but if they love the sea let them learn all about it, and navigate their own vessels like men, instead of being mere passengers on board their own craft, while their skipper is getting all the fun. some women have taken their own line in this matter, and having mastered the science of navigation, are most enthusiastic on the subject, realising how it enhances a hundred-fold the pleasures of a sea voyage. the news of a large schooner being on the stocks now-a-days comes as a surprise, as this type of vessel has almost entirely gone out of fashion in this country. that is to say, though there are still several to be seen about, the old ones being used because they are too good to throw away, so to speak, no new ones have been built for years. the advantages of steam are so great for cruising and travel, that they outweigh the more pleasant sensation of sailing, which is the schooner's only claim to superiority. the difference in the expense is not very great after all, as you require double the crew in a sailing craft, and at least double the time to accomplish your distance. so if you want to get--say to gibraltar--the chances are, that the extra time for which you are paying your crew, would easily cover your coal bill on the steamer. the auxiliary in nine cases out of ten proves a simple farce. many, i know, have never once set their sails. it requires all the crew of an "out-and-out" sailing boat, and also the great unwieldly spars, which make it a bad sea boat when not under canvas. i would only recommend an auxiliary to a real wanderer, a born "man of the sea" like lord brassey, for whom of course there is nothing like it. the variety afforded in sailing and steaming on a lengthened sea trip, must be attractive and resting, and when both courses are open, you would not need to carry so much coal as in a steamer, or endure the wearisome hours becalmed in a heavy swell, which are such a drawback to sailing. the discomfort people will endure in the name of yachting, has always been a marvel to me. the less they know about the life on board, the more you will find they patiently put up with. they seem to think because they are on a yacht, cleanliness, _cuisine_, even elbow-room itself, should be entirely abjured. the miseries that rational, civilised human beings will suffer in this respect, is a constant source of wonder, to those who know how unnecessary they are. not that these sufferers do not like yachting, for they are even persuaded to put their foot on board a yacht a second time after such experiences. it is only novices in the game, however, that you will find suffering these deprivations, for, believe me, there is no need for them. do not overcrowd your vessel, or cut her accommodation up into about a dozen little cabins, into which you would not put a dog on land. you really require double the room for living afloat that you do ashore, as even your exercise has to be taken on board. there is nothing to prevent your having most home comforts, a boiling hot sea-water bath every morning, for example, and your meals served as well as they are in your own house. neither need you have a bed only two feet wide, so that it is impossible to turn over without parting with the bedclothes. it is no longer necessary to go about on all fours, even in a -tonner, any size below which i would not recommend for a night's lodging. [illustration: _daphne and lil._ _west and son._ _southsea._] it is the custom of builders to furnish a small saloon with gigantic sideboards, or lockers, as they are called. these are ugly, clumsy, superfluous impediments, which are only made into receptacles for every sort of rubbish, and take up an immense amount of room. there is no need to have your store cupboard in the drawing-room, as by a little ingenuity ample room can be devised in the pantry, and in a safe on deck. another plan is to have a passage down the side from forward right away aft, which obviates the perpetual disturbance of the stewards passing through your sitting-room. there is then only one door, which necessarily makes a much cosier room. unless you are an assured good sailor, do not be beguiled into occupying the "after cabin," which is likewise called the "ladies' cabin." how it earned this appellation i am at a loss to explain, as i was always brought up to suppose ladies came first, and if they are relegated to the after cabin they very decidedly come off second-best. there is twice the motion aft that there is in the middle of the vessel, and in a steamer you feel twice the vibration, beside being right over the screw. how one gets spoilt! i remember sailing about as proud as punch in an old itchen ferry boat, with ragged sails and tarred topsides. the distances we used to cover, and the weather we went through in this old _zephyr_ are a wonder to look back upon. the whole day, from nine in the morning till nine at night, used to be spent on board, and the experience never palled, as far as i remember. large lunches were always provided, in case of our getting becalmed, or stuck on the mud, both very frequent occurrences. we were always out to tea, and to boil the kettle in a choppy sea was the great excitement. there was only a kind of dog-hole place forward, where this important function took place. it was a severe test for the best "sailor" to balance a hot lamp, head over ears in methylated spirits, the hot fumes of which inundated the small cabin, while she patiently waited till the water boiled. it was even worse at night, when a smelly paraffin lamp which would have made the atmosphere almost unbearable ashore, had to be endured, and in a small and lively boat was certainly trying. when we were "caught out" on our way home from some long expedition, the unfortunate women of the party used to be thrust into this salubrious resort, ostensibly for their own comfort, really and truly, to get them out of the way. that _was_ a place, when there were half a dozen women in there, a paraffin lamp, and the door shut! if one of us ventured so much as to open a chink of door, it was instantly shut again, with such exclamations from our male tyrants as--"whatever you want to come out for, into all this wet and cold, when you can be warm and cosy in there, i can't think," upon which the brow-beaten female crawled back disconsolate into her lair, muttering rebelliously. and yet we were nothing daunted. out we would be again with the dawn, to go through all the same thing without a dissenting thought. we had not even the luxury of a paid hand in those days, my brother, and my sisters and myself doing all the work, which was a splendid education in more ways than one. i reluctantly confess i am spoilt for this sort of thing now, though i shall always look back upon the time with pleasure, and i very much doubt if it was not one of the most enjoyable experiences in my life. it was all so new, so different from inland amusements, and i then learnt that a sea life has a charm all its own. in we hired a -ton old-fashioned yawl called the _fox_, with which we went in for the regular stereotyped cruising, as generally accepted. it was not a success, and i cannot say i enjoyed it. my back was always aching from stooping, and there was a permanent bruise on my head from constant impact with the beams. besides, we were always being thwarted in our most urgent desires by the weather--as the skipper said--_really_ by the incompetence of the vessel to cope with the elements. it was never worth while for instance starting with a head wind, as the time the yawl would take in accomplishing any distance, would have worn even job's patience to a shadow. of course we share the sailor's love of fishing, and two large trawlers have been built at brixham, by my brother and brother-in-law, for the special purpose. the _goddess_ was a huge great yawl, most comfortable below, and a grand sea boat. we did plenty of trawling in her, miles outside the eddystone, and made some grand hauls. she had an enormous great trawl-beam, and steam to get it with. night was the best time for fishing, and we were not spared if we happened to be enjoying our beauty sleep, when the momentous four hours were up. the row of course would have awaked the dead, and so we scrimmaged into our clothes and rushed on deck ready to claw the great net on board. a waterproof overall and indiarubber boots were essential for this performance, and old gauntlet gloves were a precaution against stinging fish, advisable for the uninitiated. what a grand sight it was. picture a bright moonlight night, when you were alone on the great rolling ocean, nothing in sight except perhaps the fitful gleam of the eddystone in the far distance. the great vessel with shortened sail, dipping and curtseying to the proud billows which toyed with her bulky form, as though it was nothing more than a feather. then amidst great shouting and racket, the huge trawl-beam was brought slowly alongside, and the heavy net was clawed on board full of treasures from "the hallowed precincts of the deep." what a flippering was there, from whiting, soles, red mullet, etc., etc. what wonderful curiosities do live in davey jones' locker. all kinds of leggy, finny, and jelly mollusca, none of them very appetising in appearance, and most of them imbued with some formidable means of defence, such as a sting or a prickle. once we got two enormous dog-fish, measuring five foot long, they were a great nuisance, as they cut the net all to pieces and were no good to man or beast. one of the best hauls we ever made was in the _wayfarer_, my brother's trawler, between torquay and dartmouth, when we had the whole deck full of fish, mostly whiting and soles, and the trouble was to get rid of them, even though we supplied every one in dartmouth, and that in the time of the regatta. brixham and bosham fishermen are much pleasanter to deal with than the self-styled "yachtsmen," and they give much less trouble, do more work and require less wage. the custom of making a friend of the "captain" is a huge mistake, as these individuals are usually the most wholesale extortioners that exist. the exorbitant wages they demand for filling a luxurious billet would stagger a longshoreman, and the petty pilferings, nominally perquisites, in which they indulge are what really make yachting so expensive. the familiar manner of some of these brass-bound autocrats is simply atrocious. they seem to consider themselves complete masters of the situation, and treat the owner and his friends as so much superfluous cargo to be ordered about at their desire. this, without any exaggeration, is the state of things on numerous yachts i could name, more especially those with lady-owners. to turn now to clothes, that all important point to members of my sex. i can only venture to suggest the merest hints, as really it is not a subject on which i am an authority, that is to say, if one is supposed to practise what one preaches. brown in any form is to be avoided on the water, it is unspeakably ugly, and a number of people dressed in brown on a boat would destroy its appearance, be it never so smart. nothing looks so well as white and red, or dark blue, but not black. blue gauze veils are useful, but not ornamental, though a broad-brimmed sailor hat embraces both these virtues. i have been twice to the mediterranean, once in a sailing boat, the _goddess_, and once in a steam yacht, the _normania_. so i will close my cruising yarns with a description of what we experienced at the hands of a greek pilot. we were between the piræus and corfu one evening when it came on suddenly very dark and dirty. being a very determined party of women on board, we made a stand for taking shelter behind one of the islands. we all "held a board" on the chart, but could see no harbour of refuge equal to sheltering our sumptuous craft. the little greek pilot however proved equal to the occasion. pointing out a small indentation in the coast, he urged us to confide in him, and he would guarantee us a peaceful night. accordingly we slowed down the engines, and made for a faint red light. the chart, by the bye, said this light should be green, but that was neither here nor there. there was a rocky promontory sticking out with a lighthouse on the end, where was the aforesaid red light that should have been _green_. this our valiant pilot steered straight for. it was blowing a sirocco, with thick rain and a heavy sea, nevertheless we all stood on the bridge to watch the hazardous venture. on we went, straight for the rocks where the rollers were breaking. it was becoming decidedly interesting, and as the chart evidently did not consider the place worth its serious attention, we could no longer look to that for guidance. very soon the darkness and hurly-burly of the storm lifted for a second, and displayed a most disorganizing prospect. we were almost on the beach on the starboard side, and could have thrown a biscuit into the lighthouse window on the port, and there was land right ahead. we were in a little pocket, a neck of rocks which ran parallel to the coast, taking the fury of the waves, and affording a good shelter. but a tighter place for a five hundred ton vessel could not be imagined. when we looked out of our ports in the morning, we were still more astonished, for without exaggeration we could have held easy converse with the people ashore all round the vessel, while our bow positively overshadowed the small quay. it was a place into which one would have hesitated to take a -tonner with twin screws in broad daylight, and for a -tonner to get in safely in a howling hurricane, and when it was pitch dark, was indeed a feat of ingenuity. of course it entailed backing out, but as the yacht fortunately was a very handy vessel, this was safely accomplished. such little incidents, which lend a piquancy to cruising dispel the monotony, and while they keep up the interest in the manipulation of your vessel, also serve to entertain your friends on getting home. yacht-racing is in every respect a sport suited to our sex. no unseemly gymnastics, no over-straining or over-tiring, no cruelty can be laid to its charge, in fact nothing to offend the most exacting upholder of the feminine. yet yacht-racing is open to abuse, though even here in a lesser degree, perhaps, than other amusements. where it stands alone, is that in it a woman can compete on equal terms with man. yacht-racing needs much study, and should not be attempted till the ordinary art of sailing is thoroughly understood. it is the most delightful education in the world, the most interesting and healthful. it becomes so engrossing you will not rest till you understand the whole thing, and know the why and wherefore of all the different moves. it is not advisable to order a boat of your own till you have served an apprenticeship as "hand." very few people are now contented to go as "hand" or "crew," every one preferring to "paddle his own canoe." nevertheless it is delightful to go in a well managed boat where you have full confidence in the skipper, and a beginner should certainly not be above it. she will then see how much there is in "handling," and realize how many races are won solely by clever management and attention to small details. at any rate do not attempt to have a boat of your own for the first time until you have secured an experienced racing skipper. when you have done this be guided by him entirely to start with, only you will do well to be still more particular than he is in adhering to the yacht racing association rules, which of course you should know by heart. if you are racing do what the skipper tells you instantly, and do not wait to ask the reason first, do that afterwards. the great secret of racing is to keep your wits about you, do everything "smartly," never hesitate or waver between two opinions at a critical moment, for that will merely lose you the race. the need of prompt decision is one of the most exciting features of racing, now it has been brought to such perfection. one _faux pas_ and you are done if the wind stops true, but on the other hand it seldom answers to give up, as you need never despair of the wind veering round and coming to the rescue, even if you have made a blunder. to be really good in a boat you should have done some single-handed work, but this is not to be recommended until you are well grounded in the rudiments of sailing, or you will very shortly be "well grounded" on something harder still. the single-handed matches in one-raters which were witnessed in and were excellent trials of skill, as was shown by the results. it is impossible to exaggerate the difficulty of sailing those boats single-handed in rough weather, for it is a task worthy of a sandow and a carter rolled into one, and the greatest _kudos_ is therefore due to those sportsmen who brought their boats safely across the winning line. there were some "lame ducks" too, through no fault of their own, and many i regret to say made but a poor show of their prowess. there is plenty of variety, however, in racing without going to any extremes, or attempting impossibilities like those single-handed matches. a half-rater would be quite as much as one man could manage properly in rough weather. [illustration: _becken._ _cowes._ _one-raters at cowes._] every year affords fresh interests, as the type of boat alters, for there is skill required to get them into trim and learn their ways. each individual boat, too, wants different handling, and it will often be a surprise to an adept in one boat, to find himself quite adrift in another. steering has been steadily becoming more difficult hitherto, but now i fancy there will be a return to the fixed rudders we began with, which are much easier to handle than the balanced ones of later years. the business will not then be as fidgety, or require such close attention, as with balanced rudders your boat which may be ever so light on her helm, will be constantly veering about and getting off her course, if you do not keep an undeviating watch on your steering. of course it all makes it more interesting, because more difficult, but in a way it is not an advantage for the helmsman to be entirely engrossed with his steering, unless he can conscientiously rely on his "crew" to do the rest. to enjoy racing to the full you should have it all in your own hands with no one to say you "nay," otherwise that spirit of independence--so rarely enjoyed by our sex--is lost. the sensation of being master of your own vessel, with the helm in your hand and a willing crew to do your commands, unquestionably, these are elements which should be experienced to be enjoyed. as a man is dependent on his eye for shooting, his hands for driving, his pocket for betting, so does he depend on his wits for sailing. to be a good skipper you must above all things have a clear head and plenty in it, for there is much to learn and to keep up. yacht racing has now attained to a pitch of perfection verging on science, and to succeed in it you must have observation, self-control, perseverance, good ready judgment and self-reliance, besides many other qualities too numerous to mention, such as patience and cheerfulness. there is nothing to compare to yacht-racing in my opinion for a woman's sport, calling into play as it does all these qualities, besides giving the wholesome enjoyment of an ocean life. i began my racing career practically in , though i had had some experience with a little boat called _fairy_, which my father had bought from picket of southampton. this boat had been built for letting out to pleasure-parties, and was nearly as broad as she was long. some years before this he--my father--had built the -tonner _vanguard_, and as he was a great connoisseur on boats he made a good hit in buying the little pleasure-boat, _fairy_. she and the _bird o' freedom_ were the pioneers of that now famous body the solent classes. with some slight alterations to the keel, and with the addition of a large jib to the sail plan, little _fairy_ proved herself capable of beating the _bird o' freedom_, which was then the greatest flyer of the day. this caused some surprise to the faculty--who were few in those days--and some of them decided to try and beat her the following season. consequently saw the _minima_ and _tootsie_ added to the list, and some jealous competitions ensued. [illustration: _west and son._ _southsea._ _ready for the start._ (_mynah, hoopoo, stork, and molly._)] the royal southampton and portsmouth corinthian yacht clubs came to the rescue and gave fortnightly matches for the small craft, as well as for the and footers. then the fun grew fast and furious, for the small boat racing having been given the necessary fillip, the designers put their best foot foremost and the sport was fairly started. a motley crew it was that assembled off the town quay every saturday fortnight. most of the boats were of the nice little cruiser type, slow as a country dinner party, nevertheless so enshrouded in canvas as to present a most sporting appearance. any deficiency in design was balanced by unlimited additions in canvas, no expense being spared in sailcloth to make up the necessary speed. and how zealous was the competition! life and death might have hung on the issue, judging by the ardour and agility displayed in the management of the boats. "every dog has his day," and this was the heyday of the dauntless amateur. an eager, perspiring, undefeated creature was he! minus hat and socks, having shed all superfluities in clothing, he gallantly plied his task before the mast. any effort to persuade him further aft, or into the "well," were unavailing. he loved to stand boldly up forward, the wind running riot through his hair, the poor boat shoving along all out of trim, owing to his misplaced weight, while he gallantly stood at attention, eager to signify that he was "ready for anything." however we shall see our hatless, sockless friend no more, his place being now filled by the peerless itchen ferryman at thirty shillings a week. the richest man now has the best boat, and if he does not get it the first time he goes on building till he succeeds. the same with the crew, the man with well-lined pockets gets all the best men by paying the best wages. but still even the designers are not wholly responsible for what their craft will turn out, as was proved by sibbick building the unsuccessful _white rose_ for the duke of york. other cases i could also mention where money was no object, and boat after boat untiringly turned out for the same owner, yet without success. then some lucky man may get a boat from the same designer which will clear the board for two or three seasons, her capacities having been all unknown to the designer himself. how we managed in those days of unlimited canvas with only two hands remains a mystery. what with the enormous topsail and all the extra gear it entailed, the long spinnaker, boom, etc., and the largest mainsail that could be crammed on, the wonder is that we ever gybed round a mark at all, without capsizing the whole lot overboard. the gear of course was very much stouter and the boats slower on their helms than they are now, or it could not have been done. we have the same crew on a one-rater now that we used to have on the -footer _lil_, which is most astonishing to think of when we compare the two boats. true they are practically the same _length_, but with what a difference in build. the _lil_ was a regular ship with her enormous spars and canvas, and her well timbered heavy hull and large cabin, whereas these little one-raters are mere cockle shells without half the amount of gear, nor are they nearly so hard on it. nevertheless, anyone will tell you it is impossible now-a-days to manage a one-rater properly with less than two hands, and _that_ with only two sails instead of four. the first race i think ever sailed by women was between us--my sisters and myself--in the _fairy_, and the miss coxes in their sister ship _colinette_, i believe the miss hammersleys also formed part of the rival crew. i have but a vague recollection of the whole thing, being too young at the time really to grasp the situation in its full value, or for it to make any great impression on my mind, as i was always being taken racing in some boat or other. in , we were again rivals in _verena_ and _lil_, one of the miss coxes always going in the former, and one of us in the _lil_. these were great wholesome boats with enormous sails, and we managed to do a lot of cruising between the races, which in those days only took place once a week. the _lil_ had quite a nice deep cabin which was the pride of our lives, pictures being hung in every available space, and little curtains and cushions to match. little _fairy_ meanwhile was "not quite dead yet," and in "came up smiling" to fight the battle and the breeze in a resuscitated form. that year she proved herself no mean opponent, and succeeded in making the same figure of merit as _thalassa_, the champion of the previous year. this success was due to a fin keel, an experiment of my father's which has since been through almost every imaginable variation, and still holds sway in a modified form among the smaller classes. in , miss cox built the _madcap_ at payne's, and divided the honour with _thalassa_, also a two-and-a-half-rater by payne. the latter belonged to colonel bucknill, whose daughters are now so well known on the solent. miss bucknill is indeed much sought after as a helmswoman, and with good cause, as she has learnt the work thoroughly and is as proficient at the helm as she is on the jib sheet. her father has raced steadily every season since , and she has almost always accompanied him and shared in the work most gallantly. i cannot be quite sure if we sailed _fairy_ or _lil_ that year, , but i think both went to the line, my brother also designed a five-rater with but little success, being young he had to buy his experience of course, and learnt the advisability of going to arthur payne in future. the year was a memorable one for us, as we were fortunate enough to possess the champion two-and-a-half-rater by payne. _hummingbird_ was a charming boat in every respect, comparatively roomy, a good sea boat, and a wonderful performer to windward. she gained twenty-five firsts and four seconds, out of thirty-eight starts, and succeeded in routing three creations of the famous g. l. watson. it was one of these, the _thief_, which my sister, mrs. schenley, had the misfortune to possess. a most uncomfortable little craft it was. only about five foot beam, with decks like sieves, and we were all crammed into little holes or cockpit places with only our head and shoulders out, for all the world like chickens coming out of an egg. that was really my introduction to racing. i had to work hard, as it was not the boat to take people in who did nothing. we were fortunate in securing charlie devis, who is now considered almost if not quite the best skipper on the solent. he was then little more than a boy, so we were all young and enthusiastic together, and despite the many drawbacks i think we all enjoyed that season thoroughly. at any rate we were nothing daunted, and only waited till the next year to renew our efforts in a five-rater of the same type. [illustration: _west and son._ _southsea._ _thief._] this was also lord dunraven's début on the solent, and he was not much better off than we were, having a sister ship to ours, by name _cosette_. therefore, with the _queen mab_, _g.g._, _lady nan_ (mrs. rudstan reid), _thalassa_ and _madcap_ (miss cox), we had to be content to compete for second honours, the _hummer_ always carrying off the first. i might here put in a word in season, on the evils resulting from keeping rival boats in the family. the battles are bound to be re-fought over the domestic board again in the evening, and of the two the wordy war is by far the most bitter and lasting. the envy and jealousy of the defeated cannot fail to show itself, and even the conqueror owes the other a grudge, for having so much as dared to get in his way at the start! we learnt the lesson in , and have kept studiously clear of each other's hunting grounds ever since, even counselling our friends not to put our fidelity to so severe a test as to join the same class. it was this year that mr. philip perceval made his début with the _lollypop_, a boat he bought from mr. st. julien arabin. since that time mr. perceval has been an enthusiastic member of yacht-racing circles, and is now almost as well known on the solent as calshot castle. most lucky in his boats, whatever he touches must turn to gold, and besides this phenomenal luck, he has unrivalled skill at the helm and in the general manipulation of the craft. so his racing record must be indeed a remarkable one. perhaps some day he will be persuaded to publish it, in all its branches. at the end of this season, a ladies' match was sailed in the sister ships _cosette_ and _queen mab_. miss bucknill was at the helm of the former, and miss harvey had the _queen mab_. it is much to be regretted that miss harvey did not persevere in her racing career, as she showed much ability and came of a nautical family. her father, mr. e. harvey, was well known as one of the original members of the squadron. the race was very interesting and well managed, but far be it from me to say which proved herself the better steerer. lord dunraven and mr. perceval who now had the racing fever, had both built five-raters at payne's and divided the honours in that class. mrs. schenley determined to make another experiment with mr. watson's design in the five-raters. the _valentine_, however, was a worse failure than the _thief_ had been, _glycera_ and _alwida_ being always first and second. the stern chase became rather wearisome, and we did not keep at it so steadily as we should have, only starting twenty-six times to the others forty. we managed to pick up five first and four second prizes, chiefly in light weather. the _babe_, mr. payne's design, was champion of the two-and-a-half-raters, and poor old _hummer_, which had served us in such good stead the year before, was clearly worsted. she was beginning the season in her old style, when the dreaded advent of the _babe_ put an end to her prosperous career, and she had a hard struggle till the end of the season to keep up her old traditions. i sailed many times on _hummer_ and _cock-a-whoop_, my brother's two-and-a-half-rater, and on the former i said less, but thought the more, as my father's seamanship was undisputed, and his tactics a wonder to behold. that year the inventive genius of mr. clayton, champion designer of the old length classers, produced the _dolphin_, also a two-and-a-half-rater. she was looked at with decided disapproval and some disgust by the rival faculty, as her over-hang was considered a crafty mode of cheating the rule. so it was, and continues to be to this day in a still larger degree, but after all it is the designer's object to get as much as he can out of the rule, without paying for it in time allowance. miss cox and her sister, now mrs. rudston reid, both built two-and-a-half-raters, which they sailed most conscientiously but without much success. miss cox's _mliss_ did the better of the two, the _troublesome_ not being a morsel of use except in light air. however, it was a very strong class, and of course _every_ one could not expect to win. mrs. schenley was at last persuaded, in , to give payne an order, and he proved himself fully equal to the trust confided in him, by producing that most delightful of boats the _windfall_. seaworthiness, dryness, roominess, and lightness of helm were some of her qualifications, besides her exceptional speed. war to the knife ensued between us and mr. perceval, who had likewise got a new five-rater from payne. we came out of the fray each with thirty-four flags, _windfall's_ string however being the better by six firsts, indicated her superiority by six conquests out of the forty deadly conflicts. these struggles have never been renewed, the ordeal having been too great for both sides. the small pickings left over and above, namely nine first prizes and twelve second, were shared by _alwida_ and _iernia_ respectively. the latter boat, one of fife's failures, was owned by that genial irishman, mr. langrishe, who had previously sold the famous _samæna_ to join the ranks of the owners of the smaller classes, to which he has remained faithful ever since. he placed his confidence from the first in young mr. charles nicholson, who ultimately proved more than equal to the trust reposed in him, and he designed the _dacia_ in . miss cox was again at a discount with a most unattractive two-and-a-half-rater, she called _fiera_. this was one of the hard-mouthed type, and wanted a fresh wind and a strong man at the helm. she gave a good account of herself however on such occasions, and ran up a better record than _mliss_. miss harvey was the possessor of a very pretty two-and-a-half-rater called _undine_, built from a design by mr. clayton. this last was still more of an advance towards the type of the present day, and no doubt would have made a good performance then if she had been raced. she only showed up once or twice, however, and so of course never had a chance of getting into trim or anything else. possibly miss harvey was put off by a collision she had with the _windfall_ during the cowes week. it was very unfortunate, but not her fault as i can testify. nevertheless it was none the better for that, and i remember pointing out the best place on the _windfall_ for her to ram with the least danger. _undine's_ bowsprit accordingly went clean through _windfall_, just forward of the mast, and then the two boats got locked together and the spars began falling about our ears. there was a strong wind and a still stronger tide, and we were rapidly driven under the bows of a large steamer _gladwyn_. the _undine_ had the inside berth between _windfall_ and _gladwyn_, and as _windfall_ got across the tide she fairly ground poor little _undine's_ frail hull till the timbers groaned again. meanwhile the gallant crew of the _gladwyn_ insisted on dragging us ladies up over the bows, and this was the most alarming part of all, as it was such a height. the owner of the _gladwyn_, who was in the squadron at the time, was much surprised a little later to see a strange lot of rather dilapidated females, being rowed ashore in his gig. [illustration: _west and son._ _southsea._ _nadador._] i must not forget to mention that lively little club at bembridge, situated on a remote corner of the wight, near to which is the double attraction of a superior golf-links. the bembridge sailing club, or "b and s" club, as it is irreverently called, was started in by colonel moreton and major du boulay. some of the rules were nothing if not eccentric, and i am told the favourite hour for match sailing was about midnight. the women were duly considered in this club, and most ably did they acquit themselves in the one design class. miss sutton was tempted out to the more easterly regattas, when she had a half-rater called _wee-winn_, of which more later on. miss moreton, miss hallows, and mrs. dudley ward and her daughters, were among the other bembridge sailoresses, though of course many more came down in august to this cheerful little resort. the next year, , both our family boats were beaten by a new talent, young mr. c. nicholson. it was a great thing bringing a new brain to bear on the matter, as for the previous five years arthur payne had held the whole sway, and prior to that mr. clayton. these boats went quite fast enough to make a good race of it amongst themselves, and though they assuredly were hard to beat yet they _were_ beaten by the _dacia_ in the five-rater, and the _gareth_ in the two-and-a-half-rater class. the latter was the property of mr. henderson, who was indeed fortunate, as he was a complete novice, to own the champion of three seasons. lord dudley bought _dacia_ from mr. langrishe in the middle of the season for a fabulous price, nevertheless the latter was generally to be seen at the helm. lord dunraven's _cyane_, from mr. payne's design, was at the old game of shovelling the first prizes into her locker, until _dacia_ came out and put a stop to it. the pace of this flyer soon spread dismay in the class, which was not very well filled even at first, and soon no one could be got to start against her, until she went down to torbay to show a boastful scotch antagonist the way round the course. the rivalry between north and south is always exceedingly bitter, but latterly the scotchmen have not thought it _infra dig._ to come to the south for their best designs in the small classes. it would be more patriotic, to say the least of it, if the best clyde amateurs were to challenge us in their home manufactures, otherwise their triumphs are but reflected glories after all. [illustration: _west and son._ _southsea._ _morwena, steered by miss sutton._] a little stranger from over the water appeared this year ( ), to the order of miss winnie sutton. _wee winn_, however, did not belie her somewhat ambitious appellation, as is often the case. on the contrary, she amply fulfilled it, and the tiny yankee did her country great credit, and that in what we flattered ourselves to be a very formidable class. she had nine competitors from four different designers, and yet fairly walked round the lot. her performances were the signal for further yankee inroads, and saw two american boats, namely _meneen_ and _morwena_, added to the list. so now there was an american in all three classes from two-and-a-half downwards, and to our shame be it said each one headed her class. it was not till the year either, that _meneen_ may fairly be said to have been outclassed, her construction also was a masterpiece of lightness and durability. her record was forty prizes in forty-nine starts, and this with seven rivals, one of mr. nicholson's design and one of mr. payne's included. mrs. hardie jackson constantly accompanied her husband in _meneen_, and was as at home on the water as she is known to be in the saddle. this was not a propitious year for south coast designers, as fife held the laurels in the five and likewise in the twenty class. the twenties were a new institution promoted by lord dunraven, and they flourished for four years as solent classes, but last season ( ) no new ones came to the line except towards the end of july. in the race programmes were almost too well stocked, the scrimmage on the line to get the start being a sight to behold, especially in the one-rater class. there were considerably over a dozen of these, and almost as many half raters, all determined to get the start of the others over the line, and that sometimes a very narrow one as in the hamble river. the _morwena_, champion of her class, was owned by one of the sisters of miss winnie sutton, and though her success did not cause such a stir as _wee winn's_, she made almost as good a record. miss cox's luck again failed her in _kismet_, a two-and-a-half rater built by payne. i believe she also was a very hard boat to steer, in fact worse than _fiera_. my brother sailed the majority of races that year in _gareth_, whose performance was a good one but not so good as the _meneen's_. _gareth_ started five times more than _meneen_ and won two more prizes, but _meneen's_ figure of merit came out the highest. these two consequently pretty well monopolised the prizes, but a few being left for the other six, of which _kismet_ picked up two firsts and six seconds. mr. jessop was the owner of the _molly_, twenty rater, and _coquette_, half rater. he consequently often required a helmswoman for the latter, which office he kindly offered me. little _coquette_ was an extremely fast boat of mr. nicholson's design, and made one of the longest string of flags ever recorded. _wee winn_, fortunately for us, only started eleven times that season. in the same year ( ) the majority of boats and the largest prize winners were of a good wholesome type, but the three following seasons they went steadily down hill in this respect. _elf_ was considered an unsightly monster then, but there have been many like her since, not a whit uglier or less exaggerated, which have proved themselves also the fastest movers. _flat fish_ was a case in point. she was most aptly named; indeed, i think the _flounder_ would have been a still more appropriate designation. she was put together with most wonderful despatch by fay and co., from mr. soper's design, for my sister, mrs. schenley. the first two races she came to pieces, owing to the hurry over her construction, and had to go back for repairs. to hear the flump of her bow on to the water, it was marvellous that anything could hold out; she was just the shape of a spoon forward, and when driven against a head sea she naturally made the splinters fly. her nose was quite four inches higher in the air by the end of the season, in fact she presented the most cheeky appearance. a most powerful boat in a breeze, in all senses of the word except perhaps the individual frame, she also required a goliath to steer her. my sister's and my united forces were unequal to the task, and it used to amuse us to watch for the signal of distress held out towards the end of a race by the boastful amateurs, whom we requisitioned to steer on hard windy days. they were never keen to repeat the experiment, and if they did, they were glad enough for us to take turns. our chief antagonist was _fleur-de-lys_, built by fife and owned by major montgomery, one of the few lucky yachtsmen who have not followed up their successes, although a dweller on the scene of action. lady sophia montgomery occasionally accompanied her husband, and took a keen interest in the fray and kept a jealous eye on the records of the rival craft. theirs was undoubtedly the better "all round" boat, as _flat fish_ was no more good than a barge in light weather, although she was conscientiously sailed in all the races for which she was entered. in two new aspirants for yachting fame joined the ranks, namely, the hon. mrs. oliphant and miss lord. i can hardly say which has proved herself the keenest sailor. mrs. oliphant was most fortunate in securing an excellent two-and-a-half rater from sibbick, called _zivolo_, which made a very good record, taking twenty-nine flags in thirty-six starts. although the boat was her own property, she very wisely got others to steer at first, though she always accompanied the ship. now she no longer needs assistance, and though not possessing a boat of her own this year, she has had several mounts on other peoples. the _rosemary_, a formidable customer to steer was in her hands the latter part of this season, and though a slow boat mrs. oliphant often led the fleet in her, and won two or three prizes. miss lord has had a succession of one-raters since her début in . she favoured soper's design at first, but latterly has adopted sibbick's. all her boats have been large prize winners. [illustration: _west and son._ _southsea._ _flat fish._] in , yacht-racing was distinctly the fashionable sport. lord dunraven was no doubt in a great measure responsible for this, he having persuaded several friends to join the twenty-rater class. lord lonsdale owned one of these, lord dudley another, prince batthyany stratmann, a pretty boat painted blue, and the unfortunate baron von zedtwitz, who was subsequently drowned off his twenty-rater, the _isolde_. even royalty patronized the solent classes. the duke of york had a one-rater built at sibbick's in less than a week, in which he took a great interest though he did not venture himself to join in the sport. the _white rose_ was, however, in good hands, being most ably sailed by his equerry, the hon. derek keppel. she was not a success, however, and when mr. keppel, who was called away at the end of august, confided her to me, i made but a poor show with her, gaining only one first in tour starts. miss cox was well to the fore in the same class, also having got her craft from sibbick. she made a string of twenty-five flags, eleven of which were firsts. my brother had bought an unsuccessful one-rater, he re-named _fusee_, the year before. he and i sailed this little boat in several races, i steering and he doing the work. it _was_ fun, and the boat was well suited to this game as she was only good for light water, directly it blew up at all she was passed in spite of all we could do. so when my brother went abroad at the end of june i got a boy to help, and sailed in the light wind races throughout the season. i thoroughly enjoyed myself and got ten prizes out of twenty starts, though poor little _fusee_ was invariably beaten on a reach except in the lightest air, and had to make up all her time on the "beats." that august was a busy month, for on looking back i find i raced every day, sunday not excepted, as we used to have duels in _fusee_ and _white rose_ with amateur crews. the class to which these belonged (one-raters) was then and has remained the most popular of all classes on the solent. once at yarmouth, fourteen of us started together over the line. it was grand fun and i was very proud of leading at the end of the first round in little _fusee_, but unfortunately the wind dropped completely in the second round, and only a few of us managed to complete the course at all. i think mr. paget's _soper_ got in first, and miss cox's _mavis_ second. was also a great one-rater year, and miss cox had the honour of leading the whole fleet in almost every race she sailed. she had returned to her old ally, arthur payne, who designed her the _speedwell_. no praise is too high for this little champion, for she still holds pride of place and has proved herself as seaworthy as she is fast. i never steered such a wonderful boat, to windward she positively edged along in the teeth of the wind and made all the others look foolish, as she outpointed them to such a ridiculous extent. i often sailed the old _meneen_ that year, and she also was dependent on her windward powers for her success, as being much shorter than the others she could not be expected to reach with them. this was well shown at some races at seaview in august, when we headed the _florence_ (sibbick's crack owned by the marquise de serramezzana) every time to windward, whereas she would pass us again on the reach. the _florence_ got two firsts and one second, and we secured two seconds and one first out of the three races. mrs. schenley had bought the _corolla_, a success of the previous season. we did very well with her until about the end of july, when _tatters_ became too much for us, some slight alteration having given her the advantage over us. _florence_ then came out, and we left those two to fight it out to the bitter end. these boats, both of which were of sibbick's design, were extremely fast, though they were not remarkably close-winded. lord albemarle built _valeria i._ at payne's, and i sailed in her many times but failed to score, there were certainly numerous and formidable rivals and _valeria_ came rather late to the fray. it must be an unlucky name i think, as _valeria ii._ has not proved any better, though she is a beautiful boat and great things were expected of her, being payne's design. _tatters_, with miss lord at the helm, won first prize in the ladies' race (promoted by the _gentlewoman_) on august th, mrs. oliphant who had a good mount in the _florence_ was second, miss bucknill being third in _meneen_, i fourth in _valeria_, my sister last in _mem sahib_. there was a fresh wind, and as the harbour was full of yachts, and the course was all amongst them, considerable skill was required in the handling. there were happily no casualties. another ladies' race in one-raters, with a diminished crew of one amateur, was got up one evening at cowes by lord harrington. there was a fine scrimmage getting on board, most of the women or their boats being late, the starting-gun--a -bore--was fired off in one of the bathing machines, regardless of the entreaties of the competitors for time. i was dragged on board the wrong boat at the last minute, my "mount" being late, and off we went after _speedwell_, but she was already a speck in the distance, and we found we should never catch her again. my sister and i had a deadly encounter in _tartar_ and _bodagh_, and after jostling each other round and round and tacking and filling in a remarkable manner only known to ourselves, i came out the best of it and she gained third honours. [illustration: _becken._ _cowes._ _corolla, steered by miss hughes._] in , mrs. schenley joined the one-design class--with _cresta_--- started the year before by major colville and colonel bucknill. these boats proved very popular and much good racing has resulted. they are ugly but wholesome, not very fast but answer their purpose well. we did not race very assiduously that season as we were often otherwise engaged. _cresta_ won us about fourteen prizes, in thirty starts i think. many women sailed in this class, mrs. parry and mrs. tower constantly accompanying their husbands, also mrs. towers clark and mrs. alwyne greville were occasionally to be seen on the _c'lerk_ and _eileen_. these latter, however, never ventured to take the helm, though they were much attached to the sport and nothing daunted by weather. the boats owned by women this year were the _fairy_, miss lord, _cresta_, mrs. schenley, and _speedwell_, miss cox, while mrs. oliphant was queen regent on the _rosemary_. my sister, miss hughes, constantly sailed the _meneen_ and _speedwell_, but she will never make such a record as she did with the _viva_, half-rater, lent her by mr. wood, which was one of the largest prize-winners and most successful of her class ever floated. half-raters are too small for my taste, and i think a two-and-a-half, as the boats are built now, is the best size for a woman. possibly the day may come back when the five-raters will be as easy on their helms as they were in . my sister tells me she steered _forella_, five-rater, in quite a fresh wind this season and had no difficulty in managing her, so perhaps i am not too sanguine in anticipating more sport for us in this class. [illustration: _f. g. stuart._ _southampton._ _fairy, steered by miss lord._] my ideal mode of yachting would be to have a new two-and-a-half-rater whenever the old one was worsted, with a five-rater perhaps now and then to vary the monotony. a fifty-ton steamer, or one perhaps a little smaller, to act as convoy is essential, and it should be fast and have a good saloon, and a couple of rooms to change in if needed. cowes is the most convenient _pied-à-terre_ from a racing point of view, being very central with regard to the more frequent regattas. racing is not a cheap amusement, but then, nothing nice ever is. to put it roughly, the two-and-a-half-rater would cost £ to build, and £ to "run." the steamer £ , to build, and £ to "run," and the little house at cowes, one or two hundred for the season. of lesser items connected with racing there are several, the numerous club subscriptions for one thing being no small matter. the expenses of yacht-racing have been steadily on the increase, and i hope now they have attained their maximum. we have had sixteen racing boats in the family during the last twelve years, our last effort being made in the poor man's class, the one designers, which fact speaks for itself. many others are in the same hole as ourselves, and are glad enough to find a means of racing without so much expense. the one-design class was specially instituted to meet this demand, as the boat only costs £ to begin with, and all the costs, wages, etc., are limited and prescribed by the rules. they are fine little craft too, stiff and dry and light-helmed, in fact very suitable boats for a woman to start her racing in. about fifty prizes are given by solent clubs for this class, though, of course, they are not so well catered for elsewhere. a trip to the westward at the end of the ryde week is a pleasant change, the regattas at torquay and dartmouth being quite unique spectacles. i know of nowhere in england where ceremony is so lightly disregarded, or where conviviality is so essentially the order of the day. the late prince henry of battenberg did honour to these festivities in , and won himself golden opinions by his geniality, and genuine enjoyment of the fun. he asked my brother to sail his twenty-rater, _asphodel_, during this time, and proved himself not only a lenient master, but a kind friend and a keen sportsman. my chronicle is now at an end. i am conscious of having made many omissions, and though my love of yachting makes even writing on it a welcome task, still i feel the futility of my endeavours to portray adequately the pleasures of the sport, which it has been my life interest to enjoy. barbara s. hughes. the following list of racing clubs of the solent may be of use to those interested in the sport: ent. fee. sub. royal southampton y.c. gns. gns. royal portsmouth y.c. " " royal albert y.c. " " royal victoria y.c. (ryde) " " royal southern y.c. (southampton) " " castle y.c. (calshot) " " bembridge sailing club " " island sailing club (cowes) " " minima y.c. (hamble) / / hythe y.c. (hythe) gns. gns. seaview sailing club (seaview) " " [illustration: _lombardi and co._ _ , pall mall east._ _mrs. w. l. wyllie._] punt racing. the first punts on our river--the medway--were simply flat-bottomed shoe-shaped boats, which were built to slide over the mud, and were principally used by muddies and watermen, or by those people who, having boats anchored off the shore, required something they could push over the intervening flat. with a wind astern or on a slight incline in the mud, the slipping process was simple, the happy owner of one of these primitive punts finding himself on the river with but little trouble. a friend of ours at gillingham determined to build himself one in his own dining-room to use for rowing, and being of an ingenious turn of mind, as he had to pull the punt up into his garden every time she was used, he added a detachable wheel under the bow, and then by fixing her oars on either side of the gunwale as handles, he was able to wheel her up and down the causeway with the greatest ease. this friend had long since found out that the gillingham boy, boats, and mud did not agree. he it was who first saw the possibility of the punt being turned into a sailing boat, and when this idea occurred to him he started building the _snowflake_, an ordinary mud punt with square chime, a centre plate and lug, which in its turn gave place to another named _crystabel_. a small club was then thought of, for the purpose of opening up the healthy enjoyment of punt racing to the working class, and it was soon formed and my husband invited to become commodore. a small subscription of half-a-crown, and a shilling entrance fee, made it possible for the working man to enter, and most races were arranged to suit his convenience. the money was paid to the officer of the day before the start, and only by the boats competing. [illustration: _crystabel._ _nelson._ _sketch made by w. l. wyllie_, a.r.a. _for the sportswoman's library._ _punts racing._] punts in those days only cost from £ to £ , and we soon had several. our eldest son was promised a boat as soon as he could swim, which hurried matters, and a new punt was laid down, finished and christened _nelson_ before the summer was out, but this, as well as all the earlier ones, leaked. then a real start was made. my husband being fired with the idea of improving the breed, began cutting out and drawing many models preparatory to building. the greenhouse was found to be the only place long enough, so the boat throve though the flowers faded, the pots grew chips and copper tacks to the despair of the gardener, and we had no show of flowers that winter. in the early spring, the new creation was taken into the little wood close at hand, and there with the sweet primroses and bluebells growing all round her was turned bottom up for all who were interested to come and sand-paper her whenever there was a "spell oh" in the course of the day's work. she was then finished off with a scarlet coat, and carried on the shoulders of four men in procession to the beach, where the christening ceremony was to be performed. at the moment, the family being full of lear's nonsense songs and stories, the little girl insisted she must have lavender water tinged with pink. so this of course was supplied. the boys ran up flags and hurrahed enough for the launching of a first-class cruiser, the men gave a big shove, and the little girl broke her bottle, calling out good luck to _scarlet runner_. this punt never leaked a drop, and sailed splendidly for her size, though unlike the accommodating bicycle of a well-known song, she would _not_ hold two, and in a sea little but a man, mast and sail could be seen. at this time bigger punts were built, principally by mr. baker, a fruit-grower of gillingham, who introduced a stronger, larger type with much higher freeboard. from his little yard were launched _tar baby_, _go by_, _satan_, and lastly _black bess_, which held her own against all comers. the blacksmith also built _ethel_ and _mud puppy_, so that altogether there was a nice little class. _scarlet runner_, after several alterations, ultimately beat _black bess_. then came a decision to sail under y.r.a. rules, and bring the boats up to half-rating. this in most cases meant building afresh, so once more commodore started chipping bits of nice soft wood, till the desired shape for the new punt to hold two was arrived at. we then hunted for a building shed, and at last settled on a loft over the stables, a nasty draughty place, but one with plenty of room. the punt was drawn out life size on the floor in chalk, and five nice fir planks were procured from the village carpenter for the bottom. the centre plank was one inch thick, and the two on either side three-quarter; a grown oak knee formed the stem, and another the stern post, and to these a strong rope was fastened to make into a tourniquet to give the proper rocker to the bottom. every day as it grew dusk, off we all went to that horrid cold loft, lit up the lamps and started an abominable din of hammering, a boy generally buzzing round the while with a broom to clear away some of the chips. when i grew tired of crouching and holding a hammer to the rivets, then the boy was victimised. the wheelwright came to lend a hand in the evenings, and envy seized my soul as i watched him send home screw after screw as if they were going into so much butter. commodore would not even leave his work to come in to dinner, and looking back now, i really think it must have been a very uncomfortable time. the sides were made out of one wide plank of kauri pine without a join. this was riveted to the beams and angles of bull metal, and a devoted friend put in the mast step, which to this day holds all the water it catches, sending up a spirt as the mast drops into place. the centre board case gave a good deal of trouble, but even this gave way to patience. the seams were gone over with the greatest care with putty and varnish, as we were determined she should not leak, and the mixture proved most satisfactory, as whatever water the punt shipped ran out of the centre board case, and never a drop came through the seams. i was greatly distressed when the well was put in. i really could not see how i could be expected to sit in any comfort on a butcher's tray, which it resembled. the idea in itself no doubt was lovely, for any water coming on board emptied itself out of the tray, which was flush with the top of the centre-board case, down the case, thus making the boat absolutely unsinkable. but fancy sitting for hours with one's knees up to one's chin in a calm. i argued for a long time, and was made to sit in position over and over again, my husband declaring it was quite comfortable, but i could not see it. i agreed, however, to waive the question till the punt should be afloat. so a light deck was put on her, with canvas strained and painted over it, and then she was turned bottom up on the tressels, and commodore planed, whittled and sand-papered till every line was beautifully fair. the rudder was shipped on to the transom on the curved bull metal gudgeons, so that if it touched the bottom it slid up the gudgeons without coming off. it could also be triced up with a line when sailing in shallow water. [illustration: _from a drawing_ _by w.l. wyllie_, a.r.a. _punt: sea maiden._] at last came the happy day for launching, when a cart was brought up from the farm filled with straw, and pulled up close under the door of the loft, the punt being lowered away carefully on the top. in procession we followed down the old road to the brickfields, the little girl[ ] bringing up the rear in her chair. when the cart had been backed as close down the river as possible, sweet pet dashed her bottle of wine against the boat's side, and with a little excited shriek, called out good luck to _sea maiden_, as the punt plunged into the water. that same evening, _sea maiden's_ sail plan was calculated, and drawn out. we have very strong ideas of our own on the sit of a sail, and had proved by many experiments that a sail that sits dead flat is a mistake, but to make sure, we made one more trial with a lot of little paper vanes stuck on pins, and setting our sail, pinned these right across, shifting them time after time as we sailed about. then we came to the conclusion that there should be a fairly flat after-leach curving very gradually to the luff, and that seams carried across the sail in the direction of the wind, caused less deflection than the usual seams up and down. now the carpet was rolled up in the drawing-room, and our union silk cut and ruled with the greatest care, each seam with half-an-inch curve towards the luff over-lapping to form pockets for the light ash battens, and a nice round after-leach and foot. then came the machining, which was simple enough, and fell to my lot, and in time the sail was bundled up and sent off to be roped, with strict injunctions that it was to be sewn loosely to the rope, especially the luff. when it came home it was set between a tree and a fence, where through the early spring it flapped gently up and down whenever there was a light breeze, stretching and improving itself in the sun. sailing was then started in real earnest, so that we might learn the ways of the boat, and get all the gear to work with the least amount of trouble, before the racing came on. our balance-jib looked after itself, being laced to a light ash boom. in going to windward the sheet was always fast, and when off the wind it could be goosewinged in a second by letting the sheet run, and pulling on the lee-guy, so that what little we lost in the size of the sail was counteracted by the speed with which we could handle it. [illustration: _drawn by w. l. wyllie_, a.r.a. _for the sportswoman's library._ _punts racing._ (_the race._)] that butcher's tray _was_ uncomfortable, and there was not a thing in the boat i could lay hold of to keep myself on board. only those who have sailed punts can imagine the rapidity of their movements, and my first attempts were certainly exciting, as only having the tiller to hold on to, which naturally was not of much use, it came over with me. i several times nearly went backwards into the river. after this, commodore cut a square out of the well, so that my feet could just fit down, and framed it in with water-tight canvass, and so altered matters that my real joy in sailing began. the feeling of being run away with in a boat is glorious, and a good punt is hard to beat at this. the excitement keeps you in a glow, though the water breaks all round and over you. the first race in which i steered we won, and then began a record on our own river. punt after punt was built to beat us, but still _sea maiden_ came in first. emboldened by our wins, we took her round to the thames to try her against the half-raters. our first race was over the circular course off the royal corinthian club, at erith, in a very strong wind. as we stepped on board the _sea maiden_, the waterman, from a little grey steamer that was being repaired, begged us to be careful, as it was blowing very hard and we should find more sea on the other side. mr. hope thinking _lotus'_ mainsail too big for her, hoisted one belonging to a dinghy, the other boats starting closely reefed. _lotus_ led the first round, with _sea maiden_ a close second, but the wind gradually lightening, _lotus_ increased her lead. we saw it was absolutely necessary to shake out our reefs, which we dared not do whilst close-hauled, so we could only wait impatiently as the stern of the leading boat grew smaller and smaller. at last we got round the buoy, and out came our reefs in a minute. the effect was magical, and we ran up to _lotus_ hand over hand, till by the time we reached crayford ness mark we were close astern. mr. hope could not stand this, so began shaking out his reefs, but we now had a turn to windward and at once passed him, and throughout the remainder of the race kept the lead. the boat was looked at with great curiosity as we came alongside the causeway. she was called a "thing," an "eggbox," and other uncomplimentary names, but all agreed that she could go in a breeze. [illustration: _a. debenham._ _cowes._ _sea maiden._] next day was almost a perfect calm. a racing tide was running down the wind to greenhithe, and we were all mortally afraid of being drifted over the line before gun-fire. nevertheless, we thought it best to risk it, and consequently stood away close hauled right into the middle of the stream, the other boats meanwhile keeping in a little eddy close to the shore. when the gun did go they were over the line long before us, but we were in the middle of a swinging tide which swept us away at four miles an hour, whilst the others were all trying to work out of their little slack. on reaching greenhithe we found we had left our instructions behind, and could not remember on which hand to leave the buoy, so to make no mistakes rounded first to port and then to starboard. unfortunately _lotus_ came in sight as we rounded the wrong way, and having also left her instructions behind was led astray. our very light draught enabled us to skirt the mud out of the tide all the way back, and brought us in first again with a very long lead. our third race was sailed in a moderate breeze which fell to almost a dead calm at the last. _lotus_ led for the three rounds of the circular course, and do what we would it seemed impossible to pass her; however, at the very last, a stretch of strong tide had to be crossed to reach the line, _lotus_ left the slack first, sailing straight for the mark. seeing it was our last chance we kept away in the slack much further down, then started across keeping the line on our weather beam and the tide on the lee-bow, we slowly drifted crab-wise across the broad stretch of river. it was a moment of intense excitement, the wind had died down to a mere breath and a crowd of tugs, huge steamers and drifting barges were coming up with the tide, we had to pick our way through these as we both converged towards the bobbing flag-boat. _lotus_, seeing her mistake, set a spinnaker and tried to stem the tide, but it was too late, and again _sea maiden_ took first gun, and the muriel challenge cup for the best of three races. the punt went on winning after this, till we were afraid of being disliked on our own river, so put her in a railway truck and took her down to the solent, where the storm drum was up and a sou'wester blowing in heavy squalls. as we started across from portsmouth harbour, we reefed down small, for the sea was the biggest i had ever sailed the boat in, the waves breaking completely over us, filling my bucket and drenching us both to the skin. a strong tide too was running to windward, but we got into the shelter of wooton creek in a very short time, and were most hospitably received in the canoe camp and dried bit by bit. our first race on the solent was at ryde, for the hundred-guinea cup, presented by mr. west. and here we met our old enemy, _lotus_, which had been doing wonders against the isle of wight craft. unfortunately, mr. hope exclaimed as we came up, "hullo, mrs. wyllie, i think the race lies between the thames and the medway today." now this was most unlucky, as we have always found that wherever any bragging is done we are sure to lose; and so it proved. keeping an eye on the time ball on ryde pier, _sea maiden_ was first over the line, the wind was terribly light with a nasty bobbly swell which seemed to knock the life out of her. the boats with heavy lead keels went through it better than she did, and it was not long before we were passed. after rounding the stourbridge it was a close pinch to gillicker point, with the tide racing out and the sun blazing and dazzling one's eyes with its reflection in the oily heaving water. it was a weary time, and as we became mixed with the lagging members of the large fleet of one-raters which had started before us, our chances for that day were lost. it took the best part of a day to sail the one round. the thames and medway were not in it, _sea maiden_ finishing an inglorious seventh. [illustration: _punts racing._] next day there was a little more wind, and _lotus_ came in a very good first, _sea maiden_ second, and _wee winn_ third. the moment the race was over, the helm was put up and we ran across to portsmouth hard, and in two hours from the finish, the boat was safely placed on the truck that was to take her to burnham-on-crouch, where we were to do some racing, and where _lotus_ took first each time. there we had a week of first-class sport, some of the races being very exciting, one especially so, for there was a long run in a heavy sea, ending up in a jibe round the buoy which some did, and some did _not_ do. it was a breathless moment as the boom came over and we careered away at a tremendous pace, the boat rocking wildly from side to side, and the waters seething all round and over us. suddenly i found i had no grip on the helm, the rudder having floated up on our following wave. she broached to at once, and though, thanks to commodore's prompt letting go of the sheet, we managed to save a capsize, it was a close thing. that year we sailed twenty-seven races, winning fifteen firsts, six seconds, and two thirds, and ending the season on the medway with a series of matches in which we all changed boats and crews. it was on a lovely autumn afternoon that we anchored our barge yacht under the wood as committee boat, with tea, something stronger, dry clothes, and a party of friends on board. in every case and with every crew _sea maiden_ came in first, till we persuaded lord charles beresford to sail his _undaunted_ with our sail, when she at once turned the tables. next year there were a number of new punts built, namely: _mosquito_, _star fish_, _water lily_, _princess may_, and _tartar_. the royal engineers, too, built the _terrible_ and _powerful_, sister ships, with long overhanging sterns, and captain mareney, r.e., with his own hands built _bébé_, which has proved the fastest of her class. in a strong wind the _bébé's_ speed is something quite phenomenal, and one race she sailed in a hard gale, surprised everyone who saw her. mr. g. c. kerr's punt, _l'espérance_, besides being good-looking, sails very fast; and on one occasion, in a light wind, beat the seventeen-ton, _buccaneer_, in a race to sheerness and back, without time allowance. owing to the drawing of our punt, which appeared in the _field_, there have been many imitations of our flat-bottomed class started in different parts of the world. the puffins at plymouth, a little fleet at weymouth, the new class at southampton, and individual boats in scotland, northumberland, anglesea, florida, and even distant hong kong. there was a rumour that a challenger for the seawanhaka cup should take the shape of a long flat punt, and for this purpose a drawing was made by one of our most celebrated designers, but the canadian holders of the cup have accepted the american challenge, instead of that of the minima yacht club, so, this spring, the sound of the hammer will not be heard in our loft. m. a. wyllie. [illustration: _mrs. penn-curzon._] footnotes: [ ] mrs. wyllie's invalid daughter.--ed. in red deer land. books and magazine articles dealing with the chase and the habits of the red deer, are so many and so excellent that i feel diffident about attempting to say anything on a subject that has been so thoroughly thrashed out. in old days, or at any rate twenty-five years ago, very few people wended their way westward in the months of august and september, to see what has now become such a popular sport. the crowds at the present time are now enormous, often worse than the quorn fields, and the riders all full of zeal and desperately anxious not to miss anything from find to finish, thus often causing the master no little anxiety, and trying his patience sadly. in case my readers are not acquainted with the method in which stag-hunting is conducted, i will try to give a brief history of a day's sport. in the first place the deer must be harboured, that is "slotted" or tracked into covert, and this requires great knowledge of woodcraft on the part of him to whom the business is entrusted. the harbourer's business is to find out that his deer is a warrantable, _i.e._, a runnable, stag, which he can tell by the size of the slot, or footprint on the ground, and he must also make sure that his quarry has not passed through the covert. to do this he must search carefully for a slot leading out of the wood, or if the covert be too large he must make good as many of the paths round where he thinks his deer is lying, as he can. the difference between the slot of a hind and a stag is almost imperceptible to the ordinary eye, but if closely observed it will be noticed that the slot of a stag is larger and has a wider heel and blunter toes, also that an old heavy deer has his toes frequently uneven in length, while a hind's toe is pointed, and she has a narrow heel. in an old deer there is generally also a little space open between her toes. the harbourer can tell whether a stag or hind has been feeding, and though the signs believed in by some are disputed, one infallible test is whether the ash shoots have been nibbled or not. for while the hinds and young deer do not affect them, stags have a perfect passion for them, and the delicacy seems to be as irresistible to them as oysters and caviare are to a human gourmet. the harbourer generally goes to the scene of action the day before the meet, and gleans what information he can from those whose knowledge he can rely on. with regard however to the feeding ground of the deer, he will do well to depend entirely on his own eyes, and to form his own conclusions. next morning he must be afoot in the small hours, and look for any fresh slot pointing towards the covert, made by the deer returning from feeding. should he see what he thinks belongs to a warrantable deer, he must next make sure the animal has not gone through the covert, and if the woods be very large, he must try and localise him as much as possible. the late miles, who was the harbourer in the devon and somerset country for so many years, was a marvel in doing this, for he seemed to know the habits of the deer as well as they did themselves. his loss to the hunt was irreparable, for apart from the harbouring, he was of unbounded assistance during the run, and often when the deer seemed hopelessly lost, and master and huntsman were in despair, have i heard miles's whistle and his cheery holloa, saving the day at the eleventh hour. for the business of tufting, as finding the deer is called, four or five couples of the strongest hounds are required, as they will have to run with the pack afterwards. also, it is well to select those hounds most inclined to throw their tongues, as their deep notes are more than welcome in the big coverts, where they get out of sight. if the deer has been well harboured and is inclined to leave covert quickly, so much the better, but patience is often sorely wanted in stag hunting, when a cunning old deer will double back into covert time after time, and turn out his younger relations to try and get hounds off his line. we will suppose, however, that the deer has chosen to break covert quickly, and the welcome sound of anthony's horn means that the body of the pack, till now kennelled in a convenient barn or stable, will be laid on. if the deer has chosen a good line, that is over the forest, we must pull ourselves together and save our horses wherever possible, knowing that we may gallop for eighteen or twenty miles or more. it is wonderful how two or three miles over holding ground will steady a field, and weed them to within reasonable bounds. i consider exmoor the worst possible country for a stranger to take his own line, the best man to hounds on earth cannot tell some of the crossings by instinct, many of the combes having only one even decent crossing, and that has to be negotiated with care. most people, however, seem to come down with the idea that exmoor is one vast bog, which is all nonsense, for most of it is quite rideable, or at any rate you can pick your way over it. the crossings are the worst drawbacks to riding straight to hounds. a large majority of the field ride to points, and most annoying it is, after you have galloped your hardest at the tail of hounds, to see a batch of tourists who have been piloted by someone who knows every inch of the country, and who has guessed the stag's point, with comparatively fresh horses, while your own, no matter how carefully you have nursed him, has pretty nearly had enough. a deer will nearly always soil once, if not oftener during a run, and it is marvellous how a plunge in one of the many streams, or a roll in a peat hole, will refresh him. stags, especially the older and fatter ones, generally lie down after they have run for a time if not pressed, that is if hounds are not laid on at once, and the master generally gives a big heavy deer a little law. a fresh find is a beautiful sight, and the tricks and dodges of a wily old stag would fill many chapters. to anyone fond of seeing hounds work, and not only anxious for a gallop, the sight of hounds trying to pick out the line of their deer, when he has gone up or down stream, is alone worth going out for. it is extraordinary how long a deer's scent will hold on the moor. it is no uncommon thing for hounds to hunt up to, and kill their stag, after he has been two hours ahead of them. [illustration: _hounds of the devon and somerset pack._ (_from a picture in the possession of c. h. basset, esq., of watermouth castle._)] one thing in hunting the red deer impresses people very strongly who have only seen foxhunting, and that is the way hounds tail on the moor. several explanations of this are given. one is that the deer running in a straighter line than the fox, the fastest hound gets in front and stays there, others say that it is easier to get through the heather in a string, and again some hold that the scent of a deer being very sweet, hounds run one behind another to get it all. when they do carry a head, the sight of the big hounds, none under twenty-four-and-a-half inches and all unrounded, racing over the heather, is a very fine one. deer almost invariably die in the water, either in one of the numerous streams or rivers, or going to sea. in the last case they have to be followed by boatmen, and are brought to shore and killed. this is the greatest drawback to stag hunting, but it is no good being sentimental about it. the deer do an immense amount of damage to the farmer's crops, and if they were not killed in the chase they would very soon be shot, and stag hunting would be no more, so that my advice to those who cry out about the cruelty to "the poor dear stag," when they see him being ignominiously towed to shore, is to stay at home, so that their feelings may not be hurt by the sight. it is wonderful how the more ignorant portion of the large field of strangers, who condescend to honour exmoor with their presence in the stag-hunting season, grumble unceasingly at the sport. the country, master, hounds, and hunt servants, all come in for scathing criticism. one has a great longing to let them try and hunt a deer themselves, to convince them that it is not such a b c work as they seem to think. also, should the master persist in remaining in a covert to hunt the big deer he knows to be there, instead of laying on to the four-year-old which has just broken away over a tempting line on the forest, there is a chorus of discontented ones, "oh, what rot this is; why can't he go after a decent deer?" the malcontents, either forgetting or not knowing that it is the fat old sinner now doing his utmost to save his skin by turning out his younger relations, which gorges himself nightly on the farmer's best turnips and corn, and that it will be a poor consolation to the latter if hounds pursue a young deer twenty odd miles and then lose him, while the author of the mischief is left, possibly with a keener appetite than ever, after his unwonted exertions. there is always a hope that a big fat stag may be run up and killed, should his whereabouts be a certainty, in time to lay on to another, and i have often seen two deer killed in one day. a fat stag which is merely blown and not exhausted, will waste a lot of valuable time beating up and down the water, too out of breath to breast the hill and give a gallop, and too strong to be pulled down. this gentleman is a most unpleasant customer to tackle, as in fact is any deer at bay. a stag is a grand looking beast when he stands with his back against a rock, in one of the picturesque streams that abound on exmoor, with his lovely head well up, and great, sad, frightened eyes, the pack baying round him and not daring to come within striking distance of those death-dealing horns. the sooner then the huntsman, or one of the willing farmers always at hand and ready to assist, can slip behind the beast and lasso him, the better for everyone. the head and slots of stags are the master's perquisite, the skin and inside and the hinds' heads belong to the huntsman, who generally shares the liver with the farmers. the carcase is distributed amongst the farmers on whose land the deer was found, and who highly appreciate a bit of venison. the master alone never gets any, and to speak for myself i have only tasted hunted stag once. this was when my mother was sent, by a kind neighbour, a haunch of a five-year old deer, which had given us a run of nearly thirty miles, and very excellent it was. i have never seen a more vicious stag either than this one, for though he had run from cloutsham to within five miles of my mother's home,[ ] he fought desperately and severely injured two hounds before he was taken. i always remember that gallop too on account of the marvellous way the puppies worked, with hardly any old hounds to help them, my father[ ] having saved the older hounds for the next day, when he was meeting in a close woodland country, where he thought the inevitable crowded field would work less havoc among the older and more sensible hounds than on the puppies, many of which were hardly way-wise. there is one delusion that strangers labour under who meditate a few days with the devon and somerset staghounds, and this is, that it is absolutely necessary to ride "the horse of the country," as they term it. i think this is quite a mistake. any horse that looks where he is going, and doesn't go yawing about with his head in the air, will go well on exmoor, at any rate after a time or two, but horses accustomed to the country certainly get less frightened in soft ground than strangers. in fact, a moor-bred animal wont go into a bog at all. i have ridden all sorts and conditions of horses, and i think i would choose animals that stand about . or . ., short-legged and strong backed and with good shoulders, for though i have seen a little straight-shouldered exmoor pony canter down a hill without a false step, when most people have been leading down it, yet i never think it gives you a comfortable sensation to be sitting almost on your horse's ears. two things are absolute necessities, blood and condition, without these one cannot hope to get to the end of a long moorland gallop with comfort to either man or beast. i know no more hopeless-looking objects than a poor underbred and underfed hireling, floundering through the wet ground, remorselessly urged on by an ambitious but ignorant tripper, whose pedigree will probably bear even less looking into than his unfortunate steed's. for a very light weight with extravagant ideas, polo ponies would be ideal mounts, being in the height of condition, after the close of the season at hurlingham, and very fast and handy on their legs, but it is not everyone who can afford or would care to risk valuable animals on such broken ground. some people hold that big horses are better than small ones, but i cannot say i agree with them. a large horse shakes himself and his rider to pieces galloping down the hills, and if you would see a long run well, you must gallop down hills, and take it easy up them; he also does not recover himself so quickly should he make a mistake over the rough ground, and is more liable to strains and over-reaches in the boggy land, to say nothing of the fact that he can frighten you to death in the tiny narrow paths through the woods, where a false step means rolling into the river many feet below. a small horse _may_ be quite as dangerous, but i don't think he feels so clumsy, and again, a small horse undoubtedly comes to time again sooner after a hard day. one thing i specially dislike on the moor, and that is a hard puller. people say, "what does it matter, when there's heaps of room." this is all very well on a racecourse, but when you are on the verge of almost a precipice intersected with ruts, peat holes and other trifles, with either a bog or a river waiting for you at the bottom, it is very poor fun to be hardly able to steady your horse, much less hold him, and i have seen some very nasty falls resulting from the inability of an unhappy sportsman to control his mount. [illustration: _princess, irish mare._ (_property of mrs. lewis mackenzie._)] you can also have a nasty fall if you try and descend the steep combes sideways. it is a golden rule to ride a horse straight down. at the worst then he can but sit down, but if you are half cantering, half shambling down a hill sideways, and your mount puts a foot wrong, a horrible fall is the probable result. it is a wonder to me, looking at the crowd of people riding, most of them ignorant of the first principles of horsemanship, why there are not more bad falls than there are on exmoor. now and then it is true a man gets his face cut, or a rib broken or something of that sort, but really bad accidents are most rare. i suppose that the sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, looks after the welfare of the bold tripper, or perhaps the softness of the ground has more to do with it. i think exford is the best centre for stag-hunting, that is if you do not mind having absolutely nothing to do on the off days, or have enough horses to go out with the foxhounds or harriers. some people like minehead, others prefer dulverton. personally i prefer porlock, as it is quite close to the moor meets, and is far and away the prettiest place to stop in. accommodation is good and moderate, hirelings are to be obtained there and at minehead, and are generally very good animals, though i would advise anyone with a couple or more well-bred horses in condition, to bring them down. the difference in comfort, especially in the long distances hacking home, is great. special care should be taken of saddles for this work, for there is no country where horses suffer so terribly from sore backs as exmoor. the steep climbs up and down hill, the great heat, followed by standing still till a horse is chilled, then another gallop perhaps, and lastly a long ride home, horse and man, or oftener woman, dead beat, work absolute havoc in a stable full of otherwise sound horses. i would advise anyone hunting with the staghounds to have all saddles thoroughly fitted, if possible one for each horse, the horses' backs hardened a little, and above all to see that the saddle is left on the horse for some time after he is cool, whenever he comes in from hunting. very few persons will take the trouble to do this, especially when a horse comes home about eleven o'clock at night, but it should always be insisted on. towards the end of september is to my mind the pleasantest time on exmoor, and from the middle of the month to the time stag-hunting ends, about the tenth of october, sport is generally far better than earlier in the season. the deer break covert quicker, and run better, the weather is cooler, and cloutsham which has in the earlier part of the season, been the happy picnic ground, to crowds of delighted strangers, now affords a sure find of a good stag. this is, thanks to its kind owner and his son, who though not hunting-men themselves, are most desirous of showing sport to others. so much has been said about this opening function at cloutsham and the beauty of the surrounding scenery, which in fact cannot be over-rated, that i will not allude to the "vast leafy combes," the "hazy outline of the welsh coast," and the "stately purple-clad hill of dunkerry," except to warn those who have never tried to gallop over the said dunkerry that it is the most deceptive bit of going to my mind in the whole of the stag-hunting country. it is covered with rocks and stones, alternating with bogs, and is generally productive of a lame horse. i never saw it look so lovely as one day during hind-hunting. it was a soft muggy day in november, and i was standing in a field behind cloutsham farm, when a hind went away over dunkerry. as i was riding a pony, i stood still and watched the proceedings. anthony laid on, and the whole hunt swept away up the hill, and as they did so down came the fog like a curtain, but only covering half the hill. by and bye, back came the hind, and ran into sweet tree, as the extension of cloutsham wood on the exford road is called, and the hounds, huntsman and field all came one by one out of the mist. it was like a ghost hunt. twice did that hind do the same thing, and then sent a young sister to take her place, but hounds were luckily stopped and the wily lady was captured, after a great deal of twisting and doubling up and down the water. very few people have any idea of the different aspect the country wears in the hind hunting season to what it does in stag-hunting time. in august on your way to the meet, you pass dozens of people, walking, riding, or driving, the latter with huge luncheon hampers, which are most welcome later on. the meet may be at culbone stables, in which case the lynton road outside lord lovelace's plantation will be packed with carriages, etc., and people will idle about and stand in groups among the stunted fir trees, looking out on a calm blue sea. the stag may after some time "go to moor," and then away go the field after him, but for hours there will be carriages on the lynton road on the chance he may turn back and go to sea, which he may very likely do. in this case, those of the riders who have had enough, will turn round at the top of the hill and go home, but the majority will ride down through the ashley combe woods to the sea, and wait in the warm august afternoon till the stag is brought to land. the fishermen from porlock weir are always on the look out on a hunting day for a possible windfall in the shape of a deer going to sea, which means a sovereign in their pockets. the field meanwhile refresh themselves and their horses at the picturesque little hotel, the anchor, and after the last rites of the chase have been gone through, ride home in the cool of the evening. in hind hunting on a bitter december day, we have a very different picture. about four shivering women, or perhaps fewer, half a dozen sporting farmers, the master and the hunt servants form the field. the women generally make a bolt for the little cottage at culbone stables, and sit round the fire there till anthony comes for the pack. the wind is blowing half a gale, and sleet is falling, but once we are started no one cares for the weather. deer, unlike foxes, will run in the teeth of the fiercest gale, and sometimes one is literally nearly blown out of the saddle. the hind which has probably left her calf lying in her bed, will run a big ring out to the deer park and back. with the ground at its heaviest, the small field has to gallop its fastest to keep the flying pack in sight. back into culbone the hind comes, and we stop and listen, and wonder if she will go to sea, trying in the meantime to get a little shelter from the icy wind under the larch trees. but our friend has not had half enough yet, and may take us over the same ground again, if she fails to induce another deer to take her place, or possibly we may go away after a fresh hind without knowing it; heart-rending work this for horses and hounds. ultimately she will go to sea, either down the steep cliffs of glenthorne, or from porlock weir, and the boatmen have to follow her, supposing it is not too rough for their safety, while the field, by this time of still smaller dimensions, wait patiently for the end. then home we go. porlock weir was comparatively sheltered, but once on top of the hill again, the gale seems to have increased, and the sleet to be thicker, and by the time we get home we are nearly frozen, and it is pitch dark. yet to my mind notwithstanding the horrible weather, hind hunting is a finer, wilder sport than stag-hunting, and a run after a straight-going hind in the spring when the weather is better, is hard to beat. fog is the great enemy to hunting in the winter. often the hounds have to go home from the meet, after waiting a couple of hours and more for it to lift. [illustration: _f. downer._ _watford._ _heads at watermouth castle._] i do not think casual visitors have any idea of the immense strain on hounds, horses and men that hunting from july to april entails, or they would not grumble as much as they do when they get a poor day's sport. rather let them follow the example of one most genial tripper, who when a friend of mine remarked we had had a shocking bad day, nothing but wood work, said: "well, i 'ear folks say they 'aven't 'ad a gallop, but i always 'as a gallop, and what i do is this. i watch one of them 'scarlet bounders' (presumably the huntsman), and when he lays on to the stag, i don't care where 'e is, i lays on to 'im. it takes a bit of doing too, and i _always_ 'as a gallop!" whether the "scarlet bounder" was equally pleased with a noisy follower, when he wanted to catch the slightest sound in covert, is another matter, but a jovial sportsman of this sort is far more welcome to the west country than those people who go down and grumble at everything, and generally depart with the donation of a few shillings to the deer damage fund. it is out of this fund the farmers are paid for the harm done to their crops by the deer, and richly they deserve some compensation, for without their help stag-hunting on exmoor would soon be a thing of the past. edith curzon. the tiverton staghounds. [illustration: _sir john amory's staghounds._] though when mr. fenwick bisset undertook to revive stag-hunting on exmoor in , the attempt was regarded almost as a forlorn hope. it has now been found necessary to start a second pack in devon, in order to keep down the herds of red deer. the last established pack is a private one belonging to sir john heathcoat amory, and its popularity with all classes of the sport-loving west country is very great. mr. ian amory hunts the hounds himself, and he is assisted by the messrs. las casas, who act as his whippers-in, the important duties of the harbourer being also performed by an amateur. everything in this establishment is carried out in the most sportsmanlike manner, and the time-honoured traditions of the hunt of the wild red deer are strictly adhered to. the sport shown by this pack, since its institution in , has been excellent, and to the sportswoman who dares not brave the storm-swept expanse of exmoor during the winter months, and yet loves to share in the grand sport of hind-hunting, the less exposed country hunted over by sir john amory's staghounds offers very great advantages. the picturesque little town on the exe, indeed, is likely to take a high place among western sporting centres, for it offers the triple attraction of the pursuit of the stag, the fox and the hare in its immediate neighbourhood. [illustration: _j. weston and son_ _folkestone._ _mrs. culpeper clarke._] footnotes: [ ] near ilfracombe.--ed. [ ] mr. c. h. basset, then master of the devon and somerset staghounds.--ed. the chase of the carted deer. note.--this article has been kindly read and approved by mrs. culpeper clarke, who was unfortunately prevented from undertaking the task of writing it herself. in several cases the valuable suggestions she has made will be found embodied in the paper, marked by the initials c.f.c.c. at the special request of the writer of the paper, mrs. culpeper clarke has consented to allow her photograph to appear. of all forms of the chase, that of the carted deer, has the unenviable distinction of having been followed, discussed and written about, by a greater number of people ignorant of the first elements of sport, than any other. it has too the disadvantage of being scorned by some of the boldest followers of the fox and the red deer, and thus while "crabbed" by those incompetent to judge, it is a "thing of naught" in the hunting calendar of some of the best sportsmen and women of the day. in spite of this, however, the hunt of the carted deer is the source of pleasure and health to many who otherwise would seldom or never be seen in the hunting-field, and as such it deserves to be chronicled. that certain objections have always been urged with more or less weight against this particular form of sport, i am well aware, but i will leave its defence to abler hands than mine, and while ready to give help, if it may be, to any sister-sportswoman who would take it up, i must say boldly that a day with fox or hare is in my opinion, worth more than a dozen brilliant gallops after an enlarged deer. on the score of humanity, however, there is undoubtedly nothing to be said in its disfavour. the deer is well fed and cared for, and rarely comes to harm when before the hounds, and though there are nervous deer as nervous people, who will in the one case "funk" a possible fence, and in the other show signs of extreme fear at the pursuit of hounds, i do not believe in the agonies of terror of which the so-called humanitarians are pleased to make so much. on this point, however, let those who like lord ribblesdale, can wield the pen with as skilful a hand as they can steer a horse across country, speak with the authority which is theirs by right of profound knowledge, and long and unusual experience. and if we should find that other forms of sport are for whatever reason out of our reach, we may well be content to ride after the carted deer with such sisters of the chase as lady julia follett, lady georgiana curzon, lady downshire, and the brilliant horsewomen who week after week are among the followers of the wards over the stiffest part of the meath country. can we go far wrong either in following such sportsmen as lord coventry and lord ribblesdale, with the spirit of whyte-melville inspiring us? let us then turn for a few words about the quarry of the stag-hunt. the animal pursued, whether it be stag, havier, or hind, has been carefully selected and most heedfully cared for, so that when it comes out for a gallop it is in the very height of condition. it is not often that it is asked to exert itself, for it comes out only in its proper turn, and this in the larger hunting establishments would not be more than three or four times in the course of the season. a stag, fed on the choicest oats and the best old hay is not easily fatigued, and probably at the close of the day's proceedings, will not be nearly so "done" as the horses that have ridden in its pursuit, or the men and women to whom it has been giving pleasure. we all know the old history of mr. henry nevill's deer, which lived on terms of perfect amity with the hounds kept for their chase, and i have myself seen a stag deliberately trot down a road and look over the hedge at the pack, which had considerately been stopped till his lordship should get his second wind. the exploits of a celebrated old hind too, which was on the best of terms with all connected with her hunt, are still remembered in the country in which she afforded sport. as soon as she was released she would speed away, often for twenty miles or so, and when weary would take refuge in a wood. recognising the sign that the hunt was at an end, the huntsman then stopped his hounds, leaving the hind in peace till the deer-cart came up. when this had been backed to the boundary fence of the covert where the deer was waiting, and the old driver had given a low peculiar whistle, the keen ears and soft eyes of the hind would appear through the bushes. if no enemy was in sight, she would then jump lightly in the cart and be driven home. let us hope she would have a more comfortable journey than many a sportswoman, with weary limbs and a weary horse to carry her, and many long miles stretching between her and her abode. [illustration: _in the air. no. ._] there are certain women who ride hard, for whom this form of the chase has special advantages. for example there is the woman who from whatever cause, whether from the care of a large household, or the pressure of the duties that her literary or artistic, or it may be her political tastes, have involved her in, finds it extremely difficult to take a whole long day for her pleasure in the field, and to such an one the short day with staghounds will be an inestimable boon. again there are women, whose social or domestic duties keep them in town during the winter months, and to them a run with the staghounds will be a much-prized form of recreation. on the other hand it should be remembered that to some women who are more or less of invalids, and who would yet rather not go out at all than leave off before the run is over, the possible long day, and the almost certain fast pace with staghounds, will be against this form of sport. this, like most other matters connected with sport, will depend very much whether the chase of the deer is _the_ sport of the neighbourhood, when hounds will often make long days, or whether, as in some good foxhunting countries, it is more or less subservient to the chase of the fox. there are others again whose lot is cast in a good stag-hunting country, who honestly find a satisfying enjoyment in riding after the hounds. these will like to make long days, and if they follow the chase to the end, will be not less weary than their foxhunting sisters, by the time they turn their steps homewards. let us see how such will fare. suppose that a run with lord rothschild's splendid pack is in prospect, and that the meet is fixed for twelve o'clock. if time is of moment to you, you may reckon that if you arrive at the rendezvous three quarters of an hour later, you will find you still have a margin before hounds are laid on. this will give you a comfortable morning's work, before the cart is at the door. for remember, that a pony cart or dog cart, or the more luxurious brougham, is very necessary to the comfort of the hunter of the carted deer. in the first place the long distances covered and the fast pace, make large demands on a woman's powers and those of her horse, and she should, therefore, husband both till the moment of the chase arrives. equally for both horse and rider too, she should, if possible, make the return journey also in the cart. that this often will not be practicable, and for the same reason that it is generally useless to have a second horse out stagging, does not in any way detract from the comfort of having the cart at hand if it can be managed. if, however, the deer should run too fast and too far, for his cart to come up to him for many hours after the "take," then--and this will be the most frequent experience of the followers of the chase--the rail may prove the best hack home for both woman and horse. the former will thus be saved a weary jog home, and her horse will also be spared what, even if he is a good hack, will be the most difficult part of the day's work to him. and though, of course, an ideal woman's hunter should also be a perfect hack, how few even good horses answer the description. what hunting woman cannot recall some animal, and many it may be, which have served their turn, for which she would not have taken centuries, if offered when he was sailing with magnificent action over a grass country, but which on the journey home at night, she would have been almost inclined to give away to the first comer? but even with a good hack, it is a doubtful pleasure to ride him after he has tired himself in the chase, and you will find it a relief unspeakable to exchange the saddle for the cushions, and to drive or train home, instead of striving to keep your weary hunter on his legs. [illustration: _t. bennett and sons._ _worcester and malvern_ _lady dorothy coventry on sixpenny._] but to return to the meet. when you get to the place of meeting there will be three courses open to you as a rule. you can either see the stag un-carted and the hounds laid on, or you can omit the first ceremony and come on the scene with the hounds, which in well regulated establishments will not have been allowed to catch a view of the cart, or you can adopt another course, and wait till the stag has completed his first circle, which he is almost sure to run before leaving. if you incline to the last, and there is much to be said in its favour, you will look out for some point, such as the crossing of a road by the stag, and trotting quietly down to it, you will wait for the hounds to come up. by the time they reach you, they will have got over the first flurry with which staghounds always make for the line, and will come chiming down as prettily as a pack of harriers. [i think the best plan is to come into the field with the hounds, if possible, pick your own place at the first fence--of course riding wide of the hounds--and do your level best to get a good start. if staghounds really run, a good start is every bit as important with them as in the shires, and that is one reason i think they are such good training for judgment, decision and nerve. she who hesitates is sure to be lost sooner or later, and when you have been out of a good thing two or three times, because you did not push along at first, it does make you keen.--c.f.c.c.] then you should ride to the hounds and watch them working. you will observe that they string more than foxhounds--though they are foxhounds in everything but the use to which they are put--but such packs as lord rothschild's or the queen's, will drive forward on a hot scent and work out a cold one, in a way that will delight any lover of hound work. now you may, nay you _must_, ride somewhat closer to the pack than would be quite orthodox with foxhounds, and if there should be anything like a scent you will find that in spite of being a light weight, it may be, and riding one of the best, it will take you all your time to live with them. nor will you be in any danger of overriding hounds. with a good deer you will find you need all your judgment, horsemanship, coolness and pluck to live to the end. after you have been going some twenty or twenty-five minutes, perhaps, hounds will run up to their deer. but the sport will not be over. if possible at this point you should notice whether the deer has his mouth open or shut, for this will tell you whether you may still look for a long gallop or not. a deer, be it remembered, closes his mouth when he is beaten, but as long as he has it open, you may be sure he has not the smallest intention of being captured. you will find that with the consideration for the feelings of the quarry which marks all the proceedings, hounds will not be allowed to go on till ample time has been given for the deer to get a good start. he may not unlikely be encouraged by the friendly crack of a hunting crop by one of the field, but otherwise his lordship will be left to himself, and the hounds meanwhile will stand with their sterns waving in eager impatience to be off, and their eyes fixed on the face of the huntsman. it was a grand sight to see poor mark howcutt at such a moment, in the vale of aylesbury. the loose thong of his whip, as he sat motionless in front of hounds was enough to keep them in check, and when he quietly gathered the thong up, they knew the moment had come, and casting themselves on the line, they would break into a chorus of rejoicing, and race eagerly away. it is not till you see the stag soil, that you may begin to take things easily, for this is generally a sign of the beginning of the end. it is, however (and here i recall the words of whyte melville), an act of courtesy to those who supply our sport, to stay and see the deer taken before we leave. if you are up at the end of a good gallop over the vale, you may be pretty sure you will be able to hold your own wherever fortune may lead you, even if the quorn hounds should be running their best from the ashby pastures, over the twyford vale to burrough hill, or the cottesmore lady-pack be racing in front of you from ranksboro' gorse to woodwell head. as stag-hunting begins later in the day than the pursuit of the fox, so does it leave off earlier, and the sportswoman who shares in it will generally find herself at home in time to get into a comfortable tea-gown, and give what our neighbours call "five o'clock" to her friends. there will then be the chance of a rest before dinner, and to those who are not over-strong, or who have heavy social duties before them, i would recommend the plan of a well-known rider to hounds in leicestershire, who goes quietly to bed and gets perhaps a couple of hours sleep before her maid rouses her to dress for dinner. as many women undoubtedly suffer from the strain entailed by the great demands on their strength during the hunting season, the plan may help them to keep both good looks and health, and will thus give them a keener enjoyment in their favourite sport. and now a word as to equipment, though this will be brief indeed, as what applies to the follower of the fox applies in almost every particular to her who rides after the stag. i would only suggest in the latter case that the habit worn should be plain, and that the distinctive collar of any foxhunt of which you may be a member, is not quite in place when you are following another form of sport. as to the vexed question of the tall and the round hat, in the hunting-field, some will declare in favour of comfort as represented by the latter, while others will prefer the undeniable smartness of the ugliest product of modern civilization. [my advice to everyone is to take a change in a gladstone, and leave it either at the inn where the meet is, or better still with the clothing and horse-box, for it is a serious matter to get ducked in a brook and then perhaps have a long train journey home, without the possibility of dry clothes. i say this feelingly, as this year after the stag in kent, i fell at a brook about . --my watch stopped, so i know the hour--and after finishing the run, i had to ride seven miles to paddock wood, before training home. of course i ought to have died of pneumonia after this, but happily was none the worse.--c.f.c.c.] the above note reminds me that if at any time you should get a wetting, such as that described above, and have no welcome change at hand, you will in nine cases out of ten experience no harm, if in train or cart you cover your wet clothing with coat or rug, or even horse-cloth should nothing else be available. some may think even a probable chill preferable to the last suggestion, but _verbum sap_. the canteen for a day with staghounds will not require much thought, for between the late breakfast and early tea, which generally are possible, the demands of appetite will not be great. however, as there will be no second horseman to rely on, the sportswoman will do well to carry with her a few biscuits and a little cold essence of beef, or a slice of plum pudding, and some port wine should she prefer it. (a medical friend says there is nothing like kola wine.) but now, last, though of more importance than all that has gone before, we come to the question of the hunter. to leave out of count for the moment, the points we should insist on for all women's hunters, the first great requisite for a horse that is to follow staghounds, is speed. for remember that the fastest possible form of the chase, is when a pack of large-sized foxhounds, is in pursuit of a red deer hind, over a grass country. a well-bred horse is essential, and other things being equal, if clean thoroughbred, so much the better. [from my eleven years' experience of stag-hunting, i have come to the conclusion that the most essential thing is that a hunter should be well-seasoned. if you ride a young horse with the stag, which would go perfectly well with foxhounds, he will go off his feed and fall all to pieces, even if you are lucky enough not to strain or over-reach him. a horse ought in my opinion to be quite seven years old, to take his turn regularly once a week stagging. i quite agree with what you say about breeding, but for a woman the ideal horse for staghounds must not only be temperate, but in every way good-mannered. i suppose it is the rush at starting, which of course suggests racing, that excites them, but i know by experience that a horse which is a comfortable mount for a woman with foxhounds or harriers, may prove quite unmanageable if taken with staghounds. a hot horse, too, even if you can ride it, takes so much out of itself, that it cannot stand the long days, and is sure to knock up. with the packs i know in surrey and kent, a good timber jumper is essential, and in kent you also want a water jumper--a rare combination.--c.f.c.c.] a good fencer will be the best to carry you in the vale of aylesbury or the ashford vale; while if you go out with the queen's, you will need a stouter animal for their beaconsfield country, and indeed for most of the country of the royal hunt. with the wards in ireland, you will need the very best class of horse you will ride with the meath, and in all countries where the chase of the carted deer is pursued, you will, in my opinion, find size and scope important, as a large horse will be going well within himself while a smaller one is at a stretch. as however to every rule there is an exception, so an undoubted authority tells me, that an arab pony standing only · , was well to the front in a good run after stag one day this season ( - ), and pounded some gallant dragoons over a six-barred gate. although the fences in most stag-hunting countries are generally of a manageable size, yet as you have to gallop at them, you should have a bold free horse under you. one too which has his wits about him is perhaps, if that be possible, even more valuable after stag than after fox or hare, the pace necessitating the promptest decision and the greatest possible judgment in making the best of the unexpected, which is sure to happen, even when you think you know every inch of the country. stag-hunting then, we have seen, has its advantages, and i am not sure that if your lot is cast in a provincial country where the interest of watching hounds track their fox over flinty hills, from the depths of one thick covert to the recesses of another, is seldom varied by a gallop, you will not do well to take your place, at least occasionally, with the followers of the local staghounds. of course, i am taking for granted that you are, more or less, interested in the working of hounds; but if you should be one of the hard-riding brigade, who frankly acknowledge they hunt to ride, then i should say that your best place will _always_ be with staghounds, for with them you may reckon on the gallop which with other hounds is, and always must be, a matter of doubt. in most parts of the country you will find some staghounds within reach, at least of the "iron covert hack," and in ireland the wards and the rosscommon are unrivalled for speed and incident in any land. it is only, though, the youngest, and pluckiest, and best mounted of us who can hope to live over the stiff irish banks at the pace at which the latter hounds go. a saddening thought, but true, as many a good woman has found to her cost. [illustration: _in the air. no. ._] if your hunting lot should be cast within distance of a stag-hound kennel, i would strongly advise you to learn something about the hounds. your pleasure in the chase will be greater if you can distinguish between the notes of a trusted hound and those of a youngster which has not proved his right to your confidence. my own reception by kindly fred cox, when i made my first visit to lord rothschild's celebrated kennels, i have always felt to be a reproach to my fellow-sportswomen on this point. it was during a frost in the early days of , that i determined to ask cox to show me his beauties on the flags. a telegram brought back a satisfactory reply, and i duly presented myself at cox's door. mrs. cox, however, was doubtful about admitting me, and told me her husband was engaged to show the hounds to a visitor at twelve o'clock. "but i made an appointment for that hour," was my remark, and the astonishment with which the old lady regarded me i shall never forget. with uplifted hands she exclaimed, "well, to be sure ma'am, we thought you was a man!" and it was some little time, i could see, before the old huntsman himself decided that though i had the misfortune to be a woman, i was not altogether ignorant of what a good hound should be. it will be a good thing when more women who ride to hounds know sufficient of hound work to be able to take an intelligent interest in the performance of the pack in the field, for those who can only enjoy a mad gallop know but little of the inner joys of the hunting field. frances e. slaughter. [illustration: _the lady theodora guest on pembroke._ (_with the blackmore vale hounds._)] hunters. the great question in buying horses to carry us with hounds is, of course, expense. if our purses are deep and well-lined, then we can ensure being well carried, provided of course we know sufficiently what we want to be able to choose aright. but even with two or three hundred guinea hunters, we may, according to good authority, only hope for the superlatively good one, once in a lifetime. yet if only once this joy is to be ours it is worth trying for, the nearer perfection is our horse the greater will our pleasure and comfort be in the hunting field. in saying this i am speaking of the great majority of women, those, who while being good riders and fair judges of what a horse should be, are yet not among the exceptional few who can make any horse go and most go well, and who can, therefore, lay claim to the title of consummate horsewoman. that the latter is rare, even in these days of hard riding, few will be found to deny, though perhaps many of us have a belief deep down in our minds, to which we would not give utterance for worlds, that we ourselves are above the average in our skill with, and knowledge of, horseflesh. so those who feel they have nothing to learn will not be likely to trouble themselves with these few words on the choice of hunters, and to the "exceptional few" there is certainly nothing to be said that they do not know far better than one of their less-blessed sisters can tell them. but with these reservations there may still be a goodly proportion of riders to hounds, who will like to consider the subject of what a hunter should and should _not_ be. with a devout wish then that we could each truly say we find our pleasure in any horse, because even if he is a bad one, the excitement and interest of checking his faults and getting the best out of him, will make up for our loss of pride of place, let us think for a moment of the points essential for the average woman's hunter to possess. these are, a well-laid shoulder, good carriage of the head and neck, and good manners. many other qualities there are which are more or less desirable, but the above are absolutely indispensable to a woman's safety, as well as pleasure in the hunting field, and, from choice, no woman should buy a horse that does not possess them. a good shoulder, as we all know, means so much to the comfort of every rider, whether man or woman, that too much stress cannot be laid on it. but if desirable for all, to a woman it is the one point, for which, if she have to choose, she will give up all else. without a shoulder which gives the play necessary for him to recover himself, a horse with the dead weight of a woman on his back, has no chance in the case of a slip-up, or peck, or any of the thousand-and-one trifles that will scarcely receive passing notice, if he does put himself right and go on. strange as it may seem, some women who go fairly hard in the wake of hounds, do not realise how all-important a matter this is. they do not, in fact, seem to understand the enormous difference between the dead pressure of our weight on a horse--light in comparison though this be in reality--as we sit with our support entirely on one side, to that of the man, who though in nine cases out of ten heavier than we are, yet by the even distribution of pressure and the springiness afforded by the double support of the grip of his legs on both sides of the animal, may be described as _living_ weight. the advantage given by a man's seat is, i believe, incalculable, as those of us who have done long distance rides in uncivilised parts of the world, can say from practical experience, yet i would not--even if it were of the smallest use, in the face of popular opinion--advise women to start a crusade against the existing state of things. we have crusades enough in these days, without taking up the war of the saddle, a victory in which might turn out to be a disastrous failure from other points of view. that the head should be well put on, is again of special importance to a woman, because beside the fact that she has less physical power than a man as a rule, from the nature of her seat she has less control over her horse, one therefore that carries his head badly, may prove beyond her power altogether to control, and will certainly be unpleasant and fatiguing to ride. from the full clear eye which will look at you with such winning intelligence, you may and indeed must, if the horse is a stranger to you, make up your mind as to his character. and this is a test that will never fail. i would, therefore, counsel an intending buyer to turn resolutely from any horse that does not satisfy her in this respect, however good his points may otherwise be. this brings me to the subject of manners, and full as much may be said on this important topic when we discuss the equine species, as when our talk concerns the human race, for is it not true, and _equally_ true, that "manners maketh" both horse and rider what they are. but to confine ourselves to the former for the present, and to see first what he should _not_ be. a horse that is to give you pleasure in the hunting field should not pull, and above all things must not rear, for nothing is so likely to lead to a ghastly accident as this. he must not be a refuser, as here a woman's physical lack of power will be against her. if he fidgets, you will find a long day on his back most fatiguing, and should he be a kicker your enjoyment will be marred. if, indeed, you ride an animal with this fault, and one which at the same time has any turn of speed, you should try to get to the front and stay there, for so you will have more space and freedom than can otherwise be the case. wherever you are, remember you cannot be too careful to keep the active heels out of reach of the hounds, and of your companions in the field. it is most desirable that a hunter should be quiet at gates, and here, perhaps, i may be allowed to remark that all women who ride to hounds should be able to open a gate quietly and quickly, so if you are not proficient in this, i should advise a little practice by yourself. in a flying country your horse should be more than ordinarily bold, and as clever as you can get him for a creeping country, for never forget that you cannot drive or squeeze him as a man can. if you are a thorough good horsewoman you may of course use spurs, and thus force him "where he would not," but to raise the whip as you near a fence is to teach your horse to swerve, for he very soon learns to expect and shrink from the blow. beside all these negative and positive qualities, the perfect hunter must be a perfect hack _if possible_, and when you have these combined you may congratulate yourself on having the horse of a lifetime. [illustration: _la cigale._ (_property of mrs. gordon canning._)] a horse with the manners i have described will not be young, and i should say, though each rider will have her own opinion about this, that a horse is best for a good woman with hounds, when he is seven off, or even over. in height he may be about to . , and when buying, remember that there is a certain class of horse which looks much smaller than it really is. this is the animal with a large body on short legs, which has the large bone, the good barrel, and the large knees and feet of one that _stands_ much higher. whether you have one of these, or an upstanding creature which looks all, and perhaps, more than he is, let him be as near thoroughbred as you can afford to buy him. i think, myself, as i have said, that old horses are on the whole safer to ride than young ones, though of course if anything does go wrong with them, they have not the power of recovery that a younger one has. a saying of that good judge whyte melville is worth remembering. he was speaking of the horses that would be at the end of a long run, and said, "it will always be found that one or more of these is a thoroughbred, an old horse, and under . ," and is ridden by a lightweight, he might have added. at any rate our lightweight is one point in our favour, and another is our light-hands. i am firmly of opinion that in the matter of hands we distinctly score in comparison with our husbands and brothers, who in so many ways have the best of it in the saddle. for every man who possesses the coveted "hands," you will find half-a-dozen women who have them. we are too, quicker as a rule, to grasp a situation, or to anticipate an impending fall, and indeed, if we were not, we should rarely have time to free ourselves and get clear of our horse, for unless we are _ready_ when the time comes we have no chance of escape, as those have who can save themselves on either side, when they feel their horses going. [illustration: _silver doctor_ (_by death or glory._) _the property of mrs. t. e. harrison. st prize, dublin horse show, , and winner of first prizes in ireland._] it is difficult to say what price you would have to give for animals such as these, but any coming with a good character from a known stable, would probably cost from £ to £ , and _if you can afford it_ the money would be well spent. with two good all-round horses, such as i have attempted to describe, a woman would see more sport than with three or four inferior ones to carry her. they will come out sooner than less well-bred ones, and by good management and having both out with hounds, their owner should be able to get two days a week with them. wherever possible i should always advise women to have out two horses, for this plan not only economises horse flesh, but is an immense saving of fatigue to them, as nothing is more tiring than to ride a weary horse. an intelligent groom should know how to pick up hounds in the middle of the day, if they should be anywhere near home, and though in the case of a great run this would be out of the question, then the enjoyment of the long gallop will have to make up to them for the days when the horse will not be able to come out. but inasmuch as many of us know by mournful experience that we cannot afford to buy the best in the way of horse flesh, let us consider what we can forego without risk to life or limb. . we may dispense with size, because if a light weight, we can ride horses that would not carry the average man. this at once lessens the price, as the demand is of course much smaller, and for £ or £ , or even less, you might meet with a serviceable and pleasant mount. of course to the few women who weigh as much or more than a man this cannot apply, and indeed, for such i may say frankly that i know of no way in which they can mount themselves with safety, except by buying the best horses that money can procure. . the second way in which, if we must cut down our prices, we can do so fairly safely, is in having less of strength behind the saddle. not that i would advise a horse with weak quarters under any circumstances, but while the qualifications in front of the saddle of which i have spoken are indispensable, i believe, if we do not ride over eleven stone, we may make some sacrifice in the matter of power behind the saddle. those horses which are too light behind to carry heavy weights with safety are often very pleasant to ride, and we may meet with them at a very reasonable price. . again, if we wish to keep within a moderate figure in the purchase of our hunters, we need not reject those that are undeniably slack in the couplings and have short back ribs, and consequently give the impression of being very long in the back, always of course supposing that they are suitable in other respects. such horses are often pleasant enough to ride, and as they could in no case be suitable for a heavy weight, they should never be high priced. the great drawback to having such, of course, is that they will not come out so often, or stand so long a day as a truer shaped horse will. [illustration: _skyscraper._ (_grandson of hermit in alarm._ _property of lady gerard._)] a counsel of perfection is to have a saddle for every horse in your stable. this is so important that though it involves a considerable outlay with every change in your horses, it will be found a real economy in the end. when your saddles are overhauled, as they should be at the beginning of the hunting season, every horse should have a saddle fitted to it, and thus, and thus only, will you--provided of course your stable management is what it should be--escape the sore backs which will entail loss of sport in a way that is peculiarly aggravating, when you know it might have been avoided. as important and yet within the reach of everyone is for every horse to have its own bridle. never allow any departure from this rule, and see yourself that the head piece of each horse fits easily and that the throat lash is loose, also (and this is a point on which few grooms are to be trusted) that the bit has been properly fitted to rest on the right part of the mouth. this is of no slight importance, for a badly fitting bridle will spoil the manners of the very best of horses. i should advise a woman always to ride with a double bridle, for with a snaffle her strength, as a rule, will not be sufficient to hold the horse together when he is tired. with light-mouthed horses, either a leather curb or a curb chain sewn in leather will be found the best. a good hint given by an experienced horseman is to drop the snaffle and ride lightly on the curb when going home after a long day, as this by relieving the horse will be less tiring to his rider. another thing to remember is, that while in the morning when hacking to the meet you will naturally choose the soft sidings of the roads, on returning at night you should keep your horse on the crown of the road, as this will be easier going for him and he will be less liable to stumble. as samples of high-class hunters that have been ridden well up to hounds in different countries, i would point to the horses reproduced in these pages, and the choice between the speedy thoroughbred and the clever irish or provincial horse, must be dictated by the form of the chase and the country over which he is to carry you, and by the depth of purse to be reckoned with in the purchase. frances e. slaughter. [illustration: _elliott and fry._ _ , baker street._ _mrs. wrangham on the dude._] [illustration: _elliott and fry._ _ , baker street._ _mr. and mrs. wardell._ (_with the hawkstone-otter hounds._)] otter-hunting. possibly no form of sport has grown into favour more than otter-hunting of late years. fresh hunts are continually springing into existence, and there are now in the united kingdom some eighteen recognised packs of otterhounds. in speaking of a pack of "otterhounds" one does not necessarily imply that the pack are otterhounds by breed, as foxhounds, both welsh and english, are frequently pressed into the service of hunting the otter, most, if not all packs of otterhounds having some foxhounds among them. besides these, many half-bred hounds are used, that is a cross between otterhound and foxhound. in fact for all round work the latter are often preferred, as the cross-bred hounds possess the stamina, constitution, high courage and dash of the foxhound, together with the deep, musical note, heavy coat, and grand appearance of the otterhound. some packs of otterhounds indeed are composed entirely of foxhounds entered to otters, and so keen do hounds get on the scent of the otter, that foxhounds will become perfectly steady from hunting a fox, though they may have run two or three seasons with a pack of foxhounds, as soon as they have become accustomed to hunting their new quarry, and are fairly entered to the otter. the true otterhound is a large upstanding hound with hard shaggy coat, long ears with the "roll" in them similar to that of the bloodhound. in colour, more of them are whole-coloured than foxhounds, the commonest colour being black with tan points, though they are also sometimes red, and black and white. the otterhound has a beautiful, deep melodious note, which he uses freely when hunting, in fact one of his faults is that he is apt to throw his tongue sometimes too freely and to be "noisy." for real sport, as a general rule, a mixed pack is to be preferred _i.e._, one composed of otterhounds, half-bred hounds, and foxhounds. they must be in the best condition, have good sound, hard feet to stand a long tramp along the road to the meet, perhaps several hours swimming in very cold water, and then the long walk--sometimes fifteen or twenty miles--back to their kennels at night. the management of the hounds in kennel is exactly like that of foxhounds. they should be regularly fed and exercised in exactly the same manner as foxhounds, the only difference being that they can be kept "bigger" in condition, as otterhounds do not have to go fast, but have often long, slow, tiring hunts, and have to stand long exposure to cold water. in addition to the hounds themselves, good terriers are indispensable. these must be of good constitution, with good feet and legs to stand the long journeys on the road, and as hard as nails in every respect. otter-hunting is a sport that is followed on foot and is therefore one that any woman, rich or poor, possessed of a good pair of legs and a thick pair of boots, can join in whenever the meet is within reach. most packs have given up hunting at break of day, and meet at the more reasonable hour of nine or ten. having arrived at the meet, and after a few minutes' law has been given for late comers, the hounds will be put on to the river, and the business of the day will begin. the huntsman will always, if he knows his business, have some hounds on each side of the river, so that not a holt or inch of the water may be missed. [illustration: _group of otter hounds._] we will suppose that the river is being drawn up stream, for most huntsmen, for various reasons too lengthy to go into here, prefer to draw up stream. perhaps several miles are traversed and no sign of an otter. suddenly one of the old hounds is seen to hang and lash his stern at a bend of the river, the rest of the pack eagerly rush to him, and soon are busy trying every stick and stone and tuft of grass an otter may have touched during his nightly wanderings, and though they cannot quite speak to it, there are unmistakeable signs that an otter has been on the river. the whole pack know it too, and become doubly keen and swim backwards and forwards across the river eagerly examining with their trusty noses, every stone, island, or bit of shingle where an otter may have touched. every now and again they come to some spit or bend in the river where he has touched, and then they can just "feather" to it, and one old hound actually speaks, but it is only a stale line and the rest of the pack can but just own it. a mile higher up we come to a spot where a small brook joins the river we are drawing, and in a moment a change comes over the scene. across a bend at the mouth of the brook every hound dashes forward on a hot drag, a cheer from the master--who is his own huntsman--a touch on his horn, and away the whole pack of eighteen couples dart up the rocky dingle, and with a musical chorus make the wooded valley ring again. here is a burning scent, and the ground being rough they get clean away from the most of the field for nearly two miles, but at length they check on an old weiring made of wattle work and covered with big stones. one by one the old hounds leave this, and with a satisfied shake plainly say they know their otter is not there. no doubt a place where he has been lying the day before, but now he has moved on to fresh quarters. the master makes a dash up stream to make quite sure his otter is not above him, then a return is made to the main river, by the nearest route. and now as we are quite sure the otter is not below us we have every hope of a find. we soon strike the drag again, but here there is more water, and consequently it is only across certain bends or spots where the otter has landed, that hounds can speak to his line. [illustration: _otter hound and terrier_] for nearly three miles they pick out his line up stream, trying every hole and corner and tree stump where an otter might possibly lie, till at length we come to a long deep pool half-a-mile in length, and shaded by many overhanging trees. at the head of this is an old ash tree, with roots spreading down to the water's edge. hounds seem to wind it before they get within twenty yards of the spot, and with a dash and cry they rush at it, and begin baying and tearing the roots with tooth and claw. excitement is now at its height. "look out below!" shouts the master, and the first and second whippers-in make their best pace to the fords above and below, accompanied by willing members of the hunt, all anxious to help in the day's sport, whilst others put themselves in likely spots to get a view if the otter should but show his nose above water, or betray his whereabouts by the long line of bubbles called "his chains." the hounds dart a little way down stream to make sure that our quarry has not slipped away from the belt, but they can make nothing of it and seem loath to leave the old ash tree, most of the old hounds persisting in returning to it. at last, after some difficulty, an entrance is made for one of the terriers, and after a short scuffle inside, a line of silvery bubbles darts out from the belt. another minute and a ringing "tally-ho" comes from down stream, and away swim the hounds, every one in the pack speaking to him. now the hunt begins in real earnest. for two long hours they hunt him in this pool, marking him first in one place, now in another, then they swim him from one end to the other, and once he narrowly escapes meeting his doom on the bank. suddenly he disappears, and nothing can be made of him for some twenty minutes, till at last one of the old hounds hits him off below the lower ford. he has slipped by, unseen in the muddy water and after going about a hundred yards or so down stream, has taken to the land, through a thick covert overhanging the river on the steep hillside. every hound is now throwing his tongue wildly on the line and making the woodland fairly rattle again with their music, they are close behind him, after a couple of rings round the big wood, and it seems as if he would never reach the river, but the briars are very thick and the hounds have difficulty in getting through, and he just manages to reach the water as one hound makes a grab at him. hounds, otter and one of the field all come tumbling down into the water together. we are now in a deep pool half-a-mile lower down the river, but there is little or no cover here and he gets no rest. there is a capital scent on the water too, and hounds never give him a moment's peace. he is constantly viewed and is getting dead beat. at last he makes an attempt to get over the lower ford. but the hounds are too close to him, and with a dash they are on him. woo-whoop, and another dog-otter is added to the tale of the slain after a capital hunt of three-hours-and-a-half. with considerable difficulty he is taken from the hounds, his head, tail, and pads are distributed to the field and the hounds receive their well-earned blood. to those women who can enjoy healthy exercise, good sport, and can appreciate beautiful hound-work amidst lovely surroundings, and at a time of year when they can get no other kind of hunting, my advice is "come otter hunting." having once come out, you will assuredly want to come again. the season for otter hunting commences as soon as the water is warm enough, that is in march or april, and goes on till about the end of september. of course may, june, july and august are the best months, as to hunt big rivers they must be low and the weather warm, to enable hounds and men to stand many hours of water work. [illustration: _end of the season._ (_looking back._)] the late lord hill hunted an otter for ten hours and eventually killed it. hunts of five to seven hours are of frequent occurrence, and often end in the otter being left master of the situation. one word of advice to those ladies who may be going out for the first time. _do not_ in your eagerness crowd on the hounds or get in front of them when drawing. _do not_ walk down the river the hounds are going to draw, to find them, instead of coming to the meet. _do not_, when an otter is found, rush wildly about, up and down the bank in front of hounds swimming their otter, in hope of seeing him. if you do, you will be doing harm and spoiling the sport of others as well as your own. remember that thick boots and a short skirt are necessaries, if you wish to enjoy your day with otter hounds. l. wardell. [illustration: _alice hughes._ _ , gower street._ _susan, countess of malmesbury._] salmon fishing, with notes on trout and coarse fishing. autrefois, carpillon fretin eut beau prêcher, il eut beau dire, on le mit dans la poële à frire. in olden days the little fish in spite of all they could say or wish were fried in a pan and served on a dish! la fontaine's lines, to which i have appended a somewhat free translation, could certainly not be applied to the modern representative of the species, whose extensive educational privileges on the subject of bait and flies have formed his mind, brought his acquirements thoroughly up to date, and elevated him from an innocent unresisting victim into an adversary whose cunning not unfrequently out-matches our own, but of whom the true fisherman should scorn to take an unfair advantage. this being a sport in which delicacy of hand is more necessary than mere brute strength, it is especially adapted to women who love fresh air and beautiful scenery, and who are willing to bide the good time at which the fish feel disposed to rise. i should perhaps say here that my remarks are intended to apply to salmon and trout fishing in rivers and lakes, taking incidentally such "coarse fish," pike, perch, etc., as are to be found by the way. of all fish the salmon stands pre-eminent for his sporting qualities, and next to him in order come trout of all kinds. salmon are a curious and interesting race, whose habits have been an object of study to the naturalist for many years past. they are born in the shallow reaches of rivers, the eggs taking from eighty to over a hundred days to hatch, the exact length of incubation being determined by the temperature of the water, and they sometimes remain in or near their original quarters till they are from one to three years old, when they migrate to the sea. by far the greater number, however, descend to the sea within twelve to fifteen months after they are hatched out from the _ova_. up to this crisis in their history they are called parr, and seldom exceed some three ounces in weight. as the period of migration approaches--usually in the spring, though autumn migrations also occur--the samlets increase in size; silvery scales replace their barred markings, and they are known as smolts. both parr and smolts feed greedily in the rivers, but it is a curious fact that subsequent to their first visit to the sea none of the salmon tribe appear to feed in fresh water, the stomach almost invariably being empty when examined. they remain in the sea for an uncertain period which may vary from three or four months to as much as two years, and during this time must certainly feed with voracity, as they increase many pounds in weight. on their first return to fresh water as grilse they weigh from two to eight pounds. i have myself seen, in the killery bay, a shoal of salmon making for the mouth of the erriff river. they were apparently led by a large fish, which from time to time sprang out of the water, i suppose to reconnoitre the neighbourhood. the fisherman used to look out for this leading fish, and run a net round the shoal. salmon certainly do not live in company in the rivers, whatever they may do in the sea. they start on the journey up stream in shoals, but soon separate to take up their quarters in the different pools through which they pass. they are now promoted to the name of grilse, and attain the rank of salmon on their second and all subsequent migrations. their arrival in fresh water is partly determined by conditions of weather and water; also by the special circumstances of the river to which they belong, _i.e._, whether it be early or late. the fish come up in prime condition, for the purpose of spawning, and return eventually emaciated and most unattractive-looking, after this has been accomplished. in the first state they are called "clean" or "fresh-run" fish, and are a bright silvery colour; in the second they are termed "kelts," become reddish or dark in colour, and from being thick and cobby in shape appear long and eel-like, the males having developed strange crooked snouts which vanish in quite a miraculous way when they return to the sea. there is no sign of this odd proboscis when they first enter the river, so that it comes and goes, leaving no token of its presence behind.[ ] salmon are now unfit for the table, and must be returned to the water uninjured, when they are caught. i might here say, as i am regarding the salmon from a culinary point of view, that it greatly enhances the flavour and firmness of a clean fish, if he is "crimped" at once on being landed. he should first be killed by a blow on the head, and then cut into slices about an inch thick; taking out the joints of the backbone and running a stout piece of cord through the hole thus made. these slices may then be put into the river where the current is not too strong, the string being secured to the bank by a stout peg, and they should remain in the water for several hours until the flesh "rises," as it is called, to the "crimp." my appetite for crimped salmon received, however, on one occasion a severe shock. i caught a beautiful fish weighing about eight or ten pounds, in the hampshire stour. the keeper proceeded first to kill him, and then began the crimping process. he advanced as far as the shoulder, at which moment i told him to stop, saying he might have the rest for himself. thanking me, he laid his portion on the ground and we went further down the river. in half-an-hour we returned, and a friend who was with me and who had studied medicine, took up the head and shoulders of the fish and showed it me. to my horror, the heart, which was plainly visible and untouched by the cut of the knife, was still beating strongly. my companion assured me it was merely muscular action, but it was a ghastly sight, and for a long time i could not face crimped salmon again. the instinct of the fish urges them to run up the river as high as possible, sometimes at a tremendous pace, and to make violent efforts to leap all obstacles in their way. when in this state of mind they very frequently turn into small tributary streams, which, being flooded, allow them to pass up, but where they are sometimes found almost high and dry and unable to return, like a stranded whale of small proportions. sea trout also belong to the migratory species, and of them it may be said, shortly, that they are, in appearance much like miniature salmon, and have game and fighting qualities of very high order. i may perhaps be allowed to say here that i have found mackerel, caught in the sea with a light trolling rod and trout tackle, give a great deal of sport. they are particularly muscular little fish, and the curl of their lithe tapering bodies, and forked tails, seems to give them a hold on the water which is out of all proportion to their actual size. when caught, after they have been killed, the large vein in the throat or gills should be torn. they bleed to quite an extraordinary extent, but are much better eating and less oily when they have been treated thus. bull-trout are something between the salmon and the sea-trout, and are also migratory fish of much the same habits and characteristics. they are very common in some rivers, less so in others, but i remember seeing one caught in dhulough, county mayo. there were also in this same place numbers of sea-trout which rose to the fly or came at a minnow, but as far as we could learn there was no egress from the lake by which these fish could get into the sea. they must, however, have had some means of descent. the salmo ferox, or great lake trout grows to an enormous size, weighing as much as thirty pounds. they give quite as good sport as a salmon, and many of them were caught some years ago in loch arkaig. the method of fishing was to troll for them in a boat, either with a fly or with a small gudgeon or minnow, but always with pretty fine tackle, heavily shotted so as to sink to a considerable depth. i hear that none have been taken in this way for a very long time in that water. there only remains to be mentioned the ordinary brown trout of our streams and rivers, so common and so delicious when in good condition, but by far the most wary and difficult to catch of all his tribe. [illustration: _the cast for salmon._] one of the greatest initial mistakes made by the novice in salmon-fishing is to continue flogging the water for hours together, without intermission, and regardless of the state of the sky or water. it is very difficult to give general directions as to the latter, for circumstances vary in different rivers, and experience only can enable the angler to judge when the right moment has come, but in floods or in rising water no fish will, as a rule, pay the slightest attention to the fly. as to the weather, a fresh breeze which ripples the current of the river or the surface of the lake is always a point in the angler's favour, and the sky should be overcast. a bright sun is generally fatal to any chance of sport, but there are of course exceptions to this rule. the largest salmon i ever caught, and which weighed thirty-two pounds, rose to a fly just before sunset, after a cloudless day, during which he had remained at rest close under the bank, holding a _levée_ of numerous visitors who came to admire his fair proportions as he lay motionless and, apparently, without fear, within a foot of the surface of the water. i have seen fish rise as if they were mad, in a gale, with pelting rain and flashes of lightning. in weather like this, my father caught in one day some years ago, thirteen salmon and one hundred-and-seventy sea trout to his own rod in the erriff. it was a sort of convulsion of nature and the fish seemed to look upon it as an opportunity for a saturnalia. in all rivers and lakes with which i am acquainted i have found that the salmon rise at certain fixed hours morning and evening, and sometimes also in the middle of the day. as salmon do not rise from hunger, as far as we know, it is difficult to understand why this should be. i leave the explanation to others and merely state the fact as i have found it. in that part of the hampshire stour with which i am best acquainted, the hours for rising were five in the morning, one p.m., and sunset. at one p.m. the fish were so regular in their habits that the servants' dinner-bell, which rang at that hour and was audible for some miles round, came to be called the salmon bell. in dhulough, delphi, and glendalough lakes, in county mayo, the fish were lotus-eaters, and preferred the afternoon for intercourse with the human race. in pool persyn, on the usk, near brecon, they never rose, as far as we could find out, before twelve o'clock, or between two and four, when i presume they had their siesta. no doubt a great deal depends on the time of year and the amount of daylight. these peculiarities in a river can only be ascertained by experience, or by consultation with someone who knows the water, and should never be disregarded, as for all we know to the contrary, fish may get used to the sight of a fly which is constantly being dangled before their nose, and end by paying no attention to it. another very important matter is to make oneself acquainted with the haunts of the fish, the spots where they lie and rest on their way up the river--i do not say "down" as well, because they must not then be caught at all, owing to their condition. in fine weather, therefore, when the sun is bright and the water low, the wise fisherwoman will leave her rod at home and walk along the bank, slowly and carefully examining the bed of the river and ascertaining, as far as she can, where the fish are lying and where the rocks and roots of trees, or "snags," as they are called, are situated. this knowledge will assist her to cast her fly in the right and not in the wrong place, and may avoid the loss of a fish which would otherwise either accidentally or of _malice prepense_ entangle the line and snap it by means of a resistance which he cannot get from a lissom rod and a running line. this is such a favourite trick with pike that it amounts to a recognised dodge, and would almost seem to be the result of some form of reasoning, however dim. to flog the river for hours at a stretch, without having first ascertained these simple facts, at a wrong time of day, or when, for instance, the water is rising, is worse than useless, for it disgusts the angler, and renders her incapable, from sheer fatigue, of throwing a light fly when at last there is really a chance of a prize. casting, let us say, from forty to sixty feet of line with a heavy rod is hard work for any woman; indeed, most men return from their first day's sport with a stiffness in the muscles of the back and shoulders which it takes a vast amount of "elliman" to alleviate. it is most important for a woman, in fishing for salmon, to husband her strength, otherwise, if she hooks a heavy fish and is already tired out, she may find it a difficult matter to play it safely, and to land it eventually, after perhaps following and keeping strain on him for some distance over unequal ground. thick waterproof boots, made high in the legs, gaiters if required, a short skirt, a blouse or tennis flannel, strong belt of leather or webbing and loose jacket, with a small hat well fixed on head, is the most suitable costume to go out fishing in. i take for granted that most women will not care to wade, a practice which is dangerous to health and sometimes to life itself, even when waders are used, as few women so hampered could regain their footing in a strong current once they had lost it, or if they accidentally stepped into a hole. quiet colours, heather mixture and the like, should be worn, as fish, and more especially trout, have a quick eye for a bright patch. white objects are to be avoided. it is a well-known trick with poachers to send a large piece of white paper floating down stream. not a fish will rise for hours afterwards. it seems to affect them as flying a kite does partridges--they lie close and can be netted afterwards with ease. salmon are distinctly less clever than trout, and the same precautions against being seen are not so necessary, although always advisable even in the case of the former, which will also be attracted by a much coarser form of lure. no doubt the reason is partly that we fish for salmon and its varieties--the sea and bull-trout--in deeper water of which the surface, being broken by the current, is roughened and intercepts their view of the upper world. in trout streams this is not nearly so much the case, as a rule, and where the banks rise high above the water, trout require the greatest care, coaxing and delicacy in handling to induce them to exchange a comfortable home for the angler's creel. when salmon are rising, they will take almost anything, and in thick or heavy water i have caught them myself with the identical spoon-bait which i used for mackerel in the sea. it is difficult to fathom what is in the salmon's mind when he takes either a spoon or a boiled prawn, objects which he can never have met with in the sea in his natural state, but many fish will come at the fly merely to drown it by striking at it with their tail, and are ingloriously "foul-hooked" in consequence. when this happens they are far more difficult to kill, and often lead their captor a pretty dance before being finally gaffed or netted, the tail fin not being so sensitive as the mouth, which the fish can therefore close, thus swallowing no water when the strain begins to be severe.[ ] before starting for a day's fishing it is necessary thoroughly to examine the rod and tackle which are to be used. i recommend from personal experience, for a woman, a light, well-balanced rod about sixteen or seventeen feet in length. greenheart is a very good wood,[ ] and mine, which is made of this, has lasted for years and is, apparently, none the worse. all depends on the care which is taken of it during the time it is not being used. i have always kept my rod in a moderately warm place, where neither the damp could get at, to warp and swell the wood, nor too great dryness make it brittle, and before beginning the season i varnish it carefully to preserve it from wet. spare tops should be always kept ready in case of an emergency, but the accomplished sportswoman will of course learn how to splice a broken joint, as accidents do not always occur within reach of assistance. each joint, unless made with screw fastenings, is provided with brass eyes; a piece of waxed thread should be fixed to these so that, being wound round an eye in each joint, the whole rod can be securely put together. having omitted this precaution on one occasion when i was fishing for pike, i cast into the river, with my bait, the top joint of my trolling rod, which floated in the water, but did not, strange to say, prevent my hooking and landing a fish of seven or eight pounds. examine the reel carefully; take it to pieces, oil it, if necessary, and work the handle to see that it runs smoothly without a hitch before winding on the line. large heavy reels and coarse tackle are, to my mind, very inartistic and unsuitable for women, as they naturally lessen the chance of hooking a fish, although, once hooked, all the angler has to do is to hold on, "show the butt" persistently, keep the point of the rod well up and tire out the fish by main force. [illustration: _knot for gut loop._] this manner of proceeding has always seemed to me to be taking an unfair advantage of a salmon or trout. with a pike, of course, the question is a different one, as he cuts the line with his teeth, if you give him the chance and nothing but gimp is of any service. the rings through which the line runs should also be examined to see that they are secure and that the line itself, which is best of hemp for salmon-fishing is free from kinks and not chafed anywhere, also that it is wound evenly on the reel, from which it must run lightly and easily. a check in the running of the line, when a large fish makes a sudden dash, would almost certainly enable him to break away. many people waterproof or varnish the line to keep it from rotting, and its usual length is from sixty to seventy yards, the gut cast at the end being generally about three more and stained (according to the colour of the water in which it is to be used) either with tea or coffee, or else ink and water. one very important point is to wet both line and cast thoroughly before using; the former should be run through the rings in the rod, and casts made on a lawn or other open space for practice and to remove kinks if any. lines must be thoroughly dried after use. [illustration: _ordinary method of tying gut._] most women buy their tackle ready made, or are accompanied by an expert fisherman, but, if breakage in the cast takes place and no help be at hand, they should know how to make a single and double slip-knot, and how to put on fresh flies in case of need. it should always be remembered that the two ends of gut about to be joined should be thoroughly moistened before they are manipulated. otherwise the knots will not bind and the gut will break. [illustration: _method of fastening dropper to cast._] it is better for a woman, if not an expert, to keep to one fly, that at the end of the cast, called the tail fly, unless she is fishing for sea-trout in which case a smaller one, called the dropper, may be employed a little higher up the cast, or it may be advisable to use two different kinds of salmon flies, but they are apt to get entangled and give a great deal of trouble, without any conspicuous advantage. this is particularly the case where casting is interfered with by high rocks, or trees and branches just behind the fisherman. [illustration: _dropper and cast._] the length of my own favourite salmon and trout rods are seventeen and eleven feet respectively, but many people recommend a length of not over fourteen for the former, as a woman's strength is so much less than a man's. [illustration: _dropper and cast._] my own experience is, that in casting against a strong wind, a stiffish rod of eighteen feet is quite within my powers, so much depending on the balance of the whole apparatus, the size of the reel and weight of the butt. in quiet weather my "castle connell," a foot less in length and much more supple was very satisfactory. marvellous tales are told of long casts, but personally i have found sixty feet or thereabouts to be the length of my tether, at least so far as a satisfactory performance is concerned. this distance is usually quite enough for all practical purposes, and it will be some time before the angler can be certain of dropping his fly lightly and surely on a given spot, even at forty feet. women should practise casting on lawns without a cast at the end of their lines, as, when the fly is on, a novice has been known to hook swallows and even inquisitive puppy-dogs. the "spey" cast should be studied as well as the ordinary method, the former being most useful where there are high branches or rocks just behind the place where the angler must stand. the "spey" cast consists in so switching the line that it shoots out direct to the required spot without ever passing behind the angler's head, while in the more ordinary method, the great secret is to send the line right out at the back, and then with a dexterous turn of the wrist to bring it forward. by raising the tip of the rod slightly just before the fly touches the water, it will fall into its position in a light and natural manner. casting requires great care and patience in practising, and many a time the beginner may find her flies firmly embedded in her own back hair, instead of speeding swiftly through the air to where the fish lies. in casting a line either for salmon or trout it should be noted that fish always lie with their heads up-stream, and that it is therefore necessary to stand some distance above where they are supposed to be, and cast across the water so that the fly may fall delicately and gently, without the least splash, a little above their noses. it cannot be too often repeated that, in fishing for trout, the great art is _not to be seen_. the angler must therefore stand well back from the bank, hide behind trees and bushes and crouch in hollows. above all, it is absolutely essential that the figure should never be seen against the sky. she must keep her face to the sun, that her shadow may not fall on the water, throwing her fly first of all under the near bank and then by successive casts across the stream. the salmon cast is naturally a longer and slower movement than that which is used for trout, but in both instances it is often well to allow the fly to sink a little before beginning to play it. for salmon the line should be drawn gently and with successive movements of the wrist up-stream and across the space which intervenes between the spot where the fly has fallen and that at which the angler stands. the trout cast is much more rapid, and the playing should be across and down stream as well as up, the movements of the wrist being much lighter and more varied. in both cases, when a fish is felt, a "strike" should be made, at least, authorities, to whom i am bound to bow, insist on this ceremony. personally i believe that the fish, by this sharp turn of the wrist, is as often lost as hooked, unless care be taken to chose the actual moment when he has closed his jaws upon it. i have seen a fly pulled right out of a salmon's mouth, and have been told by those looking on and instructing me that i had done that same thing myself, when i merely intended to strike. my impression is, therefore, that the novice had better let her salmon hook themselves, which they will certainly do if they come well at the fly. the cast itself requires careful examination before it is used; it should be stained to the required colour and tested with a steelyard up to sixteen or seventeen pounds for finer tackle, and eighteen for that which is coarser. trout-casts, will not, of course, require or bear so severe a strain, but should be tried to see whether there is any defect either in the gut or in the knots which unite the several lengths of which they consist. few women, i imagine, will care to make their own casts, although some do, and for those i may mention that the best and cheapest gut is to be had in the south of spain, where it is about one-third of the price which it fetches in england. fly-making is very pretty work for delicate fingers but tedious and, on the whole, not very remunerative, as flies can be bought very cheap now-a-days. they may not be quite so carefully finished as those of home manufacture, but they are, i must admit, equally killing, although for years i placed implicit faith in the latter. there was one fly for which i had a special fancy; it is a combination of orange-coloured silks and tinsel for the body with pheasant and jay for the wings, peacock for the head and golden pheasant for the tail. on one occasion, this "orange body" of private manufacture was presented to a friend, who admired it greatly and sallied forth, on slaughter bent. he hooked a salmon almost with the first cast, struck with decision, and behold, all the dressing of the hook including of course the eye, came away and he lost his fish. what had happened? the secret was this: that the cobbler's wax used for fly-making had been mislaid, and an ordinary piece of wax-candle used instead, the result being that the fish went away with the hook in his mouth while the rest of the fly remained to adorn the cast. test your flies, therefore, see that they are thoroughly sound and that the eye and piece of gut by which they are fastened to the cast are not frayed. it is a good thing to try a new fly in a basin of water or shallow pond to see whether it floats, as it should, horizontally, and whether the wings have a life-like motion, as by repeated short movements you play it with your hand. attention to all these little matters may seem very irksome at first, but it is by these means that one angler will succeed when another who precedes him on the same ground, will obtain no sport. to give an accurate description of the different kinds of flies used in salmon and trout fishing, would be quite impossible in so short an article as the present one, but it should be said that, as a general rule, the deeper and larger the river the larger and brighter will be the flies required. in thick or heavy water, after a flood, large bright coloured flies are indicated, and the clearer the stream the smaller must be the size, and the more neutral the colours tend to become. most authorities seem to agree that the size of flies is a much more important factor in their killing qualities than the special materials of which they are made, or the finish and delicacy of their manufacture. when fish do not seem to be rising it is well to try them with another colour or make, and this will often enable the angler to fill his basket, when otherwise the day's sport must have been marked with a "duck's egg." the same general rules also apply to trout fishing, but it should be remembered that in the latter case, except when fishing in lakes or rivers for the larger species which may fairly be angled for as salmon, the shallow water, enabling the lure to be plainly seen, requires less gaudy colours, and, of course, an immense reduction in size. i must not omit to mention the gaff and the landing-net, most important parts of the angler's outfit. the former is best for large fish, under which it is much more difficult to get a net. there is always a great controversy raging as to whether it is best to gaff "over" or "under," and the right place to accomplish the former is said by some authorities to be the back just at the shoulder. personally i belong to those who gaff "under," and have always found it much easier than the other. when a fish is brought close to the bank, sometimes only half or three-parts killed, he will generally make a dash for his life when he sees a murderous-looking steel instrument close to him, so it must be concealed from his view, and it is a good plan to have the gaff pretty deep in the water before he is brought up to it then striking under and drawing the gaff sharply forwards and upwards. i have landed some very heavy fish in this way, and scarcely ever missed one. once i gaffed a beautiful salmon of at least eighteen pounds, on the usk, landed him triumphantly, and stood admiring him while the fly was taken out of his mouth. he seemed quite dead, but just as we turned away to what we hoped would be fresh conquests, with a vigorous flap of his tail, he managed to slide over into the river and was lost to view. i am afraid he was mortally wounded by the gaff, and must have died before long. this was a lesson to me to remove my fish to some distance from the water's edge and to make sure that they were really dead before leaving them. the net should be used for "red" or "black" fish, which must be returned to the river on account of their condition, with as little injury as possible. grayling are not usually considered as interesting to catch as salmon and trout, for, although they will sometimes make a desperate fight for life, they will only too often sink down to the bottom of the stream and remain there. they must be fished for with the same precautions against being seen which are used for trout, and with several flies on the cast, as they often move in shoals. they usually lie in the middle of the river, in its lower reaches towards the sea, and when these are broad, the angler is often compelled to wade to get the best chance at them. they are caught with the fly as well as worms and other bait. the cast should be made up-stream. i must not forget to mention dry-fly fishing, which is particularly suitable for women. this form of angling is usually necessary in chalk streams, where trout will often refuse to be tempted by any other. the cast must be made up-stream so that the fly drops on the nose of the fish in a natural manner, and floats on the top of the water. the moment the fly gets wet it is useless, and must be dried by making two or three false casts in the air before returning to a real one on the stream. the fly must be worked with the greatest delicacy of touch, and allowed to float down with the current on the surface of the water. coarse fish. [illustration: _lead for spinning. double swivel._] the above title includes pike, perch, roach, dace, chub, bream, barbel, and tench, the last of which is very good eating, its fat being almost like that of the turtle. when the nobler varieties are not to be obtained, coarse fish are by no means to be despised, either for the table or for sporting purposes, and many a happy day may be spent on rivers and lakes at a time of year when perhaps neither salmon nor trout are available. [illustration: _archer spinner._] my experience of pike fishing has been chiefly in the hampshire stour, which has a gravelly bottom, so that those fish, which are apt to be muddy in flavour, were superior to any i have tasted caught elsewhere. they are to be taken either with a float and live bait, or else with a trolling-rod and spinning tackle, baited with a dace or other small fish. after the care and tact which must be displayed in salmon, and especially in trout fishing, pike seem to be of a very inferior order of intellect. no concealment of one's person at the river-side is absolutely necessary, though it may be advisable sometimes, and the splash made by the bait in the water when spinning and which is enough to frighten all the trout in the pool, does not seem to affect the appetite of the fish we are now dealing with. [illustration: _bickerayke's snap tackle._] as far as my experience goes, i should say that gimp is the only thing that will hold a large pike, whose tactics are to cut the line with his teeth, or to wind it round a rock or root in the bed of the river and so defeat his human enemy. even when safely landed he is still dangerous for he has jaws like a tiger, fitted with large, sharp teeth, which must be approached with caution. the trolling-rod is short and stiff, with large rings so that the line can run freely; the latter cannot of course be wound on the reel when fishing, unless in casting from the reel, but must be drawn in by hand. great care is required to prevent entanglement, and the angler must beware of treading on his line as he moves along. i found, inside a pike of twenty-five pounds, caught in the hampshire stour, a perch of three pounds, which had been swallowed whole. the pike had, apparently, only regarded this as a _hors d'oeuvre_ and not as a square meal, since he came to my dace with the greatest voracity. perch fishing has always had great attractions for me, and i have caught many beautiful baskets of them, also in the hampshire stour. they are curious fish in some ways, and are to be found in large companies in pools and lakes, at the time of year when they are in season. when they are on the shallows they are not fit to eat, and will not usually take the bait. we fished for them with a live minnow and float, sometimes from the bank and sometimes from a punt. they do not seem shy, and i have caught them with my hand in the water holding the gut and minnow, but if once a perch is lost, no more will rise in that pool. they must have some means of communication with each other, for after such an event the only thing to do is to move to another hole. when, by the disappearance of the float under water, the angler becomes aware that a fish has taken the bait, a short time should be allowed before striking as it must be remembered that the perch has to swallow part of the minnow before arriving at the hook. if left too long, the perch will gorge the bait (and this applies also to pike), the result being very unpleasant for all parties concerned. i have also caught perch with a worm, in which case the bait should be almost on the bottom of the river. the great attraction in this sport is that you can fish on a brilliantly fine summer's day, and see the objects of your attentions swimming about and playing regardless of you in the deep clear water. [illustration: _pennell flight for small baits._] it is said that certain kinds of trout croak, but that roach do, i myself can testify, and so distressing is the noise they emit that when i have caught them by accident, i always returned them to the water with great despatch. carp and tench are exceedingly shy fish and both prefer muddy and weedy ponds to a clear running stream. in the former they may be caught with paste and other forms of bait, but, to my mind, are hardly worth the trouble and, if wanted for the table may just as well be circumvented with a net, for all the sport they afford. [illustration: _pennell flight for large baits._] barbel and bream are very dull fish to catch with a rod and line; the former especially dive at once and burrow sulking in the mud, opposing merely dead weight to the angler's efforts. dace and chub only remain to be noticed. the former will take a fly very readily, and give very good sport for their size, while chub are as shy as trout and as difficult to catch, if once they obtain a sight of their antagonist on the bank. it has only been possible to give a very short account of the various kinds of fresh-water fish, and numerous questions will occur to the novice in angling, which must be elucidated partly by study of the many excellent volumes already published on the subject, but chiefly by experience and consultation with men who possess special knowledge of their own locality. still, i hope i have said enough to encourage women to look into the science of angling for themselves, and not to be entirely dependent on the services and advice of anyone who may chance to accompany them. s. h. malmesbury. [illustration: _natural forms of favourite trout flies._] footnotes: [ ] this hook or beak on the lower jaw of male salmon is a provision of nature to enable them to rake those furrows in the gravel wherein the female deposits her _ova_. it has been known to pierce entirely through the upper jaw, causing the ultimate death of the fish.--ed. [ ] the foul-hooked salmon, too, has far more leverage.--ed. [ ] rods of split cane are very largely used, and as they are light and strong have much to recommend them.--ed. trout and other fly fishing. this subject far from being treated exhaustively, or even with any attempt at fulness, will, on the contrary, only be written of, so as to give a few hints to those who love to wield the rod. bottom fishing, with the paraphernalia necessary to that branch of the sport, has objections at least from a woman's point of view, but to fishing with the fly there is no drawback, unless indeed you happen to be one of those who hold that you should never pit your skill against one of the lower animals in a struggle for life. of all sports indeed there is none more entirely suited to the powers of woman than fly-fishing. the nicety, the quickness, the light-handedness, and care as to details, and i think i may add _thoroughness_ in any pursuit they really take to, in which women generally excel are all points in her favour the moment she takes a rod in hand. great strength is not needed, unless indeed she choose to go after one of the leviathans of the deep, but only constant and exhaustless patience. yet it is the mention of the last that will make many who know only of the sport by hearsay, look scornful and say they see no fun in standing watching and waiting for the bite that often never comes, and that they prefer something more active. as it is no use arguing with people who are persuaded they view the subject from a vastly superior standpoint, the only answer to this is, "if you do not change your opinion after a week's--or even a day's--experience--well, fly-fishing is not for you." what i am anxious to impress upon all is, that fly-fishing is not necessarily an expensive sport. for the best of salmon-fishing and the right to try for trout in their choicest waters you must indeed pay, but for the right to fish for their less thought of brethren there need be but small demands on your purse. my own experience one summer may be of some use to those who would fain do likewise. my lot was cast in a part of sussex where under the downs flowed a tiny but most beautiful little river. "no trout," had been the answer given when i enquired as to the prospect of sport from its banks, so sadly i made up my mind that beyond an occasional visit to a trout stream, owned by some friends in the same county, my rod would be idle that summer. "if only it _was_ stocked with trout," was my frequent reflection as i wandered along its banks and noted the swift flowing current and the tempting stickles that looked a perfect paradise from a trouting point of view. one evening as i stood watching the clear waters as they rushed round and over some opposing rocks into a large pool, i caught sight of a silvery, most graceful fish dart through the water at the side of the eddy. then when my eye became accustomed to the curious light, as the rays of the setting sun fell slantways over the pool, through the branches of a mighty oak tree that rose from the banks, i saw another, and another. "dace," was my verdict, and forthwith dismissed them from my mind. but i had not reached home before the thought of trying for those dace with fly came to me, and the next day, trout rod in hand, and with a black palmer and alder on the cast, i made my first venture in what was to me quite a new branch of sport. [illustration: _method of fastening dropper to cast._] as the line flew out for the second time and the flies fell gently and lightly on the water, i had but to wait a second before a faint thrill ran through my hand and told me _something_ had touched the fly. could it be a bite? so different was it to the sudden onslaught of a trout, that i hesitated whether or not to strike, and contrary to the usual fate of the waverer, it was the momentary pause which gave me the fish. a slight movement of the wrist and i had him fast, and then a delicious few minutes followed while i played as game a dace as i ever wish to measure skill with. indeed i should not have been surprised when at last my prize was safely caught in the landing net, to see the spotted scales of a trout. but no, the slender, silvery, beautiful-headed fish could be no other than a dace, and his captor at least was content with the gallant bid he had made for his life. if dace would take the fly, why not also roach and chub, and soon, _faute de mieux_ it is true, but none the less with very considerable enjoyment, i was fishing the little stream for all three kinds in turn. on the gravelly bottom of a certain portion of the water, i found a red palmer very attractive to the roach which were there in considerable numbers. some of them were of fair size, the largest i took turning the scales at -lb., but i am bound to confess that i found these fish such very shy biters that i generally preferred to try either for dace or chub. one roach, however, gave rather a novel experience by hanging itself in a tree, and causing the greatest excitement among our party, the members of which quickly came from their chosen spots to see and admire. i was fishing from the shelter of a bush on the top of a high steep bank, and with some trees close at the rear and a decidedly fresh breeze blowing, it was not an easy matter to get the line safely out at all. the water, however, was but little disturbed by the wind, from which just there it was protected by the high ground, and the fish were clearly visible in the water below. as there was nothing for it in such a position but to swing the fish out if i caught one, i did not for that once wish to make a big capture. scarcely had the tail fly--this was a red palmer--touched the water than one of the usual shy bites was made, and fortunately my strike secured the prize so far. but he seemed heavy and was, besides, the gamest of his kind i have ever played. quietly we could not manage things, and it was very soon clear that if i did not then secure him, i need not struggle with the difficulties of casting again in that part of the stream, for every other finny inhabitant would have taken the alarm. all my faculties were therefore intent on the capture. when i saw him at last tired of struggling and almost beneath me, i tried to swing him up, wondering, as i did so, if it were possible my light tackle could stand the strain. a flash of silver through the air, then a puff of wind, and a red-finned, black-backed roach of about -oz. in weight, was dangling over the topmost bough of a tree which grew up from the lower part of the bank a little to my left. the poor fish struggled and the line swayed ominously among the branches, till at last a nimble climber released them both, and to my delight restored them to me. for chub i found a larger fly effective, and a coachman and a red palmer, both tied large, were what i generally used. in my experience, chub is the most determined biter of any of those i am now discussing, and he is very game up to a certain point, his dashes and struggles as he tries to free himself from the hook, being as fierce as those of many a good trout. the battle, however, will be over much sooner than with one of the latter species, and when you see the inert form in the water, you will realise with sorrow that after all he does not belong to the kind known as "game fish." in fishing for chub you must be as careful about showing yourself as you would be in trying for a trout, for he is very quick in spotting anything unusual, and once he has done this, you may offer him the most tempting flies unavailingly. by the time you have landed a -lb. chub, you will, in my opinion, have exercised to the full as much, if not more skill, than you would have done in the capture of a trout, and though the sport of playing him will be sooner over, it will have been good indeed while it lasted. [illustration: _method of fastening reel-line to cast._] the chub i found to rise earlier in the day in this little sussex stream than either dace or roach, the two last on the warm august evenings often rising freely as long as we could see to cast for them. the great difference between fishing with the fly for game and coarse fish lies in this, that while with the latter you require even more lightness of hand and skill in casting than on any ordinary trout stream, the intense excitement of the moments when you play a good trout or salmon will not be experienced to the same extent. but that sport and good sport may be enjoyed with any of the three varieties i have named, i have proved to my own satisfaction, and i hope that what i have said may induce others to try for themselves. at the same time that nothing can equal the joy of playing and landing your first trout, i would be the last to deny, for the day on which the first fell to my rod is still marked as a red letter day in my life. this also was in sussex, in a well-stocked merry little stream which babbled and chattered over its white stones, giving the last touch of beauty to the peaceful valley through which it flowed. after the preliminary walk along the banks of that part of the water i was to fish, so as to get the knowledge of the position of the pools and eddies and overhanging banks without which one's labour is likely to be thrown away, i sallied forth, rod in hand, to the neighbourhood of a bridge from which i had noted several trout lying with their heads up stream. a few hundred yards from this, where the banks it is true did not seem to offer much facility for casting, there was an eddy at one side of the stream and a mass of rushes on the other, all under the shadow of trees which rose between them and the bridge. when it is remembered that i was trying for my first trout--the experience now lies back in the dim distance of the past--it will not perhaps cause surprise if i say that my whole being thrilled with the excitement of the moment. my cast had a red palmer for the tail fly, and black alder as dropper, for at dinner the night before i had been advised to try these by a local fisherman. i should probably make a mess of it, and catch my line in one or other of the traps that literally bristled on all sides of me, was the thought that was uppermost, as after scrambling down cautiously and keeping well out of view, i craned my neck to see how i could possibly get my cast to alight on the spot i had chosen. as i had my hand up for the venture a swift rise just where my eyes were fixed on the water, told me of the presence of a trout. my line flew out, and the tail-fly falling within the widening circle was instantly seized, and a sharp turn of the wrist gave me a trout with a bewildering suddenness. up went the point of the rod, and the good cane bent to the weight beneath. a maddened dash across stream to the reeds, was the first attempt of the prey, then a trial to get to the shelter of a rock conveniently near, but slowly and surely he gave in to the steady pull brought to bear on him, and soon i looked with unspeakable delight on a / -lb. trout, in the prime of condition, safe within the folds of the landing net. that no fish ever comes up to the one you first capture, has since this moment been an article of faith with me. others larger, gamer, better in every sense may, and will if you have ordinary skill and perseverance, fall to your rod, but nothing will give you the same thrill of rapture you felt when you saw your "first trout" on the bank at your feet. [illustration: _a good gut knot._] to make a good trout fisher there are of course many things to learn, and one of the greatest charms of the sport lies in this, that you never come to the end of what there is to know of it. but pre-eminently is it true that an ounce of practice is worth a ton of precepts. you must to a very great extent buy your own experience, and though you will always do well to profit by other people's advice, you must yourself build up the theories which will show you how, when, and where to cast so that fish may rise to your fly, when they are proof against the blandishments of the less skillfully-thrown lure. that you should always study the lie of the water over which you mean to fish is a truism, and yet it is a fundamental rule to the neglect of which many both men and women owe the fact, that they never rise above a very mediocre degree of skill. unless you know something of the habits of the fish and the spots in which he is likely to be found, how can you hope to succeed in making him acquainted with your fly? to prevent him catching a glimpse of you, and for this end to be dressed so as scarcely to be distinguished from the ground upon which you will be standing, to make no noise or disturbance, to throw with the utmost delicacy of hand, to strike instantaneously or the reverse according to the particular class of fish you are angling for, to cast up stream or partly up and _across_, and never to allow the gut to make a ripple as you draw your cast through the water, all these constitute the abc of an angler's stock of learning. i believe that most people carry about with them a quite unnecessary stock of flies, and that as much success will fall to you if you only provide yourself with different kinds of palmers, black and red gnats, the black alder, red spinner, march brown, blue upright, yellow dun, stone fly, wickham's fancy, greenwell's glory, and on some streams the green drake, having these in several shades and tied on different sized hooks, never forgetting to supplement them by any others recommended by local fishermen, whose knowledge remember has probably been bought by careful study and long and varied experience. for coarse fish i have found the palmers, black gnat, artificial grub, and bumble bee the most successful. the chub always liking their fly tied large, the dace and roach preferring theirs small. a rod well-chosen and well-balanced is of course of the first necessity to your success. to speak again from my own experience, i found an inexpensive light greenheart made by hancock, a delightful rod in every respect and with this my first ventures both with trout and coarse fish were made. it only measured -ft. -in., but was beautifully balanced, and you could make very fairly long casts with it. as a beginner you should always get some experienced friend to choose your rod for you, though like everything else of the kind, you will naturally prefer to make the choice yourself as soon as you know how to test the balance on which all else depends. in the matter of outfit, you will need a creel which should contain an upper tray for luncheon, a landing net, and one or two casts ready made for use. the last may be fastened round your hat, and of course if you have any idea of being independent and going out by yourself, your creel and net should be chosen with a view to lightness, or they will naturally add materially to the fatigue of a day on the river bank. lastly, i would say, that if you should have the opportunity of going out with a good fisherman on a river or lake, there to learn the elements of fly-fishing, by all means avail yourself of it. in no other way can you master the rudimentary practice so easily as from a boat, for there will be no bushes or banks, or the hundred and one difficulties you may have to consider on land, and you will therefore be able to concentrate your efforts on getting your line out in a fairly workmanlike manner. that you should not be easily discouraged it is scarcely necessary to add, for who that has landed her first trout has not straightway felt the fever of the rod take possession of her? frances e. slaughter. [illustration: _lafayette._ _dublin._ _miss massey-mainwaring._] driving. of the many forms of sport indulged in by women there is in my opinion none more fascinating than driving. single, pair, and tandem-driving are within the capabilities of most women, though to control a team thoroughly, especially with a full coach behind it, requires exceptional skill, nerve and strength. the first thing to learn when beginning driving lessons is the proper position and use of each piece of harness, the effect of shifting the reins on the bit, the correct position of the bit in the horse's mouth, and in pair or team driving how the horses should be coupled to go well together. there are no two horses quite alike in character, and each one to go well in harness requires attention to his individual habits and characteristics. very few people realise how much unnecessary pain is caused to horses by mere thoughtlessness. how many people there are who to be "smart" have very tight bearing reins, never dreaming of the agony the poor animals are suffering when left waiting as they often are at the front door, with their mouths aching and their heads strained up. yet i do not by any means wish to condemn the use of the bearing rein altogether, especially in a crowded city, as it would be impossible to drive many horses without one. frequently, too, the bit is put very much too high in the horses' mouths, and then people wonder why the poor animals are restless and fidgety while their mouths are being pinched and cut. [illustration: _reins for single harness._] there are so many things to be mentioned in speaking of driving that it is difficult to know where to begin, what to leave out, and what to mention. i cannot do better than begin with the start from the front door. there are exceedingly few women who have any idea how to start properly. i remember once noticing a very good whip start. she was ready when the cart came to the door, for she well knew that nothing is worse for an animal than to be kept waiting. she went and patted the pony, giving a glance at the harness to see that it was all in its proper place. finding the throat lash too tight she let it out a hole, then unfastening the reins from the off-side terret, she took them in her right hand with the second and third fingers between the two reins, got in and sat down immediately. putting the rug over her knees, she then transferred the reins to her left hand, the near rein over the first finger and the off rein between the second and third fingers, and took the whip in her right hand. when she was quite ready to start, she dropped her left hand and the pony moved off. my first impression naturally was, "i am sure that girl can drive," and i was quite right. in driving there are so very many things to be remembered and others to be avoided, that i think a few good rules will be the easiest way of mentioning them: . both the reins should be held in the left hand, on no account should either rein be taken out of that hand. . the hand should be kept just above the level of the waist, fairly close to the body, the wrist being well bent so as to give plenty of spring to the horse's mouth, the nails and thumb turned towards the body and the elbow close to the hip. . the reins should be kept close to the knuckles, so as to avoid the possibility of their slipping out of the hand. . the right hand should not be kept altogether on the reins, but when on them it should be slightly in front of the left, and the hands should never be far apart. . to shorten either or both the reins push them through the left hand from the front, with the right. . to lengthen, pull them through the left hand from the front with the right hand, never let a rein slip. . always hold the whip in the right hand when driving. . the whip should be held where it balances best, usually just below the collar, and the thong should be kept fairly high so as to avoid the possibility of the lash tickling the horse. . never jerk a horse when starting, and never flap the reins on his back. . if a horse does not start when you drop the hand slightly, draw the whip gently over his withers. . when whipping a horse, with the exception of leaders, always hit him in front of the pad. . a kicker can often be stopped by a sharp hit on the ears. . always keep a steady, firm, though not heavy hold of a horse's mouth, "feel" his mouth all the time he is going. . when driving through a crowded thoroughfare, remember there is traffic behind as well as in front that must not be stopped unnecessarily. . pass all the near-side traffic on its off-side. . when turning a corner or pulling up, always indicate your intention, in the former case by swinging the whip in the direction in which the turn is being made, or in the latter by swinging the lash straight above the head. . always go fairly slowly round corners, and keep to the near side. . keep a horse well in hand on greasy wood or asphalt, or when going down hill, and never hurry going up a steep hill. . always look straight ahead, and on no account at the traffic passing or being passed. . never hit a horse when the right hand is on the reins, as otherwise in using the whip the hand necessarily goes forward and relaxes the hold on the rein or reins. of course it is quite impossible to lay down rules for everything, and a great deal in driving can only be learnt by long and varied experience. one often hears people talking of self-made whips, but that term generally means people who think they can drive and cannot. for anyone beginning to drive it is essential to start by taking lessons from a really first-class whip. most of the road coach-drivers give lessons. it is quite as necessary to have good lessons to drive one horse as it is to drive four, as the foundation of pair, team, and tandem driving is to be able to drive one horse perfectly. a made pair is quite as easy to drive as a single horse, but when it is a case of driving two horses, which have not been previously in harness together, it is quite a different matter. nothing looks nicer than to see a good pair of cobs in a smart phaeton, going well, driven by a lady who knows what driving means. women who drive well, as a rule, have light hands, though many of them do not keep a sufficiently steady hold on a horse's mouth. they so often forget that it is a matter of the greatest importance to feel their horse's mouth the whole time they are going. it is not an easy matter to get any two horses of about the same size to go well together, unless the greatest attention is given to all the lesser details. it is absolutely necessary that the harness should fit well and be properly adjusted. when starting two new horses it is as well to do so with the couplings level and bitted cheek all round. after they have gone a short distance it can easily be seen whether they are going comfortably and well together and each doing his fair share of work. if they are not, the reason can soon be discovered, and the fault rectified. very often one horse goes a good deal more freely, and takes a stronger hold of the bit, and in that case it will be necessary to see that the other horse has sufficient room in the couplings, and at the same time to put the free horse middle bar if he is inclined to pull. frequently though, the mistake is made of shifting the reins on the bit when only the couplings require altering. very few horses carry their heads quite alike, and consequently will require more or less room in the couplings as the case may he. many horses too do not carry their heads straight, and need special attention. for instance: it the near side horse carries his head over to the left, the off-side rein will have to be shortened, which means the buckle will have to be taken on the other horse's off-rein. it requires the greatest care and nicety to couple horses correctly, for it makes all the difference as to the way in which they will go. when putting two horses together it is as well if possible to get them the same size, colour and build. size is the most important, and many people consider colour the next to be considered, but personally i think colour makes very little difference as long as the horses are the same stamp and go comfortably together. it is most disagreeable to drive two horses together, one having a long swinging stride, and the other taking short "shuffling" steps. it is most trying for the horses too, as the former is sure to do more work than the latter, which to keep up will be continually breaking into a canter. [illustration: _the harness._ . _brow band._ . _blinkers._ . _nose band._ . _liverpool bit._ . _curb chain._ . _cheek strap._ . _throat lash._ . _collar._ . _hames._] when putting in a young horse for the first time, it is best to put him in a brake with a steady old horse which knows his work. the off-side is best for the youngster just at first, but he should be perpetually changed sides, as otherwise he will be apt to develop numerous bad habits, besides getting a crooked mouth. when starting get somebody to hold his head till ready to go, and then the man should run beside him for a few minutes, without holding him. be sure to drop the hand to the horses well as they move off, and do not on any account allow the young horse to be the first to get into his collar, as if you do he will feel the whole weight of the brake and the other horse, and be unable to move, and will in all probability jib. once a horse has learnt that he can jib, it is a most difficult habit to break him of. therefore, avoid letting a young horse find out that he can do so. very often a young horse will go better through the traffic in london than he will round the park when it is empty, as in the traffic there are so many things to occupy his attention that he will forget to resent he is made to work. if anything frightens him and he refuses to pass it, get him led by and do not hit him, as otherwise he will always associate that particular thing with being hit, and think it is the object of his fright which caused him to be hit, and afterwards either jib when he sees it again, or rush by it. before a young horse is driven he should be thoroughly accustomed to having the harness on and the bit in his mouth. it is best to have the harness put on with very long reins, so that a man can walk behind him and make him walk as it he were being driven. his first lessons should be short so as not to worry or tire him. once a woman can drive _any_ two horses together and make them go well, she will probably be capable of learning to drive a tandem or team. it is very hard to say which is the better of the two to begin with. personally i think if both are going to be taken up, it is as well to start with a team, but it really makes very little difference. of course a team requires a great deal more strength, but very often to drive _any_ two horses together makes a large demand on your strength. one of the best ways of learning is to watch a good driver, both going through the traffic and driving in the country, and to pay great attention to his hands as well as the horses, so as to notice how the turns, etc., are done. an easy means of doing this is to take the box seat of a road coach when a professional is driving, and afterwards to take lessons from a road coach driver. a great deal can be learnt at first, simply by watching a person's hands, noting how a loop is made, how when the leaders are turning the wheelers are kept "off" a corner, and how the team is straightened. [illustration: _how to take up reins._] the most difficult thing for a beginner to learn is how to start the horses properly, and how to pull up well. it is absolutely necessary always to see that the horses and harness are in their proper places, and the horses correctly bitted, as anything being out of place may easily cause a serious accident. avoid keeping the horses waiting once they are ready to start. go to the off-side wheeler and take the reins first in the left hand, the first finger between the lead reins and the middle finger between the wheel reins, take them gently so as not to touch the horses' mouths, then pull out a good piece of the off reins, so that the buckles and splicings may be about level when you are seated. transfer the reins to the right hand, the middle finger between the lead and the third finger between the wheel reins, get on the box, and sit down immediately, so as to avoid being jerked off should the horses start suddenly. then transfer the reins back to the left hand. all reins do not have the splicing quite in the same place, but as a rule the buckles and splicing will be about level. gently feel the wheelers' mouths and then the leaders', the latter should be standing away from the bars. the near wheel rein may be a trifle shorter than the off, as this is the most difficult one to take up in a hurry. be sure that the leaders have plenty of head room when starting, otherwise they will be likely to jib. though the wheelers should start the coach, if any one of the horses is inclined to jib he should not be allowed to feel the weight of the coach when moving off. once started the lead reins can easily be shortened a trifle. take the whip in the right hand, and drop the left hand well to the horses just as they start, and then bring it back to its proper place. be careful when dropping the left hand not to bend forward and lean over the reins; nothing looks worse. the proper position of the left hand is about level with the waist, the elbow close to the side, the wrist well bent, and the fingers and thumb turned towards the body, in fact practically the same as for driving a single horse or pair, but as the driver is higher over the horses and the weight of the reins is greater the hand will probably be a trifle lower. [illustration: _position of hands and reins._] the horses must be continually watched so as to see that each is doing his fair share of the work and that the team is absolutely straight, otherwise it will be quite impossible to get through the traffic or to turn corners properly. it is best always to shorten reins by pushing them through from the front, but at first the beginner will find it very difficult. if the team is not going straight it can generally be put right by either shortening or lengthening the two middle reins--the off lead and the near wheel--these being the two easiest to alter, being together. of course sometimes only one rein may be wrong, and if that is the case it should immediately be either pulled out or pushed through, or three reins may be too long, and then it is very often found convenient to lengthen the short one, and then put the right hand on the reins some inches in front of the left and slide the left hand up to it. shortening the reins by this method looks far more workmanlike than by pulling them through the left hand from behind, and it does not jerk the horses in the mouth. a team should always be kept well in hand, and a steady though light pressure maintained on their mouths. if a horse is found to be pulling or boring, he should be differently bitted at once, as every horse must be well under control. before turning a corner be sure that all the mouths are felt, slacken the pace slightly, and then point the leaders in the direction and make the wheelers follow them round. a loop has to be made in the reins as the horses must not turn together, but the wheelers after the leaders. the point or loop is made by placing the right hand on the lead rein of the side to which the turn is being made, some distance in front of the left hand, this depends on the size of the turn and whether the leaders answer quickly, the rein must then be brought back to the left hand and placed under the thumb, which forms a loop and leaves the right hand free either to hit the wheelers or be put on the reins to steady the horses. when the leaders are round the corner the loop can be allowed to slide gradually through the hand, but should never be let go all at once. in bringing back the loop to the left hand, the leaders must be watched so as to tell exactly how much rein is required to be taken up, to make them turn as desired. free horses that have been going in the lead for some time, especially if they know the road well, will only require a very small loop. horses too, that have been in the wheel long are apt to cut the corners very short, as the wheeler on the side on which the turn is being made, recognises the sign of the leaders being about to turn, by feeling the lead rein shortened at the side of his head. in those cases what is called the opposition point is made use of. for instance, turning to the right the near wheel rein is looped over the thumb, and the off lead is looped _under_ the first finger, to the left the off-wheel rein is looped under the first finger, and the near lead under the thumb. this is by far the easiest way of making the opposition point, as by this means either loop can be let out by itself if necessary. be careful when taking up a loop never to let the left hand go forward to meet the right. the right hand should always bring the rein back to the left hand. by turning the left hand towards one, the near reins get shortened, and by turning it outwards, away from one, the off reins get tightened. a great deal can be done by giving the hand. again a slight curve to either side, not a sharp turn, may be accomplished by placing the right hand on the lead reins and one wheel rein. for instance if an incline to the right were being made, the right hand would take hold of the lead reins and the near wheel. in london, when the wood and asphalt are greasy, it is best to drive slowly, as a coach is fairly heavy and not easy for the horses to stop, in spite of the assistance given by the brake. going through the traffic the bars should always chatter, which means that the leaders should not be doing their full share of the work, when turning, they should be quite out of draught otherwise the pole would most probably be snapped. some coaches have a foot brake, and this is very useful, especially in traffic when a lady is driving and has to pull up suddenly, and at the same time it saves the horses' legs greatly, though it does not do to make too frequent use of it. it is best for a lady to have someone sitting on the "brake seat," to put on the brake for going down steep hills, but this person should never touch the brake till he is told to do so, as only the driver can know the exact moment when it is required. when coming to the top of a hill, before going down always take a pull at the horses, shorten all the reins, and make sure of feeling all their mouths. the leaders should always be out of draught going down hill, but they should on no account be too far back on the bars as otherwise knocking up against them might cause one of the leaders to kick and get a leg over the trace. generally when shortening all the reins on the top of a hill, the wheelers come so far back that the leaders are brought right back on the bars, and if anything, the lead reins have to be let out. it is best to begin going down hill fairly slowly, as the pace can always be increased, but it is most difficult to lessen it. when pulling up, run the right hand some way down the reins, and bring it back to the left if possible. it is as well to shorten the reins slightly in the left hand previously. when putting the right hand on the rein to steady the horses, it is a very good plan to place it over three reins only, the third and fourth fingers over the off rein and the first and second fingers over one of the others. the lead reins should never be buckled, and on road coaches none of the reins have buckles on them as a rule. one of the great difficulties to be overcome at the beginning is the management of the whip. a team whip should not be too heavy, especially for a lady's use, but at the same time it ought not to be very light. a whip should always be kept hung up, and it is a very good plan to keep one handy and have it down from the wall every day for five or ten minutes' practice even after you have learnt to fold it. the common way of learning to fold or catch is to chalk a big [illustration] on the wall, and beginning at the bottom of this go upwards towards the right, swinging the lash upwards, and then allowing it to come back to the stick. the whip should be held with the first finger pointing up the stick, and the lash under the second finger. an expensive whip is by no means necessary. schomberg, in the brompton road, has some useful ones at s. d. in choosing a whip it is best to get a springy one, with several knots on the stick near the quill so as to keep the thong on the stick when folded. it should balance well when held near the collar. when on the box the whip should be held in the right hand under the thumb, with the lash twisted a few times round the stick, which is also held under the thumb. the lash should always be in a big loop, so that there is not more than six inches to spare beyond the hand. the wheelers should always be hit before the pad with the double thong, and the leaders should be hit on the hind legs, by the end of the lash of course. when about to hit the leaders unfold the whip and bring the stick back to the side of the coach, and then by a movement of the wrist send the lash in the required direction under the bars. afterwards bring the thong back to the stick and fold it up again. when the thong is on the stick, put the left thumb through the loop that is on the stick, pull off the lash and give it one or two turns to the left. in hitting wheelers one must remember that they cannot do their fair share of work if the leaders have too much head room, and it is quite useless hitting them without first shortening the leaders' reins. above all, when driving a team, keep them well in hand and feel their mouths. tandem driving in many respects closely resembles team driving. the reins are held in the same way, and the whip is practically the same though generally rather lighter and the lash a trifle shorter, but this will depend of course on the size of the horses you are driving. many people consider a tandem, even apart from the difference in the weight of the reins, more difficult to drive than a coach, but personally i have always considered tandem driving the easier of the two; it is easier to pull up in the traffic and you can turn in a fairly small space, though to make the horses go well they require neat, quick, handling, and exceptionally light hands. many horses will make good tandem leaders that will not go in any other form of harness; of course, there are many too which make safe leaders, but at the same time could not be called "good." a perfect leader should be quick and free, and always be taking a slight hold of the bit, he should go wherever he is driven and not shy off omnibuses, etc. a slug in the lead is most difficult to drive, and quite takes away from the pleasure of a tandem. there are two kinds of harness, with and without bars. with bars is supposed to be the safer of the two, but, if proper care is taken, there is practically no danger without bars, as the leader should never be allowed to get far enough back to risk his getting a leg over the trace. to turn, a loop can be taken up just the same as in turning a team, but it is necessarily much smaller, and great care must be taken not to allow the leader to come completely round. most corners, if not sharp ones, can be turned by placing the right hand over the lead reins and one wheel rein, but a great deal depends on the give and take of the left hand. this is a most important thing, as a tandem turns very easily, a turn of the wrist being usually sufficient to move the horses across the road. when the right hand is kept on the reins, it should be in the same position as on team reins. when getting into the cart the reins should also be taken the same way as team reins, first in the left hand and then passed to the right, and finally, when seated, transferred back to the left hand. before taking the reins to get into the cart, the whip should always be neatly folded and placed in the socket ready for immediate use. though the wheeler starts the cart, the leader should have plenty of head room, or otherwise he will be liable to jib. a tandem is most useful for going fairly long distances at a good pace, as the weight is not great and the leader can do his full share of the work going up hill. except when going up hill a leader should only do a very small share of the work. if proper care is taken, the danger of a tandem is by no means so great as is generally supposed, and a good tandem is a most enjoyable turn-out to drive. [illustration: _downer._ _watford._ _miss massey-mainwaring._] i hope the foregoing hints may be of some use to those interested in driving, who wish to become steady and clever whips. the most necessary things to ensure success are plenty of practice in driving different horses, and great care and attention to all the minor details. there is nothing more enjoyable than road coach-driving, in my opinion, except a day with foxhounds. but women should not attempt coaching unless they are fairly strong, and have had plenty of experience. before i end i cannot help mentioning one whip whose driving i have always particularly admired, and that is ernest k. fownes, of rocket fame. i have often had the pleasure of seeing him drive, and a useful lesson it has been each time. it is most interesting to watch how he goes through the thickest traffic, never stopping it, and never seeming himself to stop, his horses going as one. ada j. c. massey-mainwaring. [illustration: _mrs. a. c. hills._] cycling. the subject of cycling is distinctly a many-sided one. while the same general remarks which apply to the subject of exercise for women, apply also to the use of the cycle, we should remember that though every woman is benefitted by exercise of some kind, there are a few women who are not fitted to ride the cycle at all. this may seem a strong assertion from one who is devoted to cycling, and who so thoroughly believes in its health-giving properties. but though to the practised rider cycling is much easier work than walking, to the novice, or to the unskilled rider, and even to the skilled rider who is out of form, it becomes hard work. especially in learning, an amount of muscular effort is required which some women are unfitted to undertake. therefore, we must assume that the would-be cyclist is a person of average health, strength, and activity, and to such an one, the cycle should be a boon indeed. it is impossible to lay down rules as to who is fit or unfit to take up the pastime, for even doctors are sometimes much at fault on this point. my own view is that any girl, or older woman either, who is used to a fair amount of exercise, should be able to cycle and to cycle well, _in time_. but those with weak hearts or similar complaints should not attempt to cycle, any more than they should run upstairs quickly or climb steep hills. before leaving the health view of cycling, i wish to impress most strongly on all who take up cycling the necessity of "taking it easily" at first. apart from the fact that actually the hardest work is in the learning, it must be remembered that even after the learner can ride without assistance, the body has to become accustomed to an entirely new form of exercise. if you took a good walker and stopped her from all walking exercise for a few months, how tired she would get when she began again. this fatigue would continue until her muscles had got into good order again, and yet walking comes naturally to everyone. cycling does not come naturally, except in very rare instances, so how much more necessary is it to begin carefully, and let the body become gradually accustomed to it. the girl who rides ten or fifteen miles after being on a cycle only once or twice, and who--from not having mastered the art of riding--uses two or three times more exertion over it than she need, would not dream, perhaps, of walking five miles on end at a good pace. yet she then pronounces the cycle "hard work," and says she finds no pleasure in it. no wonder! really to appreciate cycling many conditions are necessary, and that is why i called it a many-sided subject at the outset. first of all it is an active exercise, so those who have not been in the habit of taking enough outdoor exercise in other forms, must not expect to cycle with comfort or enjoyment until they have gradually got their general health, into a state which is known as "fit." then when the cyclist is fitted in herself to enjoy riding, there are other things to be considered, and these i put as follows: (_a_) to ride correctly; (_b_) to have a good cycle, suited to the particular requirements of the rider, and properly adjusted; and (_c_) to look well. first then as to riding, and here we are met by the reflection, how few women ride really well. it makes me sad to see how badly three-fourths of the riders one meets are getting along, and when i reflect how much more they would enjoy themselves, and _how much better they would look_ if taken in hand for a time by a good tutor, i feel angry at the so-called "instructors" one usually has to put up with at the average riding school. when you are learning, you should if possible select a grass lawn, or failing this a quiet piece of broad road, and practice on this _little and often_. short rides, even of a few yards, are valuable, if done frequently. the pupil should not get over-tired, or struggle on after her efforts become worrying. she should take a rest and have another turn a few hours later, and will then find the result very different. to the novice my advice is, do not trouble about mounting and dismounting without assistance, as this will come later as a matter of course. the object must be to sit quite still in the saddle, and not to rely on the handles. good riders never move their bodies at all, but ride with their hands just resting lightly on the handles, _not_ pulling at them. in time it will be found the machine can be steered by just slightly inclining the shoulders in the direction in which it is wished to turn. above all things when you are learning do not fix your eyes on the front wheel, but look ahead. this is essential. when the machine goes naturally in a straight line, then the rider will know that she is not only sitting well, but has begun to acquire the art of pedalling. there is a very great deal in pedalling evenly, as this not only lessens the labour but takes away all difficulty of steering. when a rider sits well and pedals well, there is practically no steering to be done, for the machine will go automatically in the direction desired by the rider, or so at least it will appear. the saddle should be so adjusted that when the pedal is at its lowest point, the foot of the rider should be just able to drop on to it naturally, without quite straightening the knee. a good way to test this, is to stretch the toe out as far as it will go (knee quite straight) and if the foot will just go underneath the pedal, no more, the length of reach is correct. force should never be exerted in driving the pedals, they must be "coaxed" round, for this in a word is the art of "ankling." when the pedal is at the top of the stroke, the heel should be downward as in fig. . as the pedal travels forward and down, the foot should follow it, keeping the ankle as still as possible, till at the bottom of the stroke, the toe is pointing downwards, and the heel is highest. the effect of this will be first of all to give power in riding as shown by fig. . if the foot is pressed downward only, it will be in operation for a very small part of the stroke, as the pedal moves in a circle, but by ankling, it will easily be seen (fig. ) that power is maintained for a much longer time. [illustration: _fig. ._] [illustration: _fig. ._] from a woman's point of view too the effect of ankling is still more important, as beside the gain in speed, it promotes gracefulness. the rise and fall of the knee in riding, is reduced by one half when the ankles are used properly, and the result to the onlooker is consequently more pleasing. for the skirt to hang gracefully and the rider to look well, there should be as little movement of the knees as possible. therefore, if you sit sufficiently high and use your ankles properly, you will not only be using your powers to the very best advantage, and lessening fatigue, but will at the same time be attaining gracefulness, and in every way improving your appearance in the saddle. [illustration: _fig. ._] another important point is to keep the legs _straight up and down_ when riding. the knees should not be allowed to go either inwards or outwards on any account, and there should be no "wobbling" in the leg action. the toe and heel should be in a line, at right angles across the pedal, that is, exactly parallel with the crank all the time. take care that the heel does not twist at all (fig. ) on the stroke. [illustration: _fig. ._] learn to mount from either side of the machine, and to do so lean the machine a little toward you with the outside pedal up, and rather forward, then place your foot on the pedal furthest from you, and as you raise yourself into the saddle, the weight of your body will bear on that pedal, thus sending the opposite one up to meet the other foot. the dress should be caught in the hand as you put your foot across the machine on to the pedal, and if any further arrangement should be necessary you will, when you are at home in the saddle, find it easy to do this as you go along. a slight pull to the side will be all that is required. when once in the saddle, do not be anxious to find the other pedal, simply keep the machine straight, as it will run a surprising distance of its own accord after the start given to it by the act of mounting, unless, indeed, you should be mounting up hill, which is never desirable for a beginner to attempt. if the foot which was on the ground is allowed to hang downwards as soon as the rider is seated in the saddle, it will find the pedal quite naturally, in fact the pedal will come round to the foot. in dismounting as in mounting, the rider should learn to do it with equal ease and confidence from either side. when the pedal is coming upward, throw the weight upon it--this stops the momentum of the machine--at the same time rising out of the saddle, then pass the other foot over the cycle and step down in front of the pedal, on which the weight of the body is resting. a firm grasp should be kept on both handles, and the machine inclined towards the rider, on the side she dismounts. _the rule of the road_ is usually ignored by cycling women, but nothing in connection with the pastime is really more important. to observe it always whether necessary or not, is to reduce the possibility of accident to a minimum. it then becomes a habit, and in an emergency the instinct is to do the right thing immediately, the value of which can scarcely be over-estimated. always ride then to the left side of the road, whether there are vehicles about or not. remember, it is the unexpected that always happens, and should a cart or cycle suddenly appear from a bye road, an accident will almost surely happen if you are on the side that should be free for them. if in spite of your caution an accident happens, you will at least have the chance of being compensated if you can prove that you were on your proper side at the time; you certainly would not, if you were on the wrong side. there are only two occasions on which this rule is deviated from, viz.: when passing a vehicle which is going in the same direction or when passing a led horse going in either direction. when overtaking a vehicle, never pass between it and the pavement or side-walk, for the tendency is for the driver to pull in toward the left when he hears anything behind him. with a led horse the custom is to keep the man in charge always _between_ oneself and the led horse, no matter in which part of the road the latter may be. the reason is obvious, led horses being sometimes playful with their heels. the most fruitful cause of accidents is the wrong taking of corners. the right way to do it, however, is very simple. thus if proceeding along a road, and desiring to turn off to the left, make the curve (if possible) in the road you are in, and thus enter the other road on the left, _i.e._, safe side. remember that you cannot see what is in the other road, and the act of turning will make the machine swing out more or less from the proper side (fig. ). [illustration: _fig. ._] the principle is reversed when taking a turn to the right. never cut across the nearest corner in doing this. go nearly across the side road so as to turn into it on your proper side thus (fig. ). [illustration: _fig. ._] if these simple matters are borne in mind, a cyclist may go many years without even the risk of an accident. another thing to remember, is never on any account to lose control of your machine when descending a hill you do not know, if the bottom of it cannot be seen. though to "fly" a hill is the height of enjoyment, safety demands that the end of the spin should be visible, or that you should know your ground thoroughly. in the choice of a machine, remember it is very essential to have a cycle well suited to the rider. cyclists of experience get to know their own requirements exactly and can suit their physical peculiarities, but more often than not the beginner is entirely in the hands of the cycle agent. hence we so often see a slight, frail woman struggling along with a great, heavy unwieldy machine altogether beyond her strength, or on the other hand a heavy woman who is obviously under-mounted. for riders who are of moderate height or even a little over i believe in -inch wheels, but tall women should have -inch wheels fitted to their machines, to look proportionate to the extra high frame necessary. in the latter case everything else should be also larger. the -inch wheels look well for all but very tall or stout riders. the usual height of frame is about inches measured from the top of the frame--the part where the seat pillar is fixed in--to the centre of the bracket axle (fig. ). this will accommodate riders whose length of leg-reach is up to inches or inches. it is better on the whole to have the frame too short than too long. it is more rigid if short, and a little seat pillar standing out will not detract greatly from the appearance. always ascertain that there is a margin of at least six inches between the height of the seat pillar, when down at the lowest point, and when raised to the fullest height at which it can be safely fixed. exactly the same should apply to the stem of the handle bars, as, if the saddle is raised the handles should be raised to a corresponding degree, otherwise the rider will be in a stooping position. the exact position of the handles depends a great deal on the length of arm and length of body of the rider, but in the ordinary way the lowest part of the handles should be at least two inches above the saddle (see fig. ), as it is above all things necessary that the rider shall not have to stoop forward when riding. on the other hand, the handles must not be higher than is necessary for a comfortable grasp, otherwise the effect will be extremely ungraceful. as the rider sits in the saddle with her arms extended straight downward, she should be able to swing them forward exactly into the riding position, without bending the elbow in any appreciable degree. in purchasing a cycle the most important points for the rider to consider are: . rigidity of frame. . weight. . width of tread. . height of pedal from the ground. [illustration: _fig. ._] rigidity of frame means speed, _i.e._, ease of propulsion. if the frame is badly designed it will yield sideways to the rider's pressure, and much of the power which would be otherwise used to send it forward will be wasted. if you grasp the steering head and the down tube of a cycle (see fig. ) and endeavour to twist the frame, you can ascertain whether it is rigid or not. it should not be possible to force these two points towards each other at all, or to pull them sideways out of line with each other. if you can, there will be no chance of riding up a steep incline on _that_ machine! there is another essential matter on which the purchaser can protect herself. this is to see that the cycle is properly stayed in various parts of the frame. these "stays" bind the whole frame firmly together and prevent "give" or yielding, when pressure is applied on the pedals. in addition to the "stays" in the front portion of frame (examples of which are shown in fig. ) there should be a stay between the two back legs, just above the back wheel. if you are purchasing a machine with an acknowledged reputation, and made by a maker of standing, it can safely be assumed that these matters have been provided for, as they would only be omitted on the score of cheapness. never on any account be persuaded to ride a machine which is not fully guaranteed by a well-known firm. there are so many points on which a cycle may be faulty, and the only safeguard to the rider is that the work shall have been carried out in the most careful and conscientious fashion throughout. therefore i would repeat never trust yourself on any but a machine by a good maker. far better buy even a good second-hand cycle than a "cheap" new one, for the latter may cause constant trouble, to say nothing of the possibility of serious accident. the weight of an ordinary good-class ladies' machine should not be over -lbs. it is possible to obtain them fully equipped at about -lbs., but to get them at this or less either the weight of the tyres, etc., have to be very much reduced, or the fittings are not efficient. if the tyres are very thin and light they will be constantly puncturing. the gear case too should be of sufficient stability, and the same remark applies to the dress-guards and mud-guards; in fact it is in the fittings that the weight of a cycle is found, the actual frame not weighing more than -lbs. as a rule. this is the reason why american machines are lighter than english, the simple explanation being that the former are fitted with the flimsiest of chain covers, mud-guard, brake work, etc., whilst the english-made cycle is properly equipped for use in all weathers. the width of "tread" is important, as both for comfort and speed and also on the score of appearance, the rider's feet should not be wider apart than is absolutely necessary. a narrow "tread" is the sign of a well designed machine. to measure this, the distance should be ascertained between the inside faces of the two cranks, and this distance should not be above five inches. the height of the pedals from the ground is a point which is never overlooked by a really good firm of cycle makers. it is desirable to get the pedals as near to the ground as possible for comfort in mounting and for ease of propulsion; but there is a limit, as if too low, the pedal would be likely to catch the ground when the machine leans over on a sharp corner. the consequence of this would be disastrous to the rider. there is also the lesser danger of the pedal striking a stone if too near the ground. the usual distance is about ten or ten-and-a-half inches from the centre of bracket-axle to the ground. suitable clothing is as necessary in cycling as in all other forms of exercise. warmth with lightness are the things to be aimed at, while it is of the first necessity that there should be no pressure anywhere, from the crown of the head to the soles of the feet, to impede free circulation. having said this, little more remains to add, as each rider will naturally have her own ideas as to the underclothing she prefers, and provided this is warm enough to guard the wearer against chills and sufficiently light to prevent it adding to her fatigue, i do not think it much signifies what she chooses. silk or woollen knickerbockers of some dark colour should of course be worn, and these which should be cut fairly full must on no account be made of very heavy material, a warm flannel lining being sufficient in any case to give warmth. a loosely-fitting bodice, or nicely-cut coat, according to the time of year, will be found suitable, and this brings me to the part of our attire about which there is a real difficulty, namely, a well cut skirt. of all the many so-called cycling "skirts," there are but few really suitable for the purpose, for not only is it necessary they should be useful, but it is on the way they fall that the graceful or other appearance of the rider will greatly depend. a woman may sit well and pedal to perfection, but if she has a skirt that does not hang evenly and easily on each side of her saddle, and is of the right length, she will not look well in motion. the great difficulty is of course to get the "hang" right beside the saddle, and to ensure the fulness keeping it its proper place, i have originated a method for my own skirts which i have found answer well. this is very simple, and consists of a v shaped piece of the material of which the skirt is made being firmly stitched on below the band at the back, to hold the pleats in place. with this, the fulness does not move too easily to one side, when the necessary touch to the skirt is made in mounting. the skirt should be cut slightly longer behind than in front, as of course when the rider is in the saddle it will hang shorter than where it falls straight down. when the wearer is standing up, the skirt should come to within six inches of the ground in front. as regards width, it should not be too full, as nothing looks more ungraceful than a skirt which flies out on either side with every turn of the foot. at the same time it must be full enough to allow complete freedom of movement. about three-and-a-half yards is generally considered the right width. when having a skirt made from a new pattern, i should always insist on having it fitted when you are seated in the saddle, as only so can you tell how it will really answer. for keeping the skirt from blowing up, i have found nothing better than to pass the feet through a strap of / -inch elastic, about nine inches in length, laid flat against the inside of the hem. these straps should be placed about ten inches on either side of the middle of front of skirt, so as to enable you to walk without inconvenience. as a material, a light woollen cloth of dark and unobtrusive colour is in my opinion the most suitable. for riding you should have a hat that will not catch the wind, and as shade for a part of the year is desirable, you will find nothing better than a "sailor" as a fitting accompaniment to a sensible and workmanlike dress. a common mistake is to have a heavy hat with a great deal of trimming, which cannot be comfortable during rapid motion through any but the stillest of atmospheres. as to foot-gear, a low-heeled flexible waisted shoe is to be recommended, with gaiters for winter wear. an important matter for all and especially for the delicate in health, who may so often derive benefit from cycling, is to guard against a chill after riding. no time should be lost after reaching home, before putting on a complete set of dry underclothing. it is by standing about, perhaps out of doors or in a draught, till the warm glow which was upon you when you stepped off your machine has given place to a shivery feeling, that you will get harm instead of good from your pleasant spin, whereas a warm bath and a fresh set of clothing, and not even the most delicate need suffer from her exertions. if you should for any reason not find this possible without a certain delay, then put on a warm coat or other wrap immediately, and this will generally prevent you from suffering any ill effects. you should always have your cycle dusted over and any mud carefully wiped off, directly you return from a ride. to prevent damage to the enamel, the mud should be wiped very gently with a soft wet cloth, and if this is carefully done it does not matter whether the mud has dried or not. the bright parts should be rubbed with a soft leather or "selvyt," and then a holland cover be thrown over the machine, to keep it free from dust or any slight damp. with the exception of a rub with the "selvyt" the cycle will then be ready for use. if a slight application of a good furniture cream is made to the enamelled parts, it will brighten them considerably. when it is known that the machine will not be required for any length of time, all the bright parts should be smeared with vaseline, and the machine itself should be stood in a dry place. it is best to rest it on a small stand, which is also very useful for cleaning purposes. after a long rest all the bearings should be well oiled, the lamp refilled, and the machine generally overhauled. the tyres should be kept hard. some people let the air out when their machine is not in use, under the idea that it is good for the tyres, but this is a mistake. if the tyres are allowed to go flat, the weight of the machine will be likely to "nip" the inner tube. above all, oil should be kept from the tyres, and if any should by chance drop on them while the machine is being oiled, it should be carefully wiped off. a tyre should not need blowing up, more than once in two or three weeks, if the valves are in good order. if, therefore, it should require inflating every day, as sometimes happens, either there is a small puncture, or the valve is out of order. if the trouble is caused by a puncture, it will generally mean a visit to the repairers, but first examine the valves in case these should be at fault, for very often a little attention to them will put matters right. as there are so many kinds of valves a technical illustration would be of little use, but as a rule all valves can be unscrewed and examined easily. in the valve most in use, viz.: that of the dunlop tyre, if the end is unscrewed--after the dust cap is taken off--the whole mechanism of the valve can be taken out, and this will be found to consist only of a small cylinder covered by a little indiarubber tube. this piece of rubber covers the valve hole in the cylinder, and it is the rubber which generally wants replacing. the dust cap is the small cap, attached by a little chain to the spokes, and which is screwed over the end of the valve to keep the dirt out, after the tyre has been inflated. if the rider does not object to a little trouble, a puncture can be repaired at home, though the chief objection to the operation is the dirty state in which it is apt to get the operator, unless indeed the tyres are thoroughly cleaned first. when you buy a machine, the exact details are given with each particular class of tyre, and general instructions for repairing will be found included in the repair-outfit, which can be purchased for about sixpence. this tyre-outfit consists of a small quantity of solution--which be careful not to get on the fingers--some rubber patches, and french chalk. when the inner tube has been taken off, the valve should be refitted to it, and the tubes inflated. then pass the tube through water, using a shallow bowl for the purpose. from each spot where there is a puncture, little air bubbles will come out whilst the tube is under water. mark these with a pencil, let the air out--by the valve--and dry the tube. then with a piece of glass paper, clean the tube from sulphur--till the natural dark colour of the rubber appears--where the puncture is, say for a space as large as a sixpence. put some solution thinly on the rubber patch, let it nearly dry, and then press it down on the tube, on the spot cleaned from sulphur, and hold it there for a minute or two. the puncture of course will be in the centre of this spot if you have managed properly. a little french chalk dusted over the patch will prevent any solution there may be round the patch, from sticking to the outer cover when the tyre is put together again. with regard to the general adjustment of a cycle, it is most essential that all the bearing parts should be in proper order, as any one of them will make a very great difference in labour to the rider. a few brief notes on the principal parts will enable the rider to ascertain if her mount is in proper condition to do justice to her own riding powers. first the chain. this should be oiled occasionally in its whole length, so that each joint is properly lubricated. when it has been oiled along the top half, the wheels should be revolved sufficiently to bring the other half on top for oiling. the chain must not be too tight, or the machine will be hard to drive, neither must it be too loose, or accidents will occur. the state of the chain can be ascertained by taking hold of one pedal, whilst the machine is at rest with its weight on the ground. the pedal and crank should just show the slightest perceptible movement, without moving the machine, if the chain is in good order. the pedals should revolve twenty or thirty times at least, when given a good sharp spin with the hand, and there should be no perceptible shake in them. the steering is a very important point, as if this is stiff it will increase the labour in riding. if the front wheel is lifted from the ground, its own weight should make it drop over to one side or the other, which ever way the machine lies, else the steering is too stiff for easy riding. there should be no shake whatever in the steering, the front wheel, when tested, should be immoveable from the rest of the machine, either backwards or forwards. all the bearings require a moderate oiling for about every fifty miles you ride. olive or other clear oil is used for lubricating the bearings, and on no account must paraffin or a similar oil be used, except for _cleaning_ the bearings out. most cycle depôts supply a suitable oil for lubricating. once or twice in the year it is advisable to run paraffin through the bearings, but care must be taken to drain it all out afterwards, and the bearings should then be oiled with proper lubricant. sperm or colza oil is good for burning in the lamp. add a small piece of camphor to this to give a clearer light. a little paraffin may be put on the top of the wick at the burner, to make the lamp light easily, but if this is added to the burning oil, the lamp will smoke, and be liable to jolt out over rough places. if the machine is properly adjusted and well oiled, the wheels should--after being revolved--swing back and forth once or twice with their own weight. at the same time, no "shake" should be discernible sideways, but the wheels should appear to be a rigid part of the machine. lillian j. hills. a very useful aid to wheel-women is the _cyclists' pocket book_. most portable and well printed, it contains all kinds of useful information as to the obligations of cyclists, the care of the machine, and some most excellent and practical hints to those about to take a tour. a list of reliable cycle repairers, of hotels which cater for cyclists, besides an almanack and other items usually found in pocket books, are contained within its covers. as there are books which no gentleman's library should be without, so this is one of which no cyclist's pocket should be empty. [illustration: _fig. i_] [illustration: _fig. ii_] fancy figures and musical rides. the branch of cycling familiarly known as "figure riding" is open to all, and there is no doubt that the short turns and rapid curves required are not only fascinating, but at the same time excellent practice. the control over the machine given by them will enable the rider to pick his or her way very exactly through the most difficult pathway. some may laugh at the idea of "riding to music," but having once tried it you will find they are generally glad to do it again. the figures, varied as they are, and presenting almost endless possibilities, are intricate enough to give a beginner in this branch of the art, absorbing work, and even afterwards, when perfection has been attained, there will be found a charm in winding in and out in the execution of the figures, so long as everyone engaged in the ride keeps time. for it must not be forgotten that it is in the neatness and precision with which they are done that the fascination exists. it was while staying at an hotel in the country that a rainy day drove me to the nearest gymnasium to try cycling for the first time. as it happened, the instructors were accustomed to put up clubs and teach their pupils to circle round them so as to ensure balance and absolute control over their machines. i believe it was by accident that they first tried riding to music, but once tried it was never abandoned, as it was found an enormous help in keeping a regular pace, and in enabling the leader to guide the ride more accurately. nothing but a waltz, however, will be found suitable. in the summer, shortly after this, i first turned figure riding to account, as a means of amusing my guests, and i found it so popular that eventually i procured the services of an instructor, and we used to ride every afternoon. it is surprising how many miles one goes, simply turning and twisting, and going over the same ground. with tea spread near by, and comfortably seated in easy chairs, placed so as to command a view of the riding, even the onlookers, i found, were well amused, and for those who wish to spend a delightful summer's afternoon in an exercise, combining sociability and amusement, i know of no better pastime than this. there are a few simple rules to be attended to, which it may not be amiss for me to state, and then by the aid of some diagrams i hope to give the key to what may look difficult, though, in reality, it is easy enough. . in the first place either a gymnasium or smooth lawn must be selected to ride on. in the latter case it will not hurt the grass, no matter what your gardener may say to the contrary, and if he will only water it and roll it daily, or even twice a day, you will have a delightful ground, and in the following year an even better grass crop than if it had not been so treated. . the lawn should be the size that is usually allotted to a full size croquet lawn. however, there is no rule as to size, though with a greater number of riders, you will have to go over a larger space. i, therefore, recommend a fairly large ground, especially as after rain the grass is apt to become slippery, and even in those rides which are done by only four riders you will have to make larger circles to avoid accidents. . never attempt to do the rides too quickly. sacrifice speed to exactitude when necessary, and pay great attention to making all your turns simultaneously. . if a mistake is made in a figure, dismount and begin again. in some of the rides if one person makes an error, she can _ride to the side_ and dismount, while the others continue, but in most cases this will put the ride out, and it is better for all to stop. in any case no one should ever try to cut in and resume her original place or join in a ride after it has begun. when possible, it is best to have someone on foot who will give the word of command, for this is a great help, not only to the leaders but to all who are riding. before mounting or dismounting, have the order given to do so very distinctly, and make it a never-failing rule _never_ to let the riders be taken by surprise. i think too, at a garden party, it is always a good plan to let all who are going to take part in the ride join in the first figure, as it will make them feel more interest in the proceedings, and give everyone time to become at ease on their bicycles. for this purpose i would suggest the "double snake" through clubs. (see fig. .) for this you will begin with "single snake," by riding once round the lawn. be sure that everybody is in line when the word to mount is given; it creates confusion and leads to unnecessary collisions when several mount in a group. of course the pace must be regulated by the leader. starting at the corner below clubs c, this rider will go round _outside_ the clubs, and having reached the point marked (*) will turn in and ride straight between clubs a, then going to the right between those marked b, and afterwards through c. at the same place the turn was made the first time it should be repeated, and having passed between a turn to the left through e and d. after repeating some four or five times begin the "double snake." up to this point all have followed one leader, now two will be required. continue as before, but when leader no. , after passing through clubs a turns to the right to clubs c, leader no. will turn to the left between e and d. the third rider will then follow no. and the fourth no. , each keeping her original distance, for when leader no. , having passed clubs c turns through a again, no. will fall in behind, and the same with all the others, each resuming her original place. the next time no. will turn to the left, no. to the right, each leader being followed by half the riders, dividing alternately. to finish the ride all will follow leader no. , and having again been the round of the lawn should dismount _together_. to add to the effect it is most important that this should be done in line and simultaneously. although exceedingly easy, when done with care and in time with the music, this is a very pretty ride. the next ride is commonly called "centre circles." this cannot be done by more than four. each rider will start from her own corner, and while riding separately should remember that no. _always_ regulates the pace, and the others must keep in time with her. the proper distances should be kept in the ride round the ground, and then no. having come abreast of club e, no. abreast of club d, no. with club c, and no. with club b, at the word "circle" all will circle to the left, making a semi-circle, and when abreast of club a circling that _fully_, and branching off when no. is again beside club c, which she encircles. thus: as no. goes round her club (e) the others will circle theirs, and as all are doing the same figure at the same time the four will meet in the centre circle (a), and when no. turns off to circle club c, no. , who began by circling club b, will go to club d, and circle that, and no. who began at club c will go to club e (for her second circle), etc. this can be continued as long as desired, the riders no. and no. alternating between clubs c and e, and the other two taking clubs b and d. each one, from her own starting point, does exactly the figure as drawn in figure . [illustration: _fig. iii_ _cross bows._] another ride, but requiring more accuracy in time-keeping, is that known as "cross bows," and this is one of the prettiest of all, for the whole of the lawn is occupied, and when done by practised riders and rather quickly, it is charming to watch and most fascinating to do. again four riders are required, and they mount in line. the five clubs are in the same position as for centre circles. in this ride, however, there are two leaders, no. being followed by rider no. , and no. by rider no. . as in figure , leader no. will follow the _dotted_ lines, while leader no. will go over the heavy lines indicated; rider no. following leader no. , and rider no. following leader no. . it is imperative that the original distances be kept exactly, or in crossing at points f and g there will surely be a collision otherwise. this being a complicated ride to do well, it will require practice, but i think that by following the lines of the diagram there will be no difficulty in learning it. leader no. (having led the ride all round the lawn) on reaching club b will ride straight across to club d, keeping to the right of centre club a, and turning round club d will then ride straight back to club b again, followed by rider . at the same time leader , in starting the ride, will turn short to her left, going outside club e, where she begins the "cross bow," by riding straight across the lawn to club c. leaders and should reach clubs d and e simultaneously and turn them together, and leader no. making her curve closer to the club than no. , should pass the point f on the diagram just as no. reaches it on her way to club c. in this way rider will pass point f immediately after no. , and rider , following no. will pass f a second after no. . reaching b, leader will now make the double curve round clubs b and e, as shown, and leader will do the same between c and d, and on reaching b and c again, they will do once more the "cross bow" as described, only this time leader will pass over point g first, and leader will follow, as was done before in passing f. the greatest exactitude should be kept in crossing each other, for not only does safety demand it, but when done with indecision and over zig-zag lines, the figure loses its beauty, and like all the other rides, becomes difficult to follow. it is fatal to any ride to do it in a wavering way, which will impress people with the idea that you are not sure of it yourself. the best riders i have ever seen doing these figures, have always emphasized the straight lines, thus making their curves seem more sweeping by contrast, and adding greatly to the effect. another thing figure riders invariably advocate, is to ride very high, and certainly once any one has ridden with both handle-bars and seat well up, they never can go back to the lower saddle. some people indeed say it is more difficult to ride high, but i do not think when you have become used to it, that you will find it so. of all things to be avoided i would mention the mistake of putting up the handle bars, without heightening the saddle. i heard this position once described as that of "begging," and it has always seemed to me irresistibly ludicrous ever since. if you will watch the ankle play of two riders, one with the saddle high and the other with it low, you will not hesitate an instant as to which position is preferable. there is no limit to the number of rides you can do. almost any book of army drills, especially for cavalry, will give you ideas for a hundred new figures, and you can vary these, not the least amusing part being in creating, adapting and arranging figures to add to the old repertoire. [illustration: _fig. iv_ _american circle ride._] but to go back to the well-known figures, with which one is never tired, and which always hold their own as to prettiness. let us continue with the "american circle ride." this can be ridden by any number and is a great favourite when introduced at garden-parties. with eight riders, three rows of three clubs each are needed, and these rows should be about three bicycle lengths from each other, while two bicycle lengths should separate the clubs in the rows. all the riders start in a line. on reaching line b, leader goes to the left of club , and no. will keep to its right so that they ride side by side, divided by the clubs. the others divide in the same way and at the bottom they will turn to their respective sides, leader no. following line a, and leader no. line c. to begin with, they will _both_ do the circles to the left as drawn down line c, and meeting at the top they again come down the centre on either side of clubs b, side by side. the second time they both do the ride as shewn through line a, doing the middle club the reverse way to the first and last, and for the third round, reverting to the ride as shown through clubs c, only of course, where those following leader turn to the left, those following no. will turn and circle to the right. in coming down the centre the leaders can join hands, and the others naturally will do the same, but this is generally called by another name, and is often worked as another figure. speaking of circling to left and right brings up another very pretty figure for a number of riders. set your clubs as for "centre circles" and begin (all following one leader) by circling club b, going right round it as shown in figure , and going on to e, then d, and finally to c, then describe the double curve as shown in 'cross bows' (between clubs b and e of figure ) only ride straight round club d--figure . the club marked e in the former, is d in figure . having gone round club d, go on to club e, and circle that to the right, and then on to b, and so circle every club as you come to it. having circled d again, to finish the ride, go to club c passing outside it, and then straight round the lawn. this can be done by two parties at the same time, one starting from club b, the other from club d, and each doing the same thing at opposite corner clubs throughout the ride. i have seen as many as twenty riding in this figure together. the "maypole" is of course very pretty and when care is taken to ensure the riders having ribbons to match the colour they wear, or in which they have decked their bicycles, it is lovely. it is simple to execute, too, and can be done by almost any number, though i think eight or ten quite enough. half the riders will go to the left, the other half to the right. supposing the pole to be in the centre of the lawn, the four who are going to the right will mount at the four points of the compass, holding their ribbons high above them, in their right hands. the other four will mount, a little farther from the pole, as they will make a larger circle to begin with, and hold their ribbons in their left hands as they go to the left. in order to weave a regular pattern, those going to the left and right must pass each other in and out, as they meet. it is easier to learn the ride if clubs are put up, where the riders should meet and pass each other, as they go in and out. there should be an even number of riders and a club for each. if eight were riding, four would pass the first club on the left and the next on their right, and so on, while the other half would pass their first club on the right and the second club to the left. it will be found easier to keep your balance if you hold your arm high, and there is no doubt that it looks better. the idea of passing clubs first on the right and then on the left alternately has been the foundation of a number of rides. a pretty sight is to have a circle of clubs, with a rider to each. one rider will begin by going outside the circle, from inside, and passing between the clubs at the same time that the next rider will pass from outside into the circle, and so picking their way to the left of one club and the right of the next, all the way round the ring. however, all depends on the riders passing the clubs at the same moment on their several ways, and as this requires no little practice to do well, one rarely sees this figure to advantage. fancy figure riding may sound tame to those who have never tried it, but i venture to think that those who once take to it will very quickly become fascinated, and my own belief is, that as figures become better known, and more hostesses introduce them at their gatherings, this branch of cycling will increase in popularity. evelyn van wart. [illustration: _j. weston and son_ _folkestone._ _miss maud marshall._ (_figure b. overhand service._)] lawn-tennis. lawn-tennis, though still in its youth, may with some justice lay claim through its prototypes, longue paume, pallone, tennis, etc., to an illustrious ancestry; the connection between the modern and the older games being sufficient to establish a relationship. it is not necessary here to trace this connection step by step, beginning perchance with the game which louis x. of france played in the forest of vincennes to the championship fought out on the wimbledon club grounds in . the greater part of such a history would of necessity belong to tennis proper, which, as we know, has been a popular english game for many ages. so in the th century we hear of a tennis court at windsor castle, and the present one at hampton court was originally built by henry viii., in whose reign it was that sir thomas more, in his "utopia," stigmatised tennis along with "dice, cards, tables, bowls and quoits" as "a naughty and unlawful game." the first authentic record we have of lawn-tennis as we know it dates back no further than , when major wingfield patented a certain pastime by him named "sphairistike." it was not i believe claimed to be an invention, but merely an adaptation of a sport almost as old as the world itself. a sub-committee of the marylebone cricket club was asked in to bring order into chaos, everyone for the twelve months of its existence having chosen to play "sphairistike," or lawn-tennis, as it was now called, as it best pleased them. a code was drawn up, issued and quickly superseded, but at least there was a recognised length and breadth of court and height of net, which prior to this, as i have said, depended entirely upon the taste of the players. in lawn-tennis took up its headquarters at wimbledon, being admitted to form part of the "all england croquet club" there. the game was introduced at prince's club in the same year. in tennis scoring was adopted, and it was the general opinion that lawn-tennis had come to stay. in the following year the "all england croquet club" determined to include the name of the new game in its title, and it became known as the "all england croquet and lawn-tennis club." in another twelve or eighteen months the visitor had pushed the host out of house and home, the club becoming henceforth headquarters of lawn-tennis alone. it was in the july of that the first lawn-tennis championship meeting was held at wimbledon, a silver challenge cup being offered for competition by the proprietors of _the field_. there were twenty-two entries, mr. spencer-gore carrying off the championship and the all-comers prizes. the principal results of the first tournament was to show up a serious defect, viz.: the great preponderance of games won by the server against those gained by the striker-out; the proportion being about five to three. this defect was remedied in by bringing the service line four feet nearer the net, from twenty-six feet to twenty-two feet. the net at the same time was lowered from five feet at the posts to four feet nine inches, and from three feet three inches at the centre to three feet. in two more championships were instituted, those of the oxford university lawn-tennis club, and of ireland. the latter meeting was of particular importance to lady players, owing to the fact that it was their first competition ground. this pioneer of women's lawn-tennis championships was carried off by miss m. langrishe, who was also successful in securing the irish prize in and . the first occasion on which ladies competed at wimbledon was in the year , when miss m. watson secured the all england championship, to which she joined the double victory of ireland, where she defeated miss m. langrishe. in the manager of the buxton tournament instituted a ladies' double championship, carried off by mrs. watts and miss bracewell. the championship of england and ireland was again held by miss m. watson. it was during this year that miss l. dod first began to be known in the front ranks of lady players, though it was not until that she held the championship of england and ireland, since when she has held the english championship four times. in miss bingley, now mrs. hillyard, shot to the fore, defeating miss watson at wimbledon. her victory, though coming as something of a surprise, was magnificently earned, her extreme accuracy and power creating a good deal of enthusiasm. the next epoch of importance in ladies' tennis--and the last possible variation of the game--was the institution, in , of the "all england mixed doubles championship," won by mr. e. renshaw and mrs. hillyard. during the same year the "lawn-tennis association" came into existence, the want having for long been felt of one recognised authority, under whose rules all championship matches should be played. in , the association made important alterations in some of the previously recognised laws. the change of sides under the new _regime_ was fixed at the end of the first, third and every alternate game of the set, instead of at the end of each game. bisques were abolished, and the quarter system of receiving odds was instituted, more of which hereafter. subsequently the distance of the service line from the net was fixed at -ft., and the height of the net at -ft. -in. at the posts, and -ft. at the centre. the strides made in lawn-tennis since its first institution as a game are remarkable indeed, when we consider that the first and only tournament in the land was held in , and that in , the list of tournament dates issued by the lawn-tennis association comprised sixty-two fixtures in the united kingdom, and seven on the continent. i must not forget to add that in , the first covered court championship was held, mr. lawford carrying off the prize. the ladies' covered court championship was not inaugurated till , when miss jacks secured the coveted title, miss austin being the holder in . the ladies' championship of , was very closely contested, mrs. hillyard playing miss c. cooper (the holder). the first set was won by the latter lady, but owing to the severity of mrs. hillyard's returns, miss cooper was unable to maintain her advantage and was finally beaten, the sets standing at - , - , - . mrs. hillyard also carried off the ladies' singles, defeating mrs. pickering by two sets to love-- - , - . the irish championship was also gained by the wimbledon victor, who beat the irish candidate, miss dyas, by two sets to one-- - , - , - ,--thus proving herself the best lady player of the year. with many lawn-tennis players the choice of a court is unfortunately apt to exemplify the old saying that "the coat must be cut according to the cloth," though in these days of plenty when every town in the united kingdom possesses at least one lawn-tennis club, it should not be so difficult to secure the best advantages for practice. it is a different matter of course with a private court, the formation of which may, for many reasons be a difficult task; though the advantages of a ground upon the premises is too obvious to need demonstration. in the first place the court should be chosen lengthways from n. to s., to provide for obtaining the best possible light; secondly, if the process of levelling cannot be indulged in, let the ground chosen be at least as level as possible; and thirdly, let my foregoing remark apply equally to drainage. the absence of any obstacles such as overhanging branches, or the too close proximity of shrubs, is also to be carefully thought of, and avoided. an ample margin all round being allowed for, according to the first "recommendation" in the handbook of the lawn-tennis association. "there should be, if possible, a clear margin of at least -ft. on each side, and -ft. at each end of the court." the preparation of the court should be, as far as possible, the player's individual care. even when the turf is coarse or weed grown to begin with, the careful application of a mowing machine, a roller and a knife, will soon work wonders. should plantains prevail, cut them off close to the soil, whenever they appear--i have known a promising court spoilt by an attempt to dig these weeds out, root and all, with the result that when play commenced, the balls shot at obtuse and unexpected angles. the mowing machine and the roller must be kept in constant use, the former should do its work every day if necessary, after the grass has finished growing, during the process once a week will be sufficient--this, perhaps, is more applicable when grass has been _sown_. old turf should never be allowed to look even slightly ragged. the energetic use of a roller helps the grass roots to spread out and obtain the mastery over the decapitated weeds. i quote from the lawn-tennis association handbook for the dimensions of the court. _law ._ "for the single-handed game, the court is -ft. in width, and -ft. in length. it is divided across the middle with a net, the ends of which are attached to two posts, which stand -ft. outside the court on each side. the height of the net is -ft. -in. at the posts, and -ft. at the centre. at each end of the court, parallel with the net, and at a distance of -ft. from it, are drawn the _base-lines_, the extremities of which are connected by the _side-lines_. half-way between the side-lines and parallel with them, is drawn the _half-court-line_, dividing the space on each side of the net into two equal parts, and called the _right and left courts_. on each side of the net, at a distance of -ft. from it, and parallel with it, are drawn the _service-lines_." [illustration: _single court._ _ feet._] [illustration: _double court._] when a double court is required, the base-lines must be prolonged -ft. -in. in each direction, when by joining the four new points, the side-lines of a double court are obtained; it will not now be necessary to prolong the inner side-lines further than the service lines. the measuring of a court is always apt to be tedious work, but with a little method, a measuring tape, a reel of stout string, some small wooden pegs and a fair supply of patience, the difficulties are soon overcome. the first necessity is to fix the posts in position--i have always found it simplified matters to represent the net by a piece of string from post to post--then measure off a distance of -ft. from each, inwards of course. from the point now obtained, measure the side-lines, -ft. which gives us -ft. each way from the posts. from the side-lines now measure - / -ft. inwards, and -ft. each way from the net string for the service-lines. it now only remains for these lines to be joined along their base by four others running parallel with the net, two on each side of it, respectively termed the base-lines and the service-lines. half-way between the service-lines and parallel with the side-lines, a line is next drawn to form the half-court-line, which accomplishes the task. each point as it is measured should be marked off with a peg; then when all the dimensions are taken, a piece of string should be pulled taut from peg to peg, serving as guide to the marker. as a last word on the subject, i may say that i have never heard a low price in markers, nets, posts, or indeed in any implement of the game, recommended as being really economical. as to balls they can be obtained in many makes, but "ayre's championship" stand first in the list of excellence. by the laws of the lawn tennis association the weight of a ball shall be not less than - / -oz., or more than -oz. in , the year of the first championship, the minimum weight was - / -oz., and the maximum - / -oz. _the racket._ on the fortunate choice of a racket, depends literally at least half the success or failure of any battle fought with it. writing of rackets, mr. c. a. heathcote says: "the essential points are--a good hoop, free from knots, with a well-marked and continuous grain, plain wooden handle, round or slightly octagonal, fitting the hand of the player, attached to the middle piece without any perceptible interval, and good strong gut."[ ] it is an essential point that the racket should not be too heavy; on the other hand an over-light racket is far from desirable, except perhaps for a volleying game. from to -oz. is usually considered a good weight range for a lady's racket, though i have frequently met with ladies who never touched anything under -oz. indeed, in a matter of this sort, the choice must rest very much with the player herself, who will soon find from experience what weight suits her best. and so long as she confines her selection to the first makes, she cannot go very far wrong. _scoring._ the only satisfactory manner in which lawn-tennis scoring can be dealt with on paper, is by quoting once more from the laws of the lawn-tennis association, thus: _law ._ on either player winning his first stroke, the score is called for that player, on either player winning his second stroke, the score is called for that player; on either player winning his third stroke, the score is called for that player; and the fourth stroke won by either player is scored game for that player, except as below: if both players have won three strokes, the score is called deuce, and the next stroke won by either player is called advantage for that player. if the same player win the next stroke, he wins the game; if he lose the next stroke the score is again called deuce, and so on until either player win the two strokes immediately following the score at deuce, when the game is scored for that player. _law ._ the player who first wins six games wins a set, except as below: if both players win five games, the score is called games-all, and the next game won by either player is scored advantage-game for that player. if the same player win the next game, he wins the set; if he lose the next game, the score is again called games-all; and so on until either player wins the two games immediately following the score of games-all, when he wins the set. _note._ players may agree not to play advantage sets, but to decide the set by one game after arriving at the score of games-all. _odds._ in the year , bisques--which had been borrowed from tennis--were abolished. a bisque is one stroke which may be claimed at any time during a set. the principal disadvantage of this system lay in the difficulty of employing it judiciously, thereby causing a certain mental strain, possibly injurious to the player's form. the bisque gave place to the "quarter" and the "perfect" systems, which in their turn were superseded by the "sixth system" in , now in universal use. roughly, the sixth system of handicapping is to receive odds of one, two, three, four, or five strokes in every six games of a set; each given stroke being respectively described as one-sixth, two-sixths, three-sixths, four-sixths, five-sixths, fifteen. for complete and detailed tables of the system of handicapping, the reader is referred to the handbook of the lawn-tennis association. _on the subject of suitable clothing_ much might be written. for any form of outdoor exercise, the two chief requisites of costume are warmth and lightness. a thin flannel shirt is more useful than anything, worn with a _short_ light skirt. i have seen such terrible and distressing results arise from the wearing of skirts which, though short in front, dropped at the back that i cannot too strongly emphasise the need for _all-round_ shortness; loss of temper and dignity being among the lesser evils accruing from neglect of this particular. the shoes worn should be strong and serviceable, usefulness never being allowed to give way to the merely ornamental; but now-a-days it is an easy matter to combine the two qualities. for play in damp weather it is permissible to wear shoes with a leather sole into which short nails, known as steel points, are fitted. these are allowed on all grounds. in the matter of hats a straw sailor with a widish brim is the most workmanlike form of head gear possible. it is perhaps scarcely necessary to add that perfect looseness of every garment is a _sine quâ non_ for the freedom of movement necessary in lawn-tennis. [illustration: _figure a._ _under-hand service._] good form is as much an essential in the pursuit of any sport or pastime as it is in the manners and usages of polite society, and the cultivation of style is not an achievement purely confined to the wayfarer in the paths of literature. in lawn-tennis, as in everything else, a good beginning makes a good noontide; and really, when one comes to think about it, it is as easy to learn well as badly. therefore it is never advisable for a beginner to be content with another beginner as her opponent. no doubt a certain diffidence may be felt by the inexperienced player in throwing down the gauntlet to a more practised hand, because of the lack of interest and excitement for the latter in the game. but this consideration should never be allowed to deter the seizing of an opportunity of playing against an opponent from whom something may be learnt. there are plenty of good-natured people in the world, and an ounce of practical demonstration, is worth a ton's weight of written explanation as to the different actions necessary for playing the varied strokes, which go to compose the game of lawn-tennis. _service._ like everything else worth having, a good service is extremely difficult to acquire. it is always best to ascertain by experiment and observation what particular style of service would seem most within one's power of attainment, and this style should be kept to. there is nothing more detrimental to good play than indecision or constant change of form. experiments, though doubtless necessary at first, should be discontinued as soon as possible. the majority of ladies, for a variety of reasons, prefer to serve underhand. miss l. dod, in her able contribution in the _badminton library_, is of the opinion that unless in exceptional cases, overhand service tends merely to a waste of strength without making the stroke more difficult to take than the ordinary underhand service.[ ] in the face of such competent authority it would be fatuous to advance a contrary opinion; but if any special aptitude is felt for the overhand service, it will probably be found easier to practice with success than the underhand. the server should stand either in the middle of the base-line, or a few feet to the right or left of it, though she is at liberty to take up any position on the base-line that she chooses. according to law of the game: "the server should stand with one foot beyond--_i.e._, further from the net than--the base-line, and with the other foot upon the base-line, and shall deliver the service from the right and left courts alternately, beginning from the right." this law is of great importance and should never, even in the most ordinary play, be disregarded. _for the underhand service_, the body should be slightly bent and the racket swung well up. i have seen the swing carried high above the right shoulder, the ball being dropped in front of the racket as it arrives near the middle of the downward stroke (fig. a). _in the overhand service_, the body should be inclined somewhat backward, and the racket brought well above the head (as in fig. b) to obtain the utmost possible reach. the ball is held somewhat below the level of the left shoulder, and thrown gently in front of the descending racket. before a great degree of swiftness is attempted in either of these two services, accuracy should be ensured. in fact a well-known saying might be profitably adapted for the use of lawn-tennis players, both proficient and non-proficient: "take care of accuracy, and brilliancy will take care of itself." for the purpose of training the eye, it is no bad device to place a ball on the spot where the service is intended to drop and take aim at it. the satisfaction of hitting the mark will not be frequent, but the practice will at least impart some idea of locality. in service when one fault has already been made, it is wonderfully easy to drop into the bad habit of sending an easy catch to represent the second stroke; neither is this reprehensible custom entirely confined to beginners who might, perhaps, be excused for exercising a certain amount of caution over their last chance. over and over again i have seen ladies, who did not by any means count themselves tyros, indulging in this defective style of play. they appear to think that one ball either "smashed" into the net, or sent a dozen yards out of court absolves them from further effort; their second stroke being as harmfully innocuous as their first was mistakenly vicious. and in this case again, nothing but practice will give equality. _to obtain a twist_ the ball should be struck first with the left side of the racket--which will be held in a more horizontal position than for the regular forward stroke--and as it were run across its face, or in other words the racket is twisted round the ball from right to left. _to receive a service_ the striker-out should, generally speaking, stand near the base-line, opposite the centre of the service court, a position which commands either a fore or back-handed stroke. of course her position must naturally depend upon the style of service given, and here again, nothing but experience will impart the intuitive consciousness of the exact spot on which the ball is likely to drop. through excess of zeal and over anxiety to make a correct return, the non-proficient player will nearly always commit the error of rushing at her stroke and hitting the ball while it is yet rising, instead of waiting to catch it in the fall and lift it with a nearly vertical racket over the net. the ball should so to speak be allowed to meet the player half way _for an ordinary stroke_. of course in the case of a cut or a screw, which may bound backwards instead of forwards, it is advisable to approach the stroke more closely, but even in such a case it is better to wait and see the angle of rising before striking. any undue hurry will cause the ball to perform the feat known as "going through the racket." _for the fore-handed stroke_, the racket should be held in a firm grasp (as in fig. c), great care being taken that the position of the fingers is correct from the first, the ball being struck with a full racket. _for the back-handed stroke_, the grip is changed (see fig. d). this change may at first appear a serious difficulty, but after a little practice at fore and back-handed strokes alternately, the change will become both unconscious and mechanical. the back-handed stroke is a weak point with many players, for which reason extra attention should be bestowed upon its cultivation. any attempt to run round the ball, or to take it "with both hands," should from the first be severely discouraged. practising for the back-handed stroke against a blank wall is advised by many competent authorities as a useful means of overcoming preliminary awkwardness. [illustration: _figure c._ _fore-handed stroke._] the position of the feet and body in lawn-tennis is of the utmost importance. the player should await her stroke standing facing the net with the feet a little apart, and the weight of the body resting on the toes. in the case of a fore-hand stroke the left foot should be brought quickly across the right, by way of turning the body sideways, while the racket is swung back in readiness to receive the stroke. when the ball is struck, the weight of the body is shifted from the right foot to the left. for a back-handed stroke the right foot is brought across the left, and whilst striking the weight is shifted from the left foot to the right. _the volley_ has ever been a subject of controversy in lawn-tennis annals. we all know what an instrument of defence the stroke became off the rackets of the messrs. renshaw; but at present we are considering lawn-tennis from a woman's point of view, which is a very different thing. the ordinary variety of the volley is employed to save change of position necessary in taking a ball off the ground. this stroke resembles a "lob," and should be so placed as to obviate the chance of punishment. _the volley from the net_ is an overhand stroke and may be played with either a bent or extended arm, according to the force employed. the latter variety, known as the "smash," is given with an uncontrolled swing of the racket. in the former stroke, where the force used is not so great, an excellent effect may be obtained by a quick turn of the wrist, either to right or left, at the moment of striking the ball, causing it to drop near the base of the side line. _the volley from the service line_ is played with a horizontal racket, which may be held either below the bend of the shoulder, or almost close to the ground, when the player is obliged to stoop for the purpose of "lifting" the ball over the net. _the half volley_ is a stroke as difficult to attain as to describe. briefly it consists in blocking the ball--roughly speaking--within the first half-foot of its rise from the drop. the difficulty of the stroke lies in estimating correctly the exact spot on which the ball will drop, and in having the racket ready _just behind_ that spot. the stroke is chiefly used in cases where retreat is impossible, or at least likely to be attended with ill-success, and when the reach is too short for a volley; but it is a stroke which should be indulged in with caution, as, unless in the case of exceptionally good players, it is likely to prove a dismal failure. that it can generally be dispensed with by either a step forward, or a few steps back is consoling to the medium performer. [illustration: _figure d._ _back-handed stroke._] _the "lob"_ claims mr. haslow as its discoverer. this gentleman, chiefly owing to the agency of the stroke, succeeded in defeating the champion, mr. spencer-gore, who first practised volleying tactics, in . the "lob" is a useful invention against net play, being merely a stroke lifted high over the opponent's head, thus preventing a volleying return. the counter tactics to this stroke are technically known as the "smash," to which reference has already been made, and the "lob volley." the former of these two strokes consists in getting the racket--either by reach or springing into the air--above the ball and smashing it with all the strength at the player's command, to the confusion of the opponent, and the alarm and consternation of the bye-standers. _the "lob" volley_ consists in catching the dropping ball with a vertical drive similar to the ordinary forward drive played off the ground. lady players will, as a general rule, find the back game quite as effective, and a good deal more graceful than forward or volleying tactics, which owing to various circumstances, such as the necessity for extra reach and freedom of movement--are more suited to a man's play than a woman's. the back game with the aid of judicious "placing" will always prove hard to beat, a few well-worn maxims for its successful issue being: to hit as hard, and to keep the ball as low as possible. neither to court nor to avoid volleying, but to take it as it comes. to thoroughly master the art of "placing." never to relax good style by slovenly play, and finally to follow in all cases the advice of a well-known authority, "to start at once, to arrive in time, and never to be in a hurry." m. marshall. footnotes: [ ] lawn-tennis, chap. vii. badminton library. c. e. heathcote. [ ] lawn-tennis, chap. xvi., _badminton library_. appendices. glossary of nautical terms. _abeam_: said of an object that is in a line at right angles from the centre of a vessel's side. _about_: the act of a vessel going from one tack to the other, when working to windward. _abreast_: beam and beam; abeam. two ships are said to be abreast when alongside of each other. _a-lee_: the situation of the tiller or helm when it is put down or to leeward, when going about, or luffing. _all in the wind_: when a vessel's sails are shaking from sailing too near the wind. _a-weather_: the opposite of a-lee. the helm is a-weather when "put up" in the direction of the wind to bear away for "gybing," "wearing," or merely to alter course and keep a point or so more off the wind. _to back a sail_: to bring the sail round so that the wind comes on its other side. _backstays_: large ropes used to support the masts. they come aft either side of the ship from the masthead. _balloon foresail or fore staysail_: an enormous sail set on the forestay of cutters and schooners, and used for close-hauled sailing in light weather. _balloon-jib_: an enormous jib made of light canvas carried by fore-and-aft rigged craft; the foot extends from the bowsprit end to the fore-rigging. it is used when sailing from one to eight or nine points free. _balloon-topsail_: a square-headed gaff topsail of very large proportions, set with a yard and a jack-yard at clew; to the latter the sheet is bent. _battens_: strips of wood let into the mast to prevent its wearing. strips of wood put round hatches over tarpaulins to keep the latter down. a batten of wood is also used for several purposes on a vessel's rigging. a thin splint of wood used by naval architects for making curved lines. _beam_: the breadth of a ship. the midship side of a ship. abaft the beam is behind the centre of the ship's side, and forward of the beam is in front of that centre. see also "abeam." _bear away_: to put the helm up and cause the vessel's head to go off the wind. _beating to windward_: making for a point to windward by short tacks. _belay_: to make a rope fast to a pin or cavel, without hitching or seizing. "belay there!" stop hauling, and make fast. _bend_: to attach a sail to a yard. to bend a cable is to attach it to an anchor. a knot by which two ropes are fastened together. _bight_: the loop of a rope when doubled. _bilge-pieces_: placed on a vessel's side to support her when grounding. _blanketing_: a slang term, used when one vessel covers or becalms another with her sails. _board_: the distance a vessel traverses before tacking when working to windward. to make a "sternboard" is to make way by the stern, as a vessel will often do in a tideway or when in irons. to go "by the board" is said of a mast when it is carried away. _bobstay_: a rope or chair with tackle and double blocks attached to the bowsprit end and stem of a vessel, and used to keep the bowsprit down when the jib is set. _boom_: the spar that extends the foot of fore-and-aft sails. _bowline_: a rope used to stretch taut the after leech of a sail when on a wind. a vessel is said to be on a bowline when close hauled. _bowsprit_: a spar that extends from the bows of a vessel. a "running" bowsprit is such as a cutter has, and is horizontal, and can be reefed at pleasure. _brace_: a rope by which a yard is worked. _break off_: a vessel when close-hauled is said to break off when the wind comes more ahead. _bridle_: two or more ropes extending from the leech of a sail to which the bowline is attached. _cable length_: fathoms, or yards. a cable length denoted on a chart is · feet. _to check-sheets_: to ease them off. _claw_: to beat to windward off a lee-shore, or generally to beat to windward when such is difficult on account of heavy weather. _cleat_: a piece of wood used to belay ropes to. _clew_: the after lower corner of a fore-and-aft sail. _clew-line_: a line used to hoist up the lower corners of a sail. _close-hauled_: when a vessel's sheets are hauled so flat that she sails as near the wind as possible. a schooner yacht will sail - / points off the wind, and a cutter about - / . _coamings_: pieces of timber forming a frame on the deck round a hatchway or skylight. _crank_: said of a vessel when she will not stand up well to her canvas. a narrow and deep vessel is sure to be "crank." _cross sea_: a sea or swell caused by a wind different from that blowing at the time the cross sea is running. _cross-trees_: pieces of timber supported by the trestle-trees, used to spread the topmast rigging. _crutch_: forked pieces of timber or iron fixed into a socket of the taffrail, and used to support the boom when the mainsail is stowed. _cuddy_: a cabin under the deck, put in the fore-part of small boats. _davits_: iron stanchions or pieces of timber fixed on a vessel's side or stern, to carry boats, they being hoisted to the davits by tackles. _earings_: small ropes used to fasten the upper corners of sails to the yards. _ease off, or ease away_: to slacken out the fall of a tackle, sheet, or any rope that is belayed. _ease the helm_: to put the helm down when close-hauled, so that a vessel's head may enter a sea fairly. generally to put the helm more amidships when it has been put either to port or starboard. _eyelet-hole_: holes in a sail through which a lacing is passed or reef nettles rove. _fair_: said of a wind which a vessel has when she can lay her course a point or any number of points free. _fetch_: to arrive at a point when sailing to windward by weathering it. _fly up in the wind_: said of a vessel when she comes up suddenly head to wind, by reason of her griping or through the bad steering of the helmsman. _foot_: the lower part of a sail or mast. _fore-and-aft sails_: sails that are set on gaffs and stays, and not on yards. _fore-reach_: when close-hauled to sail ahead of another vessel. to fore-reach to windward is to sail ahead of a vessel and yet to windward of her at the same time. _free-wind_: when a vessel has the wind so as not to be close-hauled. when the wind comes abeam or on the quarter, a vessel is said to be going large. a fair wind may mean free, large, or any wind that blows between - points of the compass from the point on which the vessel would be close-hauled. _gaskets_: ropes used to secure sails to their yards or booms when furled or stowed. _goose-winged_: said of a schooner whose mainsail and foresail are extended on opposite sides as she runs before the wind. _guy_: a rope used to prevent a boom swinging aboard either fore or aft. in running before the wind a guy is often attached to the main boom of a schooner to prevent a sudden gybe. _gybe_: when running before the wind, to bring the wind on the other side by putting up the helm, and thereby cause the sails to fall over. _halyards_: the ropes used to hoist sails, yards, etc. _hatches_: openings in the decks. _haul aft a sheet_: to haul a sail flatter or at a less angle to the wind. _haul her wind_: said of a vessel going free, when she comes up closer to the wind and flattens her sheets. _helm_: generally applied to the tiller, but properly it means the whole apparatus for steering. _housed_: the situation of a topmast that has been lowered. _in irons_: a vessel is said to be in irons when in going about she comes up head to wind, and will not fill off one way or the other. _jack-stay_: a stay along a mast or yard to which a sail is bent. _jack-yard_: a small yard used to extend the foot of a fore-and-aft balloon topsail that extends beyond the end of the gaff. _jaws_: the part of a gaff or boom which encircles the mast. _jib_: a triangular sail set on a stay in square-rigged ships, and then called a standing jib. _jib-boom_: a spar that extends beyond the bowsprit. a flying jib-boom is another spar that extends beyond the jib-boom. _jib-foresail_: the fore-staysail of fore-and-aft schooners. _jib-purchase_: a tackle used for setting up a jib. _jib-topsail_: a triangular sail set on the fore-topmast stay of fore-and-aft vessels. _jib-traveller_: the travelling ring that encircles the bowsprit to which the tack of a jib is secured and hauled out on the bowsprit or jib-boom, as the case may be. _larboard_: port. (obsolete.) _large_: a vessel is said to be going large when she has the wind three or four points free. _leech_: the outer edge of a sail. _luff_: to sail closer to the wind. _lug-sail_: a sail set on a yard, as generally used in small boats. _main-boom_: the spar that extends the foot of the mainsail of a fore-and-aft craft. _mainsheet_: the sheet of a mainsail. _martingale_: a short spar under the bowsprit, used to give more spread to the stays that set the bowsprit or jib-boom down. _nautical mile_: · yards: thus knots or nautical miles are nearly equal to statute miles. _nautical day_: from noon till noon, hours. _nothing off_: said to a helmsman when he has to keep a vessel as close to wind as practicable. _off-and-on_: working along a shore by standing off, and then on, by short boards. _painter_: a rope attached to the bows of a boat, used to make her fast to a landing-place, etc. _preventer stays_: additional ropes set up taut to prevent spars carrying away when a vessel is under a press of canvas. _reef-points_: short pieces of rope by which the foot of a sail is secured when a reef is rolled up, or, as the nautical term has it, hauled down. _reef-tackles_: the tackles by which the reef-pendants are hauled down. _schooner_: a fore-and-aft rigged craft with two masts. sometimes schooners carry square topsails, and then are distinguished by being called "square-topsail schooners." _spinnaker_: a modern adaptation of a jib-shaped sail, often seen set from the top masthead and boomed out from the mast. it is made of light canvas, and hoists to the topmast-head, and is boomed out from the mast. some cutters carry enormous spinnakers, containing in one sail nearly as much canvas as is spread in mainsail and topsail. a spinnaker is a very handy sail, and preferable to a squaresail in light weather. _steady!_: an order after the helm has been put to port or starboard, to put it no farther in either direction, but bring it back amidships. when the wind is fair, an order given to a steersman to "steady!" is to keep the helm as it is. _tack_: the lower weather corner of a sail. _to tack_: to go about from one tack to the other. _tackle_: a purchase composed of blocks and a rope, for multiplying power. _tail block_: a tackle consisting of two blocks, to one of which is attached a length of rope for fastening to any object at pleasure. _taunt_: tall. _taut_: tight. _thwart_: athwart; across. the seat of a boat. _tiller_: the bar of wood or iron by which the rudder is worked. _toggle_: a pin placed through the bight or eye of a rope to secure it round a stay, mast, etc. _top a boom_: to raise one end of it by hoisting on the topping-lifts. _topmast_: the next mast to the lower mast; in ships, the topmast is succeeded by top-gallant mast and royal mast. _wear_: to come round with the wind until it blows on the opposite side. in tacking, a vessel is turned round against the wind. _yaw_: a vessel is said to yaw when in running she flies off her course. _yawl_: a vessel rigged like a cutter, with the addition of a short mizzen-mast. lawn-tennis. laws of the game. the single-handed game. .--for the single-handed game, the court is ft. in width and ft. in length. it is divided across the middle by a net, the ends of which are attached to the tops of two posts, which stand ft. outside the court on each side. the height of the net is ft. in. at the posts, and ft. at the centre. at each end of the court, parallel with the net, and at a distance of ft. from it, are drawn the _base-lines_, the extremities of which are connected by the _side-lines_. half-way between the side-lines, and parallel with them, is drawn the _half-court-line_, dividing the space on each side of the net into two equal parts, called the _right and left courts_. on each side of the net, at a distance of ft. from it, and parallel with it, are drawn the _service-lines_. .--the balls shall not be less than - / in., nor more than - / in. in diameter; and not less than - / oz., nor more than oz. in weight. .--in matches where umpires are appointed, their decision shall be final; but where a referee is appointed, an appeal shall lie to him from the decision of an umpire on a question of law. .--the choice of sides and the right of serving during the first games shall be decided by toss; provided that, if the winner of the toss choose the right to serve, the other player shall have the choice of sides, and _vice-versâ_; and provided that the winner of the toss may, if he prefer it, require the other player to make the first choice. .--the players shall stand on opposite sides of the net; the player who first delivers the ball shall be called the _server_, the other the _striker-out_. .--at the end of the first game the striker-out shall become server, and the server shall become striker-out; and so on alternately in the subsequent games of the set. .--the server shall stand with one foot beyond (_i.e._, further from the net than) the base line, and with the other foot upon the base line, and shall deliver the service from the right and left courts alternately, beginning from the right. .--the ball served must drop within the service-line, half-court-line, and side-line of the court which is diagonally opposite to that from which it was served, or upon any such line. .--it is a _fault_ if the service be delivered from the wrong court, or if the server do not stand as directed in law , or if the ball served drop in the net or beyond the service-line, or if it drop out of court or in the wrong court; it is not a _fault_ if the server's foot, which is beyond the base-line, do not touch the ground at the moment at which the service is delivered. .--a fault may not be taken. .--after a fault, the server shall serve again from the same court from which he served that fault, unless it was a fault because served from the wrong court. .--a fault may not be claimed after the next service has been delivered. .--the service may not be _volleyed_, _i.e._, taken before it touches the ground. .--the server shall not serve until the striker-out is ready. if the latter attempt to return the service, he shall be deemed to be ready. .--a ball is _in-play_ from the moment at which it is delivered in service (unless a fault) until it has been volleyed by the striker-out in his first stroke, or has dropped in the net or out of court, or has touched either of the players or anything that he wears or carries, except his racket in the act of striking, or has been struck by either of the players with his racket more than once consecutively, or has been volleyed before it has passed over the net, or has failed to pass over the net before its first bound (except as provided in law ), or has touched the ground twice consecutively on either side of the net, though the second time may be out of court. .--it is a _let_ if the ball served touch the net, provided the service be otherwise good; or if a service or fault be delivered when the striker-out is not ready; or if either player be prevented by an accident beyond his control from serving or returning the ball in play. in case of a let, the service or stroke counts for nothing, and the server shall serve again. .--it is a good return although the ball touch the net, or, having passed outside either post, drop on or within any of the lines which bound the court into which it is returned. .--the server wins a stroke if the striker-out volley the service, or fail to return the service or the ball in-play (except in the case of a let), or return the service or ball in play so that it drop outside any of the lines which bound his opponent's court, or otherwise lose a stroke, as provided by law . .--the striker-out wins a stroke if the server serve two consecutive faults, or fail to return the ball in-play (except in the case of a let), or return the ball in-play so that it drop outside any of the lines which bound his opponent's court, or otherwise lose a stroke, as provided by law . .--either player loses a stroke if the ball in-play touch him or anything that he wears or carries, except his racket in the act of striking; or it he touch or strike the ball in-play with his racket more than once consecutively; or if he touch the net or any of its supports while the ball is in-play; or if he volley the ball before it has passed the net. .--on either player winning his first stroke, the score is called for that player; on either player winning his second stroke, the score is called for that player; on either player winning his third stroke, the score is called for that player; and the fourth stroke won by either player is scored game for that player; except as below:-- if both players have won three strokes, the score is called deuce; and the next stroke won by either player is scored advantage for that player. if the same player win the next stroke, he wins the game; if he lose the next stroke, the score is again called deuce; and so on until either player win the two strokes immediately following the score at deuce, when the game is scored for that player. .--the player who first wins six games wins a set; except as below:-- if both players win five games, the score is called games-all; and the next game won by either player is scored advantage-game for that player. if the same player win the next game, he wins the set; if he lose the next game, the score is again called games-all; and so on until either player win the two games immediately following the score of games-all, when he wins the set. _note._--players may agree not to play advantage-sets, but to decide the set by one game after arriving at the score of games-all. .--the players shall change sides at the end of every set, but the umpire, on appeal from either party, before the toss for choice, shall direct the players to change sides at the end of the _first, third, and every subsequent alternate game of each set_, provided that in such event the players shall not change sides at the end of a set if the number of games in such set be even; but if the appeal be made after a match has been begun, the umpire shall only direct the players to change sides at the end of the _first, third, and every subsequent alternate game of the odd and concluding set_. .--when a series of sets is played, the player who was server in the last game of one set, shall be striker-out in the first game of the next. odds. .--in the case of received odds:-- _a._ one sixth of fifteen is one stroke given in every six games of a set in the position shown by the annexed table. _b._ similarly, two-sixths, three-sixths, four-sixths, and five-sixths of fifteen are respectively two, three, four, and five strokes given in every six games of a set in the position shown by the table. +------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | | st | nd | rd | th | th | th | | | game. | game. | game. | game. | game. | game. | +------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+--------+ _example._--a player receiving four-sixths of fifteen receives nothing in the first and third games, and fifteen in the second, fourth, fifth and sixth games of a set. _note._--the table is not carried beyond the sixth game, as in the next and every succeeding six games the odds recur in the same positions. _c._ the above odds may be given in augmentation of other receiving odds. _d._ fifteen is one stroke given at the beginning of every game of a set. _e._ thirty is two strokes given at the beginning of every game of a set. _f._ forty is three strokes given at the beginning of every game of a set. .--in the case of owed odds: _a._ one-sixth of fifteen is one stroke owed in every six games of a set in the position shown by the annexed table. _b._ similarly, two-sixths, three-sixths, four-sixths, and five-sixths of fifteen are respectively two, three, four, and five strokes owed in every six games of a set in the position shown by the following table: +------------+------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+ | | st | nd | rd | th | th | th | | |game. | game. | game. | game. | game. | game. | +------------+------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+ | / of . | | | | | | | +------------+------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+ _example._--a player owing two-sixths of fifteen would owe fifteen in the first and third games, and nothing in the second, fourth, fifth, and sixth games. _note._--the table is not carried beyond the sixth game, as in the next and every succeeding six games the odds recur in the same positions. _c._ the above odds may be owed in augmentation of other owed odds. _d._ fifteen is one stroke owed at the beginning of every game of a set. _e._ thirty is two strokes owed at the beginning of every game of a set. _f._ forty is three strokes owed at the beginning of every game of a set. the three-handed and four-handed game. .--the above laws shall apply to the three-handed and four-handed games, except as below. .--for the three-handed and four-handed games, the court is ft. in width. within the side-lines, at a distance of - / ft. from them, and parallel with them, are drawn the service-side-lines. in other respects the court is similar to that which is described in law . .--in the three-handed game, the single player shall serve in every alternate game. .--in the four-handed game, the pair who have the right to serve in the first game may decide which partner shall do so, and the opposing pair may decide similarly for the second game. the partner of the player who served in the first game shall serve in the third; and the partner of the player who served in the second game shall serve in the fourth, and so on in the same order in all the subsequent games of a set. .--the players shall take the service alternately throughout each game; no player shall receive or return a service delivered to his partner; and the order of service and of striking out, once arranged, shall not be altered, nor shall the striker-out change courts to receive the service before the end of the set. .--the ball served must drop within the service-line, half-court-line, and service-side-line of the court, which is diagonally opposite to that from which it was served, or upon any such line. .--it is a _fault_ if the ball do not drop as provided in law , or if it touch the server's partner, or anything that he wears or carries. .--if a player serve out of his turn, the umpire, as soon as the mistake is discovered by himself or by one of the players, shall direct the player to serve who ought to have served; but all strokes scored, and any fault served before such discovery, shall be reckoned. if a game shall have been completed before such discovery, then the service in the next alternate game shall be delivered by the partner of the player who served out of his turn; and so on in regular rotation. knotty points. addenda to the laws of the game. (_revised and approved by the council of the lawn-tennis association._) .--in no case may the striker-out volley the service, not even if the ball is clearly outside the service court. .--a player who is struck by, or strikes a ball _in play_ (unless he thereby makes a good return) loses the stroke, no matter whether he is standing within the limits of the court or outside them. (for definition of "in play" see law .) .--if the service is delivered before the striker-out is ready, and he tries to return it, but fails, he loses the stroke. .--if the striker-out cries "not ready" after the service has been delivered, but before the ball touches the ground, he may not claim a fault because the ball ultimately drops outside the service court. .--if the server, in attempting to serve, misses the ball altogether, it does not count as a fault, but it the ball is touched, no matter how slightly, by the racket, a service is thereby delivered and the rules governing the service at once apply. .--if a ball, served or returned, drops into the proper court and screws or is blown back over the net, the player whose turn it is to strike may reach over the net and play the ball, provided that neither he nor any part of his clothes or racket touch the net. if he fails to play the ball, the stroke of course scores to his opponent, notwithstanding that the ball has gone back over the net. .--if a player throws his racket at the ball and so returns the ball into the proper court, he loses the stroke. .--if a player catches the balls on his racket, walks with it to the net, and, reaching over, drops it into court, he loses the stroke, as such a proceeding cannot be defined as an "act of striking" (_vide_ law ). .--if a player's racket passes over the net after he has returned the ball, he does not lose, providing the ball has passed over the net before being played, and has been properly returned. .--if a player or his racket touches the posts or supports of the net or posts while the ball is in-play, he loses the stroke. (for definition of "in-play" see law .) ii.--if a player's racket slips out of his hand and touches the net while the ball is in-play, he loses the stroke. .--if a player to avoid touching the net, jumps over it while the ball is in play, he loses the stroke. .--if a ball is returned outside the posts, either above or below the level of the top of the net, and drops into court, it is a good return. .--if a player succeeds in returning a ball served or in-play which strikes a ball lying in the court, it is a good return. .--if a spectator impedes, or in any way interferes with, a player, a "let" may be allowed under law . .--a "let" does not annul a previous fault. .--the service always commences from the right-hand court, even though odds are given or owed, and the service always continues alternately from the right and left courts. .--if an umpire erroneously calls "fault" and at once corrects himself and cries "play," and the striker-out tails to return the ball, a "let" must be allowed. .--if the ball in play (other than a service) strikes any part of the net or its supports, or the centre stay, no matter how low down (provided it does not touch the ground), and eventually goes over into the proper court, it is a good return. .--if in a double game the server's service strikes _either_ of his opponents, he wins the stroke. .--if a match is postponed on account of rain or darkness coming on, or for any similar reason, and is continued on the subsequent day, the match shall be resumed from the point where it was discontinued on the previous day. an entirely new commencement may only be made with the consent of the referee. .--if two players in a handicap play at the wrong odds, the match stands, unless they have been wrongly instructed by the referee, or any person or persons acting under his instructions, in which case the loser may claim to have the match replayed, unless the mistake in the odds has been in his favour. such claim must be made within a reasonable time. .--a similar decision must be given if two players neglect to play advantage sets when one of the conditions of the event in which they are competing is that advantage sets should be played. handicaps. table no. . (received odds). when two players, both in receipt of odds, meet, the player receiving the smaller odds is put back to scratch. the following table shows the point at which the other should then start. the number at the left of the horizontal columns denotes the player who goes back to scratch, those at the head of the vertical columns the player who still receives odds; and the numbers within the columns show the odds to be received by the player whose number stands at the head of the column: +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | / | / | / | / | / | | | | | | of | of | of | of | of | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | | | | | | of | of | of | of | of | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | | | | | | of | of | of | of | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | | | | | of | of | of | of | · | · | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | | | | of | of | of | of | · | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | | | of | of | of | of | | | | | | | +-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | | | of | of | of | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | | | of | of | | | | | +------+------+------+ | | / | | | of | | | | +------+------+ | | | | | | +------+ +------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | | | | | | | | | | | of | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | | | | | | | | | | of | of | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | | | | | | | | | | of | of | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | | | | | | | | | of | of | of | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | | | | | | | | | of | of | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | | | | | | | | of | of | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | | | | | | of | of | of | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | | | | | of | of | of | · | · | | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | | | | of | of | of | · | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | | | | of | of | · | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+ | | / | | | | of | · | | | | | +------+------+------+ | | / | | | of | | | | +------+------+ this table has been calculated upon the following data:-- in the case of received odds the average value of / is · . " " / is · . " " / is · . " " / is · . " " / is · . " length of a game is · strokes. · means and one-sixth of , and so on. handicaps. table no. ii. (owed odds). when two players meet who are handicapped to _owe_ odds, the player owing the lesser odds is placed at scratch. this table shows the odds the other will still owe: +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | / | / | / | / | / | | | | | | of | of | of | of | of | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | | | | | | of | of | of | of | of | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | | | | | of | of | of | of | of | · | · | | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | | | | of | of | of | of | of | · | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | | | of | of | of | of | of | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | | | of | of | of | of | | | | | | | +-----+-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | | | of | of | of | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+ | | / | / | | | of | of | | | | | +------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | +------+------+ | | | | | | +------+ +------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | | | | | | | | | | | of | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | | | | | | | | | | of | of | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | | | | | | | | | of | of | of | · | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | | | | | | | | of | of | of | of | · | · | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | / | | | | | | of | of | of | of | of | of | · | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | / | / | / | / | / | / | | | | | | of | of | of | of | of | of | · | · | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | / | / | | | | of | of | of | of | of | of | of | · | | | | | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | / | / | | | of | of | of | of | of | of | of | | | | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | / | | | of | of | of | of | of | of | | | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | / | / | / | / | / | | | of | of | of | of | of | | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+------+ | | | / | / | / | | | | of | of | of | | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+------+ | | | / | / | | | | of | of | | | | | | +------+------+------+------+ | | | / | | | | of | | | | | +------+------+------+ | | / | | | of | | | | +------+------+ this table has been calculated upon the following data:-- in the case of owed odds the average value of / is · " " / is · " " / is · " " / is · " " / is · " length of a game is · strokes. in using this table, supply throughout the word "owe" before the odds specified. regulations for the management of lawn-tennis prize meetings. .--at prize meetings promoted by associations or clubs affiliated to the lawn-tennis association, the laws of lawn-tennis for the time being sanctioned by the lawn-tennis association, and the regulations hereinafter contained, shall be observed. .--all details connected with any prize meeting shall be settled by the committee of the club holding the meeting, or by a committee specially appointed for the purpose, of whom two, or such larger number as the committee may determine, shall form a quorum. .--a circular shall be issued by the committee specifying the conditions of the competition (see recommendation ). .--no cheques, orders for money, or cash payments in any form shall be given as prizes, and the amount actually paid for each prize shall in no case be below the advertised value of the same. .--the committee shall elect a referee, with power to appoint a substitute to be approved by them. .--the referee, or such other member or members of the committee as may be selected for the purpose, shall have power to appoint umpires, and the referee shall decide any point of law which an umpire may profess himself unable to decide, or which may be referred to him on appeal from the decision of an umpire. .--the referee shall, during the meeting, be _ex-officio_ a member of the committee. .--the courts shall be allotted to the competitors, and the competitors shall be called upon to play, by a member or members of the committee, to be selected for the purpose, and in case of disagreement the committee shall decide. .--the committee shall help to keep order on the ground, and shall consult and decide upon any question arising out of the competition, if summoned for that purpose by the referee or by any two of their number; and they shall have power, when so convened, the misconduct of a competitor having been reported to them by a member of the committee or an umpire, to disqualify the offender, and further to order him off the ground, should his misconduct appear to them to justify such action, but before such action shall be taken, an opportunity of offering an explanation shall be afforded to the competitor whose misconduct has been reported to them. .--it is the duty of an umpire-- _a._ to ascertain that the net is at the right height before the commencement of play, and to measure and adjust the net during play, if asked to do so, or if, in his opinion, its height has altered; _b._ to call the faults (subject to regulation ); _c._ to call the strokes when won, or when he is asked to call them, and to record them on the umpire's second sheet;[ ] _d._ to call the games and the sets at the end of each, or when asked to call them, and to record them on the umpire's scoring sheet; note.--at the end of each game the games should be called with the name of the player who is in advance, thus: " games to , b. wins," or "b. leads." if the games are level the score should be called thus, " games all," or as the case may be. at the end of each set the sets should be called in like manner. _e._ to direct the competitors to change sides, in accordance with law ; _f._ when appealed to, during a rest, whether a doubtful ball is "in-play" or not, to call "play it out," and at the conclusion of the rest, to give his decision (subject to regulation ) or direct the competitors to play the stroke again; _g._ to decide all doubtful or disputed strokes, and all points of law (subject to regulations and ); _h._ in handicap matches to call the odds at the commencement of each set; _i._ to sign the umpire's scoring sheets, and to deliver them at the conclusion of the match to such person as the committee may authorize to receive them; provided, that no omission of any of the foregoing duties on the part of an umpire shall of itself invalidate a game or match. .--it is the duty of a line-umpire to call faults and to decide strokes relating to the line for which he is appointed umpire, and to such line only. .--the decision of an umpire shall be final upon every question of fact, and no competitor may appeal from it; but if an umpire be in doubt as to a point of law, or if a competitor appeal against his decision on such a point, the umpire shall submit to it the referee, whose decision shall be final. .--the referee shall not bet on a match, nor shall an umpire on a match in which he is acting, and if an objection for this or any other reason be made to a referee or umpire, either before or during the match, by a member of the committee or a competitor, the match, if begun, shall, if necessary, be at once stopped by the referee or two members of the committee, who shall take the opinion of the committee on the objection, and the committee shall have power to remove or suspend the referee or umpire so objected to; provided that the decision of the majority of the committee present shall be final, and that the referee or umpire so objected to (if a member of the committee) shall not be at liberty to vote on the question. .--no competitor may transfer his entry to another player. .--competitors shall have a right, by themselves or their deputies, to be present at the draw. .--the draw shall be conducted in the following manner:--each competitor's name shall be written on a separate card or paper, and these shall be placed in bowl or hat, drawn out one by by one at random, and copied on a list in the order in which they have been drawn. .--when the number of competitors is , , , , , or any higher power of , they shall meet in pairs, in accordance with the system shown by the following diagram: +------------------------------------------------------+ | st round. | | a } nd round. | | } ------------b } | | b } } rd round. | | } ------------d } | | c } } } | | } ------------d } } | | d } } | | } -------------d | | e } } | | } ------------f } } | | f } } } | | } ------------f } | | g } } | | } ------------h } | | h } | +------------------------------------------------------+ .--when the number of competitors is not a power of , there shall be byes in the first round. the number of byes shall be equal to the difference between the number of competitors and the next higher power of ; and the number of pairs that shall meet in the first round shall be equal to the difference between the number of competitors and the next lower power of . the byes, if even in number, shall be divided, as the names are drawn, in equal proportions at the top and bottom of the list, above and below the pairs; if uneven in number, there shall be one more bye at the bottom than at the top. thus, in series . from to competitors. with , there will be bye at the top, and byes at the bottom of the list, thus: st round. nd round. rd round. a (a bye) ......a } } b } } ------------a } } ------------b } } c } } } ------------a d (a bye) ......d } } } ------------e } e (a bye) ......e } with , there will be bye at the top, and bye at the bottom. with , bye at the bottom. with , no byes. series . from to competitors. st round. nd round. rd round. th round. a (a bye) ......a } } ------------b } b (a bye) ......b } } } ------------e } c (a bye) ......c } } } } ------------e } } d } } } } ------------e } } e } } ------------g } f (a bye) ......f } } } ------------g } } g (a bye) ......g } } } } ------------g } h (a bye) ......h } } } ------------h } i (a bye) ......i } with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , bye at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , bye at the top, and bye at the bottom. with , bye at the bottom. with , no byes. series . from to competitors. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom, thus: st round. nd round. rd round. th round. th round a (a bye)...a --------a } b (a bye)...b } } --------d } c (a bye)...c } } --------d } } d (a bye)...d } } --------d } e (a bye)...e } } --------f } } } f (a bye)...f } } } } --------h } } g (a bye)...g } } } } --------h } } h } } } } --------h } } i } } --------d } j (a bye)...j } --------k } } k (a bye)...k } } } --------k } } l (a bye)...l } } } --------m } } } m (a bye)...m } } } --------o } n (a bye)...n } --------o } } o (a bye)...o } } } --------o } p (a bye)...p } --------q } q (a bye)...q with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , byes at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , bye at the top, and byes at the bottom. with , bye at the top, and bye at the bottom. with , bye at the bottom. with , no byes. and so on, with larger numbers, in like manner. .--if a competitor be absent when called on to play, or shall refuse to play, or shall have given previous notice to the referee, or a member of the committee that he cannot play in his next round, his adversary shall win in that round. .--in handicap-matches the competitors shall be handicapped by the committee, or by a handicapper appointed by the committee. .--unless any other principle of handicapping be adopted, the handicap shall be by classes, as below: class (scratch). class receives -sixth of . " " -sixths of . " " -sixths of . " " -sixths of . " " -sixths of . " " . " " and -sixth of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " . " " and -sixth of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " . when two players in different classes below scratch meet, the superior player shall start from scratch, and the odds received by the inferior player are as shown by the annexed table, no. . to use the table, find in the diagonal line of figures the number representing the class of the superior player, then travel along the corresponding horizontal column until the vertical column is reached, which bears at the top the number of the class of the inferior player. the odds specified at the intersection of the two columns are the odds required. _example._--if class has to meet class , start from the figure in the diagonal line of figures, and look horizontally until the vertical column is reached headed by the figure . the odds given at the point of intersection of the two columns (viz., and -sixth of ) are the odds required. when the difference between the best and worst players entered is great (say more than ), it is desirable to handicap the best players at _owed odds_. the players above scratch (_i.e._, owing odds) should be classified as follows: class owes -sixth of . " " -sixths of . " " -sixths of . " " -sixths of . " " -sixths of . " " . " " and -sixth of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of , " " and -sixths of . " " . " " and -sixth of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " and -sixths of . " " . when the two players in different classes above scratch meet, the inferior player shall start from scratch, and the odds owed by the superior player are as shown by the annexed table, no. ii. this table is to be used in the same way as the former, the class of the superior player being looked for in the horizontal line of figures at the top, and the class of the inferior player in the diagonal line of figures. _example._--if class (owe ) meet class (owe and one-sixth of ), the former must owe the latter the odds of four-sixths of . .--in championship matches and handicaps by classes, as above, advantage sets shall be played throughout the ties. .--the committee may, whether appealed to by any competitor or not, postpone the meeting or any match or part of a match if, in their opinion, the state of the weather, or of the light, or the condition of the ground, or other circumstances, render it advisable to do so. championships. england. . miss maud watson . miss maud watson . miss bingley . miss l. dod . miss l. dod . mrs. hillyard . miss rice . miss dod . miss dod . miss dod . mrs. hillyard . miss c. cooper . miss c. cooper . mrs. hillyard ireland. ladies' singles. . miss m. langrishe . miss meldon . no competition . miss abercrombie . miss m. langrishe . miss m. watson . miss m. watson . miss m. langrishe . miss l. dod . mrs. hillyard . miss martin . miss martin . miss martin . miss martin . miss stanuell . mrs. hillyard . miss c. cooper . miss martin . scotland. ladies' singles. . miss boulton . miss butler . miss butler . miss butler . miss jackson . miss jackson . miss jackson . miss corder . miss l. paterson . miss l. paterson . miss l. paterson . wales. ladies' singles. . miss m. watson . mrs. hillyard . miss pope . no competition . miss pope . miss m. sweet-escott . miss cochrane . miss jackson . miss corder . no competition . covered court championships. england. lady champions. . miss jacks . miss m. shackle . miss m. shackle . miss m. shackle . miss austin . miss c. cooper . miss austin . miss austin wales. lady champion. . mrs. pickering . footnotes: [ ] example: the strokes are scored by means of pencil-marks in the spaces beneath the words "strokes," thus: column headings: g: game. i: initials of players. gw: game won by. ++=+====++=========================================++====++ ||g| i || strokes. || gw || ++=+====++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++====++ || {a.b.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || | || | || | || || || {----||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||a.b.|| || {c.d.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || | || | || | || || ++======++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++====++ || {c.d.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || | || | || | || || || {----||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||c.d.|| || {a.b.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || | || | || | || || ++======++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++====++ the scoring shows that in the first game the score ran, and would have been called thus: " --love, --love, -- , -- , -- , game (a.b.);" in the second game: "love-- , all, -- , all, -- , deuce, advantage (c.d.), deuce, advantage (a.b.), deuce, advantage (c.d.), game (c.d.)" the score of the server should be called first. in scoring handicap matches, the odds received should be marked by crosses on the right of the first perpendicular thick line before the commencement of each game, thus: column headings: g: game. i: initials of players. ++=+====++==========================++=======++ || | || || game || ||g| i || strokes. ||won by.|| ++=+====++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=======++ || {a.b.||+| | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-------|| || {c.d.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=======++ || {a.b.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-------|| || {c.d.||+|+| | | | || | || | || | || || ++======++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=======++ || {a.b.||+| | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-------|| || {c.d.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=======++ || {a.b.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-------|| || {c.d.||+|+| | | | || | || | || | || || ++======++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=======++ || {a.b.||+| | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-------|| || {c.d.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=======++ || {a.b.|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||-------|| || {c.d.||+|+| | | | || | || | || | || || ++======++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++=======++ here a.b. is receiving fifteen and three-sixths of . when odds are owed, they should be marked on the _left_ on the first perpendicular thick line, before the commencement of each game, thus: column headings: g: game. i: initials of players. gw: game won by. ++=+====+================================++==++ ||g| i | strokes. ||gw|| ++=+====+=+==++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {a.b.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|--||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+==++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|--||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {a.b.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+==++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {a.b.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|--||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+==++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|--||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {a.b.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+==++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {a.b.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|--||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+==++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|--||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {a.b.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+==++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ and crossed off one by one when the player owing wins a stroke, thus: column headings: g: game. i: initials of players. gw: game won by. ++=+====+===============================++==++ ||g| i | strokes. ||gw|| ++=+====+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {a.b.|+|+|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|-||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|-||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {a.b.| |+|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {a.b.|+|+|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|-||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|-||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {a.b.| |+|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {a.b.| |+|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|-||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ || {c.d.| | || | | | | | || | || | || | || || || {----|-|-||-|-|-|-|-|-||-|-||-|-||-|-||--|| || {a.b.| |+|| | | | | | || | || | || | || || ++======+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=++=+=++=+=++==++ here a.b. owes fifteen and two-sixths of . index. a. _alwida_-- ; prizes, amory, ian, hunts tiverton staghounds, amory, sir john heathcoat, staghounds, , _asphodel_, owned by prince henry of battenberg, austin, miss, covered court champion (lawn-tennis), b. _babe_, champion of two-and-a-half-raters, baker, punts built in gillingham by, barbel, dull to catch, battenberg, prince henry of, at torquay and dartmouth regattas, batthyany, prince, owner of _stratmann_, _bébé_, captain morency's punt, bembridge sailing club, , bingley, miss, lawn-tennis victories, _bird o' freedom_, reputation of, bisset, fenwick, revived stag-hunting on exmoor, _black bess_ punt, _bodagh_ race with _tartar_, bosham fishermen pleasant to deal with, boulay, major du, starts bembridge sailing club, bracewell, miss and mrs. watts, double (lawn-tennis) champions, bream, dull to catch, brixham fishermen pleasant to deal with, bucknill, colonel, starts one-design class, bucknill, colonel, yacht-racing, bucknill, miss, experience in yacht-racing, bucknill, miss, steering _cosette_, bull-trout common in some rivers--migratory, c. carp, shy--prefer muddy, weedy ponds, chase of the carted' deer, by the editor, canteen, for, coming into field with hounds recommended, deer closes mouth when beaten, desirable to drive or train to and from the chase, equipment for, hunter, essentials for, in surrey and kent--vales of ashford or aylesbury--with wards in ireland, objections urged against, qualities necessary for riding with good deer, quarry, state of, short day with staghounds boon for busy women, stag-hunting, advantages of, three courses open at meet, chub: flies used for, , game up to certain point, shy and difficult to catch, clarke, mrs. culpeper, suggestions for article on "chase of the carted deer", clarke, mrs. culpeper, portrait, clayton, designs _dolphin_, cloutsham, sure find of good stag at, coarse fish: flies recommended for, kinds included under, not to be despised either for sport or table, _cock-a-whoop_, two-and-a-half-rater, _colinette_ and _fairy_, race between, colville, major, starts one-design class, cooper, miss c., in ladies' championship (lawn-tennis) , _coquette_, half-rater, nicholson's design, _corolla_, bought by mrs. schenley, _cosette_ and _queen mab_, ladies' match between, coventry, lady dorothy, on sixpenny, coventry, lord, hunting carted deer, cox, fred, reception of editor, cox, miss, successes in , cox, misses, sailing _colinette_, _cresta_, owned by mrs. schenley, cruising and small yacht-racing on solent, by miss barbara hills, cruising and yacht-racing contrasted, _crystabel_ punt, ; racing _nelson_, curzon, lady georgiana, hunting carted deer, _cyane_ (lord dunraven's), first prizes, cycling, by mrs. a. c. hills, ankling, bearings, oiling, chain, the, choice of machine, ; points to consider, cleaning cycle, clothing suitable for, corners, taking, dismounting, health, view of, height of pedals from ground, how to learn, learning fatiguing, leg action, mounting, oil for lubricating bearings and for lamp, pedalling, precautions against chills, puncture, directions for repairing, rigidity of frame, rule of the road, "skirts", steering, valves, weight of machine, width of "tread", cycling, fancy figures and musical rides, by miss van wart, "american circle ride," figure iv., "centre circles," ; figure ii., "cross bows," ; figure iii., "double snake" through clubs, ; figure i., "figure riding", "maypole", popular entertainment, rules for, waltz, only suitable music for, _cyclists' pocket book_, recommended, d. dace, fly-fishing for, ; flies liked by, dace take a fly readily and give good sport, _dacia_, designed by charles nicholson, , _daphne_ and _lil_, dartmouth regatta, deer dying in water, deer's scent on moor, devis', charlie, reputation as skipper, dhulough, co. mayo, bull and sea-trout in, dod, miss l., lawn-tennis champion of england and ireland, on underhand service in _badminton library_, _dolphin_, over-hang of, downshire, lady, hunting carted deer, driving, by miss massey-mainwaring, bearing-rein, coupling horses, care and nicety required in, habits and characteristics of each horse should be studied, jibbing difficult to cure, lessons from first-class whip essential, pair, advice on driving, position and use of each piece of harness should be known, rules for, start described, tandem driving, ; harness for, team, best way of learning to drive, team, going down hill with, team, turning corners with, ; opposition point, team whip, management of, young horse, dry-fly fishing suitable for women, dudley, lord, buys _dacia_, dudley, lord, owned twenty-rater, dunraven, lord, début on solent, dunraven, lord, persuades friends to join twenty-rater class, dyas, miss, in irish championship (lawn-tennis), , e. editor (frances e. slaughter). chase of the carted deer, hunters, trout and other fly-fishing, visits lord rothschild's kennels; reception by fred cox, _elf_, erriff, number of salmon and sea-trout caught during gale in, exford as centre for stag-hunting, exmoor-crossings, f. _fairy_, owned by miss lord, capabilities of, steered by miss lord, _fairy_ and _colinette_, race between, _fiera_, miss cox's two-and-a-half-rater, _flat fish_ (mrs. schenley's), ; account of, _fleur-de-lys_, owned by major montgomery, _florence_ in ladies' race, _florence_--prizes, follett, lady julia, hunting carted deer, _forella_, five-rater, fownes, ernest k., driving of, _fox_, -ton yawl, _fusee_, one-rater, mr. and miss b. s. hughes sailing, g. _gareth_ (mr. henderson's), champion of three seasons, _gareth_--prizes, _gladwyn_ rescuing ladies, _glycera_, _goddess_, ; trawling in, grayling move in shoals--lie in middle of river, greek pilot, miss b. s. hughes' experience of, guest, lady theodora, on pembroke, h. hallows, miss, member of bembridge sailing club, hammersley, misses, in _colinette_, hampshire stour, hours for salmon rising in, harbourer's business, harrington, lord, got up ladies' race in one-raters, harvey, e., yacht-racing, harvey, miss, steering _queen mab_, haslow, discoverer of "lob" (lawn-tennis), defeated spencer gore, heads at watermouth castle, heathcote, c. a., on essential points of lawn-tennis racket, hill, lord (late), hunted otter for ten hours, hills, mrs. a. c., article on cycling, hills, mrs. a. c., portrait, hillyard, mrs., and e. renshaw, win all-england mixed doubles championship, hillyard, mrs., lawn-tennis victories, , hounds of devon and somerset pack, hounds tailing on moor, howcutt, mark, in vale of aylesbury, hughes, miss barbara s. article on cruising and small yacht racing on solent, commencement of racing career, sailing _meneen_, sailing _white rose_, _hummer_ carries off honours, _hummer_, end of prosperous career, _hummingbird_, account of, hunters, article on, by the editor, consummate horsewoman rare, double bridle recommended, each hunter should have its own saddle and bridle, essential points in woman's hunter, good carriage of head and neck, good manners, well-laid shoulders, height desirable, horsewomen should be able to open gates, price of good hunter, price of small hunter, saddles should be fitted to each hunter, women's "hands", i. _iernia_--prizes, _isolde_, owned by baron von zeduwitz, j. jackson, mrs. hardie, in _meneen_, jessop, owner of _molly_ and _coquette_, k. _kismet_, miss cox's two-and-a-half rater, l. _l'espérance_, g. c. kerr's punt, la cigale (property of gordon canning), la fontaine--autrefois, carpillon fretin, etc., _lady nan_, langrishe, miss m., pioneer of women's lawn-tennis championships, langrishe, owner of _iernia_, las casas act as whippers-in to ian amory, lawn-tennis, by miss maud marshall. "all england croquet and lawn-tennis club", "all england mixed doubles championship", back-handed stroke, ; figure d, balls, weight of, bisques abolished, , clothing suitable for, championships, , courts--dimensions, margin, plans of single and double, covered court championships, first authentic record of, first championship meeting at wimbledon ( ), fore-handed stroke, ; figure c, good style in, half volley, handicapping, , ladies' championship ( ), "lawn-tennis association", "lob", measuring court, net, height fixed, overhand service, figure a, ; figure b, "placing," art of, position of feet and body, prototypes, racket, c. a. heathcote on essential points of, scoring: lawn-tennis association's laws, scorer's position, service, difficult to acquire good, service-line, distance from net, tennis scoring adopted, volley, women champion, lawn-tennis rules, _lil_, description of, loch arkaig, great lake trout in, _lollypop_, lonsdale, lord, owned twenty-rater, lord, miss, steering _tatters_, lord, miss, winning prizes with one-raters, _lotus._ on solent, race with _sea maiden_, sailed by mr. hope, louis x. playing tennis at vincennes, m. mackerel giving good sport, _madcap_, built by miss cox, at payne's, malmesbury, susan, countess of. article on salmon fishing, with notes on trout and coarse fishing, malmesbury, susan, countess of, portrait, marshall, miss maud, article on lawn-tennis, portrait (overhand service), , " (fore-handed stroke), " (back-handed stroke), massey-mainwaring, miss, article on driving, portrait, , _mavis_, miss cox's one-rater, mayo, hours for salmon rising in lakes in, _mem sahib_ in ladies' race, _meneen_ in ladies' race, _meneen_, successes and construction, miles, knowledge of habits of deer, _mliss_, miss cox's two-and-a-half rater, _molly_, twenty-rater, montgomery, lady sophia, in _fleur-de-lys_, _morwena_, champion of class, _morwena_, steered by miss sutton, more, sir thomas, opinion of tennis, moreton, colonel, starts bembridge sailing club, moreton, miss, member of bembridge sailing club, n. _nadador_, nautical terms, glossary of, _nelson_ punt, nevill, henry, story of deer, nicholson, charles, designed _dacia_, , _normania_, steam yacht, o. oliphant, hon. mrs., steering _rosmary_, one-raters at cowes, otter-hunting, article by mrs. wardell, cross-bred hounds, distribution of dead otter, drawing up stream described, followed on foot, foxhounds used for hunting otter, management of hounds in kennel, mixed pack preferred, otterhound described, otterhounds, eighteen recognised packs of, otters' "chains", season for, thick boots and short skirt necessary for, time of meet, p. payne, arthur, yachts built by, , penn-curzon, mrs., article on stag-hunting, penn-curzon, mrs., portrait, percival, philip, yacht-racing record, perch caught in hampshire stour, perch, habits of, pike: favourite trick of, , gimp line required for, , jaws like a tiger's, pike-fishing in hampshire stour, pike-fishing, trolling-rod for, porlock as centre for stag-hunting, portsmouth corinthians y. c. matches for small craft, _powerful_ punt, _princess_, irish mare (property of mrs. lewis mackenzie), punt-racing, by mrs. w. l. wyllie, cost of punts, first punts on medway, races for working class, punts racing, ; _crystabel_--_nelson_, q. queen mab, r. ready for the start (_mynah_, _hoopoo_, _stark_, and _molly_), red deer land, article on stag-hunting by mrs. penn-curzon, renshaw, e., and mrs. hillyard, win all england mixed doubles championship, ribblesdale, lord, hunting carted deer, roach: croaking, hanging itself in a tree, like flies tied small, _rosmary_ steered by hon. mrs. oliphant, rosscommon staghounds unrivalled, rothschild, lord, run with staghounds described, rothschild, lord, staghounds' manner of working, royal southampton y. c. matches for small craft, s. sailing and steaming--comparative advantages and expense, salmo ferox, or great lake trout, method of fishing, salmon: born in shallow reaches of rivers, clean or "fresh run" fish, "crimped" salmon, grilse, weight of, habits of, haunts of fish should be known, journey up stream in shoals, then separate to different pools, "kelts", length of incubation, less clever than trout, migration to sea, number caught during gale in errif, parr, proboscis, use of, n. rank of salmon attained on second migration, rise at certain fixed hours, shoal in killery bay, smolts, sometimes stranded in small streams, sporting qualities, salmon fishing, with notes on trout and coarse fishing, by susan, countess of malmesbury, casting line hard work, casting should be practised on lawns, casting. that fish lie with heads up-stream should be noted, casts, length of, , casts should be stained and tested, conditions of weather and water desirable for, costume suitable for, , especially adapted to women, flies should be tested, flies, size of, important, flies, tail, dropper, flogging river at wrong time, worse than useless, fly-making, tedious, "foul-hooked" salmon, and note gaff, "over" and "under", gut, method of tying, heavy reels and coarse tackle unsuitable for women, hemp or dressed silk line preferable for, landing-net, line and cast to be wet before using, rods, length of, rods recommended, and note; care in keeping them necessary, "spey" cast, _samæna_ sold by langrishe, _scarlet runner_ punt, schenley, mrs., owner of _thief_ and _valentine_, schooners out of fashion, _sea maiden_, punt, , at burnham-on-crouch, building of, imitations of, on solent, prizes, , race with _lotus_, , sail plan, sea-trout in dhulough, co. mayo, silver doctor (property of mrs. t. e. harrison), skyscraper (property of lady gerard), small boat racing, _snowflake_, mud punt, solent list of yacht-racing clubs of, _soper_, mr. paget's one-rater, _speedwell_, miss cox's one-rater, , spencer-gore, first lawn-tennis champion, spencer-gore, volleying tactics, stag at bay, stag-hunting, article on, by mrs. penn-curzon, best time for, centres for, deer damage fund, farmers paid for damage to crops from, different aspects of country in hind hunting and stag hunting seasons, hind hunting finer, wilder sport than stag hunting, hind hunting in december, hind run over dunkerry described, horses suffering from sore backs, horses suitable for exmoor, hunting from july to april, strain on hounds, horses, and men, meet at culbone stables in august described, methods of stag-hunting, story of tripper and 'scarlet bounders', stags, distribution of dead, stags' passion for ash shoots, steaming and sailing, comparative advantages and expense of, sutton, miss, half-rater _wee-winn_, t. tandem driving, _tarter_ race with _bodagh_, _tatters_ competition with _florence_, _tatters_ first prize in ladies' race, team driving, tench, shy--prefer muddy, weedy ponds, tennis-courts at hampton court and windsor castle, _terrible_, punt, _thalassa_, champion yacht, _thief_, owned by mrs. schenley, , tiverton, advantages as sporting centre, tiverton staghounds, ; sport shown by, torquay regatta, trawling outside the eddystone, _troublesome_, mrs. rudston reid's two-and-a-half-rater, trout. brown trout, wary and difficult to catch, "first", fishing, flies for, fishing, great art in, _not to be seen_, game and fighting qualities, migratory, require greatest care and delicacy in handling, trout and other fly fishing, by the editor, "first trout", flies recommended, habits of fish should be studied, not an expensive sport, outfit needed for, practice from boat desirable, qualities needed for, rod recommended, suited to powers of women, trout-flies, natural forms of favourite, tufting, business of, u. _undaunted_, lord charles beresford's punt, _undine_, miss harvey's two-and-a-half-rater, ; collision with _windfall_, usk, pool persyn, hours for salmon rising in, usk, salmon gaffed on, v. _valeria i._, owned by lord albemarle--sailed by miss hughes, _valeria ii._, van wart, miss, article on cycling, fancy figures and musical rides, _vanguard_, -tonner, _verena_ and _lil_, race between, _viva_, half-rater, miss hughes' record with, w. ward, mrs. dudley, member of bembridge sailing club, wardell, mr. and mrs. with hawkstone otter hounds, wardell, mrs., article on otter-hunting, wards in ireland, staghounds unrivalled, watson, g. l., design in five-raters, watson, miss n., gained lawn-tennis all-england's championship, _wayfarer_ trawling in between torquay and dartmouth, _wee winn_ (miss sutton's), , , _white rose_, built for duke of york, _white rose_, sailed by hon. derek keppel, whyte melville on hunter at end of long run, _windfall_ (mrs. schenley's) collision with _undine_, _windfall_ (mrs. schenley's), qualifications and successes, wingfield, major, patented "sphairistike", wrangham, mrs., on the dude, wyllie, mrs. w. l., article on punt racing, wyllie, mrs. w. l., portrait, y. yacht-racing, article on, by miss barbara hughes, amateur described, american boats heading classes, association rules, should be known by heart, chief characteristic, clubs of solent, list of, difference between cruising and, dresses suitable for, expense of, fashionable in, , first race sailed by women, ideal model of, ladies' race, , needs study, one-design class, , one-raters in, , pleasures of, seq. prizes barely cover expenses, qualities necessary for, races in, , rivalry between north and south, secret of, single-handed matches in one-raters, suited to women, , yachts. "after cabin," "ladies' cabin", each one requires different handling, discomfort not necessary on, steering becoming more difficult, york, duke of, interest in _white rose_, z. zedtwitz, baron von, drowned off _isolde_, _zephyr_, itchen ferry boat, accommodation on, _zivolo_, hon. mrs. oliphant's yacht, birmingham: printed at the guild press, , great charles street. transcriber's notes: simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were silently corrected. punctuation normalized. anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed. italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_. * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has | | been preserved. | | | | bolded text is marked with ='s, =like this=. | | | | in the original text, hai-tzu is spelled with the | | letter u accented with a breve, for the purpose of this | | e-text that has been changed to u. | | | | obvious typographical errors have been corrected. for | | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * life and sport in china life and sport in china by oliver g. ready, b.a. _second edition_ london chapman & hall, limited [illustration: pagoda, near hankow. _frontispiece._] author's note the british public is greatly handicapped in forming an intelligent appreciation of happenings in china by a lack of that initial experience which can only be gained by residence in the country. in this little work i have endeavoured to place before readers a sketch of things as i saw them, and to convey to their minds an idea of how europeans live there, of their amusements, of their work, and of those things which are matters of daily interest to them, so that my book may serve as a kind of preface to that enthralling volume, the current history of china, as it is daily revealed in the press, in magazines and in learned works. while confining myself herein to the lighter side of narrative, i am not unconscious of those intricate problems and deep studies connected with the far east, but to which profound research and matured judgment must be applied, though information thereon, even when collected and published, would appeal mostly to the narrow circle of experts on matters chinese. the vast empire of china with its hundreds of millions of toiling slaves, with its old, old civilisation reaching back for untold years prior to the dawn of history in the west, with its manners and customs so worn into the national character that they almost form the character itself, with its fertile plains, its sandy deserts, its lofty mountains, its mighty rivers, its torrid heat and arctic cold, its devastating floods, its cruel famines and loathsome epidemics, represents a _mass_, the contemplation of which staggers the mind and makes one ask, "what is europe trying to do here? does she hope to conquer, to change or to purify?" after a residence of twelve years in various parts of the country i instinctively feel that while military occupation by the great powers may be possible, not only is china in a sense unconquerable, but that she is eminently a conquering nation, though not by clash of arms. insidiously, remorselessly and viciously she will subdue apostles of the west who are sent to her, and unless persistently restrained will overflow into adjacent lands and conquer there by cheap labour and unremitting toil. for the photographs i am indebted to the generosity of mrs t. child, as well as to t.t.h. ferguson, a.j.e. allen, carlos cabral and the late h. hall, esquires. contents chap. page i. anglo-chinese life ii. servants and tradesmen iii. shooting iv. riding v. sailing vi. jamborees vii. around peking viii. here and there ix. the marriage tie x. discussed points: people, language, missionaries, chances list of illustrations photo by pagoda near hankow h. hall _frontispiece_ the british concession, hankow _chinese_ _to face page_ house-coolie, boy, cook, and "no. ." t.t.h. ferguson " house-boat on the yangtse a.j.e. allen " the cab of northern china a.j.e. allen " the old grand-stand, hankow races, _chinese_ " foochow junk, showing eye t.t.h. ferguson " playing fantan in private house carlos cabral " the great wall of china t.t.h. ferguson " avenue of stone figures, ming tombs t.t.h. ferguson " a typical farm-house h. hall " fishing-junks in macao harbour at chinese new year carlos cabral " buddhist priest and acolyte holding book t. child " vocabulary =bund.= the embankment or quay of a concession. =concession.= a strip of land conceded by china to another power exclusively for the residences of foreigners. =camoëns.= portuguese poet who wrote the luciad at macao. =chit.= any letter or note, also an i.o.u. =chop chop.= quickly. hurry up. =compradore.= chinese agent or partner. =coolie.= chinese labourer. =cumshaw.= a tip or present. =european.= in china this word is equally applicable to americans. =foreigner.= european or american in china. =gingall.= heavy muzzle-loading musket requiring two men to carry and fire it. =han, children of.= chinese. =kowtow.= to make obeisance by striking the head on the ground. =lowdah.= sailing-master. =mafoo.= groom. =native.= chinese. =out-port.= any treaty port except shanghai, and hongkong. =papico.= junk from ningpo, shaped aft like a duck. =pow.= to gallop. =praia grande.= esplanade facing sea. =pumelo.= a coarse fruit resembling an enormous orange. =punkah.= large fan suspended from ceiling for ventilating room. =ricksha.= small gig drawn by a coolie, who plies it for hire. =runner.= official underling. police agent. =sai.= here i am. a word used by servants combining sir and _lai_, to come. =samli.= a fish resembling salmon. =sampan.= small native boat. =samshu.= spirit distilled from rice or millet. =settlement.= where europeans have settled on a limited strip of chinese territory. =shroff.= chinese accountant, cashier and banker. =squeeze.= recognised cheating. =sycee shoes.= rough lumps of silver cast in shape of china-woman's small shoe or of half-globe. =tiffin.= luncheon. =treaty-port.= any port opened by treaty to foreign trade. =waler.= horse from new south wales. =westerner.= european or american. =yamên.= official building. =yulow.= a scull worked over the stern. =zacousca.= russian appetiser or snack taken before meals. life and sport in china chapter i anglo-chinese life anglo-chinese life is a sealed book to most people at home, who, if they ever think about it at all, do so with minds adversely biassed by ignorance of the conditions, a hazy idea of intense heat, and a remembrance of cruel massacres. "going to china" always elicits looks and exclamations of astonishment at so rash an undertaking, but which the stock questions as to whether we eat with chopsticks, whether it is not always unbearably hot, and whether we like the chinese, explain as disquietude arising from the idea of encountering "evils that we know not of." our early business relations with the chinese were conducted at canton, to which port opium in particular was shipped direct from india, but owing to the hostility of chinese officials towards british merchants and the legitimate expansion of their trade, quarrels were frequent, culminating in the so-called opium war of - , resulting in the acquisition by us of the small, barren island of hongkong, and the opening to foreign trade of five ports, including canton and shanghai, at all of which small plots of land some half a mile square were set apart for the exclusive residence of foreigners generally but of englishmen in particular. disputes, however, did not cease, so that twenty years later england and france in co-operation, attacked china, and wrung from her the right of foreign ministers accredited to the chinese court to reside at peking, and also that additional ports should be opened to foreign trade, with a plot of land at each for residential purposes. the treaties following on these two wars have since been supplemented by other treaties opening still more ports, at some of which also adjoining plots of land have likewise been conceded, and our position in china to-day is founded on the accumulated result of these various agreements, which, above all things, guarantee us exterritoriality or exemption from chinese jurisdiction, so that europeans for whatever misdemeanours, are amenable only to their own consuls. [illustration: the british concession, hankow. _to face page ._] there are now about thirty treaty-ports, most of them having these residential plots or concessions some of which, however, have never been taken up and built on, but where they have been, although leased from the chinese government at nominal rents, they are to all intents and purposes little detached portions of the british empire, kept scrupulously clean and in perfect order, where natives are not allowed to dwell, but where europeans of all nationalities live in security and comfort. in each of them resides a british consul, who represents his government _vis-à-vis_ the chinese and foreign officials, and who holds the position of magistrate in relation to his own nationals. an english doctor also is generally in practice at all, except the very smallest, ports. in many instances walls have been built round these concessions, the gateways in which can be bolted and barred at night to keep out the natives, a good system of drainage introduced, wide roads laid out and lighted, public seats placed in pleasant spots facing the water, trees planted, palatial houses built with gardens attached, a church constructed, clubs founded, billiard-tables and other insignia of western luxury imported, a municipal council elected for managing local affairs, and a force of native police or indian sikhs raised, with which, under english superintendents, to maintain order in our streets. other countries, notably france, have similar settlements, though far less numerous, but i shall herein refer exclusively to our own. off the frontage or _bund_ is frequently moored a line of hulks connected with the shore by pontoons, and which in their day were probably the finest ocean liners afloat, but now, worn out and dismantled, serve as floating warehouses, alongside which steamers come to discharge and load cargo. at other places vessels drop anchor in mid-stream, while between them and the various jetties large cargo boats constantly pass to and fro laden with merchandise, to be quickly shipped or landed by gangs of chattering coolies. everywhere the foreshore is always crowded with a fleet of native junks, displaying half mast be it a bundle of wood, a rice measure or a coal scoop, to show that their cargoes consisting of wood, rice, coal, etc., are for sale. either just on the concession, by permission of the consul, or in chinatown immediately outside, are two or three general stores and butchers' shops, run by either chinese, parsees or japanese, especially to supply the foreign community with groceries, bread, meat and other daily requisites. no one carries money in his pocket, for the europeans being but few in number are well known by sight, and any purchase is made by signing an i.o.u., or _chit_, for the amount necessary in dollars or cents. at the club you call for say two sherries and one bamboo (half sherry, half vermouth) and the waiter brings them, together with a small chit-book in which he has already written down your order in pencil, and this, after inspection, you simply sign or initial, when it is torn out and dropped into the till and you see no more of it until the end of the month, when your club bill comes in, supported by all the chits you have signed. for the offertory, pencils and pieces of paper are distributed about the church, so that the congregation may easily write chits, which are folded up and dropped into the bag, to be presented at your house next day by the church coolie for payment. this system, though very convenient, is apt to prove something of a trap, for signing a chit is so much easier, and the amount appears to be so much less than if paying in hard cash, that when the monthly total is made up you are at first inclined to believe there must be some mistake; but alas! careful verification too plainly shows that you have signed for more than you had any idea of. amongst europeans the currency employed is the silver dollar, now worth about one shilling and sevenpence though formerly rated at five shillings, together with a subsidiary coinage of fifty, twenty, ten and five-cent silver pieces, as well as coppers of one and two cents each. the chinese standard of value in universal use throughout the empire is copper cash. a cash is about the size of a shilling and equivalent to one eighth of a farthing in value. through the centre of each coin is a square hole large enough to admit a thick string. it is usual to thread cash, first into bundles of one hundred, each bundle being about the size and shape of a sausage, and then for ten bundles to be strung together in pairs, so that the full string of a thousand cash almost exactly corresponds to a double string of ten sausages. the value of this full string is about half-a-crown, and owing to its great weight is usually carried slung over the shoulder. the _tael_, pronounced tale, is not a coin at all, but means simply an ounce (of silver). there are many kinds of taels, each of a different value according to the purity or _touch_ of the silver, which is chiefly determined by the locality in which the metal is mined. when a chinaman sells native produce to a european he always keeps in mind its value in cash, and wants a corresponding value in dollars or taels, whatever the price of silver may happen to be. the same with wages of all kinds; the amount required in each case is based on what each individual requires in cash. the whole monetary system, or rather lack of system, complicated by numberless local banks, each with its own issue of paper money, is so bewildering that european householders seldom bother about anything beyond dollars and cents, to which standard, for their especial benefit, all others are reduced, though always at a certain loss in the exchange. some of these concessions, which are in reality little english towns, have greatly prospered since their inauguration and are now centres of voluminous and increasing trade; but others, belying their initial prosperity, have stagnated, and appear to be gradually slipping back to the chinese, who, in contravention of treaty ordinances, have been allowed to acquire property on them and reside there in rapidly-increasing numbers. the thriving settlement of shanghai, which is situated near the mouth of the river yangtse, and which possesses a foreign population of six or seven thousand, may be considered the metropolis of other treaty-ports in the northern half of the empire, or, as they are generally called, "out-ports"; while the british colony of hongkong stands in the same relation to out-ports in the south. hongkong has now no connection whatever with china, being entirely a british possession, and has been converted from a barren rock to a most lovely, thriving and important commercial town and naval base, and is the greatest triumph of british enterprise and material civilisation that i know of. nearly all these out-ports are in telegraphic communication with either shanghai or hongkong, and through them with the outside world, while the postal service is conducted by means of coast and river steamers which, plying regularly with passengers and cargo, have bases in these two emporiums, so that in whatever port you reside your thoughts and your interests are daily and directly concerned with either one or the other. from them come the daily newspapers, arriving, maybe, several days after date of issue, but still fresh reading for those in distant places. from them come the gun-boats which, besides protection, bring the welcome society of jovial naval men, and from them come commercial travellers with assortments of hats, boots, guns, clothes and other necessaries; while to them we go to embark for home, or, when in need of a social holiday, to chip off the rust of out-port seclusion, until eventually we look to them for many of our creature comforts, and through them, as through a window, to the world beyond. existence at both shanghai and hongkong is surrounded with so many western accessories in the shape of good houses, electric light, excellent roads, horses and carriages, bands in public gardens and hourly telegrams, that life at an out-port, while at times very monotonous, is frequently more interesting, for there, being less overshadowed by the pleasure of foreign society, you may come into closer touch with things chinese, so that if the study of a people the most antiquated and wonderful under the sun has attractions for any, this, together with the many facilities for the enjoyment of sport and outdoor life, should be sufficient to bring occasional contentment to even the most despondent. from the extreme north to the extreme south, and from the sea to the mean west, that is, along the coast line and up the river yangtse for fourteen hundred miles to chungking, these nests of british enterprise adhere like barnacles to china's stolid bulk, dominating her vast trade with other countries, appearing as bright oases in the desert of eastern heathendom and unfriendliness, and ranging in numerical importance from say thirty to five hundred europeans, in accordance with the amount of shipping which flows through them and is their very life-blood. much depends on the residents themselves whether social life in these miniature colonies is to be very pleasant or only a deadly monotony. nearly every man who comes out from home has been selected from among his fellows for some particular superiority. either he is smart in business, has health and physique to withstand the extremes of climate to which he may be subjected, is clever and has gained his appointment in competitive examination, or he may have all these qualities combined; anyhow, he is a picked man, above the average all round, and as such has a corresponding force of character. a number of such men being thrown together in a small place either co-operate and become fast friends, their wives and children, if they have any, following suit, when existence is rendered charming, or, on the other hand, with their marked individualities and business rivalries they may quarrel, in which case the best thing is to forego all hopes of social pleasures and wrap yourself up in your own content. a quarrelsome port provides an amusing study for a short time, but after that, especially during the depressing dampness of the rainy season when it is too wet to go out, life becomes very monotonous and irritating, for the space being so limited you are continually brought face to face with people who are on bad terms and who try to attach you to their side. trivial jealousies, mythical slights and insignificant nothings which would pass unnoticed in a larger world here assume such alarming proportions that the club languishes owing to numerous resignations, few attend church because one of the rival faction plays the organ, and the evening promenade beneath the trees along the bund is transformed from a pleasant family gathering into a funereal procession. in pleasing contrast is a _nice_ port, where people pull together, where good-fellowship and hospitality make one feel like the member of a large family, where you walk into the house of your neighbour, smoke his cigars and drink his whisky, brought to you while reclining in a long chair on the verandah with the punkah swinging lazily over you, waiting for the master's return. this is done with the pleasurable knowledge that your friend would naturally instal himself in your house under like circumstances. here is real charm. think, too, of the outdoor life, of those lovely evenings when the air is soft and warm, the moon at full and of a size never seen in england, when a party of us would sail out on the lake, drop anchor and dine in the cool breeze, and after cigars and coffee would sail on again, singing songs that carried us back to days of yore and bringing a sad yet sweet strain into thoughts and voices as we glided over the moonlit waters. spring and autumn bring the two great events of the year--the races. many ports have a capital race-course, which is always circular in shape, enclosing what are generally the grounds of the recreation club, while almost every sporting man trains a pony or two, which he frets and fumes over in a style that would not bemean a newmarket turf magnate. weeks before the meeting, increasing in intensity as the time shortens and decreasing slowly as the event recedes, the talk is purely of ponies, ponies, ponies--until the non-racing man droops and turns away, but without daring to utter one single word of protest against the prevailing epidemic of pony talk. race lotteries at the club afford great excitement to the betting men, when the knowing ones make books which in the end leave them considerably to the bad, while those who know nothing rejoice with the joy of fools, thinking that to their own perspicuity is due the roll of dollars which wanton luck has thrust upon them. on the actual race days, of which there are generally two, with a third or off-day tacked on, things reach a climax. all business is curtailed or altogether suspended. everyone wears colours, either his own or those of a friend, and at eleven o'clock the ladies are driven to the course in state by happy owners of various nondescript vehicles furbished up for the occasion. everyone knows everyone else, the names of ponies entered have been household words for weeks, while their supposed merits are open secrets, the jockeys are personal friends, the weather is bright and warm, the ladies wear their smartest dresses, the course is kept and order maintained with the aid of bluejackets from the gun-boat in port, while her drum and fife band or nigger troupe renders selections of varied merits. a race over, the successful owner and jockey are seized and carried shoulder high to the bar behind the grand-stand, where winners and losers alike have preceded them to secure a glass of champagne at the owner's expense, with which to drink his health and show a befitting sense of joy at the victory which has just been achieved. an excellent champagne lunch is served in the grand-stand, and presided over by the clerk of the course, who, by virtue of his exalted office, ranks high in the community, when suitable toasts are proposed and cordially honoured, followed by an adjournment to the paddock for a stroll and a smoke, after which attention is again claimed for the business of the afternoon's racing. riding is usually well to the fore, and on an afternoon parties of ladies with attendant cavaliers trot down the reach by the river and gallop home across the plain, or wend along the beach, walking their ponies in the salt water. for the sportsman game in abundance generally lies within reach, and nothing of its kind is more delightful than an afternoon with the spring snipe, or a shooting trip of a few days in company with a kindred spirit. tennis is still a favourite amusement during summer months, and garden-parties, comprising almost the whole community, meet frequently, be it on the club grounds or at private houses, when those who do not play come to watch and chat while partaking of ices and other refreshments, or smoking peacefully in the cool shade of leafy trees. in many places there are good turf courts, but at others, where grass will not grow sufficiently well to be of any practical value, recourse is had to either cement or cinders. chinese lads in neat cotton uniforms are always in attendance to field the balls, which they do remarkably well, thereby adding greatly to one's enjoyment of the game. golf has of late years come greatly into prominence, a frequent place for the links being on the recreation ground enclosed by the race-track, for which reason it is generally the case that they are too flat to afford much variety of play, although near to macao there are some very rough links which, from the natural advantages and lovely scenery, could be made almost ideal. our club there consisted of six members when at its zenith, and occasionally two in times of dearth. we had three miles to bicycle out, and part of the way over a fearful stone road through nauseous burial-grounds, but once there, a round or two in cool, fresh air, amongst the hills and pines, overlooking both sea and river, amply repaid one for the toilsome journey. of rowing there is very little, except at shanghai and hongkong, where there are large and flourishing clubs. hongkong being on the sea it is not practicable to use light ships, which, of course, is a great drawback. at shanghai there is the harbour and also a small creek about the size of the cam, both of which afford ample facilities. the club has two excellent boathouses and plenty of boats, and is composed of the finest material possible, all the best men in shanghai, as is ever the case elsewhere, going in for rowing at one time or another; but the rowing is not first-class, and unless things have greatly changed since i was an active member, a crew capable of sitting a light cedar ship could not be mustered, all the racing being done in clinker boats. the reason for this lack of watermanship is partly due to the difficulty in coaching otherwise than from the stern of a boat, there being no towing path on which the coach can ride or run alongside his men, as is done at oxford or cambridge, while the hire of launches is too expensive. also, part of the reason is due to beginners being seldom taken out and coached in tubs by expert senior men who have had the benefit of a professional or scientific training, but are put into a bad four and left to develop themselves as best they may. it would well repay the club to have a path made alongside the creek and to get a professional out from home for a year or two to initiate a high-class style, after which the traditions, once firmly established, would pass down naturally to succeeding generations of oarsmen. the coxing is on a par with the rowing. i have seen a length lost at a corner, the rate of striking reduced by ten a minute and the crew badly pulled to pieces, through the rudder being hard on when the oars were in the water. after all, skill in rowing is but a question of degree and of no vital importance in a place so isolated from other rowing centres as is shanghai, while the club is certainly one of the best to get into on arriving there, especially for youths, as plenty of good, open-air exercise can thus be obtained in the society of strong, healthy-minded men. if hills or mountains be within easy distance bungalows are there built, to which most ladies and children retire for the hot weather, the men snatching hasty visits when business allows them to leave the settlement. at one place down south such bungalows are built on a tiny island four or five miles out at sea, and there it is never very hot, while in the evenings it is delightful to bathe, stroll along the sands, or sit with the pilot on watch up by the old ruined fort, where you can see rays from the lighthouses flashing far, far across the waves, watch the lights of steamers as they pass beneath and listen to the cadenced throbbing of their screws. for those residing in central china a sanatorium has lately sprung up near kiukiang, at kuling, a valley some , feet above sea-level in the lushan mountains, which overlook the yangtse on one side and the poyang lake on the other. this valley was unknown to europeans a few years ago, but has now the appearance of a country town, there being probably a hundred and fifty well-appointed bungalows strongly built of stone quarried on the spot, a church, shops, laundry and a network of roads and paths. when feeling run down after a long spell of intense heat in the plains, a trip to this resort is most refreshing, for there it is always cool enough to wear light tweeds during the day and to sleep under a blanket at night. the mountain rambles are lovely, be it over the lofty peaks, through the trees and scrub in the valleys or along the bed of a stream, where frequent pools of running, crystal water afford good bathing or a little fishing for those addicted to the gentle art. never shall i forget one glorious day when, accompanying two friends, we crossed to a far side of the range and looked down on the poyang lake. the view was magnificent, and on our return journey the setting sun flashed every imaginable hue on the mists rolling close above our heads, on the landscape changing as we moved, on mountain crags and on the lake, unfolding at each turn dissolving scenes of surpassing loveliness. on arrival at kiukiang by steamer you hire a chair with four bearers for the ten or twelve miles' journey up the mountains, with additional coolies to carry your luggage. for half the distance you follow ordinary country roads, but during the last few miles the path, though well constructed, is very steep in some places, while in others it overhangs yawning valleys, where you instinctively grip the sides of your chair and fervently hope the bearers will not trip. in the north, chefoo, wei-hai-wei and pei-tai-ho attract a goodly number of visitors to the seaside during summer months, while others desiring greater change sail to earth's fairyland, japan, or even make the voyage to canada and back. we dance whenever and wherever we can. the houses being generally large, with fine rooms often but lightly furnished on account of the summer heat or our own nomadic habits, and servants being both plentiful and willing, the giving of a dance presents no great difficulties. it is a common thing at a dinner-party of twelve or fourteen to have the drawing-room cleared during dinner, so that with the help of a few more friends who come in afterwards, the evening's entertainment can be pleasantly varied with a few dances. i was once at a small port where for a long time there had been only one lady, who was naturally regarded as the belle of the place. presently a rival appeared, and with her two pretty, unmarried sisters; whereon my messmates and i forthwith gave an impromptu dance. we cleared our dining-room for the occasion, but found the carpet to be so old and so tightly nailed down that it would not bear removing, and we decided to dance on it. no sooner, however, had we commenced to the strains of an accordion, not having a piano, than the floor, which was laid on round joists over the entrance hall, began to vibrate so violently that glasses on the sideboard were smashed and ornaments fell from the walls, while dust from the carpet, which evidently had not been beaten for years, rose in such clouds that, coupled with the heat of a stifling night, we were literally choked off and obliged to take refuge in the garden. fortunately it was a beautiful night and full moon, so we diverted our dance to a game of hide-and-seek, and a merrier evening i have seldom spent. the annual out-port subscription ball keeps everyone in a ferment for weeks. owing to the cosmopolitan nature of the community due care must be taken that the various nationalities are represented on the committee, to avoid giving offence. then the committee has to decide, amongst other things, who are to be invited and who not, and it invariably happens that some are for including all, irrespective of station, while others desire to draw the line after what they consider to be the _élite_. in either case there is bound to be a certain amount of friction, which at times rises to a very heated pitch. one of the leading ladies superintends the decoration of the ballroom, another is responsible for the supper, while another sees that the floor is properly waxed and arranges for the piano, as the music is provided by leading amateurs, there being no band. after endless discussion and elaborate preparation the important night arrives, when the guests assemble, frequently with strained feelings but with a fixed determination to enjoy the passing hour. men are largely in the majority, so that ladies of all ages, ranging say from fourteen to forty, are requested as a favour to dance, and are assured beforehand of a full programme. those men who cannot get partners, or do not care to dance, spend the evening between cards and occasional visits to the ballroom to watch. the supper is always very good and not hurried through with that undue haste so noticeable at home. the assembly, being considerably leavened with people who are, to say the least, well out of their teens, makes itself comfortable for an hour or more, doing ample justice to the delicacies provided; indeed, after the ladies have all departed, bachelors and wayward husbands usually return to the attack once, and even twice, so that it is not uncommon to hear an incoherent "for he's a jolly good fellow" from a belated band of revellers returning home shortly before daylight. at peking, hongkong and shanghai dances and balls are very frequent and carried out on a scale comparable with that of similar festivities at home. the club is always a popular institution, where the male element of the community, frequently representing many nationalities, gathers for a game of billiards and a chat, and where the home and local papers, together with a fair number of books and magazines, are to be found. one evening during the tea season, just before dinner, i counted at one time fourteen nationalities in the bar of the hankow club. i like those friendly gatherings at the round table, when sport and other topics of our limited world are discussed, and when one generally manages to give or to receive an invitation to pot-luck, with a rubber or a gentle poker flutter to follow. there, too, is sometimes an american bowling alley, where on cold nights, or hot, for the matter of that, we roll huge wooden balls down a raised track for twenty yards, to scatter nine pins at the bottom. there are two parallel tracks and we make up two bowling parties of three or four aside, the losers to pay for the game and provide refreshments all round. china is so enormous in extent that it embraces almost every variety of climate, though, speaking generally, the summer is everywhere very warm, while the winter, from being almost of arctic severity in the northern provinces, where the sea is frozen and all navigation stopped for six weeks or two months, gradually becomes milder in lower latitudes, until snow and frost are seldom experienced, and finally never seen in the sub-tropical region of the extreme south. many years ago snow fell at canton and the astonished natives are said to have collected it in bottles to keep, believing that it was a kind of cotton. in the yangtse valley during july, august and september, the heat at times is well-nigh intolerable both by day and night. you arise in the morning played out after a comfortless night under a punkah, which, hung over your bed in the limited space of a mosquito house, is pulled with a rope passing through the wall by a coolie stationed on the verandah outside. with the thermometer standing at ninety degrees in your bedroom you frame the mental query "can i last through the day?" as you crawl on to the verandah in pyjamas wet through with perspiration, to watch the sun rise, hoping, but in vain, for a breath of air. the insects buzz, a scorched smell pervades everywhere, the birds hop listlessly about, gasping with wide-open bills, the fans of coolies who have been sleeping on the grass, beat with hollow flap, the sun rises like a furnace, and you must retreat again to the shadow of your room to avoid sunstroke. as the day advances the temperature creeps up until it is over a hundred and you feel your eyes dry and heavy in their sockets, with a throbbing in your ears, when for full-blooded people of any age it becomes highly dangerous, death by heat apoplexy being painfully common. in the evening, after dinner, long chairs are taken out on the bund and many assemble there in silence, betrayed only in the darkness by a continual popping of corks and glowing cigar-tips, to catch what little air there may chance to be, and to watch the lightning in hopes that the oft-threatened storm will burst and break the heat. i remember at kiukiang the daily temperature rising to over a hundred degrees in the shade for nearly three weeks at a stretch, culminating in one hundred and seven, when a break came which, at any rate, saved _my_ life and practically ended the summer. many a time, when too hot for sleep, have i played whist till three o'clock in the morning. selecting the corner of an upstairs verandah where there might be some possibility of a faint draught, and having cigars, whisky and iced soda well within reach, we would take off our white jackets for greater coolness and sit perspiring in singlets round the table between guttering candles, when with bare heads and naked arms we must have had the appearance of desperate gamblers, though only playing the regulation twenty-five cent points with longs and shorts and a dollar on the rub, so that the damage could not be very extensive. the winter in this locality is very much on a par with that in england, only shorter, there being generally some frost with a good deal of snow and occasionally enough ice for skating. dinner-parties are very numerous, being the chief method of entertainment. the _menu_ is, as a rule, excellent, and the import duty being almost nominal, wine is both plentiful and good. after a few mental twinges endured by leading personages consequent on somewhat exaggerated ideas of precedence, the company is seated, and a good dinner, aided by a lively flow of chit-chat, makes the evening speed pleasantly and well. but, you will ask, what besides amusing themselves have these anglo-chinese to do? british steamers swarm throughout the china seas and up the yangtse for a thousand miles to ichang, and it is in controlling the working of these vessels, in importing and selling manufactured goods and opium, in buying and exporting tea, silk and other products of the country, as well as in filling positions in government services or any professional calling that agents, merchants, officials and the professional classes find employment, so that if in exile we surround ourselves with such luxuries and enjoyments as are reserved for the wealthy at home it is because they are ready to hand at but little cost, and that they serve in a degree to compensate us for the sweet pleasures of home-life which are forfeited by those who leave old england to push their ways in distant lands. chapter ii servants and tradesmen on your first arrival at an out-port, and as you are crossing the pontoon which leads from the steamer to the bund, a most beaming celestial meets you and presents an open letter, which runs something like this:-- "i hereby certify that the bearer, lao san, was my boy for eight months, and i found him honest and willing. tom jones." the celestial smirks and jabbers something in pidgin english, which not being able to understand you answer with a grunt and pass on. the celestial says, "all right, savez, can do," and vanishes. reaching your quarters, you find two or three more beaming natives, also armed with letters of recommendation, probably borrowed for the occasion, and who severally inform you "my b'long welly good boy." these letters of recommendation become kinds of heirlooms, and as foreigners seldom know the correct names of their chinese servants, they are, for a consideration, handed about from one to the other when seeking employment. you must have a boy anyhow, and are just beginning to inspect the candidates when a friend suddenly turns up. "i'm awfully sorry, old man, i couldn't manage to come and meet you on board, but the steamer arrived earlier than was expected, so i came straight on here, and knowing you would require a boy, brought one along who wants a job. i don't know anything about him, but he says he's all right, and they are mostly pretty much alike. anyhow, you might give him a trial, and if he doesn't suit, just kick him out." before you can reply the door is thrown violently open, and your luggage, which you had left for the time being in your cabin on the steamer, is brought in on bamboo poles by half-a-dozen coolies and dumped on the floor, the beaming celestial who met you on the pontoon following close behind, carrying your collection of sun hats, umbrellas and sticks. he immediately pays the coolies, unstraps rugs and trunks, and commences to arrange the room. your friend says, "oh, i didn't know you had brought your own boy," and goes on to talk of other things. you feel rather pleased at all the luggage having turned up without any effort on your part, pleased at being freed from the importunities of out-of-work boys, and dumbly acquiesce, so that lao san remains until you have the time or inclination to engage a really good boy; but as you seldom have the time, and never the inclination, he is already pretty firmly established. in the course of the day he introduces a cook as well as two or three coolies that you do not want but must have, and explains that all these men are of exceptionally good character, and that he "can secure b'long all ploper." you submit, of course, and so your household is arranged by the boy without you really having had a word to say. a day or two later you suddenly remember that nothing has been said on the subject of wages. you ring up the boy, and after a short discussion it is arranged that he is to receive eight dollars a month, the cook ten, and the coolies six and five. everything is arranged with the boy, the other servants not appearing on the scene at all, and so it is that, having obtained situations for his friends, they are by "olo custom" obliged to pay him a squeeze on their salaries, the cook probably two dollars a month and the coolies one each. without your consent or knowledge the cook introduces a young friend of his into the kitchen to be known as the "second cook," or simply "no ." his position corresponds to that of the scullery-maid, washing up pots and pans, lighting the fire and running errands, in return for which he receives very little, if any, pay, but learns the art of cooking. your house is now in going order, and at first things really work very well under the boy's supervision. a few weeks later it suddenly dawns on you that expenses are mounting up in rather an unaccountable way, and you look into matters. nothing very serious comes to light, and any doubtful little points are most clearly explained away by the boy. however, it is not long before you again begin to feel uneasy and insist on knowing details of the various small accounts which are monthly presented to you by each individual on the premises. you are being squeezed by all! the boy charges for a number of small items such as lampwick, matches, soap, candles, etc., that you have never had, or in half the quantities stated. also, on things which you have had, a large percentage over cost price is levied. all the native tradesmen are in league with your servants, and while you know that you are being swindled it would be quite impossible to prove it, for should a shopkeeper or butcher tell you what his prices really were he would lose much of his business, as servants in foreign employ would, in time, by some means or other, take the custom elsewhere. you are the means whereby a large but limited circle of chinese manage to live and oftentimes save money. all members of the circle regard you as their prey, and tacitly combining to play into each other's hands they fleece you with impunity, it being extremely difficult, if not impossible, to get one chinaman to expose or bear witness against another, especially if it be with the object of benefiting the foreigner. the best way for a bachelor to run his house is to set aside a certain sum which he knows should be sufficient for monthly expenditure. if he can keep his expenses below this figure so much the better. if he cannot, and they exceed it, he should cut down the various accounts until a sufficient reduction has been reached. it is useless trying to argue the case, he would always come off worsted. i heard of one bachelor who had been drawing a salary of six hundred dollars a month, but he kept up such style that he could only just cover expenses. after a time his business partly failed, so he sent for the boy and explained he could only spend four hundred dollars. the domestic pulled a long face, but the style of living was not altered in the least. again bad times came and expenditure had to be further reduced to three hundred dollars a month. the bachelor informed his servant that he had better get another situation as he feared it would be difficult for him to come down from six hundred dollars to three hundred, and that it would be wiser to start a fresh establishment more in accordance with his reduced circumstances. after reflection the boy decided to struggle on, and this he did with such success that the style of living was exactly the same as it had ever been. the word "boy" bears no reference whatever to the individual's age, which may be anything between sixteen and sixty. it is merely a term applied by foreigners to their personal attendants. the duties of the boy are those of the ordinary housekeeper in england, with several additions. he looks after the other servants and is generally responsible for their good behaviour. he pays all wages and the accounts of the local tradespeople, on which, of course, he levies a recognised squeeze. he waits at table, answers the bell, makes the beds and brushes his master's clothes, in fact, makes himself generally useful. as a rule, he accompanies his master to all dinner-parties to assist in waiting. also, it is a common and recognised practice for the boy of a house where a big dinner or a dance is being held to borrow requisites from the boy of another house, and often without reference to the owner, so that when dining out you not infrequently drink from your own glasses, use your own knives and forks, see your own lamp on the dinner-table and are waited on by your own servant. a scotchman who had recently married brought from london a goodly supply of fine glassware for the new home. at one of the dinner-parties given in honour of himself and bride, after replying to the toast of the evening he proposed the health of his host and requested the company to drink it with highland honours by placing one foot on the table and one on the chair. bumpers having been tossed off he added that it would not be fitting for glasses consecrated by such distinguished service to thereafter descend to ordinary usage, and suiting the action to the word, flung the tumbler over his shoulder, so that it was shivered to atoms against the wall, the other guests, numbering upwards of a dozen, following suit. his boy's placid comment on the proceeding was, "truly master b'long too muchee foolo, he no savez b'long he new glass." they were indeed his own beautiful tumblers, borrowed for the occasion without his knowledge. if anything is lost in the house, the boy, being answerable, is supposed to make the loss good, although he seldom does so. it may be imagined that his post is no sinecure with an exacting master, but it is lucrative and one much sought after. the custom of servants mutually guaranteeing each other's good conduct is a great safeguard, for in the case of theft or other misdemeanour by one of them, all the others are responsible and severe measures may be taken against them with the view of discovering the culprit, so that in reality while subject to numberless irritating, petty pilferings, against which there is no guarding and for which it is impossible to obtain redress, it rarely happens that any serious offence is committed. amongst themselves the chinese carry this principle of responsibility to such great lengths that if after committing a crime the culprit flees from justice, the officials can, and often do, arrest his father, mother, wife and whole family, and both imprison and persecute them until the fugitive gives himself up; and such is the strength of the family tie that this arbitrary method is seldom known to fail. the cook is, next to the boy, the most important of the other servants, and as a rule is fairly efficient, some indeed being excellent, although great care must be taken to guard against their natural love of filthiness. a kitchen into which the master or mistress of the house does not go once or twice every day should never be visited at all if one wishes to enjoy one's meals. this is also a lucrative post, for besides wages and a heavy squeeze on every article brought into the kitchen, the remains of each meal, whether half a chicken, half a leg of mutton, or both, are regarded by the cook as his perquisite and carried off for sale to native restaurants, unless special orders have been given to the contrary. a reason for this is that in hot climates food, if not eaten at once, quickly becomes worse than useless. also, owing to the cheapness of meat, eggs, vegetables, etc., it is by no means the serious loss that it would be at home, and so the householder is generally not sorry that the remains of each meal should disappear and thus get fresh food at every repast. the cooking in foreign houses is entirely european, the chinese cuisine being of a very different and truly wonderful kind, although excellent in quality. western ladies have often taken great pains to train their cooks to a high standard of proficiency, a well-served dinner in china not uncommonly far surpassing in excellence the corresponding meal at home. of course, the reverse is frequently the case, still, it serves to show that the chinese have a great faculty for the culinary art. in england a dinner-party must be arranged some days beforehand in order that the necessary preparations may be made, and it is practically impossible to suddenly announce at tea-time that there will be eight people to dinner instead of two. this matter is certainly managed better in china. oftentimes on returning from office at five o'clock i have sent for the cook and said, "to-night eight piecee man catchee dinner. can do, no can do?" and the reply has invariably been a laconic "can do." at once there would be great bustling but no confusion, and it has always seemed to me that these sudden demands on the kitchen staff, instead of evoking complaints and sullen looks, are regarded rather as a source of pleasurable excitement. "no " hurries off to market and quickly returns with fish, chops, chickens, eggs and fruit. meanwhile, the cook dashes another pint or two of water into the soup and gets a jam pudding well under way. on returning from the club at seven o'clock you find that the boy has tastefully laid the table and decorated it with leaves and flowers. after seeing to the wine and cigars you go up to dress, and on receiving your guests at half-past seven the dinner is ready. i remember with feelings of pleasure the following incident which occurred at chinkiang. for some days i had been engaged to dine with friends living in the next house, and was actually on my way there, when an old acquaintance, who had just arrived by the steamer from shanghai, met me in the garden and wanted particularly to see me with regard to some private affair. as the steamer would be leaving again in two hours and my friend was obliged to continue his voyage to hankow, i had no other means of meeting his wishes than by forfeiting my engagement. this i did in a hastily-written chit, making the best excuses i could, and then sent for the cook. on his appearance i informed him that i wanted dinner for two--chop chop! without moving a muscle he answered, "can do." thinking to hurry up matters a little i went to the kitchen, but found it in darkness and without any fire. the servants meanwhile had all disappeared, and i returned to my friend with the information that we must possess our souls in patience, so we settled ourselves on the verandah for a serious talk, but hardly had we done so than the boy announced dinner. following him in considerable amazement i found that, the night being warm, he had laid a small table on the lawn and that the soup was already served. it was delicious, as were also the samli, the woodcock, the lamb cutlets and the ice-cream. things having taken so happy a turn, i uncorked a bottle of champagne and we had a banquet fit for a king. [illustration: house-coolie, boy, cook and "no ." _to face page ._] my friend complimented me on the prowess of the cook, and we smoked our cigars and chatted over the coffee until the steamer's whistle announced that, cargo being finished, she was ready to start. after seeing him off i joined the party next door in order to offer apologies and explanations to the hostess, who freely forgave me, though her husband lamented that i had missed the samli, the woodcock and the lamb, which were the first of the season. i discreetly held my peace, but inquiries next day confirmed my suspicions that prime helpings from each course of my neighbour's dinner had been carried off by my cook. immediately under the boy for indoor work is the "house-coolie," whose business it is to swab floors, polish grates, light fires, trim lamps, clean knives and boots and make himself generally useful about the house. oftentimes he is unable to speak any english, wears a short coat in contradistinction to the boy's long one, and while ranking below the boy is considerably above the other coolies as having better pay, pleasanter work and holding a position of trust. at the chief entrance to most residences is a gatehouse, tenanted during the day by an old man who serves as gatekeeper, and who is responsible for keeping bad characters off the premises as well as for not allowing anything to be taken away. at sunset he goes home, being relieved by the night-watchman, who remains on duty till sunrise. he also is responsible for the general safety, and is not supposed to sleep during the night, but to be on guard. every two hours, that is, at each of the five watches into which the night is divided, he should make a round of the outbuildings to satisfy himself that all's well. this he does not do quietly, but to the beating of a bamboo rattle, so that thieves may know he is on the lookout and run away. sometimes, in order to keep up his courage, i have even heard him shout "i see you," "i know who you are," "i'm coming," "who's afraid?" etc. ridiculous as this may appear to english burglars it is yet very effective, though for a very curious reason. china is the country of guilds, every trade being in the hands of a certain section of the population, who combine against all intruders. there is a guild of water-carriers, a guild of fortune-tellers, a guild of pipe-makers, and even a guild of _thieves_. this last is a recognised body, and is treated with by all householders, until it has become a kind of insurance agency against theft. all gatekeepers and night-watchmen pay a small monthly fee to this guild in order that no thieving may take place on the premises over which they have control, and the system works well, for not only is anything rarely stolen, but if, occasionally, something does go it is almost certain to have been taken by a free lance, who would be promptly done to death should he fall into the clutches of the guild thieves. a friend of mine who employs many hundreds of coolies pays a regular monthly salary to the head of the thieves in that district. this man comes to the office on pay-days like other _employés_ to draw his wages. if, however, anything has been missed from the factory during the month the value of it is deducted from his salary until the article is restored, which is invariably done. i have heard of a case where a reforming spirit determined not to submit to such an iniquitous tax. the gatekeeper and night-watchman immediately resigned and could not be replaced, while by the end of the month most of his portable belongings had been surreptitiously removed. thoroughly cowed, he recalled the two servants and instructed them to pay the tax, whereupon the stolen articles promptly reappeared and security was again restored. largely owing to the influence of buddhism, cattle are regarded by the chinese solely as beasts of burden, it being seldom that any are slaughtered for food; and although many natives will eat beef when it comes conveniently to hand, still, there is a strong prejudice against it. this prejudice extends both to milk and butter, neither of which is a common article of celestial food. from this it may be easily imagined that europeans are often put to considerable inconvenience in securing an adequate supply of these daily necessaries. good milk is especially hard to get. so long as it is white the native dairyman considers that his obligations to customers are discharged, while the more water he can add, the better it is for his own pocket. at hankow the supply was so adulterated that a friend of mine actually found a small live fish in his morning cupful. with a view to exposing fraud i purchased a lactometer and found the usual proportions of milk and water to be half and half. this was too much, so calling the dairyman to the house i abused him roundly and threatened that if he did not send pure milk in future i would ask the consul to punish him severely. he vowed and declared that the lactometer "no talkee true," and that no water whatever had been added to the milk, adding, that if i did not believe him he would bring a cow to the kitchen door and i could see it milked myself. this seemed satisfactory, so i got up early next morning, and after shivering in my dressing-gown during the milking, carried off the pail in triumph, fully convinced that i should now be able to enjoy the pure article. vain delusion! on testing it there was still a large percentage of water, and the dairyman, beaming with justified satisfaction, ambled off, leading his cow. feeling sure that the lactometer must be at fault, i consulted my friend the doctor, who examined and found it quite correct. how to reconcile these discrepancies seemed an insoluble problem. after pondering over the matter for several days, i determined on milking the cow myself, this being an accomplishment of my boyhood. to the celestial's amazement i did so and instantly tested the proceeds. pure milk! i seized the dairyman with a hazy idea of making an end of him, when, lo and behold, there slipped from his capacious sleeve a piece of thick bamboo containing about two pints of water. from the lower part of this wooden bottle projected another piece of bamboo about the thickness of a cigar, which served as a tube. the swindle was now discovered, and the culprit, after the first shock to his feelings had abated, showed me, with evident if subdued satisfaction, how the ingenious device worked. concealing the bottle and letting the sleeve fall well down over his wrist, he held the bamboo tube and a cow's teat in one hand, and so, the moment one's eyes were averted, he was able to turn on the tap and let water flow into the pail together with the milk. i now had the upper hand and promised to refrain from taking steps against him if he would in future furnish me with a pure supply. this he cheerfully agreed to do, and for a time i fared sumptuously, but it was not long ere my boy informed me that, the cows having run dry, the dairyman had returned to his home in the country. prior to the manchu conquest of china two hundred and fifty years ago, men allowed the hair to grow long and then rolled it up in a tuft on the top of the head. the manchus, however, introduced the custom of partly shaving the scalp and braiding the back hair into a pig-tail, any man not conforming to this rule being considered a rebel, and as such liable to summary decapitation. this visible token of loyalty to the present dynasty is therefore universal, and obtains from the cradle to the grave, it being a matter of considerable importance to all who value a whole skin, and "olo custom" being an extremely strong _motif_, it would now be well-nigh impossible to abolish this badge of servitude, even were the enforcement of it abandoned. in addition to this national obligation it is the custom for men to clean shave until they become grandfathers, when a moustache is cultivated, and later on sometimes a beard, though these hirsute appendages are of a lean and meagre kind. as you may readily imagine, the amount of tonsorial operations indulged in by so dense a population call for an unlimited number of shavers and braiders of hair, albeit it is considered an employment of the lowest grade; but although the number of barbers is legion there are none who know how to _cut_ hair until taught to do so by europeans, so that in out-of-the-way places it is often very difficult to get the operation performed. on several occasions i have been obliged to rely on my mafoo, who with horse-clippers and iron scissors proved to be effective if somewhat unartistic. of course, a chinaman will soon learn, and at treaty-ports barbers are a convenient luxury, for at the cost of a few dollars a month one will come to your bedroom every morning at a stated time to perform the daily shave, as well as cut the hair when required. oftentimes i have been still asleep when, leaving his shoes outside the door and creeping in noiselessly with bare feet, he has adjusted the towel, lathered and shaved me in bed without my having had more than a dim consciousness of what was going on. tailors are cheap and plentiful. a west-end cut is not achieved, but for flannels, light tweeds and all such clothes as are worn in the tropics, they are very passable. "boy." "sai." "talkee that tailor-man four o'clock come. wantchee new clothes." at four o'clock the tailor is there with a bundle of patterns from which you select a thin serge and a white flannel, and order a suit of each. on asking the price you are informed that the serge "b'long welly cheap" at fourteen dollars and the flannel at twelve. your surprise and indignation are great at the exorbitant figures, and after a good deal of haggling, eleven dollars and ten respectively are agreed upon, the clothes to be finished in two days. "can do." out comes the tape and he measures you all over, taking mental notes but writing nothing down, the chinese having marvellous memories. next morning he appears with the garments loosely stitched together to try on, draws a chalk line here, puts in a pin there and hurries off. the following day you discover both suits neatly folded up on your bed, and on inspection find them to be of good and comfortable fit. another plan is, after selecting the material, to hand the tailor an old suit with instructions to make the new one a counterpart of it, which, as a rule, he will do to perfection. in fact, he has been known to let a couple of patches into the seat of the new trousers in order to make them correspond exactly with the pattern. chapter iii shooting to anyone who is fond of shooting, certain parts of china offer a veritable paradise. when i say shooting i do not mean the kind of sport to which one is accustomed at home, where to trespass a few yards on the grounds of another man will probably result in legal proceedings, where keepers flourish and wax fat on contributions levied on the friends of mine host, where hand-raised game is driven into the jaws of death, and where the sportsman's friend and delight, his dog, is practically banished. no, i mean where one can look on the whole empire of china and say, "here is my ground, here i can take my gun and my dogs and go just wherever, and do whatever, i please, without let or hindrance; shoot what i will, stay as long as i like without asking anyone's leave, and where keepers and game licences are unknown." throughout china, pheasants, deer, quail, wildfowl and snipe abound, but woodcock, partridges and hares are less numerous and less evenly distributed. bustards, plover and many other migratory birds appear only in winter, while for hunters of big game, tigers, leopards, horned deer and wild boar are found in certain localities. northern china offers the best opportunities, and while from mongolia to ningpo game is plentiful enough, the mighty river yangtse is _par excellence_ the sportsman's elysium. of course, one must have good dogs and know the country, or go with someone who does, otherwise the most ardent spirit would soon be cooled to freezing point and disgust instead of delight would be the result of his endeavours. along the banks of this noble river, from the sea for hundreds of miles into the interior, i have enjoyed as good sport as lies within reach of only the very rich in western countries. the chinese are not often sportsmen, and away from foreign influence but rarely molest wild animals of any kind. owing, however, to the increasing european colony at shanghai and the numerous mail steamers which daily arrive there, a profitable market for game has sprung up during the past few years, to supply which there are now a number of native gunners who, as a means of livelihood, scour the country with foreign breech-loaders in search of pheasants, wildfowl, etc., so that, being capital shots, within a considerable distance of this port the shooting is not so good as formerly, although in all other parts of the empire it still remains practically untouched until the advent of europeans. that there are not more aboriginal sportsmen is partly due to a law which forbids the people to possess firearms, though this law has not been rigidly enforced, and partly due to the primitive construction and consequent unreliability of the few native fowling-pieces which do exist. well away from beaten tracks i have occasionally met local sports carrying guns together with slow-matches of smouldering brown paper. they are remarkable weapons, with single iron barrels some four feet and a half long, about twenty bore and without stocks, but having pistol handles. there are no locks or springs, the hammer and trigger being in one piece, working through the handle on a rivet. the hammers have slits in them as if to hold flints, but which really are intended for the slow-match. sometimes these men had good bags of snipe, but only once have i seen such a gun fired, which was at a pigeon sitting about fifteen yards high in a tree. the gunner blew his slow-match into a glow and pressed it into the slit in the hammer, placed the pistol handle to his hip and pulled the trigger, which brought the hammer slowly forward until the slow-match rested on the powder in the pan, when the gun went off and the pigeon fell dead. whether birds are shot on the wing with these guns i cannot say, but remembering that a hundred and fifty years ago it was accounted an extraordinary thing to attempt flying shots even in this country, i should think probably not. old muzzle-loading rifles of european make, striking either flints or percussion caps, are also in occasional use as shot-guns, in preference to native weapons. the shot are always of iron, which is far cheaper than lead, and extremely liable to cause great injury to the teeth, while the powder is very poor, burning slowly with much smoke and smell. no cut wads are used, but pieces of paper, rammed home with a rod, which instead of being carried attached to the gun is held in the hand together with the slow-match. these same sports catch snipe in long, light nets which they carry stretched out horizontally some two feet above the grass, so that a bird on rising as it passes overhead, flies into it and is at once secured. snares of wire and string, ingenious traps of bamboo which impale the birds on wooden spikes, and wicker traps closely resembling the straw plaiting on bottles of olive oil, i have seen set for snipe and quail in various places. i once travelled from shanghai to nanking with an aged french jesuit priest and a chinese official then returning from the black dragon or amour river. the former told me that, shortly after the taiping rebellion, pheasants were so numerous and tame in the devastated fields around nanking that natives speared them in the grass; while the official said that in the almost deserted black dragon river district these birds were so little afraid of man that on his approach they would conceal only their heads in the grass, when it was possible to capture them by the tail with the hand. although personally unable to guarantee either of these accounts, still, judging from the manner in which they were narrated, i am inclined to believe both. the first essential for shooting-trips up the yangtse is a good house-boat or light draft yacht of from ten to fifteen tons, into which you pack every requisite, and which is in reality your floating shooting-box for the time being. you have only to choose your field of operations, sail there, and enjoy yourself to your heart's content in luxury, fine bracing air, grand scenery and jovial company. what can one wish for more! having decided on a trip you tell your boy in the morning that you will leave that afternoon for so many days, and at the appointed time step on board to find everything in readiness--guns, dogs, provisions, and a good fire in the saloon. you give the lowdah his orders, and in less than a minute are under way. all bother is at an end and you make yourself comfortable, have afternoon tea, read, smoke, dine, chat with your friend over the fire, and after spending the evening as comfortably as if in your own house, retire to rest, awaking next morning to find yourself on the scene of action and very possibly to hear the pheasants crow while still in bed. a good beefsteak breakfast and you are ready for the fray. after your day's sport you come back to a hot bath and the comfort of a cosy cabin. should you desire to try fresh ground on the morrow, the lowdah will get the boat there, either by sailing or tracking during the night, while you are enjoying your well-earned sleep. [illustration: house-boat on the yangtse. _to face page ._] pheasants afford the principal sport and are identical with the white-ringed english birds, only, if any thing, bigger, stronger in flight and much more wily. a hundred miles up the yangtse and then along the grand canal, in districts that were overrun by taiping rebels, fine sport with pointers may be had over what were formerly cultivated fields but are now still lying waste, with here and there the ruins of a village destroyed forty years ago, the inhabitants of which were either extirpated, dragged off in the rebel army or fled to other parts of the country. these abandoned fields, interspersed with ridges of low hills clad with young pines, are generally dry and covered with fine grass, in which the pheasants are fond of lying, and on a bright, frosty morning it is truly delightful to walk across such country with a couple of good pointers, watch your dogs work and bowl over the birds as they rise. at other places higher up river the low hills are covered with acorn-bearing oak scrub, a favourite cover both for pheasants, which feed on the acorns, as well as deer. this scrub, although very trying to walk through, is not high enough to prevent pointers working freely, and many a good bag have i made there. along the banks of the lower yangtse, and on numerous islands in the stream, are dense reeds, which, being flooded to a depth of several feet in summer, grow from fifteen to twenty feet high, as thick as a man's thumb, and almost as strong as bamboos. in these impenetrable thickets, left dry as the waters fall in autumn, the pheasants congregate in great numbers, but it is not till late winter, when the reeds have been mostly cut for fuel, that it is possible to get them out. about the end of december the reeds still uncut, stand in square, even patches, the sides of which tower up like the walls of a house. the best way is to select clumps of medium size, place a gun on either side to keep well in advance, and turn two or three dogs, spaniels for choice, in at one end. as these dogs hunt the reeds all the way down, the pheasants will creep to the very edges, watch their opportunity, and be off like cannon balls. then is the time for a quick eye and steady hand, but as you have probably been running to keep up with the dogs, they are by no means the easy shots that one might imagine, and many a time the "dead certainty" has slipped gaily away. other denizens of these swamps are woodcock, snipe, deer, and occasionally racoons and wild cats, which follow the pheasants, so that a mixed bag is frequently the product of a successful day, when twenty-five head, including seven or eight brace of pheasants, would represent a fair average per gun. with the exception of spring snipe, enormous totals like those we gloat over in england are but rarely made. it is the absolute freedom which is so charming, the hard work, the bright atmosphere, the thick cover, and the excitement of following the dogs. wildfowl of every description swarm during the spring and autumn migrations, for after nesting on the siberian steppes they go down to the sunny south in winter. swan, geese, mallard, teal and countless varieties of duck literally cover the waters of the yangtse for miles at a stretch, and will hardly rise to avoid the river-steamers as they pass, although extremely shy of approaching small boats, while every little pond or creek affords the probability of a shot. wildfowl-shooting, however, is not largely gone in for, why, i can hardly say, unless it is that they are so superabundant as to make them seem hardly worth the powder and shot, that the distances to go for them are too great and the work of stalking too cold and tiresome, or that other kinds of shooting are more attractive. woodcock are often found in bamboo groves from which it is generally hard to flush them, while the cover is so thick that it is impossible to shoot until they come out, though be it only for an instant, when, topping the bamboos, they alight again on the opposite side. i have spent nearly an hour in killing a brace which, although i saw perhaps twenty times, i had the greatest difficulty in getting a snap at. they also frequent pine woods and heather on the hills, and are identical in appearance with the woodcock found in england. during a severe winter at chinkiang, word was brought in by natives that some children had been carried off by "dog-headed tigers," which monsters, after making lengthy inquiries, we assumed to be wolves. with a view to getting a shot at these brutes, a friend and i went out overnight to the community bungalow, a distance of seven miles, and in the morning ranged warily through the pines and over the snow-clad hills, seeking for traces of the man-eaters, being joined towards noon by the british consul. carrying my twelve-bore fowling-piece loaded with a bullet in the right barrel and a charge of big shot in the left, the latter being full-choke, i was passing along the side of a steep hill at the foot of which, and some fifty feet below me, lay a frozen stream, when my dog-coolie, pointing downwards, cried, "look at the fish!" beneath the clear ice, of perhaps a quarter of an inch in thickness, a mass of fish was swimming with the current. instinctively i fired the left barrel at them, and was greatly surprised to behold a jet of water, broken ice and fish shoot up two or three feet high from a hole made by the shot. the dog-coolie rushed down and filled his cap with our unexpected prey, which we subsequently found to number twenty-two, varying from about two to four ounces in weight each. concussion from the blow on the ice had stunned many, but others were bleeding from shot wounds. after a fruitless search for the "dog-headed tigers" we walked back to chinkiang that evening. the cold weather having brought wildfowl of all descriptions i was off betimes next morning to some islands in the yangtse, a few miles down river. an hour's sailing with wind and stream brought me to the desired spot, where i landed on the sandy beach, when my dog, glad to escape from confinement on board, ran to the top of a high dyke, or wall for preventing floods, some hundred yards distant, and put up hundreds of wild geese which had been preening themselves in the sun on the other side, where they had also found shelter from the cutting wind. the mighty roar of wings was the first intimation i had of their presence, and as they were well out of range, my dog came in for a reminder that his place for the time being was close to heel. had they not been thus scared away i could have walked unobserved to within five yards of them. following the beach a little above high-water mark, i presently came to several small ponds surrounded with willows, out of the first of which some teal rose in a close bunch, when firing into the brown i knocked them all down except one, and that i accounted for with the other barrel. falling into the pond, some that were winged gave a good deal of trouble by diving, but eventually they were all secured, being eight in number. several ducks were scared away by my shots, but i here added half-a-dozen snipe to the bag. coming to some wide ditches choked with reeds and willows my dog put out pheasant after pheasant, but as they generally got up on the opposite side, where there was no gun, i only managed to secure seven, besides two woodcock. while eating my lunch of sandwiches under the lee of a reedstack, i observed that numerous flights of wildfowl on passing from one branch of the river to another crossed a low, marshy corner of the island, so that presently i made my way there and crouched down amongst the rushes behind a dyke, having a small lagoon immediately at my back. mallard, widgeon and many other kinds of fowl came over in such quick succession that for two hours i was kept fully occupied, and it was highly gratifying to hear a heavy splash in the lagoon after each successful shot. as soon as the light began to fail i ceased firing and retrieved my birds, which numbered twenty-seven, including several varieties of fish ducks with serrated bills and, as i have subsequently learnt although then mistaking them for large divers, three goosanders. on my way back to the house-boat i surprised and shot a goose which was feeding close under the river bank, so that my total bag consisted of fifty-one head, and i always look back on that day as one of the most enjoyable i have ever spent. the snipe-shooting cannot be surpassed anywhere in the world. in spring, after spending the winter in rich southern climes, these birds, following the returning warmth, slowly migrate to siberia for nesting. they pass through central china during may, arriving almost simultaneously, when for about three weeks one can have superb sport, and then they depart as suddenly as they came. one day they will swarm, and the next hardly a bird is to be seen. snipe-shooting at home one always associates with long boots, cold water, mud and marshes. spring snipe-shooting in china is of a totally different kind. imagine a bright, warm day, with the sun almost too powerful, dry meadows with fresh, green grass, and clover about six inches high, fields of wheat and barley in ear and beans in flower, all nature at her best. you take your gun with a plentiful supply of cartridges, a coolie to carry bottled beer and sandwiches and to pick up the birds, and sally forth into the meadows and fields, dressed in an ordinary light summer suit or flannels, terai hat and low shoes, with the bottoms of your trousers tucked into your socks to keep out the insects. you have not gone far before one, two--half a dozen birds rise within easy range, and perhaps you make a right and left. what birds they are, too, fat as butter!--in fact, so fat and heavy that they often rip quite open merely from the force of falling to the ground. in this way you go on, firing until the gun becomes so hot that every now and then you must wait to let the barrels cool. my best bag for one day was forty-one and a half couples, but this has been doubled by sports who have shot to make a record. autumn snipe, or spring snipe returned, on passing from siberia to winter in the south, are not usually in very good condition, owing probably to the nature of the country from which they come, and strangely enough they appear to be less numerous and do not arrive so simultaneously as the spring birds, though remaining longer, many staying on through the winter. these do not frequent the dry meadows and fields, but belong to the long boots, mud and marsh category. i have never seen but one jack snipe, though the painted variety is fairly common. in the neighbourhood of a creek seven miles below hankow is to be had the best spring snipe-shooting that i know of. one bright may morning, in response to the invitation of an old friend, i joined him and two other guests aboard his house-boat and sailed down the yangtse to this well-known spot. on landing i shouldered my bag, containing fifty cartridges, and told my coolie to bring a new box of a hundred in the game-bag. the plan was to send the house-boat to a place three or four miles further down river, where, after shooting through the fields, the guns would meet for tiffin. just as the lowdah was casting off our host asked if he might put a few bottles of beer into my game-bag as it was a warm and thirsty morning; so, to make room, and thinking that the snipe had not yet fully arrived, in which case the spare cartridges would not be required, they were replaced on board. we had not, however, walked many yards along the river bank before it became apparent that there were any number of birds, and i already regretted having so few cartridges with me. after crossing the creek in a crazy sampan the party separated, each taking his own line of country. presently a tremendous fusillade commenced from all the others, and as the snipe were rising around them continually and making for a large swamp to my left, i concealed myself in some millet, where, the birds coming before the wind directly over my head, i enjoyed for half an hour or so some excellent shooting and made a number of very sporting shots. i now started for the swamp, but ere reaching it passed through some grass patches between fields of barley and beans. the birds here rose by the dozen, and standing on the same spot, without advancing a yard, i shot eight, which were all on the ground at one time. my gun became so hot that it was necessary to open it to let the barrels cool, while the cartridges were all gone in less than an hour, so that carrying my now useless weapon and boiling with rage, i had to start in pursuit of the house-boat, with the shots of the others ringing merrily all round, the snipe rising at almost every step, and the coolie laden with beer and dead birds lagging far behind. i arrived on board simultaneously with a party of ladies, who, under the ægis of my friend's wife, had come down by launch to join us at tiffin; at the conclusion of which long and sumptuous repast it was time to start back to hankow rather than again attack the snipe. however, two of us landed with our guns and walked hurriedly across country towards a point about three miles up river, there to rejoin the party on the boat. of course we kept them waiting, the sport was so good, but satisfaction at the total bag of some two hundred snipe did much to smooth matters over. indeed, the bag would have been still larger except for the vile shooting of one gun; but as a few days later his engagement to one of the ladies of the tiffin-party was announced, the mystery was explained, and when in a few weeks the wedding bells rang, we all forgave him. four or five miles outside the principal gate of peking is the nan hai-tzu, or imperial hunting park, where a few years ago there were herds of far-famed hybrids known as the "four unlikes," since they possessed certain attributes of, i believe, the horse, the deer, the ox and the sheep, without belonging definitely to either family. unfortunately, europeans were not allowed to enter this preserve, so i was unable personally to see these curiosities, although their existence was well authenticated. outside the lofty wall enclosing this park is a kind of common interspersed with marshland through which a small stream flows, and there i have bagged as many as ten couple of snipe in an afternoon, with an occasional wild duck. sending out the cart with gun, dog and provisions in charge of the head mafoo at about eleven o'clock on saturday morning, as soon as work was over at one i would mount my pony, held in readiness by the second mafoo, and gallop with him after the cart, to find tiffin awaiting me spread on the grass. in this way i was comfortably ready to shoot by half-past two, which would allow of about two and a half hours' sport before returning. on one of these occasions i saw several large flocks of sand grouse, which, i believe, are native to mongolia, but only once managed to get within range, killing a brace. they are beautiful, gamey-looking birds, of a very light brown or sand colour, mottled on the back and with legs and feet thickly feathered. their flight much resembles that of golden plover, only sharper. having finished shooting, my gun was again placed in the cart and we started leisurely for home, i riding a short distance in advance, followed by the second mafoo, while my pointer rambled over the grass. one evening, when thus returning, two medium-sized eagles swooped at the dog and commenced to regularly hunt him, much to his consternation. to dismount and get my gun out of its case again was the work of a couple of minutes, when i shot one of the birds at a distance of twenty yards, the other, instead of being alarmed, immediately swooping at its fallen comrade, to meet with a similar fate. i could not get them stuffed, so had their wings and claws mounted as fans, which i still have somewhere in my possession. the common deer are small, from thirty to forty pounds in weight, and without horns. they have a thick, bristly hide, and the buck has two tusks of from two to four inches in length projecting downwards from the upper jaw, with which he tears up the ground in search of roots, and it is to these peculiarities that the name of "hog-deer" is due. they mostly lie in the grass on forms, like hares, but sometimes in thick scrub on the hillside, and can be knocked over at forty yards with pheasant shot. i have bagged four in a day more than once. if well cooked the venison is delicious. partridges are only found in certain districts. a few miles from chefoo excellent sport is to be had, but in central china they are not often seen, although they do exist, as i have shot one myself near ngankin. down south the bamboo partridge abounds in places, but it is a very different bird from the ordinary partridge, and takes its name from the fact that it lives, moves and has its being in bamboo coppices. in the vicinity of hongkong and macao the partridge, although far from numerous, is quite common, and a bag of three or four would represent a good day's work. these birds resemble the red-legged variety so common in england, but are considerably larger, while the plumage, although practically identical in colour, is far more brilliant. a curious feature about them is that they are never flushed in coveys and very rarely in pairs, but are almost invariably single birds, which fact, together with their large size and gorgeous plumage, leads me to think that they must represent a distinct branch of the family, to which the name "solitary" would be highly applicable. quail are numerous and in all respects resemble those found in this country. they are chiefly prized by the chinese for their pugilistic qualities, for after being caught and having had their wings clipped they are disposed of to various purchasers, who take them to miniature cock-pits and there back them to fight the birds of other gamblers for considerable sums, the combats being fierce and often deadly. the hares are wretched little animals, all bones and felt, and not larger than the english rabbit. they usually lie in the open, though often found in graves and in holes in the rocks, from which i have thought that they might be the "coney" mentioned in scripture. bustards, or wild turkeys, are found at certain periods all over china. they are very shy, always settle on wide plains, and are extremely difficult of approach--a shot being only obtainable after long and careful stalking. although tigers are occasionally to be found in most of the southern provinces, there are but few places easily accessible to europeans where they exist in any number, and not having been in one of these favoured spots i have had no opportunity to try my hand at this exciting sport, but a friend of mine, who has earned considerable fame at it, and who keeps a row of grinning tiger skulls on his drawing-room mantelpiece as mementoes of successful hunts, described to me how operations are conducted. at amoy, which is probably the best known of these districts, when natives from the surrounding country bring word into the settlement that a tiger has been seen, preparations for the hunt are quickly completed, and a party of sportsmen repairs to the scene of action. the country being exceedingly rocky, the tigers make their lairs in caves and rocks, approached by long tunnels or holes just large enough to admit the beasts, so that to get them out is both difficult and dangerous. having traced spore to the entrance of one of these tunnels, my friend crawled in first with his rifle, immediately after him coming a native shikarri, who thrust forward over my friend's back a long bamboo bearing at the end a lighted torch. next followed three more shikarries, holding long spears, which they similarly thrust in advance, so that the attacking force consisted of a torch, three spears, the englishman with his rifle and four shikarries, in which order they slowly crept along the passage, the sides of which were worn smooth by continual friction of tigers passing to and fro, until growls and snarls proclaimed that their quarry was near at hand. presently two green, shifting eyes could be distinguished a few feet beyond the torch, when, carefully aimed between them, a hollow, express bullet crashed through the monster's skull, killing him on the spot. what would happen in case the brute was only wounded and charged i have never heard, but personally i should be somewhat chary in trusting to the protection of a torch and three spears. it is related that a practical old yankee sport, desirous of slaying his tiger, joined in one of these expeditions, setting out from the rendezvous armed to the teeth, in company with another hunter, but before very long came stepping briskly back, and by way of explanation _guessed_ "the tiger's footprints were getting too durned fresh." i consider he showed true american acumen. spear-grass one often hears of but seldom sees, and until making acquaintance with the real thing i had always imagined that the barbed grass seeds, which are such a harmful worry to dogs, were practically identical with it. not at all. before leaving ichang for a trip to the yangtse gorges i expressed my intention of trying to get some of those beautiful reeves pheasants, having tails several feet in length, which are indigenous to that locality, but was warned that it would be necessary to take long leggings as a protection against spear-grass. not having any with me, and believing i knew what spear-grass was, i refrained from borrowing, so that on landing at nantou with my dog and gun, it was in an ordinary shooting suit and worsted stockings. inquiries of natives as to the whereabouts of these birds soon led me up the mountain-side to a rocky plateau, which looked extremely likely, and where i even saw traces of them. my dog commenced to work, and i followed him into the light, dry, crackling grass, but suddenly became conscious of a smarting in the legs as though walking through nettles, and noticed that the grass was adhering to my stockings. however, i pushed on, my dog being hot on the scent, but presently we both came to a standstill--i, because of cramp in both legs, each of which was now enveloped in grass to the size of a bee-hive; while the dog's shaggy coat had collected it till he appeared as large as a sheep, and could no longer force his way along, besides being in much pain. it was a short half mile down hill to the boat but the difficulty and discomfort of getting there were considerable. when at length the boy proceeded to take my stockings off it was found that they were practically sewn to my skin by the spear-grass, the tiny barbed points of which had passed in hundreds through the wool and worked like fish-hooks into my calves. without penetrating deep enough to more than slightly draw blood, they had one and all to be forcibly dragged out as the stockings were peeled off. for days i was lame and sore, while my dog lived in misery for weeks. i did not even see a reeves pheasant. at nantou i gathered delicious oranges from the tree for one cash each, or, eight oranges for a farthing. a twelve-bore is the best gun for use in china, from the fact that cartridges are everywhere procurable, whereas for other sizes they have frequently to be imported from home, although i must admit that a twenty-bore is preferable for snipe-shooting in warm weather, owing to the lightness of both gun and cartridges. it seems to be the general opinion, with which i agree, that pointers and spaniels are the most suitable dogs to keep, for they appear to work the cover and to stand the climate better than other breeds. as european dogs seldom live in china more than three or four years, and often less, it is necessary to always have puppies coming on if you do not want your shooting to be spoiled, for it is useless to try and get pheasants out of the thick cover without them. dysentery is a very prevalent canine disease, but their most deadly enemy, and one existing in no other country that i know of, is worms in the heart. how the germs get into the blood no doctor has yet been able to say, but thin, white worms resembling vermicelli cluster round the heart, living on the blood, until they become so numerous as to eventually choke an artery, when death is instantaneous. in the case of a favourite dog, on which a doctor kindly performed a _post-mortem_ examination, these worms were in such numbers that i positively could not see the heart at all. native dogs are useless for sport, as they seem to be devoid of that friendly intelligence so noticeable in our own breeds, while their powers of scent are much inferior. i have heard that in the island of hainan a certain breed exists which is very good for hunting leopards and wild boar, but this i cannot guarantee. in the winter of i was invited by a friend to join him in his house-boat a few miles below chinkiang, when we could shoot together next day and then have christmas dinner on board. i hired a small sampan to sail me down, together with my boy, taking only a bottle of whisky, a few things for tiffin and a plum cake, the last being a christmas gift from a norwegian lady. starting at noon, it was about three o'clock and near the rendezvous, when we sighted a flock of geese asleep in the sun on a mud-bank. i ordered the sampan-man to get as near as possible, and when the geese rose at a distance of about sixty yards, knocked down a couple with two charges of s.s.g. a minute later another came flying overhead calling to its wounded mate, and this also i dropped without pity. the first two, being only winged, gave a lot of trouble, as they swam and dived with great speed, but all three were eventually secured. there was still an hour before dark, and seeing no signs of my friend i went on shore and bagged three pheasants before returning to the boat. next morning, after passing a cold and miserable night in the tiny cabin of the dirty little sampan, i started with gun and dog at about eight o'clock--fully expecting that the house-boat would turn up during my absence--and shot all day, killing eleven pheasants, two deer, three woodcock, seven duck and one pigeon. as by dark there were still no signs of my expected host i had no choice but to return home. it was a lovely night, bright, frosty and star-light, with a nice, crisp breeze, which, the river being there about two miles wide, raised quite a sea. thousands of wildfowl, all on their way south, were flying, whistling and whirring about in every direction, and rising from the water quite close to the boat. my dog "snipe" and i crept into the cabin out of the cutting wind, which was dead ahead, and proceeded to discuss our impromptu christmas fare, which, after all, was not so bad, and reflected great credit on the boy's cooking powers. i noted down the _menu_, and here it is:-- . pigeon soup. . woodcock. . boiled pheasant. . cold roast beef. . plum cake ablaze with whisky. . cheese. . pumelo. whisky and water. tea. there was no holly or mistletoe to remind one of merrie england, but i drank to "the old folks at home" with the sadness peculiar to wanderers on such occasions, and then gave myself up to nicotine and reflection for the rest of the evening, arriving home at midnight to find that my truant friend was ill in bed. chapter iv riding no country in the world is so badly supplied with horses as china, both as regards quantity and quality. the reasons for this are largely owing to the peculiar and wretched condition of internal communications, and to the fact that horses are seldom employed in cultivation of the soil, which is mostly performed by manual labour, supplemented by water buffaloes in the central and southern provinces and by oxen in the north. wherever rivers and lakes exist there is found a dense boating population, whose occupation is the conduct of every kind of traffic. on the large fluvial highways stately junks laden deep with cargo pass backwards and forwards in unending procession. in shallower waters the vessels are smaller but more numerous, and this adaptation to circumstances goes on until the smallest streams and canals, which invariably cover the valleys of china's mighty rivers as with a net, are blocked with tiny craft, each bearing its load of merchandise or its quota of passengers. in such districts, where everything is carried by water and where roads are few, there is little or no work for the horse, which, beyond a few wretched specimens attached to the various yamêns and military camps, is seldom seen. where waterways do not exist, and traffic must necessarily be carried overland, the highways are either narrow paths paved with large blocks of stone and suitable only for wheelbarrows and pack-animals, or tracks picked out at random over a width of perhaps a hundred yards, along which lumbering, ill-constructed and springless carts plough their ways, and strings of pack-animals wend slowly to and fro. the numberless creaking wheel-barrows, bearing heavy loads, are propelled by coolies, who, the yoke across the shoulders, stagger along between the shafts, helped occasionally by a small sail set to catch a favouring wind, or by another coolie harnessed to the vehicle by ropes. the pack-animals mostly consist of camels (especially in the north), mules and donkeys, ponies being used in more limited numbers. as a rule, the carts are supplied with mixed teams of very poor class animals, mules largely predominating, although ponies are also numerous. europeans, accustomed to see carriages, dog-carts and all kinds of horse-drawn conveyances circulating freely on macadamised roads, find it difficult to realise that, in the oldest civilised empire in existence, there are, outside the treaty-ports, not only no macadamised roads, but not even roads that could possibly be compared with our most out-of-the-way and most ill-kept country lanes, and that consequently there are neither carriages nor dogcarts, but only springless tumbrils, which, covered with a wain, discharge the functions of the celestial cab, and plough through deep mud with their massive wheels, or jolt over stone causeways to the intense discomfort of luckless occupants. [illustration: the cab of northern china. _to face page ._] there being then practically neither roads nor carriages, the demand for draught horses is very small, while for riding purposes chinamen prefer either the taller and more dignified mule or the ambling pony. this latter has a rolling, pacing gait which enables the horseman to sit quietly in his high wooden saddle without any necessity of rising in the stirrups. he possesses great speed and endurance, and wealthy chinese will give as much as four or five hundred taels for a good one. with his rider leaning well back and pulling hard at the reins the animal tears along at fifteen or sixteen miles an hour, but when the reins are loosened he immediately slackens and pulls up. they are a common sight in the neighbourhood of peking, where ambling contests frequently take place outside the city wall. in these contests each pony in turn is ridden at full speed past the judges, who proclaim the winner on his general merits and not with exclusive reference to pace. for agricultural work the horse is not employed. in wheeling barrows coolies perform the work of beasts of burthen. as pack-animals camels, mules and donkeys have the preference, so that although the "noble animal" is to be met with almost everywhere, he is not considered indispensable as in western lands. he is unhonoured, ill cared for and very cheap. there may be several breeds in china, although personally i have seen but four, of which a small, well-shaped pony from turkestan; a large, stringy horse from ili; and a weedy, cowhocked pony from szechuan deserve here no more than passing notice, for they are seldom seen in the eastern provinces, where alone the mongolian, or, as it is commonly called, the "china pony," is found in considerable numbers. this china pony, with which europeans in the far east are so well acquainted, is a native of the mongolian plains. he stands on an average about thirteen hands, and is a coarse, thick-set, cobby animal, with a large, ugly head carried low on a wedge-shaped neck, so that when mounted you have practically nothing in front of the saddle. he much resembles, and is evidently closely allied to, the russian pony, which is now so commonly met with in this country. i have heard it stated that, at the conclusion of the second chinese war, to avoid the expense of transport back to india, the arab horses of our cavalry were sold at tientsin, and being mostly purchased by native dealers, were sent to mongolia and crossed with the native breed. if this be true it accounts for the traces of arab blood which may occasionally be observed in a smaller head, finer points, wavy tail and gentler manners. mongol princes have long had, by imperial decree, the sole right of horse breeding in the north, every year paying tribute to the emperor of so many head; and as this breed is much superior to the others i have mentioned, the monopoly practically extends to the whole empire, and is most jealously guarded. geldings only are allowed to leave the breeders' hands, and that not before the advanced age of seven or eight, which partly accounts for the shortness of the time during which china ponies are in their prime, and for the fact that after two or three years' work they commence to age and deteriorate. mares it is impossible to purchase on any terms, the mongols absolutely refusing to part with them, and i have only seen two during the whole of the twelve years i have spent in china--one at peking, the property of a russian prince, and one with its foal, belonging to a native official at kiukiang. in the late autumn of every year the tribute ponies are brought down to peking. i have seen them in large droves coming across country at full gallop, enveloped in clouds of dust, with mounted mongol and chinese drovers, carrying long bamboo poles, riding on the outskirts of each mob and directing its course. villagers, on seeing the clouds of dust and hearing the thunder of hoofs, hurry out to try and divert the equine torrent from their crops, but in vain. the whirlwind rushes by, leaving a broad, well-beaten track, whereon few signs of banks, gardens or vegetation can be discerned. it is the emperor's tribute and there is no redress. after tributary obligations have been fulfilled in kind or in value, large numbers of these ponies are thrown on the market, and on an average can be secured for twenty or thirty dollars each--that is, for two or three pounds. the best market is provided by europeans, and dealers forward the finest-looking animals to tientsin, shanghai, hongkong, hankow and other places where racing is carried on, to meet this demand. when such mobs of raw ponies reach a treaty-port they are known as "griffins," which term applies to all that have not previously run at any race-meeting; and with their tails sweeping the ground, their hogged manes and their long coats clotted with mud, they present a very dismal appearance, and one not at all in keeping with the accepted idea of race-horses. these griffins mostly pass through the hands of racing men, who, with a view to securing a good animal, either arrange with the dealers for private gallops, when the various performances are carefully timed by stop-watch, or buy their fancies at public auction without speed tests having previously been made. owing to expenses of transport, be it by steamer or by road, the further south the greater the average value of griffins, and as only picked animals are supplied to the foreign market, the price is everywhere far higher than at peking, and may be said to range from fifty to five hundred dollars. those ponies which do not prove to have sufficient speed to warrant their being trained as racers are resold as hacks, or filter away at lower prices to the chinese. i may here say that although at several of the treaty-ports there are a few good roads made by the european residents, and along which imported carriages are occasionally seen to pass, it is only at shanghai that vehicular traffic has attained to any considerable degree of importance. here the foreign settlements are traversed in all directions by excellent highways, which extend through the suburbs for several miles into the adjoining country, and which the chinese avail themselves of to a large extent, driving out in thousands every afternoon to tea-houses and pleasure-gardens. besides most well-known varieties of conveyance the celestial mind has evolved one or two remarkable models of its own, notably, a kind of victoria, the body of which takes the form of two large inverted sea-shells gaudily painted with flowers and butterflies, and running on light iron wheels with bright spokes and rubber tyres. a liveried coach-man on the box, a footman with a smart rug over the arm standing on an iron step behind and balancing himself by grasping two straps attached to the back corners of the carriage, a shabbily-harnessed china pony in the shafts, and the equipage is complete. the occupants of this triumphal car are either three or four prosperous-looking chinamen, clothed in many-coloured silks, or a posse of gaily-dressed celestial beauties, who, with faces painted white, lips dyed vermilion, hair caked with oil, garlanded with flowers, laden with jewels, displaying their tiny satin shoes and toying with fans in their small and beautiful hands, furnish a _tout-ensemble_ sufficiently original if not too painfully grotesque. at shanghai, certainly, many thousands of ponies are employed, but it is owing entirely to the influence and example of europeans. the majority of men taking up appointments in china are barely out of, if not still in, their teens, and whether they come straight from school, from business in the city or from the universities, it is seldom they have had any large experience of horses. in very many cases they do not even know how to mount, but finding ponies so cheap, or, better still, getting a discarded racer as a cumshaw, they take to riding as naturally as if to the manner born, so that there are but few residents of either sex who cannot ride, and china ponies consequently hold a place in the estimation of foreigners which is altogether denied them by the natives. from hacking to racing is but a step. the man who has learnt to ride (or thinks he has), being already a member of the race club, takes his steed for a quiet canter round the course. the old racer no sooner finds himself on the familiar track than he is off with the speed of flames, and our young friend, being powerless to check him, with his feet out of the stirrups and hanging on to the back of the saddle for dear life, is carried a mile or so before a sudden swerve at the exit rail deposits him on the turf. no bones are broken but the damage is done. unless the dismounted cavalier be devoid of all enthusiasm the spirit of racing has assuredly entered his veins! in future he will haunt the course with his own luckless hack, he will attend the training regularly each morning in hopes of getting a mount on any rank outsider, and will think of little else all day than riding and ponies. to some men riding comes naturally, like cricket, while others can never acquire a good seat. a light-weight who is fortunate enough to possess the necessary knack will soon be in request as jockey at the forthcoming meeting, when, if he should happen to secure a win, the confidence it immediately gives him does more than any other thing to transform him into a really good horseman. it costs no more to feed a good pony than it does a bad one, so he now decides to dispose of his hack for a trifling sum, and in its stead to purchase a griffin, which may be a potential winner of the champions. he orders his mafoo to inspect the new season's griffins as they arrive, and arrange with the dealer to bring three or four of the best for his approval. this the mafoo does with great pleasure, as, apart from the keen interest he takes in racing--all chinese being inveterate gamblers--it is an understood thing that he will receive a good cumshaw from his master for each race that his stable wins. in due course the unbroken, shoeless, mud-covered animals arrive, and the dealer, perched on a high wooden saddle, trots them up and down to show off their paces. in england the would-be purchaser of a horse carefully feels each leg to make sure that there be neither splint nor curb, lifts up and examines the hoofs, grasps the lower lip with one hand and draws out the tongue with the other to study the teeth, and peers closely into the animal's face to see that his eyes are unblemished. on approaching a griffin one becomes conscious of being closely watched by a vicious eye, and oftentimes the brute, snorting with anger and alarm at the unaccustomed sight and smell of a european, attempts to rush at one, while the idea of feeling his legs, drawing out his tongue, examining his hoofs or peering into his eyes quickly evaporates. one would rather fondle a bengal tiger! an adjournment is next made to the race-course, where the ponies are powed by the dealer for half-a-mile, when the action of each can be observed and the times taken by stop-watch. in this manner a rough idea can be formed as to which of the animals are likely to possess the necessary turn of speed, and that is as much information as can now be obtained, for as to soundness, age and stamina the dealer's assurances on these points must be accepted as the only evidence procurable. in the end one, and very probably two, are purchased at from sixty to seventy dollars each, and the erstwhile embryo jock has blossomed into the dignity of ownership. the first thing to do with a griffin is to get him shod, which is not quite so simple a matter as one might imagine, for he has hitherto never passed through the farrier's hands and will be certain to fiercely object. no attempt is made to perform the operation by gentleness, and he is forthwith led under a kind of oblong, wooden arch about six feet high, constructed of four firmly-planted posts, connected on top by cross beams. ropes passed under his belly and over the cross beams keep him from throwing himself down, while each leg is securely lashed to one of the posts, and thus being rendered absolutely powerless, the work is quickly put through. there is generally a struggle in mounting each new arrival, but with a couple of mafoos hanging on to his ears, and sometimes by enveloping his head in a horse-cloth, it is eventually managed. the first timidity soon wears off, and you find that after a short distance there is no more trouble, the animal being probably in poor condition and lacking the nervousness of finer breeds. several days of scraping and grooming having removed the dust and dirt with which his shaggy coat was filled, he is clipped and his tail shortened. the transformation is almost startling. you now have quite a smart-looking mount as china ponies go, and while riding him daily to improve his condition you will soon discover any marked characteristics. he rarely gets over his dislike for europeans although perfectly docile with chinese, and it is seldom that he will allow even his own master to enter the stall. a black griffin which i bought at peking seemed to me so quiet that on an expedition of some days into the country i fed, groomed and saddled him myself, until quite convinced that we had become friends, and it was not till after my return that, in passing through the stables, he rushed at me with open mouth, only the strength of a raw-hide headstall saving me from being savaged. what applies to one applies to all. their tempers are untrustworthy. many have the disagreeable trick of "cow-kicking," which usually occurs on mounting, when they kick forward with the near hind leg and may inflict a nasty blow. invariably hard-mouthed, occasionally buck-jumpers, altogether without manners, and in trotting mostly slow and jerky, they are but a poor apology for the gentle and graceful horse as found in western countries. on the other hand, they make capital race-ponies, for they are fast gallopers, and for their size can carry astounding weights. they are also very good for cross-country work, as, in addition to being fair jumpers, their great strength enables them to plough through country which would tax the powers of an english hunter, but the greatest consideration of all is their cheapness, for it places them within the reach of sporting men with small incomes. a certain number of australian horses are now imported into hongkong and shanghai, but owing to the stringencies of the chinese climate it is very doubtful whether so great additional outlay as the long sea voyage involves is compensated for by the walers' evident superiorities. assuming that, having had a griffin for some time, he is in good condition, a period of six or seven weeks is sufficient in which to prepare him for the races. for training purposes, oats and hay imported from california are preferable, but adhering to native produce, a diet of boiled barley, chopped straw and bran will do nearly as well. most of the important exercise is gone through at early morning between six and half-past seven, when the ponies are trotted and galloped on the course, and when all sporting members of the community, stop-watch in hand, assemble at the rails, or follow proceedings from the grand-stand while breakfasting on hot rolls and coffee. on return to stables, thorough dressing, with much rubbing of the legs, takes place, while an hour's brisk walking from eleven o'clock to twelve, and again in the afternoon, completes the day's work. [illustration: the old grand-stand, hankow races, . _to face page ._] each animal requires individual treatment, and it is the owner who best knows how to apply it that will bring his ponies to the post in the fittest condition. carrying from ten to eleven stone according to measurement, good time for half a mile would be fifty-nine seconds, for a mile, two minutes eight seconds, and for a mile and a half, three minutes fifteen seconds. in dry weather it is an advantage for ponies to race without shoes, but if the course be wet or muddy they are absolutely necessary to prevent slipping. the jockeys are all amateur and mostly personal friends, as also are the clerk of the course, starters, judges and stewards, so that instead of a race-meeting being a gathering of complete strangers, bookmakers and professionals, it partakes more of the social nature of a huge picnic. during the winter months a great feature of sport in shanghai is paperchasing on horseback. the meets are usually held on saturday afternoons, when business offices are closed, and a field of seventy or eighty is no uncommon sight. two members of the club lay the scent, but while free to choose any line of country, they must not lead the trail over jumps or obstacles which their own ponies have failed to negotiate. at the hour advertised the master gives a signal and the hunt is away. through wades and creeks, over water-jumps and graves, across gardens and paddy fields, the gay throng sweeps on at high speed, until a welcome check brings relief to man and beast and allows the stragglers to close up. after a short delay the trail is again hit off and the field streams away, but in ever-decreasing numbers, until a mere handful sight the flags which mark the finish, and ride their hardest at the final jump, the first light-weight and the first welter to cross which are thereafter entitled to sport pink and gain the honour of laying scent for the succeeding hunt. the sport is extremely good though very rough, which is mainly owing to the marshy nature of the soil and the fact that as the chinese do not here raise banks or hedges between their fields the jumping is mostly over water and dry ditches of considerable width and depth, which accounts for a goodly number of nasty spills. although compensation for damage to crops is awarded by the hunt club, considerable care must be taken to guard against traps wilfully laid by the natives, who frequently remove the trail from its proper course and lay it over almost impossible jumps, which they further render extremely dangerous by digging holes in the opposite banks and covering them with leaves and rubbish, after doing which they take up safe positions of vantage to enjoy the fun. in autumn, when the waters of the yangtse commence to fall and the inundated districts along its banks become dry, the plain at hankow affords excellent riding, where for miles one can swing along at a hand-gallop without once having to draw rein. in spring, when covered with fresh, green grass, it possesses an additional charm, and until rising waters once more confine riding to the race-course and the river bank, there are few places in china where such magnificent gallops can be obtained. when summer floods at kiukiang drove our ponies from their mat stables on the other side of the creek to the higher ground of the concession, and turned most of the surrounding country into an immense lake, we were in considerable perplexity as to where we should take our afternoon rides, until the brilliant idea was conceived of utilising the city wall, which stands about twenty feet in height, and is four miles in circumference. entering by the western gate and turning sharply to the right we rode up the stone steps, much worn by time and human feet, to the top of the wall, which is some twelve feet in width. picking our way carefully, for the route was strewn with loose stones and bricks, we usually made the circuit twice before descending. where the steps adjoin the wall two large right angles are formed, into which chinese houses have been built in such a manner that their roofs are conterminous with, and slope at the same angle as, the steps, rendering it possible to pass from one to the other with the greatest of ease. as a friend of mine was passing this point for the second time his pony tried to bolt down the steps with the intention of returning to stable. a violent pull at the near rein brought the brute's head round, but without stopping him, so that he passed sideways from the steps on to the roof of one of the houses, and together with his rider instantly disappeared through it, amidst a cloud of dust, a crashing of timbers and the rattle of falling tiles. emerging from the _débris_, and smothered with dust, my friend led his pony through the front door into the street, where a crowd had already collected, neither apparently any the worse for their remarkable feat. an old woman who was in the building at the time had a narrow escape from being crushed by the falling animal, but she soon recovered from the shock, and a liberal sum in dollars with which to repair the roof probably caused her to regret that similar accidents did not more frequently befall. at peking, where for a time i was clerk of the course, a most remarkable incident occurred, for the accuracy of which i had irrefutable proof. a pony named "chalk," which i had purchased from a chinese soldier for twenty-five dollars, had carried all before him at the previous autumn meeting, for which reason i was naturally greatly attached to him, and he, although an extremely vicious animal towards others, tolerated me with a forbearance but rarely met with in a china pony. at the succeeding spring meeting chalk was a hot favourite for the principal events. the evening before the races i passed with several friends, when the chances of different ponies, and of chalk in particular, were discussed till a late hour. that night i dreamed that after i had been riding chalk, i was standing dismounted and holding the reins, on a plot of grass surrounded with trees, while the pony was lying on the ground. raising his head and neck two or three times in attempts to get up he finally struggled into a sitting position, standing on his forelegs but with his haunches on the ground, and then sank back dead. the dream was so vivid and left such an impression on me, that by way of conversation, and without attaching the slightest importance to it, i related the circumstance in practically the same words as employed here, to a russian friend, who accompanied me early next morning to the course. again, on the grand-stand, a quarter of an hour or so before the races commenced, i laughingly told a son of the dutch minister of my dream, explaining the circumstances and the scene in full. looking in the pink of condition, chalk came out for the first event, one mile, and won hands down by several lengths. after dismounting in the enclosure and weighing in, i was being convoyed by my friends to the bar in order to celebrate the victory in champagne, when i heard someone say, "look at chalk!" turning round, i saw him staggering backwards as if he had been struck a heavy blow on the head. as i rushed forward and seized the reins by which the mafoo had been leading him, he fell to the ground, and there on the club lawn, surrounded with trees, exactly as seen in my dream, he attempted to rise two or three times, eventually getting into a sitting position, and then falling back was dead in less than ten seconds. my russian friend was aghast, and pressed into my hand a small coin, which he said would keep off the evil spirits, but i was then too much concerned at the loss of my favourite to pay heed to either spirits or dreams, although i had instantly recognised both the scene and the locality, the only difference being that the sympathising crowd which now pressed round me and my fallen steed had been absent in the vision. i am not a believer in dreams, and possessing an excellent digestion but rarely have any, and for this one can offer no explanation beyond that it was a most remarkable coincidence. at the time it created quite a mild sensation amongst the european community, while the chinese who heard of it were extremely interested. my russian and dutch friends i have since met on several occasions, when, in the presence of others, we talked of my dream and its fulfilment. both in peking and in the various parts of china where i have since been stationed, i have frequently related the occurrence to chinese acquaintances, and they have always given an interpretation of it which has invariably been to the effect that in this world, or in a previous existence, i either lent money or did a great service to some friend, who, dying before repayment had been made, came back to earth in the form of a horse, and after winning for me sufficient money to discharge his debt, returned to the realms of departed spirits. "the hague, "_ th march _. "my dear ready,--in reply to yours of rd i will certainly gladly corroborate the incident regarding chalk's death. i do not remember exactly the details as you put them to me now, though i have not the least doubt they were the true features of the case. what i do still remember is this: that you gave ---- and myself a somewhat circumstantial account of your dream shortly before the race; that immediately after the death of the pony you came up to us and called attention to the remarkable fulfilment of your dream, and that i was at the time much impressed with the case, both as regards the main fact and the details, which tallied remarkably with what i could then still remember of your prophetic account of the event. whether to look upon this as some 'borderland' manifestation or merely as a remarkable coincidence does not belong to the province of,-- "yours very truly, "t.t.h. ferguson." my russian friend has long since returned to the dominions of the great white czar and i have not his address, otherwise i feel confident that he, too, would gladly support with his testimony my account of this remarkable occurrence. chapter v sailing a good national motto for the chinese would be "_semper idem_," for of a truth they change not and as yet the shadow of turning is but ill-defined. the same types of junk that called forth the admiration of marco polo may be seen to-day, not only along the internal waterways of the empire but far afield, at singapore, in siamese waters and amongst the east india islands, and it may be interesting for yachtsmen to know that the problems of water-tight compartments, centre-boards, balanced and perforated rudders, which during the past few decades have exercised the minds of designers and builders in this country, were solved many centuries ago by the chinese, and almost every junk afloat contains some, and not unfrequently all, of these equipments. in the stormy waters of the formosa channel, where the monsoons raise a mountainous sea, thousands of fishing-boats, far out of sight of land, ply their business in weather which would cause the masters of english smacks to run for shelter. mail steamers on the voyage between hongkong and shanghai pass through these fleets and their miles upon miles of bamboo-floated nets, and oftentimes it occurs that a good view of some of the craft may be obtained from deck at the distance of only a few yards, when it can be seen that their crews consist not of men alone as in other countries but of whole families--fathers, mothers, children and infants--whose home is in reality on the rolling deep. that many of these hardy souls perish at their work is a certainty, for it frequently happens that steamers sight their luckless craft bottoms upwards or rescue survivors from the wreckage. out of shanghai harbour cumbersome junks make their ways across the yellow sea to ports along the northern coasts or to the hermit kingdom of corea. these vessels have frequently five or six masts spread out like a fan, from the foremast, which rakes forrard at an extraordinary angle, to the mizzenmast, which shoots well out over the stern. ill-shaped sails of matting, ropes made of twisted bamboo splits, hemp, or cocoa-nut fibre, huge wooden anchors, and a total absence of paint lend to them a most ramshackle and unseaworthy appearance, while clothes drying on the line, cocks crowing, pigs rambling about at will, plants growing in pots and old tins, together with the presence of women and children, introduce a rustic and farmlike element, and it is always a matter of wonder to me how these floating curiosity shops are able to thread their ways unaided through tortuous channels and crowded shipping out to sea, and when once there, why they do not succumb to the first rough weather they encounter. taken as a whole, chinese junks are but roughly built, and though generally excellent sea-boats and easily handled, their sailing powers are poor when compared with corresponding european craft of similar tonnage. a peculiar custom is the supplying of all vessels, whether steamers, junks or sampans, with large eyes, which are painted one on either side of the bows and as a reason for which any chinaman will explain to you--"s'pose no got eye, no can see. s'pose no can see, how fashion can walkee." another thing to be noted is that all sails without exception have bamboo reefing battens, which although destroying the smooth set of the canvas are infinitely superior to our reefing points, inasmuch as the largest sail can be reefed from deck, or rather reefs itself, just as quickly as the capstan can lower it, and without that hard work, waste of time and risk which going aloft or along the spars in bad weather necessarily entails. up the mighty river yangtse different types of junks may be numbered by the hundred, all varying in tonnage, dimensions and draught according to the waters they are designed to navigate. [illustration: foochow junk, showing eye. _to face page ._] in the estuary, and as far up as chinkiang, sea-going papicoes from ningpo are to be seen in great numbers. these gaily-painted vessels of from twenty to eighty tons, with their high freeboards, wide sterns, raking masts, tanned sails and gaudy vanes, are extremely quaint and picturesque. _via_ the grand canal, which connects tientsin with hangchow, great quantities of tribute rice are forwarded by chinese officials from the central and southern provinces to their manchu rulers in the north, every manchu, owing to the bare fact that he is of the ruling race, being entitled from his birth to a monthly allowance of rice and silver, and as the canal crosses the yangtse at chinkiang many deep-draught grain junks may be seen arriving there with cargoes from various places on the river. a few miles higher up, at a place called iching, there are always scores of junks anchored in orderly rows waiting to load salt as it arrives overland from the sea-coast, where, being a government monopoly, it is manufactured in saltpans under official supervision. both the grain junks and the salt junks possess a certain official status, and are therefore kept in far better trim than the ordinary trader, and ranging anywhere from sixty to one hundred and fifty tons, are probably the best class of craft which frequent inland waters. they are heavily built, with good beam and watertight compartments. their lines, while forbidding any thought of speed, are not ungraceful, and eminently suitable for weight carrying. with square, massive bows they thicken away aft, until, curving upwards with a bold sweep of the gunnels, their covered-in sterns, high above the balanced rudder, form good quarters for the lowdah and his family, where from tiny windows women and children peep in shy curiosity at the foreigner sailing by. the mainmast, an enormous spar of some sixty or seventy feet in length, is stepped almost amidships in a kind of tabernacle, and has neither stays nor shrouds, its only visible support being a wooden prop, which a few feet above the deck takes part of the pressure when running before the wind, so that on gazing up at its dizzy height one continually wonders why in heavy weather it does not go by the board or pound its way through the bottom of the vessel. the foremast, which is considerably smaller and stepped well forrard, is in like manner devoid of any kind of stay. each mast sets one enormous sail of graceful shape, and but loosely made of a coarse, native material, resembling cheap calico. the cloths, running vertically, are interwoven with the bamboo reefing battens, and though but lightly stitched together, seem capable of withstanding an enormous strain. varnished a light yellow, which shimmers in the sun, and displaying gaudy banners on which the signs of the guilds to which they belong are printed in large characters, it is a beautiful sight to watch a fleet of these stately ships glide by, with their towering sails goose-winged before the breeze, and churning up the waters with their blunt, unyielding prows. amongst the elaborate system of guilds which permeates chinese society, one of the most meritorious is the lifeboat guild. apart from official aid and direction, it is mostly supported by voluntary contributions, and to an extent which allows of lifeboats being stationed at many points of danger. in fine weather these "red-boats," as, owing to their usual colour, they are commonly called, lay up in creeks or shelters while the crews pass their time at leisure, but as soon as a storm arises they immediately put out and ride to a drift-anchor, ready at a moment's notice to hoist sail and dash to the rescue of any craft in distress. at hankow, where a north-easterly gale against a four-knot current raises a choppy and heavy sea most dangerous for small craft, i have seen four red-boats racing from different directions to rescue the occupants of a capsized sampan. with sails fully hoisted before the gale and smothered by the waves, in an incredibly short time they were on the scene of the accident, where, rounding to, the work of salvage was carried out in a most plucky and seamanlike manner. these boats have no stem, the bows, which are square and about four feet in width, sloping away underneath in a gentle curve, so that their tendency is to skim over the water like a dish instead of cutting through it. they are decked forrard flush with the gunnel for nearly half their length, when a low cabin takes up the space as far as the well, which is quite aft. flat-bottomed, and using lee-boards, they draw very little water, while a single mast and sail of the light and convenient chinese pattern render them extremely handy. hand-lines are looped round the sides in the customary manner, but there is no cork belt. their qualities are so good that our own national lifeboat institution would do well to study the model for use in places where a sandy beach and shoal water make it sometimes impossible to launch the type of lifeboat now in general use. gun-boats, or police junks, are ubiquitous. a very low freeboard and no cabin, with the exception of a kind of deck-house quite aft, where the helmsman stands, one mast hoisting a gracefully-cut sail with alternate blue and white cloths, a small muzzle-loading cannon in the bows, and a crew of ten or a dozen in quaint uniforms, who, when wind fails, take to the sweeps, and standing up facing the direction in which they are going, and keeping good time, propel the boat at a fair pace. when at anchor an awning in blue and white stripes affords a commodious shelter. being official vessels they are spic and span in light yellow varnish, and frequently fly a number of really beautiful flags of marvellous design and brilliant colouring. the _tout-ensemble_ is smart, weird, pleasing and eminently suitable for a drury lane pantomime. of shallow draught, and of size varying in accordance with the waters they are destined to patrol, i have seen them as large as twenty tons and as small as a skiff, having an old flint gingall mounted forrard with all the circumstance of a -inch gun. between the treaty-port of ichang, which is a thousand miles from the sea, and the treaty-port of chungking, which is four hundred miles higher up, lie the celebrated yangtse gorges. ichang is, for all practical purposes, the present terminus of steamship traffic, for although a few small steamers have passed through the gorges and reached chungking, there have been many failures, and one german vessel, the ss. _shuihsiang_, built expressly for the run, was dashed on the rocks and sank when on her maiden trip. the scenery of the gorges is the grandest i have ever seen, and made a greater impression on me than even that of the rocky mountains. my trip there was in the month of november, when the river was low and the current slack, albeit it raced by at five or six miles an hour. having hired a suitable boat at ichang we set sail before a strong up-river breeze, and by carefully following all indentations of the river bank managed to keep in fairly slack water, until we reached a point where the gorges actually commence. here a tow-line was got out, and by the frantic efforts of half-a-dozen trackers, in addition to the sail, we slowly forged ahead but at not more than two miles an hour, although the foam breaking over our bows and a broad wake astern showed that we were passing through the water at the rate of eight or nine. the gorges are where the mighty river has forced a passage through a lofty range of mountains, which barred its progress to the sea. seated on my tiny craft, and gazing up at the towering cliffs which rise almost perpendicularly for hundreds and sometimes thousands of feet on either side, i could see caves, terraces and strata, which indicate with a marvellous distinctness the different levels of the river, as during untold ages it has eaten its way through solid rock and stone to its present bed. this manifestation of the irresistible forces of nature produces a singularly sobering effect on the mind by making one keenly feel how utterly insignificant we mortals really are. along ledges on the beetling cliffs the ubiquitous chinaman has built his home and planted orange groves, so that far overhead rich clusters of golden fruit lend an effective touch of colour to the beauty and majesty of the scene. all junks in use between chungking and ichang are built with a view to navigating the numerous rapids occurring in the gorges, and are chiefly remarkable for their abnormally high sterns, which, in the event of grounding on a sandbank while descending with a ten-knot current, serve as a protection against being pooped. one or two masts with the ordinary chinese sails, an immense sweep in the bows as an aid in turning, and a strong rudder with an enormous tiller, are the chief items of equipment. on the voyage down, which takes less than a week, a crew of ten or a dozen would be sufficient for a medium-sized junk, but for the return journey against stream, and which takes from four to eight weeks according to the strength of the current, from forty to a hundred trackers are necessary in addition to the regular hands. as in the gorges the river is liable to freshets, which in a few hours may cause a rise of thirty or forty feet, the foreshore is at an uncertain height, for which reason, probably, no towing-paths have been made. upward-bound junks, in addition to their sails, have an immense hawser, made of twisted bamboo splits, leading from the top of the mainmast to the river bank, and to the shore end of which, for a length of about forty to a hundred feet, the trackers fasten the yokes, with one of which each man is supplied, and which are long enough to admit a play of ten or fifteen feet on either side of the cable. it is a stirring sight to see a big junk being bodily forced by wind and manual power against a strong current. the trackers swarm over rocks and mounds along the foreshore like a pack of hounds, singing, laughing and shouting as they go, the mainmast bends beneath the heavy strain, the hawser is cleared from jutting boulders by intrepid swimmers, who in pursuit of their vocation must often plunge into the racing torrent, and the vessel roars through the water with foaming bows, though the progress made may be but a few yards within the hour, while if, as frequently occurs, the hawser carries away, she is whirled three or four miles down stream before the crew can again bring her to anchor by the bank. wrecks are numerous in this seething maelstrom, and a heavy toll in lives is taken from the brave and hardy fellows whose lot is cast by these waters of strife. it was on this trip that i saw a chinaman fishing with the help of an otter. the animal had a long cord fastened round its neck like a ferret, and was attached by it to the bows of a sampan, which was rowed by a woman, while the fisherman, standing on the fore part, gathered in his hands a net, circular in shape and having a hole in the centre large enough to admit the otter. on arriving at a suitable spot the net was cast with a sweep of the arm, so that like a spider's web it spread over a considerable area of water. heavily weighted at the edges it sank quickly until the leads rested on the bottom of the river. the fisherman then hauled at a line until the hole in the centre appeared above the surface, when the otter, plunging through it, dived inside the net, quickly to reappear with a fish in its mouth, whereon he was unceremoniously hauled on board and his prey taken from him, after which he was again ushered through the hole into the folds of the net. while stationed at kiukiang i possessed a teak-built four-oared gig which, being heavy and strong, i rigged with a jib and mainsail, besides adding six inches to her keel, when she proved to be a handy and seaworthy little craft. an iron framework could be erected over the stern-sheets and covered with a canvas hood, thus forming quite a roomy and comfortable cabin, while a light awning protected the well of the boat, so that i was quite able to make trips in her extending over two or three days. from time to time natives had spoken to me of a purple lake where, they said, but few europeans had ever been, and along the shores of which good shooting could be found. this sounded sufficiently alluring, so, the opportunity offering, i started on a voyage of discovery in my gig, taking with me a couple of trusty native boatmen. mounting the yangtse for a short distance we entered a narrow creek, along which we were carried by a swift current between walls of reeds so tall that they effectually shut off the wind. at dark we tied up near a village, from which dozens of dogs presently arrived, and which when not fighting amongst themselves barked at us throughout the night with the most exasperating persistence. mosquitoes also were particularly numerous, so that with the first streak of dawn we were only too thankful to cast off and continue our journey. during the morning we passed through pleasant scenery, and i observed a heronry in some dead trees on the left, while a deer swam the creek two hundred yards ahead of the boat; the lake being reached shortly before noon. it was a refreshing sight. clear, sparkling water dotted with fishing-boats and wild-fowl, little green-capped islands with white cliffs and a range of lofty mountains in the background. after a swim and a hearty tiffin we sailed on with a good breeze, exploring the different arms of the lake, until about three o'clock, when i landed with my gun. the country, though hilly, was richly cultivated, the principal crop being tobacco, and after a delightful walk i returned on board with a brace of pheasants and a woodcock. that night we passed in comfort anchored in a tiny bay sheltered by lofty cliffs, and the morning was well aired before our cruise was resumed. at the further end of the lake what at first appeared to be a stately town was seen rising from the water's edge and reflected on its glistening surface, but a nearer approach revealed the inevitable shabbiness and ruin which distance had concealed and mirage had beautified. a fisherman informed us that it was the "purple city." later on i landed on some low ground, and walking amongst the paddy fields bagged ten couple of snipe in less than an hour, after which we sailed on again up a narrow arm of the lake with beautiful cliffs and wooded hills on either side. arriving at the end of this inlet we anchored for tiffin, and early in the afternoon commenced to beat back against a northerly wind. during the morning i had observed a number of boats crossing the lake from all directions and converging on a certain point, and now, on rounding a sharp headland, we suddenly found ourselves in the midst of hundreds of craft of many descriptions, each bearing a load of gaily-dressed holiday-makers, while several long canoes, each paddled by twenty or thirty men, raced backwards and forwards to a great beating of gongs and a firing of guns. it was the dragon-boat festival, and no sooner were we observed than all these boats immediately closed round in order that their occupants might more closely inspect the european and his strange-looking craft. far from my presence being resented i was most courteously treated, and after many questions had been put and answered by either side, a race of the dragon-boats was given for my particular edification, while as they sped by i fired a salute from my winchester, which evidently gave immense satisfaction. i would here observe that wherever my wanderings in china have led me i have never been molested, nor, beyond the epithet of "foreign devil" applied freely by boys from a safe distance, have i been insulted. while this is not the experience of many, i am obliged to confess that the fault does not lie wholly with the natives. i have noticed men enter a village with guns, dogs and a tribe of beaters, and to an old inhabitant, who courteously bowed his welcome, one of them shouted roughly, "well, johnnie, how are you?" the aged celestial, not understanding a word though comprehending the roughness, remained silent, whereon the european exclaimed insolently, "who are you staring at, you old fool?" at this point the village dogs, excited by such an unexpected invasion, commenced to bark, and were instantly stoned by the intruders, so that the old chinaman, to avoid being struck, hurried into his house and closed the door, while the sportsmen and their troop passed through the sleepy hamlet like a whirlwind, scaring women, children, fowls and pigs and disgusting the inhabitants by their uncouthness. such behaviour, i fear, is only too common. in my experience it is seldom that a courteous bearing does not meet with immediate friendly response. as the wind was dropping and there were signs of rain i left my new-made friends and returned to the little bay beneath the cliffs, where we had spent the previous night. before dark the rain was coming down steadily, but having rigged tarpaulins over the hood and awning we so far kept dry and comfortable. in the middle of the night i was awakened by a torrential downpour and by the roar of a heavy gale as it swept over the cliffs high above our heads. despite the tarpaulins the wet found its way in and soaked us to the skin, so that with daylight we were glad to make preparations for returning to kiukiang. the awning we took in, but the lashings of the tarpaulins which covered the hood were so tightened by moisture that it was impossible to unknot them, and so the structure was left standing. starting off under the jib alone with the wind dead astern, it was not until the shelter of the cliffs had been left and return was already impossible that i realised what we were in for. the gale was a perfect hurricane, before which we flew at a tremendous pace. the further we left the land the higher the swell became, until it suddenly dawned on me that our chances of covering the four or five miles before reaching the creek were not very bright. i have not been in many tight places, but this certainly was one. the boatmen had realised our dangerous straits, and failing at the pinch, as i have seen chinamen do before and since, crouched down with faces blanched to putty and almost too terror-stricken to bail out the water which we shipped in ever-increasing quantities. a thick mist of driven spray covered the surface of the lake, and the boat rolled wildly in the waves, which although not very high were short and heavy and hissed as if in a rapid. we should have been swamped over the stern again and again had it not been for the hood, which more by good fortune than by design i had left standing. the tiller happily was a long one, and by exerting all my strength we kept a fairly straight course, eventually dashing through clouds of driven foam into the creek, though in a half-swamped condition. we had got off scot-free, but it had been touch and go. if the hood and tarpaulins had failed to keep out the seas we should have been pooped, and if the jib-sheets had carried away or the rudder become unshipped we should have broached to, when immediate destruction would have been our lot. the remainder of the journey was simple enough, and in a few hours we were safely back in port. both at hongkong and shanghai, where the european population numbers several thousands, there is a yacht club, each containing several up-to-date classes, ranging from half-raters to fifteen-tonners, and regattas under various conditions are of frequent occurrence. these clubs, as well as the yachts, being practically identical with those in this country, it is unnecessary to enter into details. at hongkong the sailing is on a bright, blue sea, whether in the magnificent harbour or amongst the numerous lovely islands, while at shanghai it is on the muddy waters of the whangpoo, which, except for the fact that it is the harbour of this thriving settlement, where scores of vessels of all sizes and nationalities ride at anchor or are berthed alongside wharves, is a small and uninteresting river flowing into the estuary of the yangtse. from the ancient portuguese colony of macao, distant forty miles from hongkong and celebrated as the home of the poet camoëns, come fleets of fishing-boats, which, in pursuit of their calling, cruise amongst the islands in the delta of the west river. these "macao junks" are about the best sea-boats and the fastest sailers of all chinese vessels. built on graceful lines, and of light material, they possess the buoyancy of a duck, rarely shipping water even in the heaviest sea, while with two masts carrying well-shaped sails of matting, immense perforated, balanced rudders, and being of light draught, they handle so well that they can turn a complete circle in their own length. while unable to sail as close to the wind as a yacht, their chief point is in running, when with huge sails set on either side they will tear along at a pace perfectly astounding for craft of their unpretentious build and rig. during a pleasant two years' sojourn in this colony i sailed a smart little cutter of about one and a half tons, so that i was able to thoroughly test the merits of these junks, and while rather more than holding my own on all points in a light breeze, i could only make a good show in strong winds and rough water when sailing full and by, and was considerably outpaced in running free. although these waters are infested with pirates and smugglers, as evidenced by such names as "dead man's grave," "robbers' point," "grave island," "pirates' creek" and the like, europeans are but seldom molested, and although generally taking my winchester as a precautionary measure when going any distance from port, i have spent many delightful days in standing out to sea, sailing through the numerous creeks with which the hinterland is intersected, or in cruising amongst the islands, on which sometimes i would land, and creeping round the rocky shores with my gun would frequently surprise wildfowl feeding amongst the shallow bays and pools. at other times, in company with a convivial friend, i would get under way in the cool of the evening, and after running out to sea for an hour or so to enjoy the night breezes setting in from the pacific, and perhaps laying to for a swim, we would return to the lovely bay, and dropping anchor off the praia grande dine by moonlight to the strains of the portuguese military band, which played two or three times weekly either at the governor's palace or in the public gardens, both of which overlooked the sea. when on a trip up the sikiang or west river from canton to wuchow, i observed many junks fitted with what may be described as an adjustable cut-water or bow-board. these vessels, having great beam and perfectly flat bottoms, would only draw a few inches, and as their provenance was evidently from shallow waters, where neither keels, centre-boards nor lee-boards could be employed, recourse was had to enormous rudders and these cut-waters as a means of hauling a wind, the device apparently answering fairly well. as far as i could see, a deep groove was cut along the stem, and the bow-board, perhaps three feet in width, was slipped into it and made fast at the top with a lashing. in beating to windward these cut-waters were in position, but when running free they were unshipped and laid on the foredeck. wherever foreigners congregate, but more especially at shanghai and up the yangtse, the house-boat, combining comfort, convenience and fair sailing powers, is a favourite means of getting about on shooting trips and picnics, and altogether forms an important feature of the pleasant existence which we lead in the far east. the hull usually resembles that of a light-draught yacht, with either a drop-keel or lee-boards, so that shallow creeks may be readily entered. in rig they are semi-chinese, the shape of the sail being that of the ordinary balanced lug, which bamboo reefing battens with a sheet-line leading from the extremity of each to the main-sheet render extremely handy and safe. a jib can also be set, but as it destroys the simplicity of the rig it is greatly disliked by the crew and therefore seldom utilised. the particular craft which i have now in mind is an excellent sea-boat, fast and comfortable, has a fine cabin with four berths, tables folding on either side of the centre-board well, and capable of seating a dozen, stove, gun-racks, glass and bottle brackets and numerous lockers. there is also a bathroom and lavatory, a kitchen with good cooking range, quarters forrard for the crew--which consists of the lowdah and four sailors, together with cook, boy and dog-coolie--while on deck are the water-tanks, kennels, and a small sampan by way of a jolly. replete with every comfort, a shooting-box for the sportsman and a sure refuge for the overworked, the house-boat represents to me the acme of leisure and repose. "and the night shall be fill'd with music, and the cares that infest the day shall fold their tents like the arabs, and as silently steal away." chapter vi jamborees it is nearing twenty years ago since i celebrated my last bump supper in my old college at cambridge, but the remembrance of it is so bright and cheering in the monotony of daily life that time is much abridged, and it seems but yesterday that the two pailfuls of smoking milk punch worked such deadly havoc amongst four crews of well-trained men that ultimately they were mostly laid out in a row, with consequent sore heads and interviews with the dean next morning. a bump supper is an orgy never to be forgotten. a jamboree is a very analogous function. where and what the word comes from i do not know, but its meaning in the far east is universally understood to be a bachelor entertainment consisting of an enormous dinner with plenty of wine, tales, songs and general hilarity, occasionally verging on riotousness with breakage of household furniture and other effects. as i glance back over the past fifteen years such wild nights stand out like beacons in pleasing relief from the many respectable gatherings, be it in church or society, at which i have had the honour of assisting, but which have left no impressions sufficiently vivid to class them with treasured souvenirs or even provoke a smile. some years since there visited hankow a personage of exalted rank, who, being a near kinsman of one of the most powerful of europe's present rulers, was received with patriotic enthusiasm by the large colony of his nationals domiciled there, and with every mark of respect by all other members of the cosmopolitan community. his arrival in one of the fine chinese river-boats was signalised by what might have been a fatal catastrophe but for the skilful manoeuvring of his ship by the veteran american skipper. just as the vessel had threaded her way through numerous ocean steamers and foreign gun-boats anchored in the stream, and was slowly approaching the hulk alongside which she was to be made fast, an enormous raft of timber, bearing a whole village of huts and a considerable population of raft navigators, caught by the swirling eddy caused by a freshet from the river han, which yards above this point was pouring at right angles into the mighty yangtse's five-knot current, bore swiftly down on the steamer, threatening to strike her amidships and either pin her to the hulk or crush her against the stone-faced bund, when she must have been immediately sunk. unaware of the danger until it was almost upon him, the captain had just time to reverse his engines, and by going full speed astern with the helm hard over bring his ship round so as to receive the threatened blow end on instead of abeam. the impact nearly drove the vessel's stern into the hulk, but with her engines now going full speed ahead, and churning up two white lanes of foam with her paddle-wheels, she rammed her bows into the raft, and just managing to deflect its course they floated down with the stream locked together, until by a miracle they had passed clear of all the shipping, though at times only by a few feet, and the steamer with her illustrious passenger again bore up for her berth, after the narrowest of escapes but without having sustained the slightest damage. these enormous rafts, composed chiefly of bamboos and pines, generally come from the forests of hunan, and after crossing the tongting lake float down the yangtse to places where wood is scarce and a good market obtains. they vary in size, but sometimes are a hundred yards in length by twenty in breadth, and draw probably from ten to twenty feet. with their huts of bamboo and matting, with long sweeps both ahead and astern for steering, and great coils of plaited bamboo ropes for mooring purposes, they present an extremely picturesque appearance. amongst other festivities arranged by his compatriots in honour of the distinguished visitor, a banquet, preceded by a reception of prominent residents, was given at the club. it being almost midsummer, the weather was fearfully hot, the thermometer registering over ninety after sundown, and as a notification had been issued with all invitations that black evening dress would be _de rigueur_ we were debarred from wearing our cool, white mess jackets, and all arrived at the club almost melting inside thick broadcloths. a very amusing little episode occurred at the reception. amongst the few ladies present were the wife and daughter of a western official. they had evidently been "raised" away from the beaten tracks of society and crowned heads had not been their daily companions. on this party being presented, the official and his wife preserved a diplomatic silence, but mademoiselle was not inclined to take things for granted, and seeing neither golden crown nor purple robe she evidently had misgivings. "are you really the grand duke?" she inquired with striking accent; "are you really a prince?" the prince smilingly replied that such was the case, on which his fair interrogator exclaimed, "oh, my! i _am_ surprised," and then slowly retired from the front but with many backward glances of unconcealed disappointment. a large number of residents had received the honour of an invitation, probably a hundred sitting down, and, as is customary in china, each guest brought his own servant, so that from a hundred and fifty to two hundred people were assembled in one large room, which together with the hot dishes and a great many lamps caused the temperature to go up several degrees, adding greatly to the discomfort we already experienced owing to our thick clothes. to still further increase the torture, a crowd of chinese which had collected in the streets below commenced to throw stones through the open windows. one passed between my right-hand neighbour and myself, shivering my wine-glasses to atoms. the windows and shutters were hastily closed, and very shortly the temperature must have still further increased by several degrees. champagne flowed in streams, a short speech of welcome was made by the local sport, to which the guest of honour replied, "white wings" was sung by the doctor, and the parboiled throng descended to the lower precincts of the building to watch a display of fireworks. the heat was awful. not a breath of air, and the sulphurous smoke from the fireworks hung low on the ground in white masses, and seemed to seek shelter in the club, for in a very short time the place was flooded with the choking fumes which caused one to feel a tightness across the chest and a stinging in the eyes, and which made it impossible to see across the room. the prince withdrew at a somewhat early hour, and after a time the guests commenced to disperse. the heat, the champagne and the sulphur smoke had proved too much for me. i attempted to walk straight, but the power to do so was gone. first one foot would strike a hill, then the other would go down into a deep hole, and so on, while lamp-posts and buildings seemed to whirl past and round at a fearful pace. when nearing my quarters i heard a faint "hillo" from a by-street, and a continental mess-mate stumbled almost into my arms. he fully intended to do so and i had no wish to avoid him but somehow we missed each other and both fell prostrate on the pavement. far from feeling any ill-humour at this catastrophe, we both thought it a capital joke, and i can distinctly remember our sitting side by side in the gutter and swearing eternal friendship. after this things are vague, and the next i remember is going upstairs on all fours and then opening my bedroom door. a most remarkable sight presented itself. i have seen mirage in the arabian desert, but i have never seen anything like that. there was my bed, shrunk to the size of about one inch in length, at the top corner of the room near the ceiling, dancing up and down at the end of a bright and circling tunnel. how to get there i did not know. i can just remember sinking on hands and knees in order to attempt the climb, when the floor struck me so violently in the face that i lost consciousness, awaking late next morning to find myself reclining on the bed, but still in my dress clothes. my friend, it was said, attempted to go to bed in his bath, where he was discovered in full evening dress, scooping the water over himself and complaining that he could not keep the sheets up. but this is by the way. at kiukiang, where i happened to be a few years later, the community was small, consisting of a few married couples and perhaps half a dozen bachelors. time hung like lead, and small wonder that now and again we young men would foregather round the festive board, when high spirits long pent up would burst forth with a _vim_ that is but rarely attained in places offering perennial sources of amusement. on the occasion in question the dinner was at our mess, which, besides myself, consisted of an italian and a tall american of stern and unbending nature. our guests were two russians and two scotchmen, all we could muster, but excellent in quality. after a jovial repast we sallied forth on to the bund, and being a bright moonlight night, romance entered into our souls, and we started to serenade the various ladies of the port. first to the consulate, where we drew up in line on the lawn, the time being a.m., and rendered "god save the queen" with great execution and considerable pathos, notwithstanding pronounced differences in american, italian, scotch, russian and english accentuation. subsequently visits were made to all the other houses, with the exception of one, where we rather feared to intrude, as the good lady, while very affable as a rule, would stand no nonsense, and when she did not wish to be pleasant could treat one to a touch of sarcasm which would last for some time. however, we finally summoned up courage and approached the house as noiselessly and guiltily as a gang of thieves. the front gate was locked and eight feet high, but after some delay we scaled it, ranged ourselves on the lower verandah and were halfway through "my bonnie lives over the ocean," when a crash overhead announced that we were in for a storm. i have never in my life seen seven men break and fly in such utter terror. once off the verandah into the moonlight we were in full view of the outraged dame, who stood in a commanding attitude on the upper verandah in her dressing-gown, almost speechless with emotion, but gesticulating frantically. we rushed at the gate, and in our eagerness to be on the other side fought and wrestled with each other for first place. the upper bars broke away in our hands, bricks came off the top of the adjoining walls, and it was fully five minutes before we were in the road, breathless, with torn clothes, and i, personally, with a sprained wrist. we now felt we were in for a bad time next day, and so, to revive our drooping spirits, repaired to the house of one of the russians. here vodka, caviare, salmon-back, sardines, bologna sausage and other little dainties common to the _zacousca_ furnished us with a most _recherché_ supper. we ate everything and drank a good deal. by this time we were again in the wildest spirits and fit for anything. our tall american friend was still somewhat unbent, and being of an inquiring turn of mind was examining the trap-door through which the dinner is handed by the cook from the pantry into the dining-room. no sooner was his head well through than he was pounced on by the two caledonians, who, seizing him by the legs below the knee, shot his six feet odd through the trap-door as if they had been tossing the caber. a terrific crash of crockery told its own tale; the russian's best dinner service was no more. rising from the fragments the victim declared it to be his opinion that all, with the exception of himself, were inebriated and unfit for the society of respectable citizens, after which delivery he withdrew to his own quarters. next we heard female shrieks and screams, accompanied by a heavy tramping of feet down the stairs, and two of our joyous band appeared, bearing in triumph by her head and her heels, the struggling form of our host's chinese housekeeper, clad in nothing but her night garments. she was laid tenderly on the dining-room table and comforted with some _veuve clicquot_ champagne, for the poor creature had been somewhat upset by being pounced on when asleep in bed and hauled off with so little ceremony and preparation into the publicity of a well-lighted room full of masculine visitors. shortly after daylight the company separated with many expressions of mutual esteem. on my way to bed i thought our american chum should be interviewed and an explanation made that no offence was intended by the recent treatment of him. he was in bed and sleeping heavily, so i was obliged to wake him in order to fulfil my mission of peace. to say that he received these overtures in a friendly spirit would be incorrect. he seemed to be preparing for immediate hostilities, and so, not to be taken at a disadvantage, i closed with him as he leaped out of bed. the _mêlée_ lasted probably five minutes, during which brief period his furniture was hurled in chaotic profusion all round the room, my black mess jacket was divided up the back from the tail to the collar, his pyjamas carried away, and the skin was detached from his bare feet by my boots. so ended a glorious evening. next day we all lay low, but learnt that a certain person had interviewed the consul with a view to legal proceedings for alleged housebreaking. our enemy, however, was check-mated, and ourselves saved, by the veracious testimony of a dear old scotch lady, who lived in the adjoining house, and who declared that our serenade was "verra nice though a wee bit muxed," and that she herself had enjoyed it immensely. one often hears of the flower-boats of canton, and immediately associates them with gaily-painted gondolas, tenanted by captivating sirens and decorated with perfumed flowers and plants, growing with a luxurious profusion common only to the flowery land. "flower-girl" is the universal chinese term for those young women who dance and sing in public, and who for regular fees attend at chinese dinner-parties, composed exclusively of men, to flirt with the guests while filling their pipes and pouring out their wine. poor parents having larger families than they can support frequently sell one or two of their best-looking daughters to professional trainers, who, after teaching them to dance and sing, send them to the flower-boats in hopes that they may there captivate wealthy _habitués_, when handsome prices would be realised. these girls are frequently not of bad character, but being on the marriage market employ their wiles to secure husbands, in which they sometimes succeed, passing into the hands of rich chinese for three, four or five hundred dollars, according to their merits, as wives of an inferior rank, say number four or six. at various places in the south, but especially at canton and wuchow, a number of large, ugly junks with spacious cabins are moored alongside each other in a certain locality. they possess no very striking features, and those i have seen at wuchow were absolutely devoid of flowers or plants of any kind, the name "flower-boat" signifying nothing more than the haunt of the flower-girl. in the cabins of these craft it is the fashionable thing amongst well-to-do chinamen to hold their jamborees. they hire a particular junk for a certain date, and at the appointed hour the party assembles there, being received by two or three unprepossessing servants. dinner, or whatever form the entertainment may take, is commenced, and as general mirth rises with the good cheer, guests write on a slate provided for the purpose the names of such flower-girls as they may fancy. this slate is quickly carried to where the girls live, hard by, and shortly they will appear, staying for a time to dance, sing and dally with their admirers, after which they will pass on to other boats to fulfil further engagements. the singing is execrable, being a high, nasal falsetto, and the dancing, or rather swaying on their tiny feet while waving overhead a dirty cloth in their beautifully-shaped hands, is feeble in the extreme. a band of musicians is usually engaged, after protracted haggling, to enliven the proceedings. two or three native fiddles of most primitive make wail incessantly, cymbals clash recklessly, a kind of flute resembling bagpipes in sound squirls, while a wooden drum adds to the deafening din. the girls squeak and posture, the place reeks with pungent tobacco smoke and the smell of garlic, the guests munch dried melon seeds, spitting the husks on to the floor, and shout to make each other hear above the general uproar. to escape from this inferno was the chief pleasure of the evening, and any romantic ideas i may have had with respect to "flower-boats" will remain shattered for ever. macao has been a portuguese colony for upwards of three centuries, it having been ceded to its original settlers by the viceroy of canton in recognition of services rendered by those intrepid buccaneers in freeing neighbouring waters from pirates and robbers. it is a most quaint and interesting little place, wearing a look of mediæval times, and still possessing many traces of former prosperity, though now chiefly remarkable for its legalised gambling facilities, for which reason it is frequently called the monte carlo of the far east, there being also a certain natural resemblance. at hongkong gambling is strictly prohibited amongst the chinese, while at canton gaming-houses are heavily taxed, so that natives come in great numbers from both places to macao in order to play _fantan_ without constant dread of police interference. all fantan shops, as they are called, contain but one gambling-table each, which is on the ground floor. this table is covered with a fine grass mat and surrounded on three sides with benches for the players, while on the fourth side sit the croupier and the banker or shroff. in the ceiling a large hole has been cut immediately over, and corresponding in size with, the table, and a railing placed round it in the room above, so that players can mount to the first floor, and bending over the railing look directly down on the gambling. in the centre of the table lies a thin slab of lead about six inches square, the sides of which represent the numbers one, two, three and four. the croupier has immediately in front of him a pile of bright copper cash, perhaps two pints. from these he takes a large double-handful, which he places well on the table and covers with a small metal bowl. now is the time for making bets on the four numbers. suppose we put a dollar on number three. in the course of a few minutes all those who desire to bet have done so, stakes from the first floor being put into a basket by an attendant and lowered on to the table by means of a string, and the little square of lead is surrounded with coins, notes and counters arranged by the shroff. now the croupier, with a thin stick about a foot in length, commences to scrape away four coins at a time from the double-handful of cash. one, two, three, four. one, two, three, four, and so on. the little heap begins to diminish. the eager gamblers, who are generally all chinese, bend forward with straining eyes to within a few inches of the croupier's stick, so that any cheating would be well-nigh impossible. one, two, three, four. only a few more cash. the excitement is intense. one, two, three.... three cash remain! [illustration: playing fantan in private house. _to face page ._] number three wins. all those who bet on one, two and four lose their stakes, while those who bet on three receive five times the amount of their stakes after a deduction of twenty-five per cent. has been made. we put a dollar on number three; well, after deducting twenty-five per cent. from it as profit for the table, seventy-five cents are left, and we receive five times that amount, which is equal to three dollars and seventy-five cents. these fantan shops, of which there may be twenty or thirty, are all licensed and kept under strict supervision, being farmed out to rich syndicates by the portuguese authorities, the large sums thus realised forming no inconsiderable part of the colony's revenue. play goes on day and night all the year round, sundays included, and is practically unlimited, for it is possible to bet from five cents to five hundred dollars at a time. large sums are continually won and lost, it being a common thing to see gamblers, both men and women, after staking their last cash hand over watches, jewellery and other valuables to the shroff for valuation, and hazard all on a final throw to retrieve their losses. this standing temptation of the fantan shops is a fertile source of crime, especially amongst domestic servants, for apart from the chinaman's inborn love of gambling, in the event of their being in financial straits, as is frequently the case, a possible way out of such difficulties is by stealthily taking certain objects from their master's house, say a clock and a dozen silver spoons, pledging them at one of the numerous pawn-shops and gambling with the proceeds. if fortune be favourable the clock and spoons are immediately redeemed and returned before being missed, while the servant has found an easy way out of his difficulties. on the other hand, should luck be against the player, he either bolts to another part of the country or brazens out the theft by declaring that the house has been broken into by burglars. trusted servants who have been many years in one employ frequently yield to this alluring but hazardous appeal to chance. one morning as i was leaving macao for hongkong by the daily steamer a chinese passenger suddenly leaped overboard. the ship was stopped and a boat quickly lowered, while a portuguese police launch also dashed to the rescue, but although we could see the suicide's head above water for some time he sank before help arrived. having ruined himself at fantan he dared not return to hongkong. and such is the fate of many. a chinese banquet is a weird festivity, and once gone through will never be forgotten. on the occasion which i will attempt to describe invitations were issued for a.m., but in accordance with celestial custom the guests did not arrive till about . , when, after waiting half an hour, during which the company chatted, drank tea and smoked, we were ushered into a large hall with brick floor and paper windows, where the repast was spread on three round tables, at each of which were three europeans and five or six chinese, our hosts, clad in their beautiful silk official robes, while we wore black morning coats. the tables were of plain wood and without table-cloths, while the luxuriously-cushioned divans of far east imaginings were hard wooden stools. numbers of little dishes containing dried fruits, sweets, pickles, slices of ham, preserved eggs (more than a year old, black and highly offensive), vegetables, etc., loaded the festive boards. each feaster was provided with a pair of chopsticks and two small sheets of brown paper with which to wipe them after each course. warm yellow wine of a peculiar musty flavour and sadly lacking in potency, was poured by attendants from pewter kettles into small wine-cups, to be tossed off in bumpers all round with great frequency, each guest immediately presenting his empty cup to the gaze of his neighbours to show that there had been no heel-taps. it looked as though we were simultaneously levelling revolvers at each other's heads. at a given signal the fray began. all the chinese rose up, took their chopsticks, and plunging them into various dishes began helping us, the guests of honour. on my one small plate were quickly deposited some sweets, sour pickles, dried fruit, slices of ham, and one of the notorious eggs. now we in turn were expected to rise up and return the compliment by helping our helpers. i clutched my sticks, drove them into a piece of fish and dropped it into my neighbour's wine. tableau! never mind, i tried pickles and preserves in detail with about an average success. no good came of my efforts, but neither did any harm, for our entertainers smiled and bowed and rose from their seats in gracious acknowledgment of our strenuous but futile attempts to do the correct thing. all this was but a preliminary canter taking the place of our dessert, albeit coming before the meal instead of at the end. hot courses were now placed on the table, our chinese friends helping us from them with their chopsticks, which they manipulated with marvellous dexterity. . puddings of several kinds too sweet. . fresh-water fish (boiled) insipid. . chickens (boiled) fair. . sea slugs passed. . shrimps nasty. . white mushrooms good. . eels first-rate. . sea-weed tough as leather. . white bait good. . interiors of fish good heavens!!! . lotus nuts and milk very good. . chicken (boiled in different manner) passed. . rissoles of frogs je ne sais pas. . pork and rice flour a curious mixture. . sugared rice too sweet. . duck (boiled) excellent, the best dish. . shark's fins very good. . porridge no thanks. . soup passed. . opium, cigars, etc. on this occasion opium was not smoked. this long _menu_ was gone through accompanied with an abundance of talk, compliments, jokes and the emission of various sounds peculiar to the chinese while feeding. immediately on rising from table we donned our hats, saluted _à la chinoise_ by shaking our clasped hands in each other's faces, "nin ching. poo sung, poo sung," and took our departure, bowing repeatedly and walking backwards. chapter vii around peking the translation of the word peking is "capital of the north," and is so called in contradistinction to nanking[ ] or "capital of the south." peking is not a chinese city at all, although generally supposed to be so, but a tartar city, which, instead of the jumble of narrow, paved streets habitually found in all chinese towns, was originally designed and laid out on a plan probably excelling in grandeur that of any other city in the world. that the result, as seen in the city of to-day, is but a mockery of the magnificent idea which possessed the master mind that conceived it, is due to that trait of the mongolian temperament which exhausts itself in the conception and completion of some gigantic undertaking, leaving it thenceforth to moulder and decay, until in succeeding ages it stands gaunt witness of human wisdom, folly and neglect. such are peking, the great wall and the grand canal. although adjoining the tartar, there is a chinese city, it is so squalid and of such mean pretensions that with the exception of a single street it is of but little interest to europeans, so that when speaking of peking it is the tartar city alone that one has in mind. surrounded by an immense rectangular wall, some sixty feet in height, with a width of twenty feet at the top and forty feet at the base, and pierced at regular intervals by picturesque and towering gateways, between which wide boulevards traverse the city from end to end and from side to side, but which, instead of being paved and lighted, are but lanes of filth, ankle deep in dust during dry weather, to be quickly changed by rain into rivers of black mud, continuously churned up by the wheels of springless carts, and spattered far and wide by the plunging feet of straining quadrupeds. on either side of, and frequently several feet below, these highways are mud paths, along which pedestrians wend a varied way, avoiding cesspools, stepping over transverse timbers or circumventing squatters' huts, showered on the while by splashings from the highroad or blinded by clouds of refuse-laden dust. the only attempt at lighting is by means of lanterns, which, with heavy wooden frames covered with paper instead of glass and placed at intervals of perhaps a quarter of a mile, throw out rays to the extent of one candle-power each. from the streets very few buildings of any pretensions can be discerned, while from the dominating eminence of the city wall a sea of roofs monotonous in equality of height and greyness of colour meets the eye, which sameness is mostly due to the facts that but few upper storeys exist, and that the residences of the wealthy, besides being screened by high outer walls, are so blended with shops and hovels that it is difficult to discriminate them. in the heart of peking, and surrounded by a twenty-foot wall coped with tiles glazed yellow and green, is the forbidden city, where the imperial palaces are grouped and from which europeans were until recently jealously excluded. the city walls; a few temples in varying stages of magnificence, tawdriness and decay; the remains of sewers which, built of solid blocks of stone and large enough to admit a donkey, show that formerly a scheme of drainage and sanitation existed although to-day there is nothing of the kind; an insignificant canal and a hill rumoured to be made of coal heaped there as a supply in case of siege; and one has seen the architectural wonders of the capital. "legation quarter" prior to the boxer troubles was but an indefinite area of the city in which the legations "happened" from time to time amongst a squalid entourage of native buildings, and connected one with another by means of impossible thoroughfares which passed for streets. a russian diplomat once said to me that he considered peking "dirty but nice," and this description exactly coincides with my own idea. this wasted body on a majestic frame carries one back with a single step to civilisation of a thousand years ago. not the remnants displayed to tourists in greece or rome but the real thing, over which the western spirit of change has as yet worked but little alteration. in this vast museum of antiquities one finds at every turn objects of engrossing interest, and personally it seemed to me that many of the scenes depicted in prescott's enchanting book, _the conquest of mexico_, might almost as well have been laid in this far-famed capital of the north. great antiquity, isolation from the western world, pride of race and empire, veneration for their own colossal literature, arrested civilisation and profound contempt for all things foreign, create a picture rich in detail, very mournful in subject and marvellous in perspective. the means of getting about are by cart, on horseback or afoot, the sedan chair, which in other places furnishes the most comfortable conveyance, being here reserved for members of the imperial family and for high officials both native and foreign. the carts, which ply for hire like cabs, are massive, springless tumbrils covered with a wain. in fine weather the passenger, with a view to less discomfort, usually sits on the splashboard with his back rubbing against the hind-quarters of the pony or mule and his feet dangling in front of the wheel, which plays on to them a continuous stream of dirt and dust. in windy weather one must crawl inside and sit on the floor tailor fashion, there being no seat, and then let down the curtain, thus effectually blocking all view but keeping out most of the dust, which, flying in blinding clouds, would quickly reduce one to a state of absolute filth, filling the clothes, hair, ears and mouth and guttering down from the nose and eyes. to this foul dust is due the terrible amount of ophthalmia and consequent blindness so prevalent throughout the east. in rainy weather carts sink up to the axle in black liquid mud, which flies in all directions from the wheels, and at each footfall of horse or mule, splattering pedestrians and shop-fronts on the sidewalks and smothering other vehicles as they pass. to such an indescribable state are the streets reduced by heavy rains that i actually remember a mule being drowned in the shafts by the side of one of the main thoroughfares in the very heart of the city. luckily for all concerned there is a large percentage of beautiful weather, when mud and dust alike are absent and when one can canter noiselessly along the soft, yielding roads, which are then in much the same condition for riding as is rotten row. on such mornings as these peking is delightful, with its bright sun, cool, bracing air and interesting sights, while through the cloudless sky flocks of pigeons, having whistles of wood or clay fastened to their feet and tails, make strange yet pleasing sounds varied with every twist and turn of flight. a noticeable trait of chinese character, and one fostered, if not generated, by buddhistic teaching, is an undemonstrative fondness for animals, or, i might rather say, a passive admission of their right to considerate treatment, and strangely enough animals, both wild and domesticated, appear to comprehend this sentiment, for while greatly scared at the approach of a european they usually take but little heed of the presence of chinese. it is a common thing to see a well-dressed chinaman sauntering along holding up a bent stick to which a bird is attached by a string some four feet or so in length, so that the little prisoner can make short flights to the limit of its tether and return again to its perch, gaily chirping and singing the while. another stroller will be carrying a wicker bird-cage on the hand, bent back and upraised to the shoulder, much as a waiter carries dishes, containing generally a tientsin lark or other celebrated songster, and on arriving at some open spot will place the cage on the ground, and retiring to a short distance whistle to the bird, which will shortly burst into song, to the evident delight of both owner and bystanders. outside one of the gateways is a kind of bazaar, which we foreigners generally called "bird-cage walk," for there the bird-fanciers lived, and birds of many different kinds were exposed for sale, not in cages, but quite tame, and quietly sitting on perches--parrots, larks, java sparrows, etc., some of them tied by the leg, but not all. here, too, were to be seen wicker baskets, much resembling orange crates, full of common sparrows, representing a regular supply for a regular demand. benevolent old chinamen, _flâneurs_ and _literati_ would visit this bazaar of an afternoon with the sole object of buying a few of these little birds for two or three cash each and then letting them fly away, a beatific smile betraying the salve to inward feelings generated by a knowledge of merit acquired, any miseries inflicted on the sparrows by capture and confinement counting for nothing in the balance against the good work accomplished by their purchase and release. the chinese ideas of life and death are very dissimilar to our own. with us, the responsibility of parents for the bringing up and well-being of the children is paramount, the fulfilment of such obligations being enforced both by legal and social pressure, while the responsibility of children for the care of their aged parents is almost _nil_. amongst the chinese, children are considered to be the absolute chattels of the parents, with whose treatment of their offspring neither public opinion nor the country's laws have any right of interference. infanticide can be, and undoubtedly is to a certain extent, practised, while the father is even said to be legally entitled to punish his grown-up children with death. children, on the other hand, are bound by every tie to obey, respect, support and even worship the authors of their being. filial duty is the greatest of all virtues, and the man who fails in this respect is despised by everyone and takes rank with worthless characters and outcasts. our view of life is very finite. we are born, we die, are relegated to the unknown and quickly forgotten. a chinaman regards himself as a disseverable part of the stream of life, by which he is borne into this world to live his life here, and then is borne on again to the abode of departed spirits without continuity of existence having been interrupted. at his death he is mourned with a whole-hearted sincerity by his entire family, who perform the obsequies with great respect and as much display as is compatible with their station in life. an imposing grave is built in a spot facing a pleasant prospect, while trees are planted, and sometimes even artificial pieces of water made, so that the disembodied spirit may be able to enjoy shady groves and cooling breezes. sacrifices are offered at this shrine not once, but year after year, and by his children's children, with an absolute certainty of the spirit's existence and approving knowledge. this is the practice of ancestral worship, and greatly to be pitied is the man who leaves no son to perform sacrifices at his grave. in peking funeral processions assume gigantic proportions. i have seen them more than a mile in length, and of such barbaric magnificence that they must have cost many thousands of ounces of silver. life-sized horses, camels, ostriches and other animals made of cardboard or cotton wool, houses of lath and paper, as well as strings of imitation gold and silver money to be burnt at the grave and so wafted to the next world for use of the departed spirit, tablets embossed with golden chinese characters, and lanterns of varied size and shape are carried in advance by an army of riffraff. a band of priests chanting, or playing weird dirges on instruments much resembling bagpipes in sound, immediately precedes the catafalque, an immense edifice from ten to fifteen feet in height, containing the coffin and covered with beautiful hangings of embroidered silk, and which is carried bodily on massive red poles some nine inches in diameter, by as many as forty or fifty bearers. mourners with dishevelled hair and clothed in long white gowns follow on foot, in carts or in chairs, according to the rank held by the deceased. winter in northern china is extremely severe, and tientsin, the port of peking, is yearly closed to navigation for six or eight weeks through the sea and river being frozen. the thermometer frequently falls below zero, but owing to a bright atmosphere the cold is not felt so much as might be expected. at night the stars blink and blaze with intense brilliancy, and the still, frosty air seems almost to ring with a metallic voice. beggars and homeless wanderers are nightly frozen by the dozen, and the whole land lies powerless in the grip of king frost. my bedroom i could keep fairly warm by means of a large american stove heated up till it was white, but in the mornings, on passing into my bathroom, which boasted a brick floor and paper windows, i found the temperature almost coinciding with that of the open air, albeit a small stove roared in the corner, while steam from the hot water in a wooden bath was so thick as to make the daylight dim. ablutions were a hurried function, ending in precipitate retreat to the warmth of the bedroom. the small stove would burn itself out, the steam would congeal and disappear, and the bath water, unless removed, would be quickly frozen. as winter wore on the sides of my bath-tub became coated with ice, which increased with every splash until there was a thickness of three or four inches, for it would have injured the bath to keep breaking it off, so that, ultimately, i took my morning tub in a nest of ice, only the bottom of which was completely thawed by the daily supply of hot water. along the streets, well-to-do chinese appear swelled to double their usual proportions by furs and successive layers of wadded clothes, which are of such thickness as to hold the arms propped out at almost right angles to the bodies, while their heads are enveloped in bright-coloured hoods buttoning tight under the chin. poor, half-naked beggars, clasping their rice-bowls and bent double by the cold, shamble along, muttering and moaning, while their starving, rolling eyes scan the faces of passers-by in mute appeal for help or pity. one evening, as i was riding along one of the principal streets, i saw a chinaman carrying home a hot, steaming cake, something like a yorkshire pudding with raisins in it, which he had just bought at a wayside cook-shop, when a beggar suddenly seized him by both wrists, and taking as large a mouthful as he could bite out of the pastry, shuffled off, heedless of the blows rained on him by the irate purchaser. on the coldest days i have seen beggars collected in groups and gambling for the few cash they possessed, the total sum probably not exceeding a halfpenny. naked, hungry and frozen, they watched with tense features and straining eyes the fatal issue of their throw for either a meal or death that night by cold and starvation. accustomed to want and misery, they appear pleased with any trifle that may fall into their hands, and on a bitter, windy day i have seen grown-up beggars on a waste patch flying a kite and enjoying the pastime with a gusto denied to more _blasé_ pursuers of this aerial sport. ice in northern china is seldom good, as owing to the frequent winds it is generally covered with dust, although occasionally at the beginning of winter it is possible to get some fair skating before the first dust-storm. at peking an enormous mat shed is erected to keep out the dust, while the ground inside is flooded daily so as to secure good ice. this rink is a favourite afternoon resort of the european community, but the space is too limited and the attendance too crowded to admit of any really enjoyable skating by the light of a few oil lamps. i have skated on the moat outside the city wall but it was not very good, the chief attraction being to watch chinese performers. as a rule they wear only one skate, on which they propel themselves by striking the ice with the other foot until a certain speed has been attained, when they spread out their arms, bend forward until their noses almost touch the ice and raise the skateless foot high over their backs. this bird-like skim on one leg seems to be their ideal of graceful skating. at this season the stately, two-humped camels, with beautiful coats of brown wool a foot in length, come down from mongolia, bearing loads of meat and furs, together with frozen game and fish from manchuria and the amoor river, and coal from the mines north of peking. the mongol teamster, clad in skins with the hair inside, trudges in front, leading the first camel by a string attached to its nose, while a cord tied to its tail links it with the nose of the second camel, and so on, till the whole team of eight or ten are securely connected. they move along with graceful, easy stride, the only sound being the dull clanking of a heavy bell suspended from the leader's neck. on one of the animals the mongol's whole family is sometimes carried in two immense panniers, and the round, yellow faces of tiny children peer down from their lofty nursery on a strange and passing world. i have also seen a calf camel, evidently cast by the way, being carried in a litter strapped to the back of its dam. it has been told me by reliable chinese that in winter upwards of ten thousand camels daily pass in and out of the gates of peking. they are beautiful animals, of great height, and appear to be very meek and docile. on one occasion, when returning at daylight from duck shooting near marco polo's bridge, i was tightly wedged in by several hundreds which were waiting to enter the western gateway. they looked down at me with their patient eyes as i shouted and prodded them with my whip in order to clear a way for my pony, but attempted neither to bite nor kick. in spring their wool peels off in large flakes, giving them a ragged appearance, and is collected and woven into the celebrated tientsin rugs. in summer, like the wildfowl, they disappear and go north to seek cool pastures in the mongolian highlands. peking not being a seaport, and as yet but little influenced by foreign trade, the european community settled there is solely composed of the _corps diplomatique_ and the legation guards, of the inspectorate of maritime customs, of professors of the various colleges, of missionaries and a few storekeepers. during winter, when communication with the outer world is a matter of considerable difficulty, peking society, which is naturally of a highly cosmopolitan order, amuses itself by a constant round of dinners, balls and receptions carried out with lavish hospitality, and to which the novelty of oriental surroundings supplies an additional attraction. in company with a french friend, who lived in dry flour alley, i made an expedition to the great wall, which is two days' journey from the capital. mounted on ponies, with provisions and bedding packed into a cart drawn by two mules, we started while it was yet dark on a cold winter's morning. slowly making our way along frozen roads outside the walls of the forbidden city, we arrived at one of the gateways by daylight and passed out of peking, following a wide and dusty road, where we presently met streams of camels, mules, ponies, donkeys, carts and coolies, each bearing a load of some kind of produce wherewith to supply the markets of the great city. it was early and bitterly cold, while everyone was too intent on his own business to do more than bestow a cursory glance on passers-by, so that our little caravan, freed from importuning curiosity, made good progress. at about eleven o'clock we were scourged by a blinding dust-storm raised by a strong wind, to avoid which we were not sorry to take refuge in a wayside inn and there discuss an early tiffin. it was now discovered that the supply of bread necessary for our three days' trip had been left behind, so that we were obliged to content ourselves with native dough cakes, sticky and heavy as lead. the room we occupied opened on to the courtyard of the inn, and being doorless, a small crowd of interested spectators quickly assembled to watch our every movement. this crowd continuing to grow until it consisted of several tens, my friend went out to expostulate with the innkeeper, but found that worthy busily engaged at the outer gate granting admission at five cash per head to all and sundry desirous of seeing the europeans feed. the wind having suddenly dropped and the sand-storm subsided we continued our journey, arriving by nightfall at the village of yang fang, where we had arranged to sleep. it was here that i came very near to shuffling off my mortal coil. throughout the north of china brick beds called _kangs_ are universal. they are built about two feet in height, are oblong in shape and hollow inside, with a small aperture at one end, while the top is covered with grass matting. during the day a charcoal fire is lighted in this aperture, the hot air from which fills the interior of the structure and gradually warms the brickwork, which retains its heat throughout the night. the fire is then allowed to die down, when a wadded quilt, a thick blanket and a pillow will be found sufficient to make a most comfortable couch. i had not seen one of these kangs before and the method of heating it had not been explained to me, so, the cold being intense, i placed fresh fuel on the smouldering embers the last thing before turning in. how long i had been asleep i do not know before i became conscious of a frightful nightmare. i was very hot and had lost all power to move. my tongue felt swollen and heavy, and my throat so dry and sore that when i tried to cry out it refused to utter a sound. my eyes were smarting, and having once opened them they would not close again. my senses were clear and i knew that i was being asphyxiated, but was powerless to help myself. horror-stricken, i watched the bright moonlight shining on the paper window until i lost consciousness. the next thing i remember was cold air beating on my face, water in my mouth and trickling down my neck and chest, strong arms supporting me and the voice of my friend's mafoo calling to his master for a light, the moon having set. i owed deliverance to the fortunate breaking of my pony's halter, as, having been freshly clipped, he had become restive from the cold, thereby causing the mafoo to enter my room for a spare one, which i always carried with me. the following morning i felt very shaky and had a splitting headache, but was able to continue the journey, gradually recovering as the day wore on. it is perhaps needless to add that putting fresh charcoal on the fire was the cause of this _contretemps_, but i was then unaware of there being no flue to carry off the fumes. leaving our ponies and the cart at yang fang, and mounted on mules as being more surefooted, though the high wooden saddles and short stirrups were most uncomfortable, we started betimes. after crossing a plain about ten miles in width, strewn with rocks and boulders, we reached nan k'ow, or southern pass, where we entered the mountains. the road was fairly good for pack-animals, although crossed at frequent intervals by the beds of partially-frozen streams, the swift-flowing waters of which were sweet and clear as crystal. mountains shut us in on either side, while we met an unending procession of men and beasts conveying loads of merchandise from mongolia to peking. the scenery was lovely, and all along the route were to be seen crumbling forts and walls built many centuries ago to defend this, the principal pass, against invading enemies. we saw three or four pheasants and heard several more, so that there probably is good sport to be had amongst these rugged hills. after halting for tiffin under a fine archway of indian architecture we arrived at pa-ta-ling (eight lofty peaks), where we obtained a good view of the great wall. scrambling to the top at a place where it was partly in ruins, my friend was soon busy with his camera, whilst i proceeded to investigate this world-famed structure. my feet are rather long and it was just fourteen of them across the top, which is evenly paved with square bricks, while the height of the wall i judged to be between twenty and thirty feet. at irregular intervals there are towers, in one of which was a pile of antique carronades about two feet long, of equal size all the way down and bound round with iron hoops for additional strength. much resembling old rain-pipes, they had not a very formidable appearance, and were probably more dangerous to those who fired them than to the enemy. built two hundred years before christ, and upwards of thirteen hundred miles in length, the wall is certainly a gigantic monument, well constructed of large bricks, and here, at any rate, in good preservation and by no means whatsoever a mass of stones and rubbish as asserted by some describers. instead of winding along the line of least resistance it follows the sinuosities of the country, surmounting crags and delving into valleys, so that it can be seen topping height after height as it climbs the mountain range until it becomes a mere thread and finally is lost to view in the far distance. walking along it for some little way i found that it scaled almost perpendicular cliffs, up one of which i passed, the top of the wall here taking the form of steps, while down the opposite side the descent was so steep that for greater security i made it backwards on hands and knees. the wall was built with the object of protecting china from the inroads of wild tartars, who came down in hordes from manchuria, mongolia and the steppes of northern asia to seek plunder in the plains. [illustration: the great wall of china. _to face page ._] chinawards there is a low parapet, while stone stairs built into the middle of the wall lead from the top through doorless gateways to the ground, giving means of ingress and exit to defenders, but on the side facing towards mongolia the wall is crowned with battlements some four and a half feet in height, affording ample protection and pierced about every five feet with loopholes and embrasures. one of the wonders of the world, its construction lasted ten years, and at the date of completion was probably as futile to bar the advance of a resolute foe as it would be to-day _vis-à-vis_ modern artillery. wishing to secure a suitable souvenir of my visit i selected a well-preserved brick, which, by means of knotted handkerchiefs, i slung over my shoulder and so commenced the return journey. for three or four miles all went well, but after that the brick commenced to get rapidly heavier, until it became almost insupportable, while its constant tapping in the small of my back, caused by the jerky trot of the mule, was well-nigh intolerable. i tried to fasten it to the saddle, but, simple as it may seem, it would not hold, besides making the mule altogether unmanageable, so that after a desperate struggle for a few miles further i cast it from me with mingled feelings of disgust and thankfulness, and in all probability it remains in the same spot to this very day. we reached yang fang before dark and much enjoyed a rest and some dinner, but as it was full moon and we were anxious to be back in peking early next day, my friend proposed that we should press on for a couple of hours that evening. with fresh ponies in place of the jaded mules, and feeling much happier on our doeskin saddles, we went along gaily for some distance, but the extreme cold and our own weariness soon began to tell, and we became so drowsy that we determined to off-saddle at the next inn. we had reckoned, however, without our host, for the inn was crammed full and we were obliged to take to the road once more, and that in no very amiable frame of mind. the next inn was if anything more crowded still, and the next, and the next. for five mortal hours we plodded on, more asleep than awake, and i retain but a misty recollection of the snow-covered ground, of my pony slipping while crossing a frozen ford, and of my continual efforts to keep in the saddle. at one in the morning we hammered at the doors of yet another inn, only to be again repelled with the frightful words, "all full." my friend, who spoke the vernacular fluently, was now doing his best, and with such effect that the door was cautiously opened a few inches, when with one bound i was inside, and seeing a kang with only one man on it i tumbled him off and flung myself down, just conscious of acrid opium smoke, a great uproar and streams of the most insulting abuse. [illustration: avenue of stone figures, ming tombs. _to face page ._] on awaking i found my friend by my side still asleep and the morning well aired. the squalid inn was almost deserted, for the overnight lodgers had departed with their carts and pack-animals before dawn, so that i had not to face the individual whom i had so unceremoniously dispossessed of his bed, although i left a dollar for him with the innkeeper, knowing full well it would never reach him, but choosing thus to ease a somewhat guilty conscience. we had not much further to go and were easily back in peking before tiffin. another expedition i made that winter was to a burial-place of emperors of the late ming dynasty, commonly known as the "ming tombs," consisting of several immense temples or pagodas possessing but little architectural beauty and now considerably dilapidated. one of these temples is approached by an avenue of gigantic figures representing warriors, statesmen, horses, camels, elephants, etc., each figure apparently cut from a single block of stone. as two hundred and sixty years ago the chinese mings were dispossessed by the present ruling manchu dynasty, no attempt is now made to preserve these interesting monuments. in summer the heat is often very great during the day, the thermometer frequently registering between ninety and a hundred degrees in the shade, and is rendered more trying by the unsanitary and neglected condition of the thoroughfares. at night, however, it is so pleasantly cool that one can sleep under a blanket, while punkahs over the bed are never necessary as in the central provinces. riding outside the city walls in the cool of early morning or late afternoon is then most enjoyable, many interesting sights affording constant diversion. acrobats practising their _tours de force_, tragedians with tense faces declaiming in a high falsetto to imaginary audiences, rag-pickers sorting their fulsome wares with iron-pointed sticks, herds of coarse, black swine being bought and sold, while in the shelter of the enormous buttresses archers erect paper targets some eight inches square and exercise their art with solemn dignity, elaborate posturing and considerable dexterity. a good deal of tennis is played at the club and on the various private courts, though most of the diplomatic body as well as missionaries migrate during the great heat to temples in the western hills, which are about twelve miles from peking, or, now that there is railway communication, to the seaside resort of pei-tai-ho. one afternoon another european and i rode some ten miles out of peking to inspect the ruins of the celebrated summer palace, which, since its destruction in by the english and french forces, had remained a desolate and overgrown wilderness. having put up the ponies at an inn, where an inquisitive old native wished to know whether our bright stirrups and bits were made of silver--the chinese never dreaming of polishing their own--we proceeded on foot to the chief entrance, but as the work of restoration was then being commenced the gatekeeper refused us admission. nothing daunted we strolled round to another side, and passing unobserved through a gap in the wall made careful inspection of a partially-destroyed pavilion overlooking a lake, interrupted only by a venerable guardian, who hobbled after us mildly requesting that we should depart. this we were preparing to do for another part of the extensive grounds, when suddenly we came into view of some scores of workmen who were engaged on the repairs. they stopped work and gazed at us but made no hostile move, and we could still have withdrawn in peace had not my companion, overcome by a desire to practise his chinese, and in opposition to my urgent warning, advanced towards them with a beaming smile. no sooner was he within range than a shower of bricks and stones filled the air and we were both constrained to turn tail and make for the gap at full speed, closely followed by the howling mob. we did not pause before reaching the inn, and then only to secure our ponies and continue our undignified flight. i was uninjured, but my companion had received a nasty blow on the head, at which i secretly rejoiced, as owing to his action we had not only been exposed to considerable danger but had been prevented from further investigating a historical spot since strictly closed to all europeans. i left peking at the close of , and there being then no railway the ninety miles' journey to tientsin had to be performed either on horseback, by cart along cross-country tracks or _via_ the river peiho, taking boat at tungchow, which is fourteen miles from the capital. i decided on going by boat as being far more comfortable than the other alternatives. winter had begun early and there was already a certain amount of ice, but from inquiries made the river was still open. my baggage was piled on to a long, narrow cart drawn by two mules, while i and my boy each bestrode a very small donkey, and so i passed out from the mighty city by the stone road which leads to tungchow, as owing to heavy rains and subsequent frost the more comfortable country tracks were impassable. this road, or rather causeway, is another witness to the chinese characteristic of constructing costly works and then leaving them thenceforth to fall into disrepair and ruin. from twelve to fourteen feet in width, it is built of massive granite blocks a foot square by perhaps three to seven feet in length, and originally must have been a magnificent highway of perfect evenness. time and the grinding wheels of heavy-laden carts, however, have worn innumerable ruts seven or eight inches deep into the solid stone, so that in passing over it a springless cart crashes from side to side with great violence, almost throwing shaft animals to the ground and rendering it quite impossible for any european to ride in the vehicle, while crockery or any other fragile article, however carefully packed, is doomed to certain destruction. on arrival at tungchow i saw a great deal of ice floating down with the current, but the boatmen declared, and i believe truly, that the river was still open to the sea, so having transferred the baggage to one boat, and embarking with my boy and pointer on another, we cast off at about three o'clock in the afternoon, expecting to reach tientsin the following evening. before dark the ice greatly increased in quantity, and from the cabin where, enveloped in rugs, i was having tea, the boatmen's excited voices could be heard making frequent inquiries of upward-bound junks as to our prospects of getting through, for they were tientsin men and anxious to get their boats home before the river was frozen up. at six o'clock, however, when we had covered about twelve miles and it was quite dark, the boats suddenly crashed into a barrier of ice, which had but just formed, effectually stopping our further progress. by frantic efforts and with great shoutings both craft were warped to within a few feet of the bank, and there we lay, each moment becoming more firmly wedged in by fresh ice hurrying down with the stream, and which, driven by pressure of the frozen impact, piled up against us with a horrid grinding noise until large sheets an eighth of an inch thick and as clear as crystal came gliding, as though alive, on to our decks. there being no likelihood of our release i presently sent one of the crew back to tungchow for carts with which to continue the journey, but to my dismay he returned at two in the morning with the intelligence that no carts could be hired. the position was a disagreeable one, as it was imperative that i should reach tientsin in time to catch a steamer for shanghai before the close of navigation, so i started off the boy, accompanied by another boatman, with instructions to get a conveyance of some sort and at any cost. this attempt was more successful, for at ten o'clock they returned with a farmer and his truly wonderful cart, drawn by a pony, a cow and a donkey, but which they had only been able to hire for the exorbitant sum of forty dollars. my goods and chattels were again transferred, and after making a present of five dollars to the disconsolate boatmen, we started off at something less than two miles an hour. if i rode on the piled-up baggage i was quickly numbed by the cold. if i walked i soon left the cart far behind, yet dared not lose sight of it for fear of its taking another route, so that my time was spent in walking ahead and then retracing my steps to meet the cart. long after dark we halted at one of the usual wayside inns, a collection of hovels built round a dirty, open yard, filled with carts and animals, and the home of pigs and fowls, while i found accommodation on a brick bed in a comfortless room, or rather shed, with torn paper windows and uneven mud floor. swallowing some cold food by the light of a tallow candle guttering in the draught, i was too tired and too disgusted not to sleep, and by three o'clock next morning we were again crawling on our way beneath the blazing stars and chilled by a piercing wind. all things have an end, and so after four days of absolute misery i arrived at noon, hungry, footsore and unwashed, at a friend's house in tientsin and in time to catch the last steamer, which was sailing that night. after a hot bath and a good tiffin i retired gratefully to bed, but, such is the callousness of human nature, only to be routed out at three o'clock to play in a football match, which, the fates be praised, our side lost. footnotes: [ ] pe = north. nan = south. king = capital city. chapter viii here and there of the three routes to china: . the overland, by rail through europe and siberia; . the westerly, across the atlantic, north america and the pacific; . the easterly, _via_ the mediterranean, suez canal, red sea and indian ocean, the last is perhaps the most interesting and in many ways the most comfortable, for it is possible to take a magnificent mail steamer at an english port and remain on board, surrounded by as much comfort and luxury as is to be found in a first-class hotel, until you land in either hongkong or shanghai. the finest of these vessels are veritable floating palaces, the saloons of which are gilded and decorated regardless of expense, richly carpeted, illuminated with electric light, cooled by electric fans, and where meals are served which would not demean any restaurant in london or paris. music-room, library, smoking-room and bar, laundry, barber's shop and delightful marble baths all find place. on the crack german boats a band plays at frequent intervals, while i have actually seen cold stoves in some of the cabins, so that when passing through great heat in the red sea or elsewhere you could close your cabin door, draw up your chair and have a good cool. i am not sure how these stoves are worked, but believe they are connected in some way with the refrigerator, which makes ice for use on board and provides cold storage for meat and fruits, and that a current of ether or cold air is pumped through them. in appearance they resemble a french porcelain furnace, abutting on one side of the cabin, and by means of a regulator you are able to reduce the temperature almost to freezing point. although undoubtedly very pleasant during intense heat, and invaluable for hospital purposes, i question if they will come into anything like general use, for it seems to me that instantaneous changes from a temperature of perhaps one hundred degrees on deck to say sixty degrees in the cabin cannot fail to produce bad effects on the health. travelling by the easterly route you meet the sun, which causes each day to be shortened. by the westerly route you go with the sun, which causes each day to be lengthened. during the journey round the world the aggregate of these shortenings or lengthenings will amount to twenty-four hours, so that on arriving again in england by the easterly route you will have gained a day, and instead of its being wednesday, as you might think, it would be tuesday, wherefore you would be obliged to have two wednesdays in one week. by the westerly route, on the contrary, you would lose a day, so that returning on a wednesday by your reckoning you would find everyone else calling it thursday, and the following morning you would be obliged to recognise as friday. to avoid such confusion the date is always regulated when crossing the pacific. going east, the captain notifies that there will be two consecutive mondays, or two thursdays, as the case be, in order to use up the extra day. going west, on the other hand, one of the days in a week must be omitted, there being no time for it if you are to arrive in port on the proper date. a common story told in this connection is that on a certain voyage from vancouver to hongkong some missionary passengers settled to hold service in the saloon at : a.m. on sunday, and posted up a notice to that effect in the usual place at the head of the saloon stairs, but omitted to previously consult the captain or ask his permission. the captain, having no desire to be ignored, even unintentionally, aboard his own ship, quietly regulated dates, the passengers next morning finding an official notice posted up immediately over that of the missionaries, saying that it would be sunday until a.m., after which it would be monday, so that missionaries, sunday and divine service were all simultaneously suppressed. the most comfortable and the most restful travelling in the world that i know of is on board the large river steamers running up the yangtse for six hundred miles from shanghai to hankow, and then transhipping to somewhat smaller vessels, for the additional four hundred miles to ichang. scrupulously clean, good table, jovial captains, excellent chinese stewards, electric light, luxurious saloons, state-rooms double the size of cabins on even the finest ocean liners, few passengers, no noise and no sea-sickness, you glide on day and night over calm waters in a dream-like peace, broken only for a short time every few hours by the necessary stopping at ports of call to work cargo, and at riverside stations for chinese passengers, who, however, do not mingle with the europeans, but have saloons set apart for their own exclusive use. some of these boats were built in the golden days of the early sixties, upon american models, and were fitted up on a scale considerably reduced in newer vessels. the large bathrooms on these older boats are a great feature of comfort, and so numerous as to be almost bewildering to strangers; in fact, i have heard that a nervous young man fresh from home was the victim of an untoward mishap by mistaking the captain's bathroom for the one belonging to his own cabin, when on dashing in, the door having evidently been insecurely fastened on the inside, he found himself face to face with the captain's wife in her bath. retreat was naturally instantaneous, but the position was so serious that his only course was to at once seek the captain and explain. this awkward task he started to perform, though in considerable trepidation, and found the husband reading in his cabin, and who, after listening calmly to a recital of the details, laconically remarked, "ah, she has a beautiful figure, has she not?" and the incident was closed. the compass has been known for many centuries to the chinese, but in accordance with their strange habit of doing so many things in an exactly contrary manner to europeans, they "box" it the reverse way to ourselves, speaking of an east-north or a west-south breeze, and so on. the expressions "to the right" and "to the left" i have never heard, for it is the custom to say "go to the east-south" or to the "west-north," as the case may be. even in cities, when asking your way, the natives will direct you by the points of the compass rather than by the names of the streets. chinese screws turn from right to left, which is the opposite way to our own, and of this i had a practical demonstration when, on returning one morning from the mountains, a chair-coolie surreptitiously abstracted my flask from the tiffin-basket and tried to unscrew the stopper to get at the whisky, but being ignorant of the different method, he in reality screwed it on tighter, till at last it broke off, and when some hours later, on board the steamer, i discovered my ruined flask, an array of teeth-marks deeply imbedded in the metal plainly told the guilty tale. at peking, when studying chinese, my teacher would often come after dinner during the long winter evenings, when seated by a roaring fire we discussed for practice in talking any subjects of interest. amongst many curious things which i thus heard the following has always puzzled me with the conjecture, "can there possibly be any truth in it?" i had that day purchased some fur rugs of no particular value, and not being sure whether they were of dog-skin or goat-skin, asked the teacher his opinion. what his reply was i do not remember, but the conversation having turned on the subject of furs in general, he told me that some rare wolf-skins were exceedingly costly from the fact that the wolves, after being caught by mongol hunters, had been skinned alive and the skins dressed in a particular manner. rugs made of these, he declared, on the approach to the house of wild animals, robbers or of any threatening danger, would bristle up as if still on the back of the live animal when angered, and so give timely warning to the inmates; for which reason they were so highly valued. i have never seen what purposed to be such a skin, but repeat the story if only for its oriental weirdness. water buffaloes are a striking feature in chinese rural life, more especially in the central and southern provinces. with a carcase almost as large and devoid of hair as that of an elephant, they have very short legs, and are consequently but little taller than the ordinary ox. carrying on their heavy skulls enormous, semi-circular horns, they have a ferocious aspect, but strangely enough are exceedingly timid and docile. in summer, for the sake of coolness and to avoid mosquitoes, they plunge into streams or mud-holes, and lie there for hours with only their muzzles and eyes above water. it is rather a pleasing sight to see one of these unwieldy, dangerous-looking brutes being led quietly along, by means of a thin string attached to its nose, by a wee native girl, who, when tired of walking, stops the animal, draws its head down by the string, places her tiny foot on the massive horn and is slowly raised from the ground by the buffalo and placed gently on his back, which is so broad that she can kneel and play about on it while her charge is grazing. these buffaloes are chiefly employed in the cultivation of rice, and as the flesh of oxen is but rarely eaten by the chinese, they usually die of old age. on one occasion i saw a large family of natives returning mournfully to their village from a neighbouring meadow, and on making inquiries was told that they had been to bury their water buffalo, which had just died after a faithful service of more than twenty years. when on a shooting trip far up the river han i saw a large buffalo with four boys on his back, grazing by the side of a water-ditch, which lay between him and a steep bank some ten feet high. the grass being very soft, my close approach was unobserved, until a hare getting up i fired off my gun. instantly the buffalo dashed through the ditch and up the bank, when the boys, having nothing to hold on to except one another, were shot off backwards into the water, where they formed a perfect heap of struggling arms and legs, to my great amusement. chinese farm-houses are very different from the substantial, comfortable dwellings obtaining in this country, being primitive clay hovels with no upper storeys, having tile roofs, windows of oiled paper, and mud floors, while the furniture is home-made and of the roughest description. no walks or gardens surround the house, which stands in the centre of the farm-yard, outbuildings and cesspools, with the threshing-floor, as a rule, immediately outside the front door. pigs, dogs, fowls and goats roam at will through the dwelling and about the premises, while the two or three buffaloes and oxen used for ploughing and threshing are tethered to neighbouring trees. [illustration: a typical farm-house. _to face page ._] although wheat, maize, barley and millet are largely cultivated in the north, rice is the principal crop wherever it can be grown, much water being necessary. it is first sown in quite a small, dry patch, to be subsequently transplanted, and comes up as thick as grass and of a most brilliant green. the fields, which rarely exceed half an acre, and are generally very much less, are now tilled. first, they are flooded by a careful system of irrigation to a depth of three or four inches, and when sufficiently soft turned over with a primitive, wooden plough, shod with a small iron blade or tip, and drawn by one water buffalo. after this they are harrowed, the farmer standing on the harrow and driving the buffalo as it wades along, until they are masses of rich, liquid mud. the young plants are now pricked out by hand, about six inches apart, and the fields kept just flooded by a constant stream of running water. when ripe the crop stands about two and a half feet in height, and the water having been cut off some time previously, reaping commences with the sickle. into the harvest-field is often brought a large wooden tub about four feet in diameter by three feet high, and the reaper, having cut an armful of rice, takes it by the straw end and threshes the ears five or six times with great force over the side, so that the grain falls into the tub, which, when thus filled, is replaced by an empty one and taken to the threshing-floor, where the contents are thrown up by shovels-full into the air, the breeze blowing the chaff to one side and the winnowed rice falling in a heap by itself. when the crop is not thus threshed in the harvest-field it is stacked at the farm, and sometimes in the low forks of large trees to remove it from the danger of possible floods, subsequently to be trodden out by oxen on the threshing-floor or beaten out by the farmer and his family with light basket-work flails on bamboo shafts. in villages and small towns where many houses adjoin, it is a common practice to paint or dye young chickens as soon as they are hatched, so that each housewife may know her own. one woman will colour hers a bright red, another will use blue, another green, and so on, the appearance of these strikingly-coloured little creatures intermingled in the streets being exceedingly droll and novel to europeans. amongst all classes of chinese, from beggars to academicians, belief in ghosts, dreams and the supernatural generally is absolute and unshakable. if you express doubt or scepticism they will readily agree with you from a certain nervousness of being thought ridiculous, as well as from a feeling of the futility of any attempt to persuade europeans of the soundness of such convictions. in the autumn of , when at shasi, which is an unthriving town nine hundred miles up the yangtse, and where another englishman and i were the then only europeans residing amongst a dense, hostile population, which only a few weeks previously had burnt down all foreign houses and forced the inmates to flee for their lives in small boats, two of the most remarkable cases of this universal superstition came directly under my notice. at that time one of those rebellions which are a chronic feature of chinese society was in full bloom in the neighbouring province of szechwan, where an individual named yü man-tze was heading a crusade against christians and foreign influence, when at least one french father was slain and another held in prolonged captivity, despite all efforts of the local officials to effect his release. the doings of this redoubtable brigand were naturally our chief topic of daily conversation, and a very intelligent and highly-educated chinese gentleman, who kept me informed of local events, said that the natives generally credited him with mystic powers. "of course," he added, eyeing me suspiciously, "it cannot be true, still, it is current gossip in all the tea-shops." after a short pause i informed him confidentially that whatever other foreigners might or might not believe, i personally had considerable doubts as to the non-existence of supernatural agencies. without looking up i could feel that his eyes were critically scanning my face in search of ridicule or sarcasm, but i managed to preserve a stolid demeanour, and purposely dropping further discussion of the matter, went in search of cigars and stimulants to help us while away the afternoon. at length he again broached the subject, which i could see was of great interest to him, and warming to his theme under the influence of a sympathetic listener and good cheer, he finally told me in a burst of confidence and with low, excited voice, the following _fact_ relative to yü man-tze. at the outset of his lawless career this supernaturally gifted desperado, having collected a band of followers, fastened round their ankles such heavy weights that they were at first totally unable to move; but, as the fruit of continual exertions, they by-and-by managed to creep a few paces, later on they were able to walk easily, and finally even to run with their loaded feet. the time for action having come, yü man-tze removed the weights, when his disciples were so buoyant that they could all _fly_, and so were able to pass rapidly between places far apart, and to successfully avoid all attempts at capture. for those unacquainted with the east it is doubtless well-nigh impossible to credit that such rubbish as this could be implicitly believed by any considerable number of people, yet such was the case, and the fact that the chinese government eventually bribed yü man-tze with official rank and a large sum of money to desist from his evil ways by no means tended to diminish the illusion. for several weeks we were continually threatened with a visitation from some predatory band of yü man-tze's followers, so that when one stormy night two large fires simultaneously broke out in different parts of the town we thought trouble was at hand. our anticipations, however, were happily unfulfilled, the storm having prevented the rebels from descending the river as intended, though the fires, which evidently had been previously planned and timed, were ignited. next morning my compatriot brought in word that he had visited the scenes of the conflagrations, and that three victims, who had been fearfully burnt, were lying in the street covered with straw mats, but still alive. being without medical comforts of any description i was powerless to render assistance, so refrained from even quitting the house. an hour later my countryman again rushed in, followed by two or three chinese, to say that relatives of the sufferers had brought them to a piece of waste ground hard by, had heaped wood round them, had poured petroleum over them, and were now burning them as a sacrifice to the god of fire, he having already established his claim over them. what could be done in the face of such horrifying circumstances? nothing, for the poor wretches were already beyond any human aid, and to have interfered would have brought on us instant vengeance from the excited mob, but never, to the end of my days, shall i forget that sickening feeling of enforced inaction. i especially record this incident as it is the only one of so extreme a nature that i have ever heard of as taking place amongst the chinese, although it is a matter of common knowledge that they frequently refuse to rescue drowning persons for fear of displeasing the river god. we subsequently learnt with much satisfaction that the rebels, to the number of two or three hundred, on being turned aside by the storm, crossed the border into the province of hunan, and there, after murdering an official, his women-folk and some servants, were surrounded in a swamp on the shores of the tongting lake by government troops and butchered to a man. native breeds of swine are very coarse and always coal black, so that when a french friend of mine imported for the first time into peking two white, foreign-bred pigs, they were objects of immense curiosity to the local chinese, who thought them exceedingly uncanny, and considered it far from improbable that the departed spirits of former friends might well have migrated into forms so passing fair. after they had been carefully fattened, a kiddier was sent for to give them the happy dispatch, but no sooner had he set eyes on his quarry than he scuttled off in alarm, and nothing would induce him to return, nor could any other butcher be prevailed upon to officiate, so that, my friend declared, he was obliged to roll up his sleeves and perform the gruesome, though necessary operation himself. "old custom" is almost a religion with the celestials, to subvert which requires great caution, persistency and strength. if anything can be justified by old custom, or even precedent, it is considered to be unassailable, no matter how harmful or irrational it may be. take the matter of foot-binding. laws have been passed, and are still extant, expressly forbidding this cruel and senseless habit, and the ruling race, the manchus, have never practised it, still the chinese, and the women more than the men, cling to it with fanatical stubbornness for the sole reason that it is old custom, and that if girls' feet were not bandaged it would outrage the universal sense of propriety. i have frequently talked the subject over with chinamen, who readily acknowledge that it is useless, besides being extremely painful to young children, but they say if their daughters had natural feet they would most probably fail to get husbands, as no man wishes his wife to be in any way extraordinary or different from other women. "in any case," they frequently retort, "we do not know that foot-binding gives much more pain than do the tight-laced stays of foreign women, and certainly it is not so ugly or prejudicial to the health." the chinese, contrary to ourselves, look back to the past for inspiration and guidance, and to concern oneself about novelty or change appears to them as savouring strongly of shiftiness and want of tone. a curious instance of how quickly precedent can be established, and of its binding force, came to my notice some years ago at peking. at a certain point the now shallow waters of the moat encircling the city wall had for long years been spanned by a foot-bridge, but which, having become rotten and weak, duly crumbled away. with oriental dilatoriness no attempt was made to rebuild it for some months, and it was then found that two men, who during the interval had been earning a livelihood by wading to and fro carrying pedestrians between the opposite banks, strongly objected to a new bridge on the ground that it would take away their occupation now fairly established. backed by numerous relatives and by public opinion, these two miserable coolies had successfully resisted the proposed reconstruction when i left the capital, and it is highly probable that they or their sons still monopolise passenger traffic at the ford. to many even in this country, and to far more on the continent, where christmas is observed solely as a religious festival, the new year with its train of bills, gifts, junketings and holidays is a period of abomination, when all business is dislocated and servants run mad. at such places in the east as hankow, where a considerable russian colony exists, there are three new years of progressive virulence. the first of january is observed by all europeans as a general holiday, when the ladies stay at home to preside over elaborate teas, at which all gentlemen of their acquaintance are expected to appear if only for a few minutes, while the men, both married and single, taking a large supply of cards, sally forth to call at the house of each lady in turn to wish her a happy new year, a proceeding which takes up several hours and necessitates a surprising amount of endurance. dinners, dances, complimentary visits from chinese friends, and other social functions help to swell the list of new year obligations. things have scarcely settled down again when the russian new year is at hand, for in the dominions of the white czar time is still reckoned by the old style, and as russians are particularly keen and very pronounced in their observance of anniversaries and _fêtes_, the place is again turned topsy-turvy for several days beneath floods of excellent sweet champagne. the chinese calendar marches coeval with the moons, which fact generally places their new year some time in february, the exact date fluctuating from year to year to the extent of three or four weeks. the last few days of the old year is a great time of reckoning, when all outstanding debts must be paid so as to commence the new year with a clean slate, and woe to the man who fails to meet his obligations. from faces clouded with anxiety during this trying period there is a sudden revulsion on the stroke of midnight to countenances wreathed in smiles, as for weal or woe the new year is ushered in with deafening fusillades of fire-crackers and a great beating of gongs. in the morning all china is astir betimes, dressed in gala attire and interchanging congratulatory visits. business is entirely suspended for several days, it being the one great annual holiday, and it is extremely difficult to get even your own servants to pay so much as a minimum of attention to their household duties; in fact, i yearly register a mental vow not to lose my temper with them on any account during new year week, for besides being useless it would probably entail the additional discomfort of having to engage and train new hands. at this season native officials as well as merchants are in the habit of making presents indicative of good-will to those foreigners with whom they have business relations. your boy brings in a bright red visiting-card eight inches by three, coming from an official who begs you will deign to accept his best wishes for the new year, together with a few trifling presents. immediately three or four coolies arrive, groaning as loudly as possible beneath the weight of hams, boxes of cigars, jars of dried fruits, boxes of tea, oranges and champagne. you inspect the presents with exclamations of appreciation and then privately consult the boy as to what you should retain, it being the general practice to return the greater part. a box of tea, a jar or two of dried fruits, some oranges and perhaps a box of cigars are selected, while a few dollars are presented to the coolies, by whom you forward in return your own chinese card to the official with seasonable wishes and thanks for his thoughtful kindness. as i was reading by my fire one afternoon in shanghai the door was quietly opened, two hands gently pushed an enormous live turkey into the room and the door was again closed. the turkey commenced to stalk about with an occasional gobble. after watching the intruder for a few seconds i started to catch him, but found it was no easy matter. he flew on to the sideboard, from there to the mantelpiece and then to the window-sill, scattering knick-knacks and photographs far and wide. he ran under the sofa and table, finally escaping into my bedroom, where, with a desperate effort, i caught him by his legs under the bed. while dragging him out he beat his wings with great force, and as the bed had evidently not been swept under for months, drove forth such a cloud of dust and fluff as to almost choke me, while filling the whole room. round his neck was tied a red label bearing new year greetings from a chinese merchant. [illustration: fishing-junks in macao harbour at chinese new year. _to face page ._] the entire boating population cease work at new year, and tying up their craft in convenient places give themselves up to such few pleasures as their primitive mode of life allows. at macao, hundreds of fishing-boats, which supply the market both there and at hongkong, assemble and anchor close together in orderly rows, both in the inner harbour as well as in the bay facing the praia grande, under strict supervision of the portuguese authorities. mat awnings are erected over the decks, thus forming commodious rooms, which are decorated with scrolls and lanterns, and in which feastings and family gatherings take place for several days, after which the whole fleet, gaily decked with flags, puts again to sea. fish of any kind is a favourite article of food, and the methods of catching them are extremely numerous. otters, cormorants, nets, baskets and hooks without bait, all meet with due measure of success, but by far the most remarkable manner of fishing was that which i saw from the bows of a steamer made fast to the hulk at hankow. it was mid-winter and bitterly cold, the ground being covered with almost a foot of snow. i had been to tiffin with the captain and was just coming away when, pointing to some natives in a sampan close alongside, he said, "have you ever seen those men dive for fish?" i never had, and being glad of the opportunity, stopped to watch. there were three men in the boat, of whom one worked the paddles, while the other two, stark naked, crouched on the forepart, sheltering themselves from the biting wind with an old straw mat. having come to a suitable spot, where the depth may have been from ten to fifteen feet, the boat was stopped, and the two divers instantly plunged into the turbid water, to reappear some seconds later with a live fish in each hand, while one of them had also a third fish in his mouth. the diving was repeated several times with varying results before i took my leave, and the captain assured me that this was a common sight on the yangtse in winter, when the fish were probably lying in the mud torpid from the cold. when returning to kiukiang from a fortnight's shooting trip in the neighbourhood of ngankin, my boat was much delayed by light and contrary winds, which frequently obliged us to anchor in order to avoid being swept back by the strong current. on one of these occasions three of the crew took the jolly-boat and rowed ashore, a distance of some hundred yards, and while smoking on deck i could see them wading along by the bank, groping in the mud and occasionally putting something into a bucket which they had taken with them. questioned as to what they were doing, the lowdah replied, "fishing," and my astonishment was not diminished when they returned on board with the bucket half-filled with fine perch, varying from perhaps eight ounces to a pound in weight. until then i was unaware that perch existed in chinese waters, nor have i since seen any. the nearest approach to this kind of fishing that i know of is down in my old home amongst the norfolk broads, where on warm days, when lying in the weeds, tench can be tickled with the fingers and caught by a sudden nip behind the gills; but the art requires intimate knowledge of local waters, much patience and great skill. one of the most frequent questions that i am asked at home is, "do not chinamen wear the finger-nails very long?" they do. scholars perform no manual labour, in visible token of which they allow the nails of the left hand to grow an inch or an inch and a half in length, but the nails on the right hand, while also long, are short in comparison with those on the left. to be classed with literary or educated men is the greatest of all considerations, for which reason there is always a tendency for anyone and everyone to wear a long coat and to don huge tortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles, such as are affected by the _literati_, as well as to cultivate the nails of the left hand. as the use of the word _esquire_ has degenerated in this country until not to apply it to all and sundry is considered to be almost a snub, so the habit of wearing long finger-nails in china has descended through every rank of society until it is now more often the badge of envious imitation than of any scholarly attainments. so precious to the owners are these claw-like nails that i have often seen them protected by silver sheaths, and have heard that for cases of extraordinary growth the whole of the left hand is even carried in a bag. there is much outcry in these latter days against the newly-formed habit of cigarette smoking cultivated by ladies of the west. condemnation of the practice seems if anything to act as an incentive, so, yielding to the pleasant temptation of palliating faults in pretty women, i would suggest as an excuse that they are but following in the foot-steps of their sisters of the far east, where, it may be roughly stated, the women-folk of a third of the human race smoke pipes. i cannot say that very young girls appear to indulge much, though women of all ages do to a great extent, inhaling the smoke and puffing it through the nose in thick clouds. the pipes in general use are either small brass ones, having straight wooden stems a foot in length, with clumsy porcelain mouthpieces, or brass water-pipes, which when being smoked make an unpleasant gurgling sound. the bowl of either kind is so tiny that it will only hold a pinch or two of very fine tobacco, which three or four whiffs consume, when it has to be refilled and lighted from a slow-match held ready in the hand until the smokeress has smoked enough. the picture is neither winsome nor sweet. the chinese have very few amusements corresponding to our outdoor games, although at treaty-ports, and in those places where there are any roads, men are taking readily to cycling, albeit, from the flowing nature of their garments they generally use ladies' bicycles. of these few pastimes archery is considered the most _distingué_, while boys attain to great skill in playing shuttlecock with their feet, being able to keep up the feathered cork for a dozen or twenty times, and passing it considerable distances from one to another. judge then of my surprise when, on asking a young chinaman at peking how he had spent his holiday of the previous day, he replied quite naturally that he had passed the afternoon at his cricket club. i could hardly believe my ears, for as far as i knew a game of cricket had never been played at peking, even by englishmen, there being no suitable ground, and it was only by plying him with questions that i elicited it was the cricket of the hearth to which he alluded, and that his club was a gambling-house to which young men brought their crickets, there to fight grim duels in a basin for the championship, while noble owners staked considerable sums on the prowess of their diminutive gladiators and stimulated their energies by tickling them with straws. on all the waterways of china enormous flocks of tame ducks are to be seen. these flocks generally number several thousands of birds each and are carefully herded by the duck farmer and his sons, who swim them about from place to place in search of suitable feeding-grounds. on the yangtse i have seen them in mid-stream floating down in compact masses with the racing current and surrounded by their guardians in tubs, who, armed with long bamboos, smartly whack any bird which may happen to stray away from the flock until it rejoins its companions. these ducks are apparently always of one age, be it a month, three months or full-grown, which fact had ever been a source of mild surprise to me, in view of the number of simultaneous broods which would be necessary to hatch off such swarms, until the matter was explained. a friend of mine gave a tiffin party of four good men and true on his stern-wheel house-boat, the motive power for which was supplied by half-a-dozen coolies driving the wheel with their feet, on the same principle as the tread-mill, and we were gliding up the taipa channel near macao at about four knots, when suddenly our craft came into a sea of egg-shells sailing gaily before the breeze and having at a short distance much the appearance of water-lilies. for a quarter of an hour or so we ploughed through these shells, which must have numbered tens of thousands, making various conjectures as to their origin, until our host, who had been below superintending the icing of the champagne, came on deck and explained that they undoubtedly were from an incubator in which ducks had just been hatched. this was new to me, so i asked him for details, but he replied that beyond knowing of the incubators and that they were made of manure and lime in which eggs were buried until hatched, he had not been able to procure further information. since then i have made many inquiries, but the chinese will reveal little beyond the fact that incubators "have always existed" for the hatching of ducks and geese. a gentleman whose knowledge of the chinese and their ways is unsurpassed has also kindly tried to find out, but with limited success, for, he says, it is regarded as a trade secret and the duck farmers will not divulge the process. however, he ascertained that the hatching takes place in early spring, when "a kind of primitive incubator is used. the eggs are placed in a big basket covered with straw or cotton wool, about a thousand eggs in one basket. under this basket a charcoal fire is lit to keep the required temperature. the work is carried on in closed rooms and one man is always in attendance turning the eggs. only eggs of ducks and geese are thus treated." whether these incubators are made of manure and lime in the open air, whether they are in rooms heated by charcoal fires, or whether there are both kinds, the interesting fact is established that incubators "have always existed" in china, while results, as seen in the huge flocks of ducks, proclaim them as thoroughly successful. and this, too, when it has been unreservedly believed that the incubator was a modern triumph of western science! another little matter has attracted my attention. there have lately been paragraphs in several papers announcing the excellent results obtained from a new system of registering criminals by means of thumb-marks. thumb-marking may be new to scotland yard, but in china it is a very ancient practice. i have seen illiterate men smear their thumbs with ink and make impressions at the foot of documents, such thumb-marks being accepted as in every way equivalent to full signatures. chapter ix the marriage tie in the province of kiangsi on the banks of the river kan, which flows almost due north to the poyang lake and so into the yangtsekiang, is situate the town of kanchow, on the outskirts of which dwelt a merchant named chin pao-ting with his wife and infant son. after the custom of all chinese merchants, mr chin had a shop which, although used for retail purposes, was in reality the office of his not inconsiderable wholesale business. mr chin had some time previous to this date, the early spring of , engaged a young man of the locality named wang foo-lin, as accountant and confidential clerk, and he had proved himself so intelligent and useful that not only did chin regard him with feelings of friendship but even conceived the idea of subsequently taking him into partnership. what chin's particular business was i do not know, beyond the fact that each year it took him away from home for several weeks, and sometimes months at a time, when he travelled to other provinces. this annual voyage was now at hand. four boats were filled with various kinds of merchandise, while a fifth and smaller craft was selected to convey chin and his assistant, who now accompanied his master for the first time. this boat was fairly comfortable from a chinese point of view, having benches on either side of the cabin and a kind of platform at the back, with a small, low table thereon bearing the customary incense-burner, containing fragrant joss-sticks, and also on this occasion a small _joss_ or gilt image of buddha, which chin always took with him on his wanderings. all preparations having been slowly completed the day for departure arrived, and chin, with much bowing and ceremonial posturing, having wished his wife and little son adieu, embarked with wang, taking the equivalent of five thousand dollars[ ] in sycee shoes and gold-dust, and amidst valedictory fusillades of fire-crackers, as well as a beating of gongs, the flotilla cast off and sailed away down river. nothing of particular interest occurred during the voyage of two hundred miles to the poyang lake beyond usual delays caused by the dried-up condition at that season of all waterways connected with china's mighty river. the sources of the yangtse are to be found in the mountain ranges of thibet, and as during winter and early spring the deep snows of those lofty regions lie icebound and the great river is fed only by local rains, its waters dwindle in volume until they find a level forty feet below that of summer and autumn, when torrid heat and torrential rains thaw the snows in central asia and fill the river-bed with a thick, brown current which, after overflowing into and filling all lakes, tributaries and unprotected lowlands in the yangtse valley, sweeps eastwards to the ocean, a foaming torrent of irresistible force. after about twenty days of incessant toil in tracking, poling and yulowing along the tortuous and mud-bound channel of the kan, where sailing, owing to the low water and consequent towering banks which shut off the wind, was seldom possible, the small fleet emerged on the poyang lake. not, however, the magnificent sheet of water which is found there in summer, but the lake as it is in winter, contracted to one tenth of its maximum size, and little more than a wide and sluggish river flanked by boundless mud tracts swarming with snipe and wildfowl. another few days' sailing, for the breeze could now be felt across the wide marshland, and hukow (mouth of the lake) was reached, where the merchandise in the four small lake boats was transferred to a large and stately junk destined to carry it far up-river towards the west, while good accommodation was found on board both for chin and his assistant. as soon as the transhipment of cargo had been completed, and chin had written a letter for transmission to his wife by the boats returning to kanchow, sail was made on the junk, and passing out of the tranquil waters of the lake she was seen to shape an up-river course reefed close before a rising gale, until lost to sight in the rain and gathering darkness. the empty boats arrived in due course at kanchow, when the letter was faithfully delivered, and this being the last communication that would be received from her husband prior to his return, mrs chin resigned herself to many weeks of dreary loneliness. weeks lengthened into months, and the waiting woman began to feel anxious as to the well-being of her lord. the stifling, burning summer came and went, and still there was neither sign nor tidings of the absent one. inquiries made of passing junks, to the crews of many of which chin was well-known, ever elicited the invariable reply that nothing had been seen or heard of him. autumn and winter still brought no tidings, and the poor, saddened woman yielded to the conviction that some disaster had overtaken her husband and that she would see him no more. early chinese marriages are almost invariably arranged by the parents, the young folks, even if old enough, having no voice in the matter. later on, plurality of wives, though far from universal, is also quite common and of good repute. the lower orders generally have only one wife, not being able to afford more, although as soon as a man commences to prosper and rise in the social scale his first thought is to procure by contract or by purchase an additional helpmeet, who, however, ranks far below the _first_ or _no. _ wife. similarly _no. _ ranks before _no. _, and so on. four or five wives is a common number in well-to-do households, though one old friend of mine, since dead, had taken to himself sixteen. husbands regard the marriage tie as binding on them chiefly with regard to the material well-being of the family, whereas the honour of the family rests on the wife's steadfastness in maintaining sacred the nuptial vow, any detected laxity in this respect being visited on her with remorseless punishment both by her libidinous husband and by the whole of his clan. widows seldom marry again, it being the duty and pride of a virtuous woman to remain faithful to the memory of her dead husband. throughout the whole length and breadth of china memorial arches to widows who have been faithful to their troth till death are to be seen in almost every village. mrs chin may have been, and probably was, attached to her husband with that fanatical single-mindedness which belongs to women of the east. she may have considered it her bounden duty only. whether love or duty furnished the motive i cannot tell, but after making all possible inquiries to no purpose she determined to set out herself and search for traces of the missing one. the shop and her belongings were sold to provide money for the way, and the poor woman, forsaking all and carrying the child strapped to her shoulders, turned with a bitter heart from her former prosperous home to face the world on her well-nigh hopeless quest. of her wanderings i could get no record, and she would probably, with oriental inscrutability, have refused to even talk about them, but wherever else they may have led her, in the bitter winter of she was twenty miles up-river from hukow at the open port of kiukiang and alone, her child having perished by the way, begging food and prosecuting her inquiries. chance led her to shelter for a night in the ruined but beautiful pagoda which stands high above the river on the cliff outside the city wall. to the old buddhist hermit in possession she told her oft-repeated tale, only once again to receive the usual negative reply. in the morning, however, as she was moving off on her daily trudge, the hermit appeared, and after the customary buddhistic salutation, "o me tor foo,"[ ] had been exchanged, he remarked that during the night it recurred to him that about eighteen moons had passed since he found the dead body of a man cast up naked on the opposite beach, and that following the rule of his order for acquiring merit he had carefully and reverently buried it. the poor wanderer seemed at last to see some faint possibility of reward for her dreary pilgrimage. she followed the hermit to the river side, where his small and leaky sampan was drawn up on the mud. after considerable effort the boat was launched by the feeble pair, and taking her place in it she was rowed by the old man across the heaving river, which is here more than a mile in width, to the opposite beach, where a little above high-water mark the grave was found. scraping aside the loose sand and rubble, and raising the unfastened lid of the rough coffin, the mouldering skeleton was unrecognisable. quick as thought the woman thrust her fingers into the crumbling mass and raised an arm of the dead, on which was seen to be the half of a jade bracelet. immediately baring her own arm to the hermit's gaze she displayed on it the other half of the same jewel. a common chinese practice is for man and wife to have one jade bangle split so as to form two bangles, and to wear one each, with much the same idea as our mizpah rings. the woman looked as if turned to stone. she moved not a muscle, but with livid face and hard, glassy eyes kept her position in the open grave, leaning on one hand across the coffin and grasping with her other the mouldering arm of the corpse, so that the two bangles were laid side by side. silently and reverently the old hermit stole away, leaving the living with the dead, and rowed back across the river to his home without once turning his eyes, for curiosity he had none, but in its place the oriental's deep and mystic knowledge of life and death. in the lonely grave amongst the rank grass and sand mounds the woman stayed, oblivious of the cold and soaking rain. for a long time she rested absolutely motionless as if also dead. then a few upward movements of the head told of her silent agony. by-and-by a low, tremulous moan broke from her ashen lips. almost inaudible at first, her sobs increased until her whole frame was convulsed. she called upon her husband, she poured blessings on his name, she craved blessings from his spirit. long and loud, with all her soul, with all her strength and in most absolute sincerity, she bewailed her dead, as is the custom in the east, until exhaustion overpowered her and she slept. it was almost dark when the hermit returned and thus found the faithful woman, sodden by the rain, her hair unbound and trailing in the sand. gently rousing her and speaking soothing words he held out his humble offering of two little bowls containing rice and samshu, some sticks of incense and a few tiny candles. these the poor woman took, but without a sign, for her gratitude was too deep to show, and reverently placed the bowls, the lighted candles and smouldering incense-sticks in position round the grave. then, having kowtowed many times before the corpse, the lid of the coffin was replaced and covered with a few inches of sand, after which she turned as one in a trance and followed the hermit to his boat. her husband was dead, she had bewailed him and burnt incense at his grave, and what further could this poor, broken woman do? what her intentions then were i do not know, but a few days later, when returning at dusk from kiukiang to the pagoda, she was stopped in a lonely alley outside the western gate by a man who said, "your husband was murdered eighteen moons ago by wang foo-lin, who is now living in hankow." it was too dark to see the man's face and the voice she did not know, but it was probably one of the sailors of the missing junk who had some grievance to avenge. from the effect these words had on the woman's fallen strength it might have been a message from the gods pointing afresh the path of duty. she sought her friend the hermit and related to him what had befallen her, and explained that she would now go to hankow in quest of the murderer, for that her husband's spirit could never rest until his assassin had been brought to justice. how she travelled the one hundred and twenty miles from kiukiang to hankow i do not know, but it is certain that she appeared in the latter place begging from house to house, and after a time recognised wang foo-lin trading under an assumed name in a shop of considerable size. wang on his part did not recognise the feeble and unkempt old beggar-woman, so changed was she from the prosperous mrs chin, and took but little notice of this one amongst many tens of other mendicants, so that she was able to stand for some time at the shop door without attracting undue attention, when she carefully noted the contents of the store, and amongst other things recognised the gilt joss which her husband had taken with him. her next step was to procure an audience of the local magistrate, and to do this she was obliged to expend a considerable part of her remaining cash in bribing the yamên underlings ere they would consent to lay her case before the official or give her admittance to his court. after waiting many days the audience was granted, and kneeling on the filthy floor before the judgment seat she unfolded her story, accusing wang foo-lin of the murder of her husband. the magistrate listened to her tale, but at the end said, "you accuse this man of murder but produce no evidence in support of your statements, and your bare word is not sufficient. if you can bring forward any actual proof i will then take action." mrs chin replied that in wang's shop she had seen a gilt image of buddha which her husband had taken with him on his ill-fated voyage. that many years ago at kanchow she had knocked over and broken the nose off this same image, and that to repair the damage she had melted down one of her gold earrings and replaced the nose. if, therefore, it were found that this gilt joss had a gold nose then the magistrate would know her tale was true. the official replied that he would accept this as sufficient evidence and would at once put it to the test. sending his runners with mrs chin to the shop, wang was arrested, and together with the gilt joss taken to the yamên, where it was quickly found that the image actually had a gold nose as declared by the old woman. knowing his case to be hopeless, and yielding to the racking torture which was quickly applied, the guilty wretch made a full confession of his crime. as a boy he had often heard of chin pao-ting's annual voyages to the west, while local gossip had so enlarged upon the merchant's wealth that the junk bearing him and his merchandise might well be a veritable treasure ship, so that when still a youth wang had journeyed to kiukiang with the deliberate intention of forming a scheme to waylay the annual expedition and thus acquire riches at a single stroke. as attendant in an opium den near the quay, he had come in contact with many low and desperate characters, amongst whom was the lowdah of a certain junk which plied for hire between the poyang lake and the provinces of the west. gradually an intimacy sprang up between these two, until at length the diabolical plot was hatched of murdering chin and levanting with his goods. wang now returned to kanchow, and, as we have seen, not only contrived to enter the service of chin pao-ting but also to gain his esteem and confidence. for the next annual voyage a large river-junk to await the merchant at hukow was, through wang's astuteness, chartered on exceptionally favourable terms. this junk, needless to say, was that of wang's confederate, and once on board the unhappy traveller was a doomed man. on the first night of the voyage he was pounced on in his sleep, stunned with a blow and thrown overboard. at kiukiang, where the vessel stopped, the lowdah and his men went ashore after receiving the gold dust and sycee shoes as their share of the plunder, while wang, taking the junk and cargo as his portion, shipped a fresh crew and sailed on to hankow, where he set up in business with the proceeds of his ill-gotten gains. his examination finished and released from torture, wang was led away in a swooning condition to a foul dungeon, where his silk garments were quickly stripped off and replaced by crimson clothes, stiff with clotted human blood and thick with vermin, but such as criminals condemned to execution are compelled to wear. by an iron ring mercilessly forced through his flesh and welded round his collar-bone he was chained to a stone pillar, and so left to await his doom or to rot on the reeking floor. after prolonged deliberations amongst the authorities, it was decided that the prisoner should be beheaded at kiukiang, that being the centre of the district in which his crime was committed. still clad in crimson clothes, the poor wretch was dragged by the chain from his cell, too emaciated and broken to even stand. his hands and feet were bound together with sharp cords and a bamboo pole thrust between them, and in such manner he was carried through the streets by two coolies, escorted by a few runners, to be thrown like a bundle of old clothes into the hold of a police junk, which bore him more dead than alive on his last voyage. owing to information extracted from wang two further arrests were made of members of the junk's crew, but the lowdah and one other succeeded in making good their escape. * * * * * it was now summer, and the view looking south from kiukiang city wall was peaceful and grand. in the distance rose the majestic lushan range, the peaks of which were illumined by the setting sun. nearer, the low hills, clothed with firs and azaleas, rolled as a carpet to the lake, which lay between them and the city ramparts. a narrow causeway from the city to the hills, cut the lake in two. at the far end of the causeway was a plot of level ground, strewn with potsherds and heaps of refuse. here, in contrast to its usual solitude, a dense crowd had collected in evident anticipation of some interesting event. presently two or three horsemen and a motley gang of soldiers emerged from the city and proceeded quickly along the causeway. closely following were coolies carrying three red burdens, on bamboo poles, and these in turn were followed by more soldiers and a few officials in sedan chairs. it was an execution. the hurrying cavalcade was swallowed up in the dense crowd which happily served as a curtain to hide this ghastly scene of human wrath from nature's smiling landscape. half-an-hour later the official procession returned as quickly as it went, and gradually the crowd, sauntering by the water's edge, laughing, joking and making merry of the gruesome spectacle just witnessed, filtered back through the city gates. next morning three wooden baskets on long poles were exposed from the top of an archway, and in each basket was a human head. wang and his companions had met their just rewards. at kanchow a pylow, or memorial arch, will eventually be erected in honour of the widow of chin pao-ting, so that to posterity may be preserved a just record of her virtuous devotion. footnotes: [ ] then about £ . [ ] untranslatable. "peace be with you," or meaning to that effect. chapter x discussed points [sidenote: people.] "how do you like the chinese?" is the most common of all queries, yet each time it is made i have to reflect as to what my answer shall be. while unable to say that i like them, for, speaking collectively, they are an untaking, unlikeable people, still they possess many qualities and traits of character which _per se_ must recommend them to all unprejudiced observers. the chief hindrance to a better understanding with them is their rooted antipathy to ourselves, generated by our pushing, masterful ways. with but few and unimportant exceptions they do not want us, and would be glad to see the last of all europeans, together with their civilisation, their missionaries and their trade. this is not very flattering, accustomed as we are to regard ourselves somewhat in the light of pearls before swine, but it is the truth. on the other hand, we know that our footing in the country was gained and is maintained by force, which knowledge, in addition to that pressure of silent enmity of which we are at all times conscious, brings our minds into a hostile attitude _vis-à-vis_ the chinese. we are always in a state of antagonism, be it defensive or offensive. this mutual dislike, helped by the utterly different modes of life existing amongst europeans and asiatics, renders all other than business intercourse not only irksome but well-nigh impossible. their ways not being our ways we do not want to know them intimately, and they on their part do not want to know us, wherefore, by tacit consent, we keep rigidly apart in social matters. many people seem to imagine the chinese as being romantic, artistic, quaint, effeminate and uncanny. romantic they most certainly are not, but look at things with a brutal realism, of which their pet quotation is truly emblematical: "a man's greatest pleasure is found in reading his own essays and in making love to his neighbours' wives." of their artistic qualities there are many favourable critics, though personally i consider them to be extremely poor. their music, both vocal and instrumental, is worse than rubbish; in sketching and painting they are without sense of perspective; their architecture is clumsy and coarse; their much-vaunted pottery is full of flaws and blemishes, for which reason a perfect specimen is almost priceless and over which connoisseurs hypnotise themselves; dancing, except by flower-girls, is unknown; while in literature they are safe from adequate criticism, owing to the impossibilities of their language. embroidery, bronzes, carving, and dyeing in both pottery and silks are, in my opinion, their best artistic productions, although it is said that the famous colouring of chinaware is now a lost art, as those clans which held the secrets were almost extirpated during the taiping rebellion. many articles of vertu are undoubtedly valuable, but is it not rather owing to their antiquity, to their rarity, or to the fact that they are good specimens of a certain workmanship, however bad, rather than to any inherent artistic merits? quaint they indeed are from a european standpoint, but on more intimate knowledge this quaintness resolves itself into a slavish adaptability to the smallest circumstances in their daily struggle for existence. to a man who has been some years in the country, and who has tried to understand local conditions, the chinese live on a dead level with matters of fact. to say that they are effeminate would be incorrect. in some things, from our point of view, they undoubtedly are; in others they are extremely virile. the captain of a british man-of-war told me that he considered them to be the poorest fighters in existence. that they habitually make a feeble show in battle cannot be gainsaid, but then they are a most matter-of-fact people, without any craving for military glory, and knowing beforehand that there is no possible chance of success, take time by the forelock and run away to escape a useless death. select one of our very best regiments and stop their pay for several months, deprive them of officers, take away all doctors and medical comforts, half starve them, arm them with flags, pikes and muzzle-loaders, and then march them against a crack european regiment. you may be sure the chinese example would be quickly followed. i do not say the chinese are brave, but i do believe that, given a good training, just treatment and a fair chance of success, they would prove no mean antagonists. possessing great natural aptitude, if it is made worth their while they will quickly become good riders, good shots, good at billiards and tennis, good sailors, etc., giving their whole attention to each matter, though without enthusiasm. it is this dull concentration on particular callings which has deprived their character of that vital force, initiative, which, while the greatest of safeguards to rival nations, has removed from the chinese mind the power to comprehend and carry out large and complicated undertakings involving the handling and direction of modern systems and appliances. the chinaman is at present content to supply labour, but whether in time he will be capable of also supplying the versatile, directing brain is a moot question. anyhow, it will not be for long years and until he has lived under a modernised government for several generations. extreme consideration for infancy and old age, the growing of long finger-nails, the supposed debilitation arising from opium-smoking, the universal usage of fans, the wearing of flowing garments and braided hair, and the discharging of domestic duties which in other countries fall to the lot of women, are probably largely accountable for the charges of effeminacy. as to their uncanniness there is no doubt. we do not, and never shall, fathom the depth of a chinaman's brain. after mutually looking at the same object from widely-different points of view _we_ express our ideas, talk them over and invite criticism, while _he_--is silent. he listens to us and agrees, but keeps his own views to himself. we want to explain everything; he does not, but takes things on faith. in our inmost hearts we generally do not feel sure whether we believe or do not believe in spiritualism, in good spirits, bad spirits, ghosts, dreams, devils and manifestations. he believes in them all without a suspicion of doubt, but, knowing our wonted thoughtless scepticism, will frequently say he does not, as the easiest way of avoiding a useless discussion and condemnation of established facts. in dealing with educated chinese many foreigners assume a forced, artificial manner, as though addressing themselves to an autocrat or a murderer, and are ever on the lookout for something to find fault with. my own idea is to maintain a naturally polite bearing and treat them precisely as you would your own countrymen of whatever rank in life. they strike me as being extremely responsive, and oftentimes even grateful for being taken simply as men and not as extraordinary specimens of another humanity. the dominating factor of their lives is "face." whatever happens, so long as a man can save his face he has always the chance of righting himself. we continually hear of their commercial integrity, which is undoubtedly very great, though not springing from any innate principles of fair-dealing but from a desire to save face. i have very little doubt but that a chinese merchant would immediately "do" you if he could be perfectly sure of not being found out, and so losing face, and that too without in any way violating his own feelings. "face," or otherwise "appearances," is a chinaman's passport to respectability, and therefore of great commercial value, but has nothing whatever to do with the hidden principles of honour and morality. that honesty pays better than dishonesty is a fact well known and firmly adhered to by merchants in a large way of business. to those in a small way of business, honesty does not pay, and consequently does not exist, but instead ability in squeezing is accepted as the gauge of capacity. the first essential in dealing with chinese is control of temper. i do not mean that one should not possess a temper, on the contrary, it is a distinct advantage to have one, only it must be kept well in hand. a man of irritable, rasping temperament quickly loses respect and weakens control, while he who can keep calm under any circumstances, and only very rarely gives rein to a fierce outburst at the psychological moment, invariably compels admiration and obedience, for, it is reasoned, if a man who has command of his temper gets angry it is because he has just cause, and the fault must necessarily lie with those who call his anger forth. under no circumstances, except in actual self-defence, strike a chinaman. the pain or insult it may cause him is as nothing in comparison with the lowering effect it will have on your own status in native eyes. from being well-considered you will at once become an object of contemptuous dislike. the empire of china is considerably larger than the whole of europe, contains limitless natural resources, and is inhabited by a hardy race of some four hundred million souls who are bound together by ties of blood, language, tradition and religion. this race, which until quite modern times existed as a world apart and was sufficient unto itself in all things, is highly developed both mentally and physically, though its government, as judged by western ideas, is hopelessly obsolete. if left to themselves i see no reason why the chinese should not slumber on as they now are till the crack of doom, but, the world having become so reduced in size through the agencies of steam and electricity, they never will again be left undisturbed, but more and more subjected to the pressure of other nationalities in the feverish struggle for domination and wealth. to this pressure they will surely yield in one way or another. will they forestall the inevitable by reforming themselves, or will they for a time fall beneath the foreign yoke until they have learnt their lesson, and then reassert their solidarity and independence? in whatever light we may view these people or animadvert on their numberless contradictory qualities and failings, it is as certain as day and night that they are here to stay, if only by force of numbers, and that no political convulsions will wipe them out. they may be battered and even sundered for a time, but each successive shock will only serve to resuscitate their vitality. already possessing an equipment of wealth, numbers, thrift, good physique and high mental power, they only await good government to start them along the rails of progress. whatever nations may rise or fall, the future is big with promise for the children of han. * * * * * [sidenote: language.] the chinese language is like china itself: colossal! roughly, the mandarin or official language is spoken by all officials throughout the empire and by all classes in those provinces which lie north of the yangtse, while south of this line cantonese is the principal dialect, although the number of others is legion, and so pronounced are the differences between them that countrymen dwelling but a few miles apart are frequently at a loss to understand each other. on one occasion, when making "a little trip to japan," i took my pekingese boy with me. having missed the fortnightly mail-boat i made the passage from chefoo in a small german collier, and on arrival at nagasaki took rickshas to the hotel. in the streets were a goodly number of chinese, members of a considerable colony of small traders, and the sight of compatriots in a foreign land greatly delighted the boy, who, on my departure after tiffin to make a tour of the town, asked if he meanwhile might go out to drink tea with his countrymen. i gave permission, but on returning some hours later to the hotel found him in a very disappointed frame of mind, which was accounted for by his explanation that the chinese residents in nagasaki were all cantonese, and that not being able to understand a word of mandarin they had perforce been obliged to converse with each other as best they could in pidgin english. he said, "looksee b'long all same chinaman, no savez talkee." the pekingese are very discriminative and frequently condescendingly refer to all other chinese as "outside men" or "foreigners." pidgin english is a queer jargon composed of a verbatim translation of chinese sentences together with a slight admixture of portuguese and french, the frequent wrongful substitution of similar sounding words and a lavish use of the terminals _ee_ and _o_. "s'pose you wantchee catchee olo chinaware, compradore savez talkee my," represents, "if you want to get some old chinaware your chinese agent will let me know," while i have heard "two times twicee" for "twice two," and "last day to-night" for "last evening." the word _pidgin_ means _work_ of any kind, as in "plenty pidgin" or "no got pidgin," and _pidgin english_ simply means a workable knowledge of colloquial english as picked up by tradesmen, servants and coolies, in contradistinction to english as taught in the schools. on the northern frontiers there is also pidgin russian. the written language is the same everywhere, each character, of which the chinese say there are between eighty and a hundred thousand, representing a complete word, so that before being able to read, and more especially write, a single sentence, each individual character in it must be closely studied and committed to memory, as we commit to memory the letters of the alphabet, but with the difference that whereas the alphabet consists of but twenty-six simple letters, chinese caligraphy contains almost a hundred thousand characters of extreme complexity. from earliest boyhood to the grave chinese students never cease, yet never complete, committing these characters to memory and welding them into those graceful verses and essays which are the pride of chinese literature. handwriting is accounted a fine art, and for many hours each day, year in and year out, characters are laboriously copied by means of a little brush filled with ink, which in the form of a cake or stick similar to indian ink is moistened and ground on to a stone slab or "ink-stone," until the penmanship is frequently of a firmness and beauty surpassing that of copper-plate. in such veneration is the written character held that it is accounted wrong to debase in any way paper on which writing may be inscribed, wherefore conscientious _literati_ sometimes pass along the streets gathering into baskets stray pieces of paper bearing written characters, to burn them reverently in miniature pagodas or towers erected on public ground for that especial purpose. the career of a student is considered to be the most honourable of all, but though chiefly restricted to handwriting, knowledge of characters, composition and national history, the chinese admit that no man has ever yet thoroughly mastered his own language or even learnt all the characters. how then about foreigners' knowledge of the language? it is like the nibblings of a mouse at a mountain. in the course of two or three years a european by means of hard work, good memory and facile ear, may succeed in speaking one of the dialects so as generally to make himself understood, but to the end of his days his speech, for more than a few sentences, would never be mistaken in the dark by one chinaman for that of another chinaman. as for the written character, i do not believe it possible for any european to acquire more than a superficial general, or a mature one-sided, knowledge of it. some missionaries, notably jesuits, have given their lives to the work and have undoubtedly attained to considerable erudition in the classics and in subjects pertaining to religious doctrines, but in place give them some business papers or other documents in current use and they would be at once hopelessly nonplussed. a man may have mastered eight or ten thousand characters and may be able to read or dictate letters on any subject, but he probably would not be able to read a single line from most of the classics. i have heard, as a phenomenal thing, of a foreigner being able to write a letter himself, but the fact of its being phenomenal shows how unusual it was, and does not prove the absence of either crudities or errors. all europeans, even the most competent, are _always_ assisted by educated chinamen when engaged on serious chinese work. unaided, they might read much correctly, but they might altogether miss the sense, and most probably would meet with characters they did not know. as for writing, it is impossible. even if unaided one did manage to compose anything, it would be the work of a tyro and would never pass muster with literary chinese, while the penmanship would be laboured and coarse, for the manner of holding the pen or brush is quite different from our own, and if not acquired almost from infancy the knack comes with difficulty when bones and sinews are more firmly set. with regard to mastering what is called the running character, which, by way of illustration, may be said to correspond to our shorthand, the thing is not to be thought of. to apply a general test, no european would ever have the slightest chance of passing even the lowest of the literary examinations. one may well ask what is the reason of this inability to reach the attainments of even a moderately well-educated chinaman. no european can give his whole time from earliest childhood to the undivided study of chinese, and even if he could, i very much question if the unattractive nature of native literature would satisfy his more versatile brain, while the absence of social intercourse between the two races removes the greatest of all incentives to perseverance. on the other hand, the chinese are saturated with a hereditary instinct for their own language and literature, which instinct, besides assiduous cultivation for thousands of years, is fostered from infancy by their surroundings, and is so exactly suited to their patient, phlegmatic temperament that it comes to them as naturally as the air they breathe, and even if unable to read but a few characters in a phrase, they will arrive at the meaning as surely as a well-bred hound will follow a trail. and so it follows that although europeans of most brilliant intellect may devote long years and infinite labour to the study of chinese, lacking this native instinct, they can never attain to that ripened and fluent knowledge which is a heritage of the mongol race alone. * * * * * [sidenote: missionaries.] what to say anent missionaries? in england alone the proselytising spirit is strong, and every parish subscribes liberally to missionary funds in order that labourers in the vineyard may not be wanting, and that the ends of the earth may know the tidings of joy. most european residents in china are adverse to missionaries and express their opinions with such vehemence as to generally obscure criticisms of a more temperate nature. according to this majority the missionaries do nothing but harm. frequently of poor education, and lacking altogether in tact and discretion, they thrust themselves in where they are not wanted, they interfere in local matters, ignore local customs, offend local susceptibilities, and by allowing young unmarried ladies without experience and frequently without suitable escort to wander about the country, to outrage all sense of decency, thus generating ill-will which not infrequently leads to riots, bloodshed and diplomatic trouble, while the good they do is microscopic and the number of converts or "rice-christians" coincides with the amount of alms distributed, and who, when nothing further is to be acquired, revert to the faith, or indifference, of their forefathers. building fine residences with the funds provided by gullible folks at home, and constructing diminutive churches with the few remaining bricks, drawing fat salaries which increase _pari passu_ with the number of their children, and taking long summer holidays in japan or in the mountains when business men must be hard at work, nothing but condemnation is heard for the whole system which, they say, should be forcibly suppressed by the various governments concerned. while enough of this loud-voiced deprecation may be true to lend a colouring to the whole, i have no hesitation in saying that the opinions of most of the critics are absolutely worthless. in fact, they know nothing whatever about either the missionaries or their work, but simply repeat, with their own additions, things they have heard from any and every source without ever troubling to verify them personally. never was there a clearer case of "giving a dog a bad name," etc. we civilians in china frequently lead far from model lives and are in no position to throw stones, for which reason, probably, the mere sight of a professional good man is worse than the proverbial red rag, and the tendency is strong, i own, to disparage him and all his works, while serenely forgetful of our own palpable shortcomings. i have known one or two missionaries commit shady actions. i have known several civilians commit crimes. missionaries, like ourselves, it must not be forgotten, are very human, and contain in their ranks men widely differing in degrees of fitness. in various remote places i have met missionaries of many denominations--jesuits, anglicans, non-conformists, etc.--and on closer acquaintance i have almost invariably found them at heart, whatever their methods, attainments or achievements, to be men of sterling worth, of lofty ideals, leading noble, self-denying lives, and fighting the good fight for love of god and man, and for the faith that is in them. from the militant nature of their calling they cannot avoid interesting themselves in the lives and customs of the natives, and that their message to the heathen, inviting them to forsake the gods of their fathers and embrace the only true faith, arouses hostility in the most conservative people on earth, is in no sense to be wondered at. of medical missionaries who found hospitals and heal the sick, as well as of those who devote their lives to teaching the blind to read and the dumb to speak, adverse comment by anyone speaking with sincerity and briefest knowledge of the facts would be impossible. these missions of mercy shine as great beacons of christianity through the gloom of heathen darkness. [illustration: buddhist priest and acolyte holding book. _to face page ._] the greatest fault brought home to several missions is, in my opinion, their interference in legal quarrels between native christians and their unconverted fellow-citizens. this interference has undoubtedly frequently occurred and with marked success, thereby causing extreme irritation to the chinese officials, who dread possible complications with foreign consuls, and arousing the bitter resentment of the populace, not only against all christians, but also against all foreigners. indiscretion and want of tact are usually the fruit of enthusiastic inexperience, for veteran missionaries have generally tempered zeal with both suavity and cautiousness. that young, unmarried women, brought up in the pure atmosphere of western homes and unaccustomed to the nauseous sights and insanitary surroundings of eastern cities, should be allowed to ruin their healths, risk death by indescribable tortures, and in chinese eyes to forfeit their reputations, for the sake of doing a very problematical amount of good is, i cannot help feeling, a great mistake and too heavy a price to pay. if there must be missionaries, at least let them be men, and it would be far better and much more in accordance with the divine will if these girls settled in some one of our many colonies, married, and gave sons to the world, who then in due time might take up the cross of missionary endeavour. on the whole, i should say that while missionaries are greatly over-condemned by europeans residing in china, the good they do is over-estimated by people at home. putting aside all criticism of missionaries themselves, the vital question is--"will they succeed in converting china to christianity?" i am not sufficiently versed in the necessary statistics to offer a very valuable opinion, but, such as it is, it tends to the conviction that they will not. it is a mistake to believe that persecution is an unfailing help to a religious cause. it is so only when the persecution is sporadic and fitful: storms succeeded by sunshine. when persecution partakes of a stern, unrelenting nature, such as has recently been meted out to chinese converts, it certainly destroys, or at least stultifies, growth. despite remonstrances from the great powers and despite all treaties, i greatly fear that these persecutions will be more bitter and more general in the future than they have been in the past. while the progress of conversion is thus delayed and christianity by drawing the fire of hate and intolerance absorbs all attention, mohammedanism is silently making considerable strides, favoured by a period of bright sunshine, and unless storms of persecution soon burst again to roll back the tide, as after the last mohammedan rising, when, it is said, loads of human ears were forwarded to peking in token of successful repression, followers of the prophet bid fair to establish a position in china which cannot be coerced and must be recognised, and which would oppose to christianity an even stronger and keener influence than is exerted now. i have often heard the question asked--"would the chinese be any the better for becoming christians?" and the reply has usually been that they would not. personally, i believe that christianity would supply the chinaman's character with an element which it now altogether lacks--chivalry, and which, added to his many excellent qualities, would place him in the very forefront of the peoples of this earth. if china accepted christianity her moral and material regeneration would be assured, stagnation would yield to progress, darkness to light and hostility to friendliness. instead of the unwieldy mass now lying sulking at the feet of other nations, china would become a strong, self-reliant, prosperous state, fearing none, but held in respect and friendship by all. heathen china may possibly fall under the yoke of foreign powers, but the spirit of christianity, bringing with it reformation and progress, having once been breathed into her nostrils, it would be just as possible to chain the waters of the ocean as to hold her in lasting bondage, and christian china would be free. * * * * * [sidenote: chances.] forty odd years ago, at the close of the second great war, china was a veritable eldorado for europeans, where all turned to gold beneath the lightest touch of alien hands. fortunes were made with startling rapidity, and money came in so freely that the standard of living amongst foreign merchants and their _employés_ reached to such preposterous heights of luxuriousness, that when the inevitable reaction set in, want, and even ruin, supervened where plenty should have been found. from that date to this the descent from an inflated prosperity to a mean working level has been gradual and sure. what has been the cause of this descent? forty years ago the foreign trade was practically monopolised by englishmen, who had only to place their goods on the market of any newly-opened port for them to be snapped up at almost any price by chinese merchants, who then possessed but little knowledge of foreign wares and were exceedingly timid of their own officials. as time wore on this ignorance and timidity grew less and less, until the chinese purchaser came to close quarters with the english importer, eliminating middlemen at the small ports and transferring operations chiefly to the great emporiums of hongkong and shanghai. americans and continentals of all nationalities arrived in rapidly-increasing numbers, bringing merchandise for the chinese market, thus giving native buyers a much larger variety of goods from which to choose, and introducing a competition fatal to the former enormous profits. although the volume of both import and export trade shows a continuous yearly increase, it tends more and more to centre in the hands of a comparatively few large european firms with which chinese merchants from all parts of the empire directly negotiate, to the exclusion of foreigners in a small way of business. another reason for the decrease of profitable commercial openings is the practical extinction of china's tea trade with england, ceylon and india now supplying the home-market, and although as great a quantity of tea is still exported from china as formerly, it nearly all goes to russia, and this trade being in the hands of russian monopolists, there is but little employment for other nationalities, while even here it probably will not be many years before the russians largely follow our example in abandoning chinese tea in preference for that of ceylon and india. similarly the steam shipping, which originally was almost exclusively british-owned, is gradually passing to the credit of chinese capitalists, if not in name yet in reality, and any new development in this line is almost sure to be mainly financed from native sources. the opinion is largely held that accordingly as china is opened up by railways, by steam navigation on the inland waters, and by simplification of inland duties, foreigners will reap such advantages as may again enable them to quickly amass fortunes. let there be no delusion on this point. wherever openings for trade occur there will instantly be found shrewd chinese business men backed by a plentiful supply of native capital, and the westerner will get but little that is worth having. when the west river was thrown open to steamer traffic a few years since it was confidently predicted on all sides that it would cause a considerable development in foreign shipping. nothing of the kind. on a recent trip to wuchow i saw scores, and possibly hundreds, of small steamers and launches crammed with cargo and passengers, or towing strings of deep-laden junks, but they were all chinese-owned, while the only foreign-owned vessels to be seen were a few gun-boats and less than half-a-dozen steamers, which it is generally believed barely earn enough to cover expenses. the descent thus accounted for has chiefly then been caused by the competition amongst westerners allowing chinese merchants to get on even terms with them, when, being extremely good business men, holding absolute command of the native markets, and able to live much more cheaply than europeans, they have generally ousted small foreign traders from the out-ports by carrying operations over their heads direct to well-known houses at the great centres of trade. firms doing a large import and export business should prosper, although harassed by continual fluctuations in the value of silver, but their prosperity will redound to the direct advantage of a few only, while the chances of a man who comes out from home with a small capital being able to make for himself a successful commercial career are woefully meagre. even representatives of wealthy syndicates, after investigating prospects on the spot, generally come to the conclusion that capital can be more profitably invested elsewhere than in china. on the other hand there are a considerable number of official appointments to be obtained, carrying with them comfortable remuneration, but these are mostly filled up in england and in the several countries concerned. professional men, such as doctors, lawyers and dentists, working both for chinese clients and foreign residents, have capital opportunities, while for captains, officers and engineers for steamers, engineers and directors for docks and factories, professors for various colleges, mining experts and railroad constructors, there is an increasing demand at fair salaries, but, considering the trying climate, the banishment from home and the persistent decline in the value of silver, residence in the far east, even on a large income, is a doubtful advantage. the collapse of silver has been so great that whereas twenty or thirty years ago four silver dollars would purchase a sovereign, and a salary of four hundred dollars a month represented twelve hundred pounds a year, now it takes more than twelve dollars to purchase a sovereign, so that a similar salary of four hundred dollars a month represents less than four hundred pounds a year. it is a common belief at home that fluctuations in the value of silver are not felt when purchases are confined to a silver-using country. this is quite a mistake. china is a silver-using country, yet the standard of value maintained by her four hundred million souls is neither silver nor gold but copper cash, and the ultimate cost of _everything_ of native origin is regulated by its value in cash. a coolie's wages a few years ago may have been six thousand cash a month, and a dollar being then purchasable for say a thousand cash, you gave him six dollars a month. to-day his wages may still be six thousand cash but a dollar being now worth only five hundred cash, you are obliged to give him twelve dollars a month. precisely the same rule applies to meat, coals, vegetables, etc. for all imported foreign articles, such as clothes, stores, wines, etc., you must give enough in silver dollars to make up the price as reckoned at home, that is, in gold, and as you now have to give three times as many dollars for a sovereign as formerly your imported goods are three times dearer, or, in other words, the value of silver has fallen and its purchasing power is very much less than it used to be the whole world over. for a man drawing his salary in dollars the cost of living in the far east is more than double what it was twenty-five years ago. for those who direct big businesses the earnings of which are in silver and the expenses largely in gold, as well as for those who had already invested their fortunes in shares prior to the utter collapse of silver, the past few years have been a period of crushing losses, while the future must be fraught with grave anxiety. in short, but few fortunes are to be made in china, while money is very easily lost, and unless a man before leaving home secures a definite position in a good business firm, in government employ or in some profession, it would be most unwise of him to go out on the chance of finding employment after his arrival. the end * * * * * _colston & coy. limited, printers, edinburgh._ * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | page : per excellence replaced with par excellence | | page : averge replaced with average | | page : dogs-kin replaced with dog-skin | | page : bicyles replaced with bicycles | | | | note to readers: | | 'forrard' is a legitimate word, meaning "at or to or | | toward the front". | | on page , the word powed is a legitimate word, meaning | | "polled". | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * proofreaders transcriber's note: a table of contents has been created for this e-text. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. frank merriwell's races by burt l. standish author of "frank merriwell's schooldays," "frank merriwell's trip west," "frank merriwell's chums," "frank merriwell's foes," etc. philadelphia david mckay, publisher - south washington square copyright, by street & smith table of contents. chapter i. horse talk. chapter ii. an adventure on the road. chapter iii. teaching a rascal a lesson. chapter iv. birds of a feather. chapter v. what a hair can do. chapter vi. prince and the eavesdropper. chapter vii. the plot. chapter viii. taking chances. chapter ix. a strong accusation. chapter x. a fight against odds. chapter xi. a matter of speculation. chapter xii. the challenge. chapter xiii. the wrestling match. chapter xiv. plotting fun. chapter xv. thornton's "mash." chapter xvi. another challenge. chapter xvii. pure grit. chapter xviii. after the boat race. chapter xix. the yale spirit. chapter xx. spurning a bribe. chapter xxi. on the special train. chapter xxii. the fight on the train. chapter xxiii. seen again. chapter xxiv. two warnings. chapter xxv. the theatre party. chapter xxvi. trapped. chapter xxvii. an emissary from the west. chapter xxviii. friends or foes. chapter xxix. talk of a tour. chapter xxx. a hot run. chapter xxxi. an incentive to win. chapter xxxii. the run to the station. chapter xxxiii. enemies at work. chapter xxxiv. baseball. chapter xxxv. kidnaped. chapter xxxvi. the tournament. chapter xxxvii. to victory--conclusion. frank merriwell's races chapter i. horse talk. "he's a beauty!" jack diamond uttered the exclamation. he was admiring a horse frank merriwell had lately purchased. "he is," agreed danny griswold, with his hands thrust deep into his trousers pockets and his short legs set far apart. "but think of paying a thousand dollars!" "he looks like a racer," declared bruce browning, who showed unusual interest and animation for a fellow who was known as the laziest man at yale. "he's got the marks of a swift one," asserted diamond, walking around the bay gelding, which frank merriwell had led out into the middle of the stable floor for inspection. "he is rangey, has clean limbs, and a courageous eye. i shouldn't wonder if he could cover ground in a hurry." "i did not buy him for a racer," asserted frank. "i purchased him as a saddle horse purely for my own use and pleasure." "you must have money to burn," chirped griswold. "your old man must have made loads of it. i had an uncle four times removed once who made money, but he got arrested when he tried to pass it." "that reminds me of my father and his partner," said browning, with apparent seriousness. "they formed a strange sort of a partnership. one of them stayed in new york all the time, while the other remained in california. in this manner they managed always to have plenty of money between them." "oh, goodness!" gasped diamond, "if you fellows keep this up, i shall want to get away." "if you want to get a weigh, we'll try to find some scales for you," chuckled griswold, his eyes twinkling. "they say dan dorman's father has plenty of money," said frank. "i've heard so," admitted browning. "but dorman is too mean to make much of a drain on the old man's pile." "that's right," nodded griswold. "why, he is so mean that in the winter, when his hair gets long, he wets it thoroughly, and then goes out in the open air and lets it freeze." "what does he do that for?" "so he can break it off and save the price of a hair-cut!" "say," cried diamond, desperately, "i thought you fellows were talking about a horse!" "no," yawned browning, "we're talking about a jackass." every one but jack seemed to appreciate this, for they all grinned. "well," said the lad from virginia, "merriwell has brought out his horse for us to inspect, and i move we do so. after this is over, you may talk of anything you please." "it is rather remarkable that you should pay such a price for a mere saddle horse," declared browning. "i simply kept my promise," smiled frank. "your promise?" "exactly." "what promise?" "the one i made to myself when this horse enabled me to overtake a runaway that was dragging winifred lee to danger and possible death. this is the animal on which i pursued the runaway, and i took him without asking leave of the owner. i vowed that if this horse enabled me to catch and stop the runaway before miss lee was harmed i would own the creature if it took my last dollar," he added. "and that," cried griswold, trying to strike a dramatic attitude--"that is true love!" "well, i don't know as i blame you, merriwell," admitted bruce. "winifred lee is a stunning girl. but it strikes me that the owner of the horse swindled you." a bit of additional color had risen to frank's cheeks, and he looked strikingly handsome. the boys knew it would not do to carry the joke about winnie lee too far, and so they refrained. "the man who owned the horse did not want to sell him at any price," explained frank. "i induced him to set a price that he thought would settle me, and then i snapped him up so quickly it took away his breath." "i should think your guardian would have kicked at throwing up a thousand for such a purpose." "he did," laughed frank, looking at diamond, who showed a little confusion. "you remember that jack, rattleton and myself went on to springfield to meet him a few days ago?" "and got arrested for kidnaping a baby!" chuckled griswold. "that was a corker. we didn't do a thing to you fellows when you got back here!" "that's right," admitted jack, dolefully. "not a thing! you simply marched us through the streets and onto the campus with a band and banners and made a stunning show of us!" "well," said frank, "professor scotch, my guardian, was so glad to get out of the scrape when the judge discharged us that he gave up the thousand without a flutter. that's how i got the money." "well," yawned browning, "now you have the horse, you'll find him an expensive piece of furniture. it takes money to take care of 'em and feed 'em." diamond had been inspecting the gelding from all sides, surveying him with the air of one who knows something about horses, and he now asked: "has the creature a pedigree, old man?" "sure," nodded frank. "its pedigree is all right. i have it somewhere, but i don't care so much for that." "oh, i don't know! it may prove of value to you some day." "how?" "well, you may take a fancy to enter nemo in a race or two." "what then?" "if he should win, you'll want his pedigree." "i suppose that is right, but i am no sportsman of the turf; that is professional. amateur sports are good enough for me." "honest horse racing is one of the grandest sports in the world!" cried jack, with flashing eyes. "honest horse racing!" laughed griswold. "what's that? where do you find anything like that?" "oh, there is such a thing." "there may be, but people are not used to it." "that's why i do not think much of horse racing," declared frank. "there are too many tricks to it to suit me." "oh, there are tricks to any sort of sport." "very few to college sports. if a man is caught at anything crooked it means ruin for his college career, and he is sure to carry the stigma through life. i tell you college sports are honest, and that is why they are so favored by people of taste and refinement--people who care little or nothing for professional sports. the public sees the earnestness, the honesty, and the manhood in college sports and contests, and the patrons of such sports know they are not being done out of their money by a fake. prize fighting in itself is not so bad, but the class of men who follow it have brought disgrace and disrepute upon it. fights are 'fixed' in advance by these dishonest scoundrels, and the man who backs his judgment with his money is likely to be done out of his coin by the dirtiest kind of a deal." "what makes me sore," said diamond, "is that some sensational newspapers should send professional bruisers to witness our college football games and denounce them as more brutal than prize fights." "that makes me a trifle warm under the collar," admitted browning. "but i don't suppose we should mind what that class of papers say. their motto is 'anything for a sensation,' and the intelligent portion of the newspaper readers is onto them. these papers have faked so many things that they carry no weight when they do tell the truth." "i wouldn't mind putting nemo into a race just to see what sort of stuff there is in him," admitted frank. "why don't you do it?" cried diamond, eagerly. "i wouldn't want to enter him in any of the races around here." "take him to new york." "no; those races are beyond my limit. all i want to do is try him for my own satisfaction." "then run him into the mystic park races at bethany. you can do that quietly enough." "that's so," said browning. "you can do that without attracting too much attention to yourself." "we'll all go up and see the race," declared griswold. "it will be great sport. do it, old man!" "but where can i get a jockey i can trust?" "you'll have to scrub around for one, and take chances." "no!" cried merriwell, as a sudden thought struck him. "i can do better than that." "how?" "i have the fellow." "who?" "a colored boy at home. he is fond of horses." "has he ever ridden in a race?" "twice." "did he win?" "once. my uncle, who kindly left me his fortune, was a crank on fast horses, and he owned a number of them. toots could ride some of them that would allow nobody else to mount them. uncle asher had horses in the races every year, but he was often 'done' by his jockeys. he knew it well enough, but he found it impossible to get the sort of jockey he wanted. toots begged to ride a race, but he was a little shaver, and uncle was afraid. finally, one day, just before a race was to come off, uncle asher discovered that his jockey had sold out. at the last moment he fired the fellow, and was forced to let toots ride, or withdraw his horse. toots rode, and won. the next time he rode he might have won, but the horse was doped." "he's just the chap you want!" nodded jack, with satisfaction. "put nemo into the bethany races, and let toots ride him." "i'll think of it," said frank. a hostler approached the group. "howdy do, mr. merriwell, sir?" he said. "one of your friends called to see your horse this morning, sir." "one of my friends?" cried frank, in surprise. "who was it?" "he gave his name as diamond, sir--jack diamond." merriwell immediately turned on jack and asked: "hello, how about this? did you call to see nemo this morning?" "not much!" exclaimed jack. "this is the first time i have been here. the hostler is mistaken." "you must have misunderstood your visitor, grody," said frank. "he could not have given his name as jack diamond, for this is jack diamond here." the man stared at jack, and then shook his head. "that's not the feller," he declared. "of course not. your visitor must have given you some other name." "not on your life," returned grody, promptly. "he said his name was jack diamond, sir, and i will swear to that." "well, this is somewhat interesting!" came grimly from frank. "what did he do, grody?" "he looked nemo over, sir." "looked nemo over how--in what way?" "why, i offered to take nemo out of the stall, but he said no, not to bother, as he only wished to glance at the horse. he went to the stall, which same i showed him, and looked in. the door wasn't locked, for i had just been cleanin' the stall out. he opened the door and stood there some little time. first thing i knew he was gone. i went and looked into the stall, and he was examinin' nemo's feet. he seemed wonderful interested in the horse, and i saw by the way he acted he knew something about horses." "the interest deepens," observed frank. "go on, grody." "when he came out of the stall he says to me, says he, 'merriwell has struck a right good piece of horseflesh there.' says i, 'in the best of my judgment he has, sir.' says he, 'i understand he paid a fancy figure for the gelding, something like a thousand, he told me.' says i, 'if he told you that i have no doubt he told you correct, sir.' then says he, 'does he mean to race him?' 'that,' says i, 'bein' a friend of mr. merriwell, is something what you should know as well as i, or better.' then he says, says he, 'horses is mighty uncertain property, for you never can tell what may happen to them.' in this i agreed with him, but there was something about him i didn't like much. then he went away." frank whistled. "this is highly interesting," exclaimed frank. "what did this fellow look like, grody? can you describe him?" "well, i looked him over rather careful like, sir, but i don't know as i can describe him particular, except that he had on a checked suit and wore a red necktie, in which were a blazer, genuine, or to the contrary. i know horses, but i'm no judge of diamonds. he was smooth shaved, and his jaw were rather square and his hair short. the eyes of him never looked straight at me once. somehow i didn't think he were a student, for he made one or two breaks in the words he said that made his talk different from your student's. he didn't have that sort of real gentleman way with him neither." frank turned to his friends. "now what do you suppose this business means, fellows?" he asked. "it means crookedness!" declared diamond, rather excitedly. "i am dead sure of that!" "it looks that way," admitted browning. "but what sort of crookedness can it mean?" asked frank, bewildered. "what is the game?" "that will develop later; but there is some kind of a game on, be sure of that," asserted jack. "if not, why should anybody come here and give a fictitious name? that gives the whole thing away. look out, frank, all your enemies are not sleeping!" "well, it is time they let up on me," said merriwell, seriously. "they have brought nothing but disaster and disgrace on themselves thus far, and----" "some of them are looking for revenge, mark what i say." "i am tired of being bothered and harassed by petty enemies!" exclaimed frank. "i have had considerable patience with the fellows who have worked against me, but there is a limit." "that's right, and they would have reached the limit with me long ago," declared diamond. "well, it is like this, jack," said frank; "it is almost always true that not all of a man's enemies are bad fellows. to begin with, you remember that you were my enemy, and now we are friends, and this is not the first time such a thing has happened with me." "well, if a man were bucking against me, i do not think i would wait to see how he would turn out before i bucked back." "oh, i am not in the habit of doing that. you will remember that i bucked back pretty hard in your case." jack did remember it, and he felt that merriwell was capable of holding his own with his foes. "you will do well to look out for your horse, all the same," said diamond. "that's right," grunted browning. "if i were in your place, merriwell, i'd watch out pretty sharp." "i will," said frank. "i'll have toots come on here and keep watch over nemo most of the time. when he is not here, grody can take his place. if i have an enemy who thinks of stealing my horse, he'll have hard work to accomplish his design." "unless he does it before you get things arranged," said griswold. "put him up, merriwell, and let's get out." "i am going for a ride," said frank. "put the saddle on him, grogan. will see you later, fellows, if you are going now." "we'll wait till you leave," yawned browning. "there's no reason why we should tear our clothes hurrying away." "you are not liable to tear your clothes doing anything," laughed frank. chapter ii. an adventure on the road. grody soon had nemo saddled and bridled. the horse was eager to be away, as he showed by his tossing head, fluttering nostrils and restless feet. "whoa, boy," said frank, soothingly. "don't be so impatient. we'll get away in a moment." he swung into the saddle, the stable doors rolled open, and away sprang the gelding. the remaining lads hurried out of the stable to watch frank ride, grody accompanying them. "he seems like he were a part of the horse," declared the hostler, admiringly. "that young gentleman were born to handle horses, he were." "he is, indeed, a graceful rider," nodded diamond. "i am sure he did not learn in any riding academy, for he rides naturally. the riding academies all turn out riders with an artificial and wooden style. there is no more distressing sight than the riders to be seen in central park, new york, almost any afternoon. they bounce around in the saddle like a lot of wooden figures, and it is plain enough that many of them do not bounce because they want to, but because they think it the proper thing. southerners ride naturally and gracefully. mr. merriwell rides like a southerner." "he rides like buffalo bill," said browning, with an effort. "bill is the best rider i ever saw." diamond was watching merriwell and the horse, a queer look on his face. finally he exclaimed: "by jove! there's something the matter with nemo!" "what is it?" asked griswold. "i didn't notice anything." "the horse shows a suspicion of lameness," asserted jack. "you have good eyes to detect it," observed browning, doubtingly. "i can't see that anything is the matter with the horse." "i'll wager he goes lame before merriwell returns." "if he does, i shall think you have great discernment." merriwell turned a corner and disappeared. "come, fellows," said griswold, "let's shuffle along." "merriwell is altogether too generous," declared diamond, as the trio walked away. "in what way?" asked browning. "with his enemies. i know you and i were both enemies to him in the beginning, and----" "he threw us down hard." "that's all right; but there are enemies you have to hold down." "merriwell didn't do a thing to hartwick!" exclaimed griswold, grinning. "he scared the fellow so he ran away from college, and nobody knows where he went." "yes, but merriwell gave him the opportunity to skip and escape the disgrace that must follow public exposure of his acts. some fellows would have exposed him and brought about his expulsion." "that's right," chirped griswold. "merriwell was as generous with hartwick as he could be with such a fellow. he might have used him much worse than he did." "and do you fancy hartwick thinks any more of merriwell for not exposing him publicly?" asked jack. "oh. i don't know." "well, i will wager that he does not. more than that, i'll venture that hartwick, wherever he may be, cherishes a fierce desire for revenge, and longs for the day when he will be able to get back at frank. merry will hear from that chap again." and there the subject was dropped. frank enjoyed the ride upon nemo's back, for the horse seemed intelligent and something of a comrade. the boy talked to his mount as if the animal could understand every word he uttered. he had ridden beyond the limits of the city before he noticed that nemo was limping the least bit. "what's the matter, old fellow?" asked frank, with concern. "have you hurt yourself some way?" nemo shook his head. it almost seemed that the animal was answering the question in the negative. "you must have stepped on a stone," merriwell declared. "why, you are really beginning to limp in earnest!" frank immediately dismounted, after having decided it was nemo's left hind leg or foot that was lame. "i'll make an inspection, and see if i can discover what is the matter," said the boy, anxiously. he examined both of the horse's hind feet, but could not see that anything was wrong. "if that rascally shoer has blundered in his work he'll not get another chance at you, boy," merriwell declared. after patting nemo's neck and fondling the fine creature a bit, frank mounted once more. but nemo limped worse than ever. "this is singular," muttered the perplexed lad. "i don't understand it at all. there's something wrong, for a fact." he watched the horse, and decided that he had made no mistake in locating the lameness in the left hind leg. again he dismounted and made an examination, and again the result was far from satisfactory. "i wish you might speak and tell me what is the matter," said frank, in dismay. "i'll have you examined without delay by somebody who knows his business." he rode slowly into the outskirts of the city. of a sudden there was a rattle of wheels and a clatter of hoofs behind him. he turned and looked back, to see a carriage coming along the road at a reckless rate. two persons were seated in the carriage, and the horse was covered with sweat. "why are those fools driving like that?" muttered merriwell. "are they drunk, or is it a matter of life or death?" "get out of the road!" the command was hoarsely shouted, and frank reined aside, having no desire to get in the way of the reckless driver. once more the boy on the horse turned to look back. "drunk, sure enough," he decided. "and they are two young fellows, too. students on a tear, perhaps." the occupants of the carriage had been drinking heavily, but they were not so drunk that they did not recognize the boy in advance when he turned in the saddle the second time. "hey, rolf!" exclaimed the one who was not driving. "it's merriwell!" "that's what it is!" cried the driver. "i haven't seen him for some time, but i know his face too well to ever forget it!" "he's out on his new horse." "sure." "run him down! run him down! throw him off! now's our chance!" the driver was just intoxicated enough to be utterly reckless of consequences, and he snarled: "hang me if i don't do it!" and then, when they were very near the boy and the horse, he suddenly reined toward frank with the intention of running into merriwell's mount. in another moment there might have been a grand smash there on the road, but frank had caught the words "run him down!" and he gave nemo a light cut with the whip, at the same time pulling him still farther into the ditch. nemo was not used to the whip, and he leaped like a flash. such a spring would have unseated any but a most expert rider, but the boy in the saddle seemed to move as a part of the horse. into the ditch they went, and past them spun the carriage containing the two reckless young men. the carriage came very near upsetting. it careened and spun along on two wheels, threatening to hurl its occupants into the ditch, for the driver had reined the horse back toward the middle of the road. both clung on for life. "don't blame me!" muttered merriwell, through his teeth. "you were looking for a smash." but the carriage did not go over; it righted at last. one of the young men looked back and shook his fist at the boy on the horse, and then away they went in a cloud of dust. "if that was not evan hartwick, i am greatly mistaken!" exclaimed frank, as he reined nemo back into the road. "so he is back here as soon as this? i know what that means. he is looking for revenge on me." frank had seen the face of the driver as the carriage spun past, and he added: "hartwick's companion is somebody i know. i did not obtain a fair look at him, but--great scott! it was the card sharp, rolf harlow!" harlow was a fellow who had entered harvard, but had not completed his second year there, leaving suddenly for reasons not generally known. a yale man by the name of harris, familiarly known as "sport," because of his gambling inclinations, had known harlow, and had introduced him to a number of yale students. harris and harlow were both poker players, but they claimed that they played the game "merely for amusement." a number of harris' acquaintances had been induced to enter into the game, and there had been some very "hot sittings." no one seemed to suspect that harlow was crooked, for he almost always lost, although he never lost large sums. harris won almost continually. he seemed to be the luckiest fellow in the world in drawing cards. he would hold up one ace on a large jackpot and catch two more aces and a small pair. it seemed the greatest kind of "bull luck." harry rattleton, merriwell's roommate, was following the game. frank tried to induce him to keep away, but it was without avail. then frank seemed to take an interest in the game, and it was not long before he proved that harlow was a card manipulator, and caught him at one of his tricks. that finished harlow's career at plucking yale "fruit," and the fellow left new haven suddenly. harris had remained under a cloud of suspicion since that time, as there seemed very little doubt but he had been in league with harlow, and they had divided the plunder between them. the proof had not been sufficient to incriminate harris, but it had been enough to make him unpopular and cause him to be shunned. he had seemed to take this very meekly, but some of merriwell's friends declared that harris had not forgotten or forgiven, and that he would strike back at frank if the opportunity ever presented. now harlow was back in new haven, and hartwick, who had been forced to leave college to escape expulsion, was also there. that meant something. "hartwick, harlow and harris--the three hard tickets. they are birds of a feather. all they need is ditson to make a most delectable quartet!" so muttered frank merriwell, as he gazed at the receding cloud of dust. frank began to realize that there was more trouble in store for him. "i shall not deal gently with that gang this time," he declared, with a hard-set face. "this little adventure has put me on my guard, and i don't propose to let them have much fun with me. those two fools were just full enough to drive right into me with the hope of doing me an injury, without a thought of their own necks. they might have been thrown out and killed, but they did not hesitate because of that. the one thought was to do me some way--any way. hartwick always was a desperate fellow, but i did not fancy harlow could be such a chap. however, he was driving that horse, and the way he drove was proof enough that he is careless of life and limb at times." for some time frank paid very little attention to nemo, but the lameness of the horse became so pronounced at last that he could not help observing it once more. "that worries me, old fellow," he admitted, with a troubled face. "it is something i can't understand." he rode slowly back to the stable. it was growing dark when he arrived at the stable. a strange man was standing outside as frank rode up. the man looked keenly at the boy and the horse, and then, as the doors rolled open, followed into the stable. "horse is lame, eh?" he said, questioningly. "i didn't notice that when he went out. he wasn't lame then, was he?" frank paid not the least attention to this question. the man was a stranger, and the boy did not care to talk with him. "i spotted that horse when yer rode out, young man," the stranger persisted. "fine lookin' critter--just the kind i've been wantin' some time for a saddle horse. whose critter is it?" "grody," said frank, utterly ignoring the man, "i want you to see if you can tell what ails nemo. he is lame in one of his hind feet. he was taken that way after i had been out a while. i think it possible there is something the matter with the way he is shod. will you look after him without delay?" "to be sure, sir--i'll not fail, sir," said grody. "then the horse belongs ter you, does it?" asked the strange man, coming forward and addressing frank in a point-blank manner. "i am a horseman, and i know all about critters. if there's anything the matter--and there seems to be--i can tell what it is in five minutes. shall i make an examination, young man?" "no, sir!" came sharply from merriwell's lips. "i do not propose to have strangers fooling around my horse. i do not know you, sir, so your offer is respectfully declined." chapter iii. teaching a rascal a lesson. "now hold on, young man, don't be so fast," said the stranger. "you do not know me now, and i don't blame yer fer not wantin' anybody yer don't know doing anything fer yer horse; but here's my card--professor james colbath--and now i know you have heard of me. i am one of the greatest veterinary surgeons in the country." frank ignored the card, and the man began to show signs of anger. "this is no bluff!" he exclaimed. "it's on the level. i have nary doubt but i can find out what's the matter with the critter in five minutes, and if i don't give yer a square deal i don't want a cent for my services, that's all." he would have lifted one of nemo's feet, but frank cried: "drop that! i tell you i don't want you, and i won't have you! get away from this horse!" the man growled and stiffened up. "all right," he said, somewhat savagely. "i did think of trying to buy the critter off yer, but you're too flip. if the animal stays lame, don't blame me." although frank had seemed to pay very little attention to the stranger, he was inspecting him closely. he saw the man had pulled his hat down over his eyes, and wore his coat collar turned up. he had a black beard that concealed his features to a great extent. grody was also looking the stranger over closely. he fancied he detected a familiar sound in the man's voice. the light in the stable was rather dim, and that served to make the inspection of the boy and the hostler rather unsatisfactory. all at once, grody started as if struck by a sudden idea. as soon as possible, he whispered in frank's ear: "that mug is the same chap that were here this afternoon, sir." "the same chap? what chap?" "the one what gave his name as diamond." "no? you said that fellow had no beard." "i don't believe this man's beard is all right." frank was aroused. he fancied that he saw a ray of light. the fellow who had called himself professor colbath turned away. he had heard the hostler whisper, and he caught frank's question. immediately he showed a desire to get out. leaving the horse to grody, frank quickly placed himself before the stranger, saying: "hold on a minute. i don't know but i'll talk with you a little." "no, yer won't!" growled the man. "i'm done tryin' to talk with a fresh youngster like you--i'm done with you." "well, i am not done with you!" frank's voice rang out sharp and stern. "what do you want?" asked the man, uneasily. "i want to see your face." "well, look at it, and when ye've seen it i'll proceed to smash yours! i don't take no insolence from a kid!" "take off your hat!" "i will--nit!" "and that beard--take it off!" "ye're crazy!" cried the man, as he started back. "am i?" frank gave a spring and a grab with both hands. one hand snatched away the cap, and the other tore off the black beard, which, indeed, proved to be false. the man uttered an exclamation of rage, and struck at frank, who dodged the blow. "is this the fellow, grody?" cried frank. "the same mug!" declared the hostler, excitedly. "well, that's all i want to know!" burst from frank, as he flung the hat and beard to the floor. "so you were monkeying around my horse to-day, you fakir! well, what you need is a pair of good black eyes, and i propose to give them to you!" snap!--off came the boy's jacket in a twinkling, and he still stood between the unmasked man and the door. the man, who was a coarse-looking young ruffian, ground his teeth and uttered some violent language. "git out the way!" he snarled. "i'm a fighter, and i'll kill yer! i can put yer ter sleep with one punch!" merriwell's blood was thoroughly stirred, and he felt just like teaching the fellow a lesson. although a youth in years, frank was, as my old readers know, a trained athlete, and he could handle his fists in the most scientific manner. "i am going to give you a chance to put me to sleep," he shot back. "i see your dirty game from start to finish! you are a fakir of the worst sort, and you tried to work me. you did something to my horse to make him lame, and you thought you would get a fat pull out of me for doctoring him. instead of that, you have run your head into a bad scrape, and it will be damaged when you get it out." "you talk big for a kid. why, i can blow yer over with my breath." "it is strong enough. but i don't go over so easy. up with your hands if you are such a fighter! i'm coming for you!" "all right! if ye're bound to have it, come on!" the man put up his guard, and then merriwell went at him, while grody gasped for breath, thinking the college lad could be no match for the young ruffian. there were a few swift passes, and then frank went under the fellow's guard and gave him a terrific uppercut on the chin. that was a staggerer, and the boy followed it up while the man was dazed. punk!--biff!--two blows, one on the body and the other fairly in the eye. the second blow nearly knocked the man down, and it made him as fierce as a famished tiger. snarling like an enraged beast, he tried to close in on the lively lad. "oh, let me get hold of you!" he grated. "i'll crush the life out of ye!" frank avoided the rush by stepping aside, and gave the fellow another body blow as he passed. body blows, however, were not as effective as they should have been, on account of the fellow's clothing, and merriwell quickly decided to waste no more energy in that manner. the man turned, and went for frank again. this time the boy did not try to get out of the way, but he met his antagonist squarely, and gave him a heavy one in the other eye. "that ought to make them mates," said frank, with a laugh. "you won't know yourself when you look in the glass to-morrow morning. perhaps it'll teach you better than to try any of your rackets on a boy. you can't always tell what you are getting up against." the man's teeth could be heard grinding together. he was so furious that he quite lost his head. then frank sailed in to finish the affair as soon as possible. grody held his breath, nearly bursting with astonishment and admiration. "oh, say!" he chuckled. "i never saw a youngster what were that fellow's match! he's hot stuff!" the hostler could scarcely believe it possible that merriwell was giving the scoundrel a first-class whipping, but this became more and more evident with each passing moment. in fact, frank was struck just once during the entire encounter, and that was a glancing blow on the forehead, which he scarcely noticed. he thumped the rascal to his heart's satisfaction, and then knocked him flat with a round-arm swing that landed on the jaw. the ruffian lay on the floor and groaned. when he started to get up merriwell exclaimed: "there, i think that will do you for to-night! when you want some more of the same just come fooling around my horse!" he caught the man by the shoulders, yanked him to his feet, ran him to the door, and booted him out of the stable. having done this, frank turned back and coolly put on his coat. "there, grody," he said, "i feel better. i think it is possible i have given that rascal a lesson he will not forget in a hurry." the hostler stared, and then he cried: "mr. merriwell, sir, you are a wonder! if as how you were to go inter ther ring you'd make some of the duffers hustle. that were the neatest job what i ever see!" "it was not so much of a trick," declared frank. "the fellow is strong, i'll warrant, but he is too heavy on his feet and too slow in his movements. there are scores of fellows in college who can polish him off." "i will allow i never knowed you college chaps were able to fight like that before. i knowed some of you were for fighting among yourselves all right, but i didn't think you could go up against a reg'ler scrapper." "it's a part of the education at yale," smiled frank; "and i've found it comes in handy occasionally. the man who can't fight his way through this world in one manner or another gets walked over by chaps who are not his equal in any other way. i do not believe a man should fight only at the proper time, but when he has to fight, i hold that he should be able to do a good turn at it." "well, you can do your turn all right, sir." "now, grody, nemo must receive proper attention. i am sure that fellow did something to make the horse lame. what he did i can't tell. i don't see how he did it without getting his brains kicked out." grody hesitated, and then he said: "mr. merriwell, sir, i wants to tell ye something." "all right, grody, go on." "i didn't tell all what happened in the stall to-day when that bloke were here." "oh, you didn't?" "no, sir. what called my attention to the fact that he had gone inter the stall were a racket." "what sort of a racket?" "nemo kicked and squealed, sir, and i heard the man speaking to him. then i ran over and looked in." "what was the rascal doing, grody?" "he were examinin' nemo's feet, sir." "and that was when he got in his dirty work!" cried frank, angrily. "i'm afraid i didn't thump him as much as he deserved! i feel like hunting him up and giving him a few more!" chapter iv. birds of a feather. in a little back room of a saloon three young men were sitting. they were talking earnestly, for all that two of the three showed they had taken altogether too much liquor to be entirely sober. "we're glad to see you, sport," one of the drinkers declared. "well, i am glad to see you, harlow, old man, and you, too, hartwick, although we were never friendly before you left yale so suddenly." "that was my fault," admitted hartwick, huskily. "i didn't know enough to pick out the right sort of pals. i trusted too much to ditson. he's no good!" "now there is where you make a mistake," asserted sport harris, quickly. "i know ditson has no nerve, but he hates the same fellow we hate, and he is good to do the dirty work. we can make use of him, hartwick." "i don't know anything about him," confessed harlow. "no, he hasn't the nerve to play poker, and so you did not get acquainted with him when you were here." "i don't know that he hates merriwell so much," growled hartwick. "you remember that ditson blowed everything to merriwell, and that is why i was forced to skip. oh, i'd like the satisfaction of punching the face off the dirty little traitor!" "but what caused ditson to blow? he says you misused him." "i choked the cad a little, that is all." "but there was something back of that," declared harris. "what led you to choke him?" "oh, we had a little trouble. he was trying to squeeze me too hard, and i wouldn't stand for it." "trying to squeeze you?" "yes." "how?" "well, i don't mind telling you. you know i tried to mark merriwell for life by punching my foil through the mask that protected his face while we were engaged in a fencing bout. i had prepared my foil for that in advance by fixing the button so i could remove it, and by sharpening the point of the foil. i wanted to spoil the fellow's pretty face!" the most malignant hatred was expressed in hartwick's words and manner. he went on: "i tried the trick, but did not succeed. ditson carried off the foil, and kept it. he would not give it up, although he promised to a hundred times. he used it to aid in blackmailing me. when he asked me for money, i did not feel like refusing him, for he could throw me down hard by turning the foil over to merriwell. but he carried the thing too far. "one night when i was in a bad mood he tried to squeeze more money out of me. he had been living in luxury for some time, while i was broke almost continually. i kicked and refused to give up. then he had the insolence to threaten me with exposure. i lost my head and choked him. directly after that he turned like a viper and blowed everything to merriwell. that was my downfall. i had to skip. is there any reason why i should not hate the sneak?" "no, i do not wonder that you are sore on him; but he did not make anything out of the trick." "didn't make anything! why, he forced me out of college!" "that was not the main thing he was looking for." "then what was?" "he hoped to get in with merriwell, and he fancied merriwell would think him a fine fellow for blowing." "well?" "well, he made a mistake in frank merriwell, for merriwell despised him all the more, although he did nothing to injure ditson. he does not recognize ditson at all, and now ditson is more eager than before to do merriwell an injury." "all the same, ditson can't be trusted." "not unless he is so deep in the game that it means ruin for him to blow. then he is caught. as i said in the first place, he is a good man to do the dirty work that we do not want to touch." "i think harris is right," nodded harlow, "and you may get a chance to even up with ditson by throwing him down when we have fixed merriwell nicely." "but you want to remember you are going up against a bad man in frank merriwell," warned sport. "i do not care to be forced out of yale." "of course not," said hartwick and harlow. "you fellows have not so much to look out for. you can do things that would be beyond me." "we made a bluff at doing something to-day," growled hartwick. "we were out for a drive, and we came upon merriwell. he was on his new horse, and we tried to run him down, but he got out of the way." "i don't know but it is a good thing he did," confessed harlow. "if we had struck him there'd been a general smashup. i was driving, and we were making the old nag hit a hot pace. we came near going bottom up as it was." "you must have been badly rattled," exclaimed harris. "oh, i don't know," laughed hartwick, harshly. "we've been up against it for the past three days. eh, harlow?" "that's what," nodded the card sharp. "hartwick is a hard man to follow. he can kill more stuff than anybody i ever saw." "well," said harris, "i have asked ditson to come in here this evening. i took a chance on it, for i thought we could get rid of him easily enough if we didn't want him. he is liable to be along at any moment." harlow looked at a handsome watch. "a quarter to ten," he said. "he ought to be around soon if he is coming at all." "he will be. where'd you get that ticker, old man?" "oh, i took it off a sucker in a game. i'll have to soak it if i don't strike some sort of graft pretty soon. i'm getting down to hard pan." "i suppose you are all right, hartwick?" questioned harris. "you can call on your old man and make him give up any time." "well, i guess not! i haven't been able to get a dollar out of the old duffer since i left college. he is icy toward me, and he says i can go it for myself and be hanged." "that's pleasant! what have you been doing to gather in the coin?" "why, confound it! haven't i formed a partnership with harlow! i don't know anything about card tricks, but he works all of that, and i win the money. he gives me the hands to do it on, you see. if there is suspicion aroused, the poor suckers take to watching me, and they are unable to catch me at anything crooked. our only trouble is to find the right sort of fruit for plucking. we generally pretend we are strangers to each other. sometimes we have a little disagreement over the table, just to fool the fools all the more." "that's first-rate," laughed harris. "i wish the gang here was not onto harlow. i could get you some ripe plums." "and that's what made me so sore on merriwell," growled harlow. "but for that fellow we'd be right in it now. oh, i want to soak him some way, and soak him hard!" "and we'll find a way to soak him, too!" growled hartwick. "let's have another round, fellows." he pushed a button and a waiter appeared. drinks were ordered. when they were brought, ditson came in with the waiter. "hello, roll!" called harris. "glad you came along. mr. ditson, mr. harlow. i think you have met the other gentleman." ditson started and turned pale when he saw hartwick, who was glowering at him. "oh, yes! mr. ditson has met me!" said evan, significantly. "we do not need an introduction!" ditson seemed on the point of getting out in a hurry, but harris arose and took him by the arm. "it's all right," he assured. "sit down, roll." "what sort of a game is this?" hesitatingly asked ditson, keeping his eyes on hartwick. "have you fellows got me in here to do me up?" "nothing of the sort." "not but i'd like to do you, and do you good," confessed hartwick, "but harris won't have it." "no," said sport; "i hold that we are all united by our hatred for a common foe, and we cannot afford to be anything but friends." "all the same, it was a dirty deal you gave me, ditson," growled evan, who seemed to be longing to pick a row with the newcomer. "you forced me into it," declared ditson, weakly. "forced you?" "yes." "how was that?" "you know well enough. you set on me like a mad tiger, and i'll bet you would have choked me to death in your room if you hadn't been seized with one of your attacks of heart trouble. i was afraid of you, and i had to do something to protect myself." "so you blew the whole thing to merriwell! that was a brave trick. but i understand merriwell has turned you down in great shape since that." "well, he hasn't used me right," admitted ditson. "sometimes i think i'd like to kick the wind out of him, but i know i can't do it." "you may have the chance to take the wind out of him," said harris. "sit down, old man, and we will talk matters over. what are you drinking?" "bring me a sherry flip, waiter," ordered ditson, seeing the waiter had paused outside. then he sat down in a chair offered him, saying: "if there's any sure way of doing merriwell up, i'm in for it; but i give it to you straight that i am sick of trying to do him and having him come out on top. it's got to be a sure thing this time, or i don't touch it." beyond a thin partition in a room next to the one occupied by the four plotters sat a man who had a cut and bruised face and a pair of swollen black eyes. this man had been drinking heavily. a bottle of whiskey and a glass sat on the little table before him. he was alone in the room. he had seemed to suddenly lose all interest in the whiskey, and he was leaning against the board partition with his ear close to a crack, intently listening to the talk of the four lads in the next room. the man had heard frank merriwell's name spoken, and that was the first thing to attract his attention to what the occupants of the next room were saying. "that's the fellow!" muttered the man, hoarsely. "he's the one what gave me these beautiful peepers and pretty mug! i'll give him something worse than this before long." then he decided to listen. "wonder if them chaps is his friends? i'll jest see what they're sayin' about him." it was not long before the man was able to hear enough to satisfy him that the lads in the next room were anything but friends of frank merriwell, and he listened with fresh eagerness. he heard ditson come in with the waiter, and caught much of the conversation that followed. then ditson sat down, and the plotters lowered their voices. "that settles it!" exclaimed the man. "i'm goin' right in there and see if they don't want to take me inter the gang. them college ducks will be jest the fellers to help me in gettin' back at frank merriwell." he got up, left the little room, and went around to the door of the other room. without stopping to knock, he opened the door and walked in. "h'waryer," he saluted, as the four lads stared at him in amazement. "my name's mike hogan, and i want ter join in with ther push." "get out of here, you bum!" cried hartwick, fiercely. "you are intruding on a private party." "hold hard, young feller!" returned the fellow who had given his name as mike hogan. "don't call me a bum! i'm onto your curves, and there ain't no reason why you and me shouldn't be friends." "friends!" exclaimed hartwick--"friends! well, i prefer to choose my friends." "and you didn't make much of a success when you chose a young gent here what is named ditson. keep yer seat!" "press the button, harlow, and we'll have this fellow thrown out!" came savagely from hartwick's lips. "wait a minute before you press the button," urged mike hogan. "do you see this face?" "yes." "it's a peach, now, ain't it?" "you can consider yourself lucky if it isn't worse than that when you get out of here, my man." "don't 'my man' me, young feller! i don't like it! do yer know who give me this face and these two beautiful eyes?" "no, and we----" "well, i'll tell yer who it was. it was a feller what goes by the name of frank merriwell." "well, he did a first-class job," commented harris. "that really looks like some of merriwell's work." "he done it," nodded mike. "nacherlly i ain't got no love to speak of for him. well, i was in the room next to this just now, and as i was leanin' against the partition i happened to overhear what you chaps was sayin' in here. from what i heard, i judged you didn't love this merriwell none to brag about, and i says to myself, 'mike, if you want to get even, them is the boys to hitch fast to.' then i got right up and came in here without bein' invited. i hope you'll excuse me, gents, but i couldn't help it under the circumstances. i had a sort of feller-feelin' for you chaps, and i thought mebbe we might arrange some sort of a deal together that would do this merriwell, and do him for keeps. i'm not a chap with much education, but i'll bet anything i can hate just as hard as you fellers, and if there's anybody i hate on the earth, it's frank merriwell. "there, now, gents, you have heard what i have ter say, and i hope you'll tumble ter ther fact that i am on the level. this is no case of stringing. i want ter pay back that feller for these two black eyes and this mug. mebbe you can help me to do it, and i can help you to square yerselves with him at the same time. if that is right, why shouldn't we kinder go into partnerships for a short period? i put the question to yer, and you can do as ye please." the quartet at the table looked at one another inquiringly and doubtingly. they seemed to hesitate. "if this man tells the truth, and i should judge that he does, he may be of service to us and we to him," said sport harris. "that's right," nodded harlow. "if merriwell gave him that mug and those beautiful eyes, i don't wonder that he wants to get square." hartwick was silent. he was looking mike hogan over, and he was thinking: "is it possible i have fallen to the point where i have to take such a fellow as a comrade? no! it will not be as a comrade. we can use him as a tool, perhaps, and that is what we will do, if we use him at all." "sit down," invited hartwick, suddenly rising and offering mike his chair. "i'll get another. i want to hear just how you came by those eyes." hogan sat down at the table and hartwick brought a chair from a corner. "we are all anxious to hear how you came by those eyes," declared harlow. "some gent order drinks, and i will tell ye. never mind," he cried, as he saw them look at each other knowingly, as if they thought he was trying to work them for liquor, "i'll order, myself! don't you think for a second that i'm broke!" then he flung a small roll of bills on the table before them, reached past harlow, and pressed the button. when the waiter appeared, he said: "give these gents anything they want, pete." "wot if they orders champagne?" grinned pete, winking at the boys. "then bring it, dern ye!" snarled hogan, as he grabbed up the roll of money and thrust it at the waiter. "take the pay out of that and gimme the change." drinks were ordered and quickly brought. hogan paid for them and gave the waiter a quarter as a tip. "how about it, pete?" he asked. "am i all right?" "ye're all right, mike," declared the waiter, promptly; "and the young gents will find that anything you says sticks." then he went out. "now," said hogan, "before i begin i want to tell you chaps this: i'm on the make. that is how i happened to get up against this chap merriwell. i heard that he paid a cool thousand for that horse of his, and i kinder admitted that a boy who could pay that sum for a horse must be in circumstances that would permit him to burn money in an open grate. such a chap was worth my attention. i know horses from their hoofs to the tips of their ears. there ain't much of anything i don't know about 'em. and i knew merriwell must be stuck on the horse for which he paid a thousand plunks. "well, gents, i'll tell ye my scheme. i kinder thought it would be easy to play the horse doctor, and work merriwell for a good pot. all that was necessary was to make something ail the horse. then i went round to the stable where he keeps the critter, after i had first learned the name of one of merriwell's friends. i wanted to get at the horse, and i knew it wouldn't be easy unless i appeared to be on the inside track with merriwell. i went round and said i was this friend of merriwell, and in that way i got into the stall with the horse. "don't you care what i done to make that horse lame, but i done it all right. when merriwell rode out this afternoon the critter went to limpin' under him. when he came back to the stable i was there, but i had changed my clothes and i wore a beard. i introduced myself as a horse doctor, and offered to cure his horse, or not to charge him a dollar. if i cured the critter, which i could do easy, i meant to charge him a hundred dollars, and i thought he'd be fool enough to pay it without a kick." "that shows you didn't know the kind of a fellow you were trying to fool," said harris. "i found that out all right. he wouldn't make any talk with me. then when i got hot and was going away he suddenly took a notion to stop me. the first thing i knew he had snatched off my hat and beard, and the hostler recognized me as the same chap as was in to see the horse this afternoon. "i didn't feel alarmed then," mike went on, "for merriwell is a young chap, and i know something about fighting. that is, i thought i knew something about it. i'm not sure about that now. i told him to get out of the way, or i would do him up. i saw my scheme was bu'sted, but i felt sure it'd be some time before he'd find out what ailed his horse. "that young fool didn't seem at all scared of me. he wouldn't get out of the way and let me go, but he put himself in my way, and then we had it. when we got through i found that i had it, and i had it bad. there ain't no need to tell just what happened. take a look at my mug and you'll see for yourself. that young cuss can fight like a tiger! "but now i'm goin' to get level with him, and don't you fergit it! i'll make him sorry that he ever gave mike hogan a pair of black eyes! i'll never be satisfied till i have done him the worst kind of a turn. "i heard you chaps talkin', and it struck me that we might pull together to do him dirt. that's why i came right in. what do you say to it?" the boys looked at each other, and then they nodded approval. "you'll do," said harris. "you may prove a very valuable man for us." chapter v. what a hair can do. at his first opportunity to get away from recitations the following day frank took diamond and rattleton and hastened down to the stable to find out how nemo was coming along. grody, who had just saddled a horse for a gentleman, met frank, and the expression on his face was anything but reassuring. "well, how is the pony this morning?" asked merriwell, anxiously. "just as lame as he were, sir," answered grody. "i've been tryin' to find out what it were that happened to him, but i can't, sir." "did you take him to the shoer the first thing this morning and have his feet examined, as i directed?" "i did that, sir." "and what did the shoer say?" "he located the lameness in the same foot what we said were lame, sir, and he took off the shoe, but he said as how it were all right, and no fault of the shoeing. he didn't know but a nail might have gone too deep, sir, but he found that were not it." this was anything but satisfactory, and frank showed it by his face. "well," he said, "you know i told you to summon dr. cobb, if it proved something beyond the shoeing." "and that were what i done, sir." "and the doctor could not tell what ailed the horse?" "the doctor has not come yet, sir. he were busy when i send the message to him, but he said---- here he is now, sir." a rig drew up at the door, and a short, stubbed, red-bearded man stepped out. this man entered the stable with a quick step and called to the hostler: "well, grody, did you telephone me?" "yes, sir, i did, sir," said the hostler, quickly. "important case, you said?" "yes, sir, very important." "where's the horse?" "i'll bring him right out, sir." the hostler hastened to do so, and dr. cobb looked keenly at nemo. "walk him around," directed the doctor. grody obeyed. "just a bit lame," commented the doctor. "it may be a slight strain. it doesn't seem to be much." "but it grows worse when he is taken out on the road," said frank. "it was very bad yesterday afternoon." the doctor glanced at the boy. "your horse?" he asked. "yes, sir." "when did you first notice he was lame?" "yesterday afternoon." "had him out this morning?" "grody took him to the shoer, that's all." "what did he say?" "said there was nothing the matter with the way nemo is shod." "perhaps he lied. didn't want to hurt his business. did he do anything?" "yes, he reset the shoe on the lame foot." "hum! horse may be all right by to-morrow or next day." "i do not think he will, doctor." "eh? why not?" "because i have reasons to believe he was made to go lame." "is that so? well, now the matter becomes more interesting. what causes you to think anything of the sort?" frank explained, and the doctor listened attentively to his story. "this is worth investigating," he declared. "i know a few of the tricks of these fellows, and i think i'll find out what was done to your horse, if anything was done." the boys watched the doctor with great interest. they saw him examine the lame leg from the knee down. in doing this he put on a pair of spectacles. nemo was nervous. he seemed afraid the doctor would hurt him, and it was not found easy to make him stand. at last dr. cobb uttered a sharp exclamation. "bring my case, which you will find under the seat in my carriage, grody," he directed. grody hastened to obey. "have you found out what the matter is, doctor?" frank anxiously asked. "i believe so, but i am not sure yet." jack and harry came near, eager to learn what had been done to lame the horse. the doctor opened his case, and took out some tweezers. "do you see this hair here?" he asked, having brushed the fetlock aside and taken the end of a hair in his fingers. the boys saw it, but wondered what that hair could have to do with the lameness of the horse. "it is not the right color," declared the doctor. "you see it is white, instead of being the color of the other hairs here." despite himself frank felt his anger rising. how could the color of a hair make the horse lame? did the man take him for a fool because he was a boy? the three boys exchanged glances, and harry made a threatening gesture at the back of the doctor's head. "i see the hair is white, sir," said frank, his voice cold and hard; "but i scarcely think a white hair could make my horse go lame. i know i am a boy, but i do not like to be taken for a fool." the doctor looked up and saw the indignation expressed on the faces of the three lads. then he chuckled in a singular way and said: "wait till i get through, young man. i do not take you for a fool ordinarily, but you can easily make a fool of yourself over this matter." he had taken the short white hair, which was very coarse, in his fingers, having separated it from the others. "notice the peculiar place where this hair seems to grow," he directed. "it is not a part of the fetlock, but the fetlock hid it from view. i am going to pull this hair out, but first i want you to notice that there is another hair, it seems, on the other side of the ankle, and it is just like this. see it?" the boys saw it. "in a moment you won't see it," declared the doctor, as he adjusted the tweezers, getting a careful grip on the end of the hair. "here it comes." then he quickly drew it out and nemo started a bit, but was quieted by grody. "young man," said the doctor, "look at this. this hair appeared to be about an inch in length, but now it is three inches long. it is not broken off, and yet it has no root. i will guarantee there is not another hair on this horse like it! i will guarantee it did not grow on this horse! i will guarantee it was what made this horse lame! and i do not want my fee if this horse shows any lameness two hours from now!" the boys were astonished, as their faces indicated. "but, doctor, i do not understand!" cried frank. "you must explain. how could a hair----" "i will explain. it's an old trick, but one seldom tried. this hair came from the tail of a white horse. it was threaded into a long, keen needle. the fellow who got at your horse yesterday was an expert. with one jab of that needle he passed the hair through the flesh just back of this cord. it went in at one side, and came out on the other. after that, while he was pretending to look at the horse's feet, he clipped off the ends, and the hair was left in there. it could remain a day or so without doing any particular injury, but it was bound to make the horse lame as soon as he used that leg much. if it had been left there permanently it might have ruined the horse. that is all, young man." "why was a white hair chosen, doctor?" "the fellow felt sure it would not be noticed, and yet he could quickly locate it by its color when the time came for him to cure your horse of its lameness." once more the boys looked at each other, and this time it was plain they realized there were some things they did not know. "doctor," said frank, promptly, "i wish to beg your pardon. i believe i said something rather hastily, but now i wish to say that you know your business thoroughly." the doctor smiled, and closed his case. "i have been in the business all my life," he said, "but i expect to continue to learn something new about it as long as i live. i will say that i doubt if i should have seen what was the matter with your horse if you had not told me of the fellow you believed had lamed him and how the horse kicked up a racket when the man was in the stall. that set me to looking for tricks, and i found the hair." frank offered to pay the doctor, but he refused to take it then, saying: "here's my card, young man. if your horse is all right this afternoon you may send me five dollars. you may need me again some time." then he strode out of the stable, flung the case under the seat, scrambled into his carriage, caught up the reins, and away he went in a hurry. "well, may i be farred and tethered--i mean tarred and feathered!" cried harry rattleton. "i never saw anything like that before." "nor i," confessed jack diamond. "it's astonishing! i have learned something to-day that i never knew before. i never would have dreamed that a hair could lame a horse in that way!" "you want to look out for nemo now," said harry, "and not let that chap get at him again." "i mean to," asserted frank. "i have sent for my colored boy, toots, to come on and keep watch here when grody is unable to do so. till he gets here, grody, i want you to watch nemo like a hawk. i hardly think the whelp will try another trick, but there is no telling. i gave him a bad thumping." "but not half what he deserved!" cried diamond. chapter vi. prince and the eavesdropper. nemo's lameness seemed to vanish as if by magic, and frank was well satisfied. grody took the utmost care of nemo till toots arrived. the colored boy was delighted to come on to new haven, and, as he was a lover of horses, his new occupation suited him very well. when frank could not find time to take the horse out for his daily exercise toots did it. one evening a party of students gathered in diamond's room. he had invited them there to show them his new bulldog. diamond had a fad, and it was dogs. his dog had caused trouble between diamond and merriwell early in their college career by taking a strip out of frank's trousers. that dog had received mortal injuries in a fight, and now diamond had another dog. "isn't he a beauty!" cried jack, as he displayed the ugly-looking brute. "look at that head and those jaws! he comes from a line of gladiators." "what do you call him, diamond?" asked ben halliday. "prince." "put not thy trust in princes," croaked dismal jones. "is he kind?" asked bandy robinson. "oh, he has a sunny disposition," assured jack, smiling. "a sunny disposition," chirped griswold, from the top of the table, upon which he had climbed so that he might be out of the way. "by that i presume that you mean he will make it hot for any other dog he may tackle." "hold on, danny, old man!" cried jack, reprovingly. "haven't i treated you right?" "not lately, but if you've got any beer in the coop you can." "that gives me a pain!" cried robinson. "you must have been eating window glass," chuckled griswold. "that's how you happen to feel the pane." "you ramed little bunt--i mean you blamed little runt!" exclaimed rattleton, catching danny by the neck. "if you keep up this reckless punning you'll receive a check some day." "i hope so," was the instant retort. "i'm broke, and i sent to the governor for one to-day." "let him alone, harry," advised merriwell, laughing. "you simply make him worse by talking to him." "that's the only thing i have against griswold," declared jack. "he will pun in the most reckless manner at all times. some of his jokes are not what they are cracked up to be." "like the eggs we used to get down at mrs. harrington's when we were freshmen," grinned griswold. "even the vilest sinner may repent and be forgiven," came solemnly from dismal jones. "there's a faint ray of hope for griswold." "but it's mighty dim," declared robinson. once more attention was given to jack's dog, and diamond pointed out the animal's fine features. "when are dogs at their best?" asked halliday, seriously. "in winter," griswold instantly put in. "there are no flies on them then." "smother him!" howled robinson, wildly. "smother time," cackled danny, as he slipped off the table and dodged around a chair to get out of reach. halliday caught up a pair of scissors and pretended to sharpen them, looking at griswold as if he meant to shed his gore. "what are you going to do?" asked danny. "going into the scissors-grinding business? it's great when things are dull." it was plain that danny could not be suppressed, and so the boys tried to ignore him. prince was admired some more, and then halliday picked up a banjo, put it in tune, and sang a song. "your voice is somewhat off color to-night, old man," observed robinson, "and i think you skipped a bar." "you don't know him," cried griswold, instantly. "i was out with him last night and he didn't skip any." then almost every other fellow in the room grabbed up something and threw it at danny, who could do nothing but shield his face and take the pelting he received. "diamond is a dog crank, and merriwell is a horse crank," said robinson. "by the way, i hear you think of racing your horse this spring, merriwell?" "who told you that?" asked frank. "who told me? oh, i don't know. is it a secret? i think i have heard several fellows speak of it." "oh, i don't know as it is a secret," said frank. "i may try him in some small country race, if i get a good opportunity; but i am not likely to have much of a chance, between baseball, rowing, and my studies. i'm kept pretty busy." "the only wonder to me is that you get time to study at all," declared halliday. "i never before saw a fellow who could carry on so many things at the same time and make successes of them all." "i hear two more men have been dropped a class," said diamond. "that's right," sighed jones. "dorman and street have departed hence. may peace go with them." "poor old easy!" exclaimed robinson. "he was a fine fellow, but he was altogether too easy. he wouldn't skin, and he couldn't keep up with the push." "there are some other fellows who are bound to go sooner or later," observed rattleton. "i can name several." "both harris and ditson are bound to get it in the neck," said griswold. "they are skinners of the worst kind." "that's right," agreed halliday. "ditson is an expert at it. he spends more time and ingenuity in concocting schemes to fool the examining tutor or professor than it would take to learn his subjects ten times over." "sure's you're born!" exclaimed jones. "why, he has his finger nails, cuffs, and the palms of his hands covered with writing and diagrams every time he knows he is to be called up, and in this way he always succeeds in making a clean rush." "harris knows something about photography," said halliday, "and he is continually making minute pictures of diagrams and writing, which he arranges on little tabs, which he can hold in his palm. he seldom flunks, but he'll trip some time." "hanged if i can see why fellows should work so hard to fool tutors or professors when they might learn all that was required of them without half the trouble," cried harry. "that is easy enough to explain," smiled merriwell. "harris is a natural gambler. he delights in excitement and danger, and he actually enjoys taking such desperate ventures." "well, there is something in that," laughed rattleton. "i never regarded it that way before. i'll be fanged if there isn't hascination in it--no, i'll be hanged if there isn't fascination in it!" "it's too bad this matter was mentioned, fellows," said merriwell, with pretended seriousness. "i regret it very much." "why?" asked robinson, curiously. "notice how excited rattleton has become over it? he's not quite such a sport as harris, but he had rather take chances on anything than eat, and it's ten to one he'll be skinning within a week." "sometimes a fellow has to skin," declared griswold. "did you ever, danny?" asked diamond. "did i? well! i have a patent scheme of my own." "what is it?" asked rattleton, eagerly. "why, i have a box of chalk crayons which i bought for myself. i have soaked them in alum water till they are hard, and i usually have several of them about my person. they are covered with diagrams and everything that may prove interesting or necessary. but i want to tell you something. i never use 'em unless i am driven to the wall." "by that he means the blackboard," laughed halliday. "and you were talking about harris and ditson being skinners!" came reproachfully from jones. "my dear young man, there is a place that burneth with fire and brimstone!" "that is reserved for liars," chuckled danny. "jones, beware, any moment may be your next." "that's right," agreed jones, sadly. "i am sure i shall not live to see another day--if i die to-night." "gentleman," said merriwell, "death is a grave subject to jest upon. you'd better bury it." "that's all right," put in robinson. "if he catches cold any of us may go to coffin." "i'll not undertaker pun," murmured rattleton. then there was a deathlike silence, and the lads all looked at one another reproachfully. "let's change the subject," cried diamond. "speaking of ditson, i believe he claims to have blue blood in his veins. says his ancestors came over on the _mayflower_, and were among the first to settle in this country." "they may have settled," said griswold, "but none of his family has ever settled since that time. they owe everybody that will trust them." "ditson has stuck his friends right and left since coming to yale, till he has not a friend left," said robinson. "why, he owed hartwick several hundred dollars when hartwick left," declared diamond. "just the same, hartwick is back in new haven and in is chummy with ditson again," asserted jones. merriwell displayed some interest. "how do you know he is chummy with ditson?" he asked. "i have seen them together!" "that means something!" cried rattleton, excitedly. "those pads are cotting--i mean those cads are plotting! you want to look out for trouble, merry!" "i will!" exclaimed frank. "ditson is treading on dangerous ground. if he makes a break, i'll descend on him. i have been easy with a chap of his treacherous nature quite long enough." "too long!" burst fiercely from diamond. "if i had been in your place i'd ended mr. ditson's career long ago." "i don't know what the fellows can do to injure me," said frank. "they'll find some way to give it to you if you don't watch out," said rattleton. "perhaps one of them hired that fellow to lame your horse." "perhaps so." "you think a great deal of that horse," said jack. "you want to be constantly on your guard or something will happen to it." "toots is on the watch, and any one will have hard work getting the best of that darky. he is about as sharp as they make 'em." "he is a very clever coon," admitted harry; "and he seems to know his business, still you can't tell what may happen." "i wouldn't have anything happen to nemo for worlds. i don't quite understand why i think so much of that horse, but he is a wonderfully intelligent creature." "don't tell that you care so much for him. if your enemies were to find it out they would scheme to fix nemo." "i'd have no mercy on the person that injured that horse." "what's the matter with your dog, jack?" asked robinson. "he is acting in a very queer manner." prince was sniffing at the door, whining and growling, while the hair on his neck bristled in a significant manner. diamond got up and quickly approached the door. in a moment he flung it open, and out shot prince. there was a sound of swiftly retreating feet, a clatter on the stairs, a scramble, a shout of pain or fear, and a sudden blow. "quick, fellows!" cried jack, excitedly. "prince has found an eavesdropper!" they rushed out, they sprang down the stairs, and at the foot they found the dog, apparently in a dazed condition, but with a piece of cloth in his mouth. "good dog!" cried jack. "where is he?" prince growled and chewed away at the piece of cloth. "he got away," said frank. "he must have struck prince with a heavy cane, or a club, for we heard the blow. the dog was stunned, but he held fast to this piece of the fellow's trousers." "after him!" spluttered rattleton. "he may not be able to get away! we'll try to capture him!" but the effort was vain. the eavesdropper had made good his escape. after a little time the boys all came back to diamond's room. they found jack examining the piece of cloth, which he had taken from the bulldog with no small difficulty. "it is from somebody's trousers," said jack, seriously. "whoever the sneak was, he'll have to buy a new pair. he hit prince a frightful blow behind the ear, but the good old fellow held fast to this trophy." "if we'd nabbed the fellow, we wouldn't have done a thing to him--not a thing!" cried griswold. "see if any of you fellows recognize this piece of cloth as belonging to the clothing of any chap you know," invited diamond. they all examined it. "if i mistake not," said dismal jones, "this came from a certain section of a certain individual's trousers, and the section to which i refer is located about eight inches south of the back strap." "and the fellow," exclaimed robinson, "the fellow is----" "roland ditson!" finished rattleton. "in that case," said diamond, "merriwell's enemies have received a good tip concerning his fondness for nemo. you will have to be doubly careful about that horse after this, frank." chapter vii. the plot. if roland ditson was the person from whose trousers the piece of cloth had been torn he took good care to destroy what he had retained of the breeches without delay, for they were never again seen in his possession. the figure on the cloth was not pronounced enough to distinguish it in a manner to make it absolute proof that it came from a garment owned by roland. nevertheless diamond accused ditson of listening at his door, but roll vigorously denied that he had done so. diamond told him he was a natural-born prevaricator, and let it go at that. but ditson was watched like a hawk by the boy from virginia, for jack felt sure the fellow was up to crookedness. frank merriwell knew that if ditson had been listening to the conversation that was taking place in that room his enemies must know in what light he regarded nemo. this caused frank to caution both toots and grody to redouble their vigilance in watching over and caring for the splendid creature. "don' yo' worry about me, marser frank," assured the darky lad. "dat's de fines' hawse dat dis chile ebber seen, an' i'se gwan ter watch ober heem lek he wus de apple ob mah eye." "i have decided to enter nemo in the mystic park races at bethany, toots," merriwell declared, "and i think i'll let you ride him, my boy." toots showed two rows of gleaming ivories and beamed with the greatest delight. "if yer done dat, marser frank, i'se gwan ter win on dat hawse jes ez shore ez yeh bawn, sar!" he cried. "i'se done rid dat critter enough teh know he's a wondah, sar. dat hawse is wuf a forchune, sar!" "if you win, toots, i may give you a chance to ride him in some races later in the season." "if i don' win dat race, i done hope i nebber dror annodder bref, sar!" cried the darky boy, excitedly. "dat'll show yo' what yo' kin do at de coney islan' races. if yo's gwan ter gamble on dat hawse, yo's a dead sho' winnar, sar!" "i am not much of a gambler, toots, but i may back nemo for a little something." "yo'll win, marser frank. if dis darky ebber knowed what he wus talking about yo'll win!" frank's enemies seemed remarkably quiet, but something told him that every move he made was watched. this was true, and they soon knew exactly what races he intended to enter nemo for, and that the darky was going to ride the horse. one night harris, hartwick, harlow, ditson and mike hogan met in the saloon where they had first formed a combine against merriwell. they were there by appointment, called together by hartwick, who seemed to have assumed the leadership. hartwick was taking no chances on any thin partitions, and so he secured a little back room in the place, where it seemed that nothing could be overheard by any one who might chance to be watching them. drinks were ordered, and when they were brought and the waiter had departed hartwick said: "gentlemen, we may as well get down to business at once. i have called you together to make arrangements for striking a blow at our common enemy." "well, i think it's erbout time!" growled mike hogan. "i've been wantin' ter do something fer a long while, but you have kept holdin' me back." "you have been too much on the jump, my friend," said hartwick, scowling. "if we'd let you gone it alone you'd had merriwell on his guard, and that would have ruined everything." "it strikes me that merriwell is on his guard now," observed harris. "he acts as if he knew there was something in the wind." "well, he doesn't know what." "i don't know about that, either. he guards that horse as if the animal was worth its weight in dollar bills." "which comes entirely from the fact that hogan here tried to knock the horse out once," declared harlow. "i don't know about that, either," said hartwick. "but i want to say one thing here and now: if there's any one of this party who is playing double and carrying information to merriwell, he'd better order his own coffin without delay, for he is bound to be found out, and we'll throw him cold in a minute." he looked at ditson in a most significant manner as he said this, but roll showed no signs of guilt. "well, what's yer plan of war, boss?" asked hogan, impatiently. "don't get in too much of a hurry," scowled hartwick. "we know merriwell intends to enter nemo in the mystic park races, at bethany." "yes." "that is the time to get at him." "how?" "he has money to burn. get him to back nemo for large sums for any of the first three positions. give him all sorts of odds, if necessary; but get him to chuck up the dough, and then beat him out." "that's all right," growled hogan; "but where's the dough comin' from what is shoved up against his good stuff?" "let me alone for that," said hartwick, significantly. "i know a way to get it, and we'll have it. i wish we might get merriwell to stake his entire fortune on that horse. we'd end his career at yale." harris laughed. "i'd like to know how you are going to get so much money, hart?" he cried. "why, i had to lend you twenty as capital the last game of poker you entered." "don't let anything worry you if you don't know all about it, sport," advised hartwick. "you've got your twenty back, haven't you?" "yes." "well, you can't kick." "all right; but i'm afraid your scheme won't work out very well." "it will, just as hard, if we can depend on mike here to make sure merriwell's horse does not win." "watcher want me ter do?" asked mike. "doctor the animal at the last moment, if you can't buy off the jockey." "that's easy! but where does my share of ther profits come in?" "you shall have your share, don't you worry. we'll have that all arranged in advance." "then that goes! i am with yer, gents." "what are the rest of us to do?" asked harris. "there will be something for all of us to do. ditson must continue to play the spy on merriwell." "and that's the most dangerous job of all!" cried roll. "you know what came near happening to me the night i found out merriwell intended to put nemo in the mystic park races. i was nearly chewed up by diamond's dog." "but you escaped with your life," said harris. "because i took that cane with the loaded end. if it hadn't been for that the infernal dog would have eaten me. i hit him an awful blow. it would have killed any other dog." "well," said harlow, "we'll strike a different kind of a blow directly--one that will do more than lay out a dog." chapter viii. taking chances. it was the day of the spring races at mystic park, and bethany was filled with strangers. horsemen, sporting men, sightseers, touts, race-track gamblers, women in gay attire, and all the different kinds of persons usually seen at a country horse race in the state of connecticut were on hand. a number of yale lads had come up to bethany to attend the races. the most of them were friends of frank merriwell. some of his enemies were there, also. frank had brought nemo up himself, and he scarcely slept the night before the races. he felt that there was danger in the air. nemo had been entered in the "free for all," and his name was on the bills. frank had been informed that he would be given odds that his horse did not take a purse. he had received an anonymous letter ridiculing him for thinking of entering such a horse. he had been taunted and told that he dared not stake money on nemo. merriwell knew well enough that there was a plot afloat, and it seemed that the scheme was to make him lose money on his horse. if he had been timid he would have hesitated about backing nemo for anything; but the ones who had been taunting him had reckoned well on his mettle, and they had succeeded in pricking his pride and arousing him. frank had seen nemo work on a track with toots in the saddle. he had timed the horse repeatedly, and he felt confident that nemo could not fail to take a position if he were in proper form when he entered the race. frank sent for money. he demanded it. his guardian did not feel like refusing, as he remembered that his last effort to suppress frank had resulted in a most painful train of incidents, the culmination being his arrest for kidnaping a baby. he sent frank a check for the sum desired. when bethany was reached merriwell was approached by a tall, thin man, who wore a prince albert coat and looked like a parson. this man introduced himself as john baldwin, and he proved to be very "smooth." frank knew in a moment that the stranger was trying to catch him for a sucker. he felt like knocking the man down, but, instead of that, he bet three hundred and fifty dollars against a thousand dollars that nemo would take a purse in the "free for all." john baldwin departed, apparently looking for other bloods who wished to take flyers. but frank was to see baldwin again. the man came back and in the most sneering manner possible, offered to let him out of his bet for fifty dollars. he told frank that nemo was a "dead one" and could not even crawl. the result was that merriwell bet the man five hundred even that nemo would take a purse, and there were but three purses in the "free for all." after baldwin departed the second time frank regretted that he had not booted the insolent fellow. "never mind," thought the lad. "i'll win his cash all right." in the morning there was a row in the stable where nemo was kept. toots was found vigorously punishing a flashily dressed negro. "tek dat, yo' dirty brack nigger!" shouted toots, as he smashed the other fellow on the nose. "yo' cayn't com' 'roun' dis chile wid none ob yere 'swinuations an' yore offers ob money to throw de race! i'll kick part ob yore panjaloons clean out frough de top of yore hade, yo' brack son ob a gun!" the colored boy fought like a furious tiger, and the other fellow, after trying to strike back a few times, took to his heels, leaving a smashed silk hat behind him. "what's the matter, toots?" asked frank, who had rushed to the scene of the conflict, accompanied by others. "mattah, sar?" cried toots, fiercely. "why, dat brack whelp come call me out ob de stall har, an' he says to me, says he, 'if yo' pulls nemo so he don' take a purse it am wuff two hundred dollars to yo'.' an' he flashes his roll ob bills in mah face. i didn't wait fo' no mo' conwersashun, sar, but i jes' soaked him a dandy under der ear." "good boy, toots!" laughed frank. "you're all right!" "well, w'en dey fools 'roun' dis chile dey strikes hot stuff," grinned the boy. frank knew now that there was a "job" to knife him in the race. rattleton and diamond were on hand, and they took turns in helping toots keep guard over nemo. merriwell was angry. he went out looking for john baldwin. when he found baldwin he offered to bet all the money he had about him that nemo would take either the first or the second purse. baldwin snapped at the bet in a manner that showed he believed he had a "soft thing." "you'll go back to yale broke," he sneered. "don't let that worry you," returned frank, coolly. "it strikes me that the fellow who is furnishing you with cash stands a chance of dropping something." "you say that very mildly. you're scared now." "if i had more money about my clothes i'd put it all up." "that shows what an easy thing you are. i'll take your paper against my good money, and now you don't dare do a thing." "how much do you want to risk that way?" "any sum you like." "i'll go you for five hundred." "done." frank had made the original selection of stakeholder, and he had chosen a man who was interested in the track, but was known to be perfectly square. this choice had proved satisfactory to baldwin. once more this man was hunted up, and he felt it his duty to caution frank. the boy simply smiled. "don't lose any sleep about me, mr. davis," said frank, quietly. "it isn't necessary." twenty minutes after this bet was made john baldwin informed evan hartwick. "good!" cried hartwick, fiercely. "if i get hold of that piece of paper i'll use it to ruin frank merriwell at yale. i can do it! nemo must be fixed for fair!" then he rushed away. "oh, well!" said baldwin, with a satisfied smile; "i don't care which way the wind blows now. i have made my commission on this work to-day, and i have nothing to lose. if those fellows slip up in their plans it won't be my funeral." then he lighted a cigar and strolled away. rattleton and diamond watched nemo closely, permitting toots to get an hour's sleep. then the colored boy came out feeling first rate, and merriwell showed up to take his friends to have something to eat. "by jove!" he exclaimed, with a happy laugh. "one of you fellows will have to loan me the money to settle for the feed. i've staked every cent on nemo, and i haven't enough left to purchase a sandwich." "whew!" whistled diamond. "haven't you been plunging pretty steep, old man?" "oh, i don't know!" smiled frank. "we'll have money to start a conflagration with when we return to new haven." "i think so," agreed jack; "but there are slips." "now, toots," said frank, "we are going to leave nemo in your care for a short time. you know what i expect of you." "yes, sar, an' you may 'pend on me, sar." "all right, my boy. come on, fellows." away the three went, arm in arm, laughing and joking, like the light-hearted fellows they were. ten minutes after they left toots decided to give nemo some water. he stepped out of the stall for a bucket. as he picked it up he fancied he heard a suspicious sound inside the stall, and he hurried back. when the colored boy stepped into the stall he saw a tough-looking young man in a plaid suit offering nemo an apple. it was mike hogan. "g'wan frum dat hawse, man!" shouted toots, as he flung the bucket straight at mike's head. the bucket struck hogan, knocked him down, and he lay stunned almost beneath the feet of frank merriwell's racer. an hour later the starter's flag had fallen and the "free for all" at mystic park had begun. among the spectators were three lads who were excitedly watching the beginning of the race. they were hartwick, harlow and harris. "if that horse is doctored i'm a fool!" declared harlow, his eyes fastened on frank merriwell's nemo. "he must be--he must be!" palpitated hartwick, whose eyes were bloodshot and whose face was flushed so that it betrayed he had been drinking heavily. "nemo starts all right," said harris, in an agitated voice. "i should not wonder if harlow were right, hartwick, my boy." "then hogan has betrayed me!" came gratingly from hartwick. "if he has i'll have his life!" "where is the fellow?" asked harlow. "he should be on hand." "that's right, where is he?" echoed harris. "he has not reported." "but he was sure he would not fail," said hartwick. "he had everything fixed with one of the stablemen, and he said he knew he could get into nemo's stall." "all the same i'll wager that frank merriwell will come out on top again," fluttered harris. "it is just his luck. perhaps he has outwitted us in some way." "no! no!" exclaimed hartwick, with sudden satisfaction. "see--see there! already nemo is dropping behind black boy. pawnee is in the lead, fanny d. is second, lightfoot is third, and now black boy has pushed ahead of nemo! ha! ha! ha! everything is all right! hogan has done his work, and the stuff is beginning to tell on merriwell's racer at just the right time. we'll send the fellow back to yale penniless, and then i will jump on him with his paper. i'll expose him as a race-track gambler, a fraud, a swindler! i'll ruin his college career, as he ruined mine! but i'll not be satisfied then. i'll hound him till he is weary of his life! i'll make him remember the day he dared lift his hand against evan hartwick! i can feel his blow now! it left a mark on my cheek. that mark is not there now, but the scar is on my heart! nothing can cure it but full and absolute reprisal! this is my first triumph!" hartwick almost frothed at the mouth, and his reddish eyes glared as if there were a glowing furnace within his passionate soul. evan's companions looked at him with awe, and harris shivered a bit, drawing a little away. the passions of the revengeful lad had been wonderfully aroused by the liquor he had taken, and he showed at his very worst just then. "toots does not seem to be pushing nemo as he might," muttered harlow. "the boy is taking it easy. if i did not know the attempt had failed i should think he had been bought off." "pawnee can't hold the lead," declared harris. "i am willing to bet all i have that he will not take the race." "hang pawnee!" snarled hartwick. "i do not care which horses secure the purses, if merriwell's animal is not one of them." "well, it begins to look as if you were safe," came with some satisfaction from harlow. "black boy is the favorite and he is crawling now. already he is neck and neck with lightfoot." hartwick's hand shook as he adjusted the field glasses he held and brought them to bear on the racing horses. "it's all right. i know it's all right!" he muttered, hoarsely. "lightfoot is holding the lead on nemo. frank merriwell's horse is fifth, and the animal will not hold out to get around the track. i believe nemo is swaying now. the horses behind are gaining! ha! ha! how it will wring merriwell's heart to see his beauty come in last!" "this is early," cautioned harris. "they have just reached the quarter now. wait till they pass us before you begin to count your chickens, old man." the spectators grew excited as the racing horses swung around the half-mile track and came flying down toward the judges' stand on their first round. men waved their hats and cheered, the white handkerchiefs of women were fluttering. "black boy! black boy! he is the winner for a thousand!" roared a big man in the grand stand. "fanny d.! fanny d.!" shouted another. "she is taking the lead!" this was true. pawnee, as harris had declared, proved unequal to the task of holding the lead. in the second quarter fanny d. crept alongside and gradually forged ahead, for all that black boy's rider used whip and voice. poor old lightfoot was steadily losing ground, and hartwick ground his teeth as he saw nemo come into fourth place. still it did not seem that merriwell's horse had made a spurt. and then, as the horses came thundering down the track, a sudden change seemed to come over the black boy on nemo's back. he leaned far forward, and appeared to be talking into nemo's ears, which were laid almost straight back. he cut the air with his whip, but the lash did not fall on the glossy coat of the handsome animal. "look!" palpitated harlow. "see nemo! the creature has awakened! that horse is all right! hartwick, i believe merriwell will secure third money, after all." "not on your life!" ground forth evan, his eyes glaring. "the creature is doing his best now." as the foremost racers shot past the judges' stand at the expiration of the first half, it was seen that fanny d. had taken the lead away from pawnee, while black boy was steadily gaining. although nemo had shown a streak of speed he had not grown dangerous. but now came the time when the mettle of the racers was to be tested. black boy responded nobly to whip and voice. he went ahead in a marvelous manner. he was soon nose and nose with pawnee, and then he took second place, with his nose at fanny d.'s flank. but there was another change. again the black boy on the back of frank merriwell's racer leaned forward and talked into the ears of the horse, and then came a spurt that caused hundreds of spectators to gasp with amazement. pawnee struggled nobly to hold third place, but nemo passed him, and evan hartwick nearly choked with fury. then it was seen that nemo was gaining on the others. he crept up beside black boy till they were nearly even, and thus the two animals passed fanny d. at the end of the third quarter. when the home stretch was reached black boy was leading by a neck, with nemo second and fanny d. third. evan hartwick was nearly beside himself with rage. the language that came from his lips cannot be printed here. in vain his companions tried to calm him. he cursed them both, and struck at them. then the voice of another person was heard. "i slipped on the trick, boss. they caught me, and they didn't do a thing to me--not a thing! my head was near broke and they made me take a bite outer ther apple i was tryin' to feed ther horse. it'd killed me if they'd made me eat ther whole of the apple. i'm sorry, but----" it was mike hogan, his brutal face pale and drawn, if he were, indeed, ill, and a bloody handkerchief tied about his head. "your head was near broken!" snarled hartwick. "you bungling fool! i'll finish the job!" and then he hit mike in the face with his fist. they grappled and fell, and, as the other lads were trying to pull them apart, there came a great shout that announced the race was over. the crowd was heard cheering. "which won?" was the question harlow paused to ask. "nemo came in first by a full length," replied a spectator. then hogan was dragged off hartwick, who lay pallid and still on his back, looking as if the end had come for him. two nights later a jolly party gathered in frank merriwell's room to offer him congratulations. there were speeches, songs, toasts and jests. "how much will you take for nemo now, merriwell?" asked jack diamond. "i want to buy him and send him south to my father." "you can't," laughed frank. "your father hasn't money enough to buy the dear old boy." "but what are you going to do with him?" asked rattleton. "you must think of the future." "not now," smiled merriwell. "to-morrow is my queen's birthday, and i am thinking of the present." bruce browning loafed into the room. "heard the news, fellows?" he asked. "no; what is it?" cried several voices. "hartwick's been arrested." "arrested? what for?" "for robbing his own father of seven thousand dollars. he knew how to get at the old gentleman's dough, and he swiped it several days ago. he's been burning money since then." "was the robbery committed before the mystic park races?" asked frank. "sure, my boy." "then that explains why the mysterious man in black followed me up and drove me into so many bets. he had hartwick's money, and hartwick was behind the entire game. well, all his plots miscarried and he got it in the neck at last." "which served him right," declared jack diamond, with satisfaction. chapter ix. a strong accusation. after the great horse race matters moved along smoothly for some time. frank worked hard over his studies and made fine progress. he did not dare race nemo again, for the college authorities would not permit it, in the face of what had been said about betting. frank had gotten rid of some of his enemies for the time being, but there were others, those who could not stand it to see him become such a general hero. one evening a crowd of these gathered in a resort known as jackson's. all had been drinking freely, and it was not long before every tongue was loosened. in the crowd were several students that my old readers have met before. they included a hot-headed lad named tom thornton, a fussy fellow called puss parker, and fred flemming, willis paulding, andy emery and tad horner. earlier in the evening they had met at morey's, but found they could not talk privately there, as the place was filled with students. then thornton had given them the tip to go down to jackson's, a place sometimes patronized by the students, although it did not exclude the general public. jackson's was known as a "joint," and very few of the college lads cared to have it known that they ever went there; but it was a place where a private room could be obtained in which to drink, gamble, or carouse, and for this reason it appealed to a certain class of students. it was in this place that frank had exposed the gambler, rolf harlow, and broken up the game by which harlow and harris were bleeding a certain number of "lambs." in getting together his party, thornton had chosen the ones who seemed to have sympathy with himself and fred flemming, or held a grudge against frank merriwell. merriwell's name had not been mentioned until all had indulged very freely in wine, thornton being the most generous in "blowing off." then came a discussion about college sports, over which all had grown more or less heated. at length merriwell's name was mentioned, and then thornton declared frank a cad. "by jawve!" drawled willis paulding, allowing cigarette smoke to escape from his mouth as he spoke, "i agree with you, thornton, don't yer 'now. i nevah could bear that fellaw merriwell." tad horner gave a sniff. "merriwell would feel bad if he knew it," observed tad, sarcastically. "it would break him all up." "that would not make the least difference to me, my dear fellaw," declared willis, who was too dense to catch the sarcasm. "i have nevah twaveled awound with him." "i have noticed that," grinned tad. "you have permitted him to avoid you in a most astonishing manner." "what have you against merriwell, thornton?" asked parker. "i didn't know you were so down on him. you both played on the football team last fall." "and merriwell made a record for himself by winning the game for yale," said andy emery. thornton laughed sneeringly, showing his perfect white teeth. "merriwell is always making a record for himself at something," he returned. "i'd rather have his luck than be born rich. if any other fellow on the team had obtained the ball at that particular moment, he could have gone through princeton's line as well as merriwell did, for yale's interference was simply marvelous, and a clear road was given the runner." emery shook his head. "i think your memory is slightly at fault, old man," he said. "i am sure merriwell bowled over at least one man, and dodged one or two others, besides going down the field like a wild engine, with princeton's fastest runner at his heels and unable to tackle him. oh, it is not all luck with merriwell, thornton, as you would acknowledge, if you were not prejudiced." "you talk as if you are stuck on the fellow!" snarled tom, in his most cutting manner. "but you know i am not. i have held away--have had nothing to do with him." "and that is the reason why i invited you down here to-night." "so? well, i thought there was something more in the wind than a simple discussion of athletics. what's up?" "don't be in a hurry. we'll come to that presently. have another drink all around. this is on me. push the button, horner. i want to order more fizz." "this is too much!" sighed tad, as he pressed the button that communicated with an electric bell at the bar. "if we do not let up, we'll be in rocky shape in the morning." the waiter appeared, and the wine was ordered. when the waiter went out, after serving the order, he left the door communicating with the next room standing open. "gentlemen," cried thornton, lifting his glass of sparkling "fizz," "here's to a break in merriwell's luck. may it come soon." all drank. "i can't quite agree with thornton that it is all luck," said puss parker, lowering his half-emptied glass. "it is not luck that enables merriwell to pitch on the ball team." "oh, i don't know!" exclaimed tom. "if heffiner's arm had not been in bad condition, merriwell would not have obtained the opportunity when he did. if he had not obtained it then, he might not have obtained it at all, for there are several other fellows who can twirl quite as well as he." "they think they can, but i have my doubts." this kind of talk did not satisfy thornton, and he snapped: "i must say i didn't suppose you were one of that cad's sycophants, parker! i fancied you had more stamina than that. next thing you'll be saying that when his horse won the 'free for all' at mystic park it was something more than luck." "from what i have heard, i presume there was a great deal of luck connected with that affair, but that is outside college sports. i did not see the race, but i have heard that all sorts of tricks were tried to put merriwell's horse out of the race." "so his friends have reported; but i take no stock in it. if he ever enters that horse in another race he will lose his socks betting on the beast." "we were talking of rowing a short time ago," said emery. "let's return to our mutton. thornton was kicking because merriwell has made a try for the eight, and seems to stand a good show of getting there. i don't see where thornton's growl comes in. he can't pull an oar." "but flemming can," came quickly from tom; "and he was sure of a position on the eight till merriwell went for a place. like pierson, who captained the ball team last season, collingwood seems to be stuck on merriwell. that's why he has thrown flemming down." "but i thought merriwell's ideas about rowing did not correspond at all with collingwood's ideas?" said tad horner, with unusual gravity. "when merriwell was captain of the freshman crew, he introduced the oxford oar and the oxford stroke. he actually drilled a lot of dummies into the use of the oar and into something like the genuine english stroke. everybody acknowledged it was something marvelous, and one newspaper reporter had the nerve to say that the freshmen had given the 'varsity crew a pointer." "oh, yes," grated thornton, bitterly. "the newspapers have advertised merriwell at every opportunity. remember what a howl they made when he stopped that runaway horse and rescued fairfax lee's daughter. any one would have thought the fellow had done a most marvelous thing, and since then he has been taken into the very swellest new haven society, and he is lionized as if he were something more than a mere snob. it makes me sick!" "there is still some mystery about the fellow," said parker. "how did he happen to know so much about the oxford stroke?" "i've heard that he was at oxford long enough to thoroughly acquaint himself with the english methods," answered emery. "and it has been reported that the fellow has traveled all over the world," said horner. "his rooms are decorated with all sorts of strange weapons, trophies and skins of wild animals, which it is said he gathered in his travels." "bah!" sneered thornton. "i have my doubts about his ever being at oxford, and i take no stock at all in the rest of that guff. it is barely possible that he may have been over to england, but the yarn about his having traveled in south america, africa and europe, is the biggest sort of rot." "well, let it go as rot," said horner; "you must acknowledge that he did something most astonishing with that freshman crew. we did not have the least idea in the world that they could beat us, but we were not in the race on the home stretch." "oh, we thought we had a soft thing, that's all. if we'd dreamed we had a hard race coming, we'd won all right." "that may be, but i am not so sure. still, if merriwell could do so much with a lot of freshmen, what might not be done if the same methods were used with the 'varsity crew?" "bah!" cried thornton again. "that sort of rot makes me sick! bob collingwood has his own ideas, and he will not accept suggestions from any one, although i think he was a fool to throw down flemming for merriwell. flem did great work on the football team, and he is in condition to make a special effort at rowing this spring, while merriwell is obliged to play ball as well." "i don't see how merriwell does so many things and does them so well," confessed tad horner. "oh, he is one of the chaps who has the nerve to try anything, and will stumble through anything after a fashion. nine times out of ten those fellows are never heard from after they leave college. the fellow who takes some branch of athletics at college and sticks to it is likely to select some line of business when he has graduated, and stick to that. he is not diving into everything, and making a success of nothing." "but merriwell seemed to be diving into everything, and making a success of everything. he is put up differently than most fellows." "he showed his caddishness in introducing the english oar and stroke when he was captain of the freshman crew. he would ape things english, and in that line he makes a failure, at least." "by jawve! that is wight, don't yer 'now," drawled willis paulding, who had visited london once on a time and endeavored to be "awfully english" ever since. "he has not cawt the english air and expression, don't yer understand. he--aw--makes a wegular failyaw of that, deah boys." "oh, say!" cried tad horner, "don't pile on the agony quite so thickly, paulding. it is nauseating!" "merriwell may not try to ape english manners and speech," said thornton, "but he is a cad, just the same, and the friends he has made here at yale are a lot of thin-blooded, white-livered creatures. look at them! there is bruce browning, once called 'king of the sophomores,' but cowed and bested by merriwell, to be afterward dropped a class. there is jack diamond, a boastful southerner. he forced merriwell to fight, but fawned about merriwell's feet like a cur when whipped." "you lie, sir!" by the open door a supple, well-built, dark-faced lad sprang into the room. his eyes were flashing, and his teeth came together over his words with a click. it was jack diamond himself! chapter x. a fight against odds. "diamond!" "great scott!" "here's trouble!" the lads about the table sprang to their feet, giving utterance to these exclamations. willis paulding was the only one who did not say anything, and he failed to speak because the sound seemed to stick in his throat. diamond's manner showed that he was fully aroused by what he had overheard, and that he meant "fight" was evident. the hot blood of the old south was pulsating in his veins and flaming darkly, like a danger signal, in his face. pointing straight at tom thornton, jack slowly and distinctly said, his manner showing the struggle he was making to hold himself in check: "mr. thornton, you are a liar! more than that, mr. thornton, you know you are a liar!" thornton quailed a bit, and then, in sudden fury, he flung back: "and you are an eavesdropper, jack diamond. eavesdroppers seldom hear good of themselves!" the muscles of the virginian's face twitched, and his clinched hands were quivering. "by accident i overheard what you were saying," he declared. "i was looking for a friend, and so came into this place, which i seldom visit. i was told a party of students had gathered here, and as i entered the room adjoining, i heard my name spoken by you--i heard you declare that, like a cur, i fawned about merriwell when he had whipped me." "and i say it again!" cried thornton, hotly. "it is the truth. your boasted southern courage is a sham. you have shown that." diamond walked forward to the table. "mr. thornton," he said, "you are among friends, and i am alone, but i brand you as a liar!" as he uttered the words he picked up a partly emptied glass of wine and dashed the contents in thornton's face. "there!" he cried, dashing the glass to the floor; "i have expressed myself! you cannot mistake my meaning, sir!" thornton whipped out a handkerchief and wiped the liquid from his eyes. then he dropped the handkerchief, and caught up a wine-bottle, with which weapon he leaped at jack. parker caught thornton's uplifted arm just in time to keep him from trying to break the bottle over diamond's head. "do you want to kill him?" exclaimed puss, excitedly. "yes," snarled thornton, "i will kill him!" "pray do not interfere with the fellow, mr. parker," urged jack, his voice shaking with passion. "i will take care of myself." "you'd better get out of here!" came fiercely from parker. "you have no business here!" "i have business in any place where i am lied about and insulted, sir! let him alone, and i will agree to give him all the fight he desires!" now, for the first time, fred flemming stepped forward. he was a big fellow, and was known to be a fierce fighter, with the inclinations of a bully. "i think we'll give you a thumping before we let you go, diamond, just to teach you a lesson," he said, in a most insolent manner. "i've wanted to get at you or your friend merriwell for some time." "you--you get at merriwell!" flung back jack. "why, he'd do you up with his right hand tied behind him!" "you think so because he did you. well, i am going to break your face, and then merriwell may pick it up, if he dares." he threw off his coat in a moment, and then came at jack, crying to the others: "close the door! don't let anybody in here till i have fixed this sneak as i will fix merriwell when i get at him! close the door!" willis paulding started to obey, but before he could swing the door shut it was flung open with such violence that willis was sent tumbling to the floor. into the room leaped frank merriwell, and he placed himself between diamond and his would-be assailant. "wait a moment, flemming," he said, with the utmost self-possession. "it is not necessary for you to waste your energies on mr. diamond." it was a most dramatic tableau, as every lad stood motionless and staring for some seconds. there was a strong contrast between diamond and merriwell. jack was literally quivering with passion, while frank actually smiled serenely into flemming's face, as if he thoroughly enjoyed the situation. but those who knew merriwell best said that in times of trouble he was the most dangerous when he smiled. "so you are around!" flemming finally growled. "how did you happen in here? were you playing the eavesdropper also?" "i happened to be passing the saloon, and i thought i saw my friend diamond come in here," explained frank, calmly. "i wondered what could bring him into such a place, and so i entered likewise. they said he had come back here. i came also. that is how i happened to arrive at precisely the right moment." "you'll find it was precisely the wrong moment!" cried flemming. "close and fasten the door, boys! we'll jump on these two cads, and do them up now and at once! come on!" "i don't know but it will be a good time to settle a few old scores with them," said emery, becoming aroused. "it will do them good to show them they can be licked!" "that goes!" shouted puss parker. "six to two--three to one!" laughed frank. "oh, well, that's not so bad. come on, my brave fellows! we'll do our best to make it interesting, eh, jack?" "oh, all i want is a chance at thornton!" panted the virginian. willis paulding was quivering with excitement. he thought he saw his opportunity, and he lost no time in improving it. he had hated merriwell from the first, but never had he dared do anything to injure frank. now, grasping his heavy cane, he slipped forward and came up behind merriwell. swish--crack! the cane cut through the air and fell on merriwell's head, dropping the lad in a senseless heap to the floor. it was a cowardly blow, but it put merriwell out of the fight in a twinkling, for he was stunned. "so this is the way you fight!" cried diamond, wheeling about and leaping at willis, who gave a scream and vainly tried to escape. jack caught the fellow, grasped him by the ears, and flung him back against the wall. thump! thump! thump!--jack banged the head of the helpless wretch against the wall till it seemed that paulding's skull would crack. willis tried to scream for help, but with the very first thump his tongue was caught between his teeth, and he nearly bit it in two. blood gushed from his mouth, and he sunk in a limp heap to the floor as jack released him. diamond turned quickly, but not in time to escape flemming, whose heavy fist caught the virginian behind the ear. down jack went. as he tried to get up flemming kicked him over. the sound of the fight had aroused those in the front of the saloon, and several came hurrying in. the door had not been closed, as flemming had directed, and the curious ones gained easy admission to the room. among the foremost was plug kirby, a tough of the town, whom frank had once whipped. he saw frank stretched on the floor, and he hoarsely demanded: "who done that job? who hit me friend merriwell? show me der blokie, an' i'll punch der face offen him instanter!" thrusting out his chin, kirby glared around at the boys. at best, he was an ugly-looking scoundrel, with a bullet head and a bulldog neck. "so you are one of merriwell's friends!" sneered flemming. "that speaks well for merriwell!" "w'at's dat?" snarled plug, advancing on fred. "dat merriwell is white ter ther bone, an' i sticks by him--see! dis gang has done him dirt, an' i'm goin' ter punch der mugs offen der whole of yer!" "merriwell should be proud of his friends!" cried flemming, scornfully. "it is plain that he has been very careful in his selection!" "an' it's plain ter me dat merriwell has been took foul, else yer never'd knocked him out dis way. i've been up ag'inst him, an' he could lick dis whole gang if he had a square deal." then kirby pointed straight at flemming, and fiercely exclaimed: "i t'ink you're der bloke w'at done him dirt! i'm goin' ter knock der packin' outer youse, me fine chap!" he rushed at fred, who caught up a chair and struck at kirby's head. plug dodged, caught hold of the chair, and wrenched it from flemming's grasp. "right here is where i cleans out der place!" he shouted. he swung the chair aloft, and the boys made a rush to get out of the room. whiz!--the chair flew through the air, striking fred flemming between the shoulders, knocking him down instantly. then the police came in suddenly, and clubbed kirby into a helpless condition, while all the others, with the exception of merriwell and diamond, escaped from the place. jack was examining frank's wound when they were both placed under arrest. "what is this for?" demanded the young virginian. "what have we done to merit arrest? why didn't you take those fellows who got the better of us in such cowardly ways?" "don't ask questions!" growled one of the officers. "you'll have a chance to answer a few when yer come before the judge in the morning." those words filled diamond with a feeling of terror. he knew what it would mean if they were brought up before a magistrate in the morning. it would become known that they had been arrested in a place like jackson's, and in company with a ruffian of plug kirby's stamp. kirby would claim that frank merriwell was his friend, and that would settle everything. jack saw that it meant disgrace and expulsion for himself and merriwell. flemming and thornton would be triumphant. jack was very proud, and it made him writhe with anguish when he thought how heavily such a blow would fall upon his parents. for a moment he was quite overcome. jackson came into the room. he was greatly excited, and he begged the officers to let the prisoners go, for he knew unpleasant attention would be attracted toward his place if it became publicly known that two students had been arrested there. "it's time we pinched somebody in this joint," said one of the policemen. "there's been more crooked jobs put up here than anywhere else in the city. you oughter lose yer license, jackson, and i rather think yer will this time." jackson had ordered the door closed to keep out the curious crowd that had been attracted by sounds of the conflict. one of the bartenders was standing guard over the door. the saloon-keeper drew one of the policemen aside, and spoke earnestly and excitedly to him. the officer shook his head, and replied: "we've overlooked things that went on here till it won't do no longer, jackson. there has been complaints against this joint, and ye're lucky that we don't pull the whole shooting-match." the other officer now took a fair look at merriwell, who was sitting up and feeling tenderly of his head. "why, hello!" exclaimed the policeman. "i t'ink i knows you!" "hello, magoon!" returned frank, rather faintly. "i hope you didn't hit me that crack over the head with your stick?" "i do know yer!" cried the officer. "ye're ther boy what stopped ther horse and saved fairfax lee's girl! you're all right!" "my friend there says we're arrested, magoon. how about it?" "we didn't know it was you, but ther job is done now," said the policeman, apologetically. "well, can't this matter be fixed up?" asked frank, anxiously. "you know what it will mean to me if i am pulled up before a magistrate in the morning. everything will come out, and then i'll be expelled from college." "that's rocky," admitted magoon; "but what can i do? i can't let you off without lettin' the others go." "well, why shouldn't you let my friend diamond go? we were up against six fellows, and it seems that we got the worst of it. those chaps are the ones who should be arrested." "but we didn't catch 'em." "you caught us because we had been foully knocked out by the crowd," declared jack. "we were taken at an advantage, and did not have any kind of a show. now are we to suffer while the ones who were to blame go free?" "you made a big mistake in coming into this kind of a joint," declared the officer, severely. "and you were arrested at the same time with plug kirby, a tough of the lowest order. that's what gits you in a hole. if we lets you go, we've got to let him go." then diamond explained how kirby happened to be in the room, and frank added light to the matter by telling how he came to know the thug, who had been hired to whip him once on a time, but who had received a severe thumping instead. "and that is how it happens that he claims you for his friend?" asked magoon, grinning. "you hammered friendship into him?" "that's right," said frank. "he has been ready to do anything for me ever since that night." "well, i must say that's the first thing i ever knowed about plug kirby that made me feel like goin' easy with him! and he was fighting for you against the crowd? i'll have a word with murphy." two of the officers drew aside, while the third stood guard at the door. after a few moments, jackson was called up by magoon, and the trio spoke in low tones. frank was keeping watch of all that passed, and he saw jackson take something out of his pocket and slip it into murphy's hand. "that lets us out, jack," said merriwell, guardedly. "jackson has fixed it with the officers." "if you're right, we are dead lucky," muttered diamond. "it began to look as if we were booked for our walking-papers." "which would have pleased certain young gentlemen who do not admire us very much." "they would have held a jubilee over it. with you out of the way, flemming would have gone on the crew. he has suddenly come to hate you because he thinks you have shut him out from that position." "scarcely do i settle with one set of enemies before another rises up to make it interesting for me," said frank. "i believe i have more enemies than any other fellow at yale." "and you have more friends. any man who is as popular as you is certain to have enemies. you arouse the envy of the weak and shallow, and the jealousy of those who would become your rivals, but are incompetent to become your equals. at the same time, you are able to command a larger following than any fellow at yale. you are a leader in everything, and it is certain that you will be able to make your choice of the junior societies next year. it is no more than natural that you should have bitter foes who desire your downfall." "well, my enemies have not succeeded very well with their plots thus far. if we get out of this scrape all right, i'll give my attention to this new gang who have rallied around fred flemming, for he is evidently the leader." "yes, he is the leader, and tom thornton is his first officer. if you give your attention to flemming, i will look after mr. thornton. is that settled?" "it is settled." "good! now we'll see if jackson has fixed matters." one of the policemen was having a talk with plug kirby. kirby seemed rather sullen and obstinate. "i weren't doin' notting to git me head t'umped like dis," he muttered, sulkily. "me frien' merriwell was bein' jumped by a gang, an' i went in fer ter back him up. you cops lets der gang git off, an' den yer pinches us. i don't care wot yer do wid me, an' i don't make no promises. go on wid yer deal." here frank merriwell stepped in. "you profess to be a friend of mine, kirby," he said. "dat's wot i am, pal," nodded the tough. "then show it. if i am pulled up before a magistrate, it is pretty sure that i'll be expelled from college, which will be rough on me. if you are my friend, you will agree to keep your mouth shut about this affair. if you are my enemy, you will refuse." "well, pal, if yer puts it dat way, i can't refuse yer. i did kinder reckon you'd stan' by me when i was hauled up, an' i t'ought your influence might fix t'ings; but, if it's der way you say, i'll take me medicine, an' never open me trap. is dat satisfactory?" "you have not been placed under arrest at all--understand that?" demanded officer murphy. "sure." "and you know nothing about a row in this place. catch on?" "sure." "you're doing this for your friend merriwell. see?" "sure." "that's all. we'll have a drink all around on jackson, and i'll club the head off you, kirby, if you blow anything." frank took seltzer, while the others drank beer or whiskey, according to their fancy. ten minutes later, merriwell, diamond and kirby were let out of jackson's by the back door. when they were at some distance from the saloon, frank turned to the bruiser and said: "diamond tells me that you got into this trouble by attempting to defend me, kirby. i am sure i appreciate it, but i had rather you would drop calling me your friend. you can do me more harm that way than any other." "all right," nodded plug, gloomily. "dat goes. i know i ain't in your class, an' i don't want ter do yer no hurt. all der same, if i git a chance ter fight fer yer any time, i'll do dat." frank appreciated the kindness of the big bruiser, whose admiration he had won by giving him a severe thrashing. "all right, kirby," he laughed. "i certainly can't object if you want to fight for me. there have been times when i could have found you quite useful in pitting you against ruffians who had tried to injure me. are you down on your luck nowadays?" "well, rudder!" "well, here's a v. go play you are a millionaire." kirby eagerly grasped the five-dollar bill which frank passed him, earnestly exclaiming: "if youse ain't der whites' young cove what i ever seen, i'm a liar! if yer wants me ter do up der whole gang as was ag'inst yer ter-night, jest you say so! i'd like der job." "if i need you, i'll let you know," assured frank. "good-night." plug doffed his battered hat. "good-night, young gent. may ye alwus prosper, an' may old nick take yer enemies." as frank and jack walked toward their rooms in south middle, the virginian observed: "you are the strangest fellow i ever saw, merriwell. when you do make a friend he is ready to go through fire for you, and you make friends of all sorts and conditions of persons. your friends are as firm and unwavering as your enemies are virulent and dangerous." "and still i seldom seek the friendship of any one," declared merriwell. "if they wish to be my friends, i accept them for what they show themselves to be. if they choose to be my enemies, well and good; let them look out for themselves. to-night i have found that a new combine of enemies has risen against me. i know them all, and i shall treat them as they deserve." chapter xi. a matter of speculation. frank spent an hour every afternoon in the gymnasium, where he took such exercise as he considered best, always spending at least a few minutes of the time on one of the rowing machines. a great deal of speculation had been aroused by bob collingwood's determination to take merriwell upon the 'varsity crew. it was known that collingwood was a thorough believer in the american oar and american stroke as opposed to the shorter-bladed oxford oar and the longer english stroke. collingwood had ever seemed thoroughly satisfied with yale methods, and he had expressed his scorn of the oxford method of placing the seats on alternate sides of the boat. it was generally presumed that frank merriwell was thoroughly english in his ideas and beliefs, and it was thought that he was altogether too set to give up what he fancied was right, even though he might get on the crew by so doing. still some one had been forced to give in, and there was much speculation about it. then came the rumor that yale was to have an english coach, and the tongues of the gossips began to wag furiously. "it's a great triumph for frank merriwell!" cried danny griswold to a party of friends gathered in the gym. danny was flushed and perspiring from recent violent exertions on the bars. some of the group about him were in training suits, and some were in street dress. "also a triumph for good old 'umpty-eight," declared ben halliday, with satisfaction. "how is that?" asked bandy robinson. "why," answered halliday, "it was the freshman crew of 'umpty-eight that, under merriwell's instructions, adopted the oxford oar and stroke and defeated 'umpty-seven at saltonstall. do you see?" "vanity, vanity," quoth dismal jones, with the air of a methodist preacher of old times. "they who exalt themselves in high places shall be cast down. beware of false pride and the swelled head." "oh, you are always croaking!" exclaimed lewis little. "i think it is a mistake to run off onto english methods," said burn putnam. "harvard has done that, and they'll say we are following harvard's example." "what if they do say so?" yawned bruce browning, lazily. "what do we care, so long as we win the race at new london?" "but we can't win this year," declared walter gordan, who had been swinging the clubs, and was flushed from the exertion. "it strikes me it is a crazy scheme to attempt to change the oars and the stroke at this late day. harvard has been hammering away at her crew since last fall, and it will be in perfect trim when the new london race comes off, while yale's crew will be all broken up if this change of methods occurs." this seemed logical, and not a few were ready to agree with gordan. harry rattleton came up, and the lads appealed to him at once. "you are merriwell's roommate," said robinson, "and you should know if it is true that yale is going to change her oars and stroke for the oxford oar and stroke." harry grinned mysteriously. "why should i know all this just because i am merriwell's roommate?" he asked. "do you think he knows everything he tells me--i mean do you think he tells me everything he knows?" "of course not, but he'd be sure to tell you this, for you know he introduced english methods with 'umpty-eight last year, and he must be rather proud if collingwood has given in that those methods are preferable to the old yale ways." "if merry were proud of anything, you'd never know it by his words or manner," said harry. "he is not given to boasting." "oh, of course not!" cried little, impatiently. "we all swear by frank merriwell, but what we wish to know is if he has induced collingwood to adopt the oxford oar and stroke." "well, you'll have to ask merriwell, for i will tell you frankly that i don't know. the longer i room with him the less i pry into his affairs, and, if he knows collingwood's plans, he has not seen fit to reveal them to me. that is all, gentlemen." that was anything but satisfactory, as the faces of the assembled lads plainly indicated. "well, it can't be long before we find out!" cried robinson, in disgust. "if yale has whiffled about at this late hour it will show reprehensible weakness and lack of policy. harvard is bound to win. then she will crow. they have won the annual debate right along, so that my old fogy uncle declares all the brains are in harvard. if they win the spring race he'll decide that brawn is going to harvard, as well as brain, and yale is in the decline." "they never won anything fair," declared halliday. "why, i've heard they have men out west all the while searching for new debaters. they claim that harvard don't care to go in for athletics, but takes a leading stand in all intellectual pursuits, such as debating and chess." "chess is certainly a highly intellectual pursuit," drawled browning. "if i had entered harvard i should take an interest in it. debating is too trying. the exertion of standing on one's feet and talking is very severe." "if you would take a little more exertion you might get some of the flesh off you," said putnam. "how did you happen to get fat so suddenly, browning, old man?" "oh, he fell off the roof one day and came down plump," chuckled griswold, mischievously. "here! here! here!" exclaimed rattleton, making a grab at danny, who dodged and slipped out of the way. "you want to let up on that, young fellow." "i have tried to reduce my weight by dieting," said bruce, with apparent seriousness. "i've been in the habit of eating a juicy tenderloin steak twice a day, but i gave that up and tried cheap fifteen-cent steaks instead." "how did you find it?" asked little. "oh, pretty tough," answered browning, with a sly wink. "this isn't what we were talking about," broke in walter gordan, impatiently. "if those harvard willies win from us this spring, it will be a frightful blow for old eli." "if they win it will come from collingwood's shallying about," asserted "deacon" dunning, who had just joined the group. "merriwell's ideas may be all right, but it is too late to adopt them this season. i am merriwell's friend, but i believe fred flemming should have been retained on the crew. by taking in merriwell it may upset everything. flemming is a good man, and merriwell already has more than he can properly attend to." "now you are getting me cot under the hollar--i mean hot under the collar!" exclaimed rattleton, his eyes snapping. "i want to ask you a question, mr. dunning. when have you known frank merriwell to make a failure of anything he has attempted?" "oh, he has been wonderfully successful, i grant that; and i do not doubt but he would have made a good man had he been taken on the crew last fall." "he will make a good man anyway, and you can bet on that!" cried harry. "it is not necessary that there shall be a change of methods because merry has been taken on the crew. although he believes in the superiority of the oxford oar and stroke, he may not think it good policy to attempt to make a change now. but that is not all. merry makes a good leader, but he is also a good follower, and it is his theory that utter obedience is due superiors. i'll wager that he will not intrude his ideas on collingwood. if he does not regulate his stroke with that of the rest of the crew he will soon be dropped, and flemming or some other fellow will have his oar. all this talk you are making is mere speculation, and i advise you to wait a while till you know what you are talking about." having thus delivered himself, rattleton turned away. at this moment frank entered the gymnasium to take his regular exercise. he was accompanied by jack diamond, who had been seen with merriwell very often of late. immediately the group of sophomores decided that one of their number should ask merriwell point-blank if a change to the english methods was contemplated. the choice fell on bandy robinson, who did not relish his job much. robinson approached frank with no little hesitation, and something about his manner seemed to betray his object, for merriwell read his thoughts. "go back," directed frank, grimly--"go back and tell them that they will find out all they want to know by waiting." then he entered one of the dressing-rooms, and robinson retreated, muttering: "it's no use--merriwell seems to know just what a person is thinking about. he is one of the jolliest fellows in the world, and, at the same time, when he takes a fancy, one of the most unapproachable." chapter xii. the challenge. merriwell and diamond entered a dressing-room together. the moment the door closed behind them, frank laughed shortly. "i'll wager that i hit the nail on the head that time," he said. "the moment i saw that knot of fellows talking so excitedly i decided they were speculating concerning the change on the crew, and my eyes told me they had deputized robinson to question me, so i did not give him the chance." "the dropping of flemming and your acceptance in his place has created a stir," said jack. "it is generally thought that you will ruin everything with your english ideas." "that shows how little they know me," smiled merriwell, as he threw off his coat. "i almost fancy it is generally believed that i go in for english methods simply because they are english." "you fancy rightly, merry. the majority of the fellows believe that." a cloud came to frank's face. "i do not care to be misunderstood to such an extent," he said. "i am no anglomaniac; i am american to the bone. i have traveled some, and i prefer this country above all other countries on the face of the earth. i was at oxford long enough to witness the races and make an investigation of their methods. i believe that in the matter of rowing the english are more advanced than the americans. this is not strange, for they have been at it longer. now, although i claim to be thoroughly american, i try not to be narrow and pig-headed. simply because a thing is american, i do not believe it must therefore be superior to everything else in the world; but i am bound to defend it till i find something by which it is excelled. if americans will adopt the english oar and the english stroke, i am confident that, in a very few years, they will so improve upon them that they will be able to give points to our cousins across the 'pond.'" "you are, indeed, broad-minded and liberal, merriwell," said diamond, with admiration. "it was you who first convinced me that northerners no longer hold a feeling of enmity against southerners. till i met you the word 'yankee' seemed to me to be a stigma--a name to be applied in derision to the people of the north. to my astonishment, i found you were proud to be called a yankee, and then you explained to me that foreigners applied the name to all native-born americans. you explained to me that in the early days of this country, when northerner and southerner fought for one common cause, freedom and independence, all who opposed the tyranny of our oppressors were termed yankees. i remember the night when we sat up till two in the morning talking of these things. you did not tell me anything i had not considered before, but you revealed things to me in a new light. you showed me the north and south bound by ties of blood, and i think you aroused in me a broader feeling of patriotism than i had ever before known." the cloud passed from merriwell's face as his companion spoke, and, as diamond finished, frank reached out and took his hand. "you are from the south, i from the north," he said, in his most charming manner; "yet we are brothers. in the north and in the south there are those who still entertain sectional feelings and prejudices, but the time will come when all this will pass away." "i think it is fast passing," declared jack. "it is," nodded frank. "so far as sectional feelings go, there should be no north, no south, no east, no west. we are all united under one flag, the most beautiful of all flags--the star spangled banner! we are all citizens of one country, the greatest and grandest the sun ever shone upon! we should be ready at any time to lay down our lives for our flag and our country." diamond's eyes flashed, and it seemed that the noble look on frank merriwell's face was reflected in jack's. his blood was stirred by the grandest of all emotions--patriotism. looking at the virginian at that moment, no one could for an instant doubt his courage and his loyalty. "i believe we should pay more attention to the early history of our country, when north and south were united against a common foe," continued frank. "that is what will arouse true patriotism. massachusetts had her tea party, but virginia had her--washington!" jack diamond bared his head. "merriwell," he said, with great earnestness, "the greatest enemies of our country are those who try to arouse sectional feeling. i am sure of that." "quite right," said frank. "in the north and in the south there are cheap fellows and cads who pose as gentlemen. you and i have had a few experiences with some of them, and it seems that there are others." "i presume you mean flemming, thornton and their crowd?" "flemming is the leader, and his enmity against me has been aroused because i have been taken on the crew in his place. i did not seek the position, and i was surprised when collingwood called on me to take it." "you were no less surprised than others, for collingwood has always maintained that yale's methods are superior to those of oxford, and he knows you believe quite the opposite. it is a matter of speculation if he intends to change to the english methods at this late hour." frank smiled. "collingwood is not a fool. there will be no change. already i am in training to perfectly acquire the yale stroke." this was both a surprise and a relief to jack, who had feared that collingwood had decided on the change, and that in case harvard won merriwell would be blamed to a certain extent. "i am glad, merry!" exclaimed diamond, his eyes gleaming. "if yale wins and we square matters with flemming and thornton, i shall be perfectly satisfied." "i am hoping to get at mr. flemming this afternoon," said frank, grimly. "how is that?" "he spends some time in the gym every day, and i timed my visit to-day in order to catch him here." "but what can you do here?" asked the virginian, wonderingly. "you can't fight him in the gym." "i do not want to fight him." "no?" cried jack, in astonishment. "then what do you mean to do?" "flemming considers himself the champion wrestler at yale. i hope to wrestle with him." "hope to wrestle?" exclaimed diamond, still more astonished. "why, even if you were to throw him, it could give you very little satisfaction." frank smiled mysteriously. "do you think so?" he inquired. "well, we shall see. when you are ready, we shall go out. i will wrestle with you, and you shall throw me. we'll be near flemming at the time. that will give him an opportunity to pass some remarks, if he so desires. if he does so, you may be sure i will lose no time in picking them up. i am tired of fighting, and i hope to finish this chap in another way." "if you finish him by wrestling with him, i shall consider it a marvel. i am afraid you have misjudged your man, merry; he'll not be finished so easily." "we shall see. are you ready? then come on." they left the dressing-room, frank in advance. as they came out they were regarded with some interest by the knot of sophomores, who were still talking of the surprising change that had been made on the crew. as he passed the lads, frank called pleasantly to them, and they greeted him in return, and the manner in which this was done would have betrayed to a keen-eyed stranger that merriwell was something more than an ordinary man at college. frank's keen eyes detected flemming at the ladders. "that is first rate," he muttered. "the turf is nearby." a few moments later frank was engaged in casting the shot near where fred flemming was exercising on the ladders. at about the time frank fancied flemming would finish, frank gave jack the signal, and they were soon struggling in what seemed to be a good-natured wrestling match. diamond was really supple and catlike on his feet, and he possessed more than common strength; but he was not frank merriwell's match, for, besides being a natural athlete, frank had developed himself in every way, so that he was really a wonder for a youth of his years. the struggle between frank and jack quickly attracted a number of spectators to the spot, and merriwell was well pleased to see flemming come down from the ladders and approach, accompanied by tom thornton. it seemed that the battle between the wrestling lads became fiercer and fiercer, but at last jack secured a sudden advantage, and merriwell went down heavily. "bah!" fred flemming was heard to say. "those fellows remind me of two awkward cubs. neither knows the rudiments of scientific wrestling." one leap brought frank merriwell to his feet, another leap carried him before flemming, who was turning away. "wait a moment, sir," said frank, his voice cold, clear and distinct. "i believe you consider yourself something of a wrestler, flemming?" merriwell had appeared before him so suddenly that fred started back involuntarily. then, angry with himself at the recoil, his lips curled scornfully, and he surveyed the other lad in the most haughty and insolent manner. "get out of my way!" he cried, harshly. "i will not be bothered by you!" the same old smile--the smile that was so dangerous--crept over merriwell's face. "you think you will not be bothered by me," he said, his voice smooth and soft, "but you deceive yourself. you have taken a fancy to bother me, to revile me behind my back, even to make false statements concerning me, for you have said that i sought your position on the crew and obtained it by underhand means. in the presence of these witnesses you have stated that i am a most bungling wrestler. that is something you cannot deny." "i do not wish to deny it. you are not a wrestler--you know nothing of the art." "and you claim to be a wrestler?" "yes, i can wrestle." "then, here and now, i challenge you to wrestle me at side-holds, catch-as-you-can and arm's end, the winner of two out of three falls to be acknowledged the best man, and hugh heffiner to be the judge. if you refuse to wrestle, i will brand you as a blower and a braggart--a fellow not fit to be accepted in the society of gentlemen. your answer, flemming--your answer!" chapter xiii. the wrestling match. flemming turned pale and trembled with suppressed passion, while his hands were clinched, and he glared at merriwell as if he longed to strike the lad who had dared face him and fling such an insulting challenge in his teeth. he tried to speak, but the words were choked back in his throat. he felt that merriwell was seeking retaliation, and, for that reason, had purposely worded his challenge in a manner calculated to cut him deeply. "shame!" came from the lips of tom thornton. still the lad who had given the challenge smiled. "i am meeting mr. flemming as he would meet me," said frank, calmly. "i am using the sort of language he would not hesitate to apply to me. of course i feel that i am lowering myself in doing so, but it is absolutely necessary in some cases to place one's self on the level of an unscrupulous enemy in order to meet and defeat him." all this was said with coolness and distinctness, and it was as if frank were deliberately sinking the knife deeper in flemming's writhing body. it seemed to be more than flemming could endure, for he lost control of himself, and would have leaped toward frank. "you insolent hound!" he cried, through his set teeth. merriwell stood with his hands at his side, making no move, but he saw that flemming's friends had grasped him and were holding him in check. "steady, flem, my boy!" fluttered thornton. "remember where you are!" "i will strangle him." "wait! you can't do it here!" "let me go!" "thornton is right," declared andy emery, who had placed himself between the two foes. "you cannot fight him here, old man." "then fix it so i can fight him somewhere--anywhere! i could murder him!" "you will have to wrestle him." "yes," said thornton, "you will have to do that, fred, or his friends will believe you are afraid." "then i will wrestle him--and i will break his back!" "you must calm down before you attempt it, and you must promise to wrestle fairly according to rules." "that will give me no chance to get square for this insult." "you can show your superiority by throwing him, which you will do, as you are an expert wrestler, and, for all of the other things he does so well, no one ever heard that merriwell could wrestle. then, the next time you meet him outside college bounds, you can force him to apologize." emery nodded. "thornton is right, flemming," he said. then, with a mighty effort, fred seemed to gain control of his anger, and he calmly said: "all right, i will wrestle him, but i shall not be gentle with him, although i promise not to foul him." "be as rough as you choose, as long as you keep within bounds." then it was that frank merriwell was heard saying to the friends who had gathered around him: "it may seem that i have opened myself to criticism by my manner in challenging this person, but i call you all to witness that he was the first to be insulting by his manner of criticising the friendly bout between mr. diamond and myself. that, however, was not the beginning. had not flemming given me other cause, i should not have challenged him in such a manner. i have sought neither his friendship nor his enmity, but he has seen fit to regard me as an enemy. i can honor an honest foe who meets me man to man, but not one who takes a mean advantage of me. on my head i now bear a bruise where i was felled by a heavy cane in the hands of one of flemming's friends, when he with five companions set upon diamond and myself. i always endeavor to square all my accounts with friends and foes, and i shall balance the books with flemming." fred forced a scornful laugh. "a very fine speech!" he cried. "i assure you, merriwell, you shall have the opportunity to square matters. i could wish something somewhat more businesslike than a mere wrestling match, but that may come later--if you have as much nerve as you wish persons to think you possess. to begin with, i'll show you that i spoke the truth when i said you know nothing of the art of wrestling. i am satisfied to have hugh heffiner for judge and referee." merriwell had chosen heffiner because he knew hugh was a square man, and they were not at all chummy, so he could not be accused of having selected a person who would favor him. heffiner was in the gymnasium, and had been attracted by the struggle between merriwell and diamond, so he had overheard all that passed between frank and fred. diamond was standing at one side, his arms folded, a look of satisfaction on his face. for all of flemming's reputation as a wrestler, diamond felt sure that merriwell was making no false moves. he knew frank too well to think he would deliberately challenge his enemy to wrestle without feeling certain of his own ability to accomplish his defeat. flemming was eager for the struggle, while merriwell was calm and deliberate in his movements. flemming's friends gathered about him, giving him advice. then frank was not a little astonished to find tad horner at his side, and heard the little junior say: "look here, merriwell, i want you to understand that i am not your enemy, although appearances may be against me." "you were one of the flemming gang at jackson's." "i acknowledge it but with shame," said tad, and, to frank's surprise, the little fellow colored deeply. "at the same time, you will remember that i did not lift a hand against you. you are a white man, merriwell, and i think you all right." frank was impressed by tad's sincerity. "thank you," he said. "it is not necessary for every fellow who dislikes me to be a rascal. i am sure that all of flemming's friends are not rascals. it is quite probable that a great many honest fellows think me in the wrong, but i am glad to know that you, who were present at jackson's, do not think so." tad retired, quite satisfied with this. he had long admired merriwell, and he felt it his duty to come out on this occasion and express himself openly. he did not mind that flemming and his friends regarded him with anger and scorn. arrangements for the wrestling match were soon made, and then the two lads faced each other on the turf. flemming was tall and solid, with broad shoulders and a back of which he was particularly proud. he was heavier than merriwell. there was not a single ounce of superfluous flesh on frank merriwell. he was a mass of bone and sinew, splendidly formed and supple as a young panther. in every movement and pose there was indescribable grace, and, at the same time, a suggestion of wonderful strength and self-reliance. flemming was bold and confident. he had made a special study of wrestling, and he knew all the tricks employed by experts. he had seen merriwell and diamond wrestling, and he felt certain that his adversary and rival would be an "easy thing." it chanced that the under holds in the first match fell to flemming, which made him certain in his own mind that he would have no trouble in throwing the lad he hated. the signal was given, and the enemies advanced and secured holds. then heffiner gave the command, and the struggle began. in the twinkling of an eye flemming tried the cross-buttock, but it seemed that merriwell had been expecting just such a move, for he passed his left leg behind fred's right and through in front of fred's left. then the force of flemming's surge seemed to lift both lads off their feet. "down merriwell goes!" cried thornton, triumphantly. but it seemed that in the act of falling frank whirled in the air and brought his rival under. this, however, had been planned from the very instant that fred made the first move to accomplish the cross-buttock, and frank's lock-trip had brought it about by lifting the other lad from the ground by a whirling movement. flemming struck fairly on his shoulders, with merriwell across his body, and heffiner cried: "first fall for merriwell!" exclamations of astonishment broke from the spectators. instead of a struggle of some moments, this fall had seemed to come about in the twinkling of an eye. but what was most astonishing was that flemming was flat on his back at the bottom when the lads struck the ground, although it had appeared that he had successfully accomplished the cross-buttock. it is certain that very few of those who witnessed the affair had the least idea how merriwell had accomplished this, but they saw that he was the victor in the first contest. jack diamond seldom smiled, but now he did so, and the expression of satisfaction on his face was complete. "who said merriwell was going down?" squealed danny griswold, in delight. "somebody fooled himself that time!" thornton bit his lip, muttering some fierce exclamation beneath his breath. of them all no person was more astonished than fred flemming. he lay dazed and wondering, scarcely able to realize that he was flat on his back and his enemy across his chest. frank arose hastily, his face quite calm and expressionless. he did not betray satisfaction or triumph, but his manner indicated that what had happened was no more than he had fully expected. he had confidence in himself, which any one must have to be successful, but still he was not overconfident, which is a fault quite as much as timidity. flemming sat up. he had felt himself lifted from his feet with a twisting movement, and he had felt himself whirled in the air, but still he could not understand how the feat had been accomplished. shame caused the hot blood to rush into his face, and he ground his teeth together, his whole body quivering. "it was an accident--it must have been an accident!" he told himself. "i tried to throw him so heavily that i overreached myself." the look on merriwell's face cut him like a keen knife and made him feel a fierce longing for the next tussle. "they actually think he threw me, when i threw myself," was his thought; "but i will undeceive them in a moment. next time i will drive him into the earth beneath me! there'll be no further miscalculation." thornton was at the side of his friend. "how in the world did you happen to let him take a fall out of you in that manner?" whispered tom, in extreme disgust. flemming's lips curled. "bah!" he returned. "he did not do it!" "no? but you were thrown! explain that." "i was not thrown." "yes, you were, my dear fellow! heffiner has given merriwell credit for winning the first fall." "i made a misjudgment in the amount of strength i should use on the fellow, and i turned myself in the air," declared fred. "is it possible?" "of course it is!" hissed flemming, who saw the incredulity in the face of his friend. "he is even easier fruit than i imagined." thornton brightened up somewhat, although not fully satisfied. "you must not let him accomplish it this time." "i tell you he did not accomplish it before!" came bitterly from the crestfallen and furious youth. "i will convince you of that in a moment. see the fellow stand there with that lordly air as if he had actually accomplished something. i will take all of that out of him! this is catch as we can, and i will break his back!" "injure his back in some way, and he will not be able to hold the place that belongs to you on the crew." "that is right!" panted flemming, his eyes glittering and his teeth showing. "a fellow with a sprained back is no good at an oar. why, thornton, my boy! merriwell has played right into my hands! he has given me the very opportunity i most desire, and i'll be a chump if i neglect it! if he is not taken to his room on a stretcher, it will be necessary for some of his friends to aid him. i know a hug that will take the stiffness out of his spine and make him lame for a month!" "give it to him!" fluttered tom, with returning confidence. "fix the cad this time so he will not be able to wrestle any more!" "i will, rest assured of that. this is my opportunity. in five minutes the starch will be taken out of him." flemming was confident, far more confident than he would have been had he dreamed that merriwell had turned him in the air and brought him underneath in the first fall. in his mind he saw merriwell groaning on the ground, saw him assisted to his room, saw him helpless in bed and attended by a physician. but what gave flemming the greatest satisfaction was the vision of collingwood humbly asking him to again resume his place on the crew--the place now given to frank merriwell. it seemed remarkable to fred that he had not planned to engage the lad he hated in a wrestling match, and so injure him in such a manner that he would be unable to row on the crew. but no less remarkable, it seemed, was the fact that he had been challenged to wrestle by merriwell, and thus given the opportunity he most ardently desired. the only thing that marred his satisfaction at that moment was that merriwell had, apparently by accident, seemed to have acquired the honor of having thrown him in the first struggle. "gentlemen," said heffiner, "are you ready?" the antagonists stepped forward and signified their readiness. the spectators fell back. "this time it is catch as you can," said yale's famous pitcher. "any kind of a hold is fair. is that understood?" "it is," nodded merriwell. "certainly," bowed flemming, giving frank a scornful look. "very well, gentlemen. prepare to clinch. ready--go!" chapter xiv. plotting fun. like a panther merriwell sprang forward, but he halted quite as suddenly and stood erect, careless and disdainful. flemming came forward in a crouching posture. he believed he saw his opportunity, and, with a gasp of satisfaction, he darted in and caught the lad he hated about the body. this time it was not flemming's intention to throw merriwell too suddenly. he wanted a little time to wrench frank's back, and then he would cast his foe writhing and helpless at his feet. tom thornton saw that fred had obtained the hold he sought, and he mentally exclaimed: "this time there will be no blunder!" jack diamond no longer smiled. he saw that flemming had obtained what seemed to be a great advantage, and his face was filled with concern. "it was careless of merriwell to give the fellow such a hold!" thought jack. "flemming is sure to be the victor this time!" there was a look of intense satisfaction on fred flemming's face as he made firm his clasp about merriwell's back. and then, just as flemming was ready to give a bear-like hug, something happened. frank's right arm was bent so that his forearm came directly under fred's chin, while his left arm was clasped across fred's shoulders behind his back. merriwell gave a sudden surge, drawing flemming close with his left arm, and thrusting back the fellow's head by pressing his right arm under his enemy's chin. in the twinkling of an eye flemming's wind was shut off, and his neck seemed to crack beneath the strain. he made a mad effort to hurl merriwell to the ground, but he had delayed the attempt a moment too long. frank merriwell well knew how dangerous was the trick he had played upon his enemy. he knew that he could break flemming's neck in that manner if he desired to do so, and he was careful not to make the sudden pressure too intense. flemming could not breathe, and his eyes started from his head. his strength seemed to leave his body, and his struggles to throw the lad he hated were weak and ineffectual. he was like a child in the hands of frank merriwell. the spectators stared in astonishment, and diamond gasped: "great cæsar! merry purposely let flemming get that hold!" "break away, flem--break away!" cried tom thornton, quivering with excitement. but flemming could not break away, for he had not sufficient strength to do so. "foul!" shouted emery, starting forward, as if he would part the combatants. in a moment jack diamond's arm was extended and pressed across emery's breast, holding him back like a bar of iron. "there is no foul in this match!" came exultantly from the lips of the virginian. "that was stated at the beginning." flemming made one last feeble struggle, and then the two lads went down together, with fred under. they fell heavily, and merriwell came down on his enemy with his full weight. a moment later frank arose. on the turf fred flemming lay white and still, his eyes closed. "bring some water," calmly directed the victor. "i think mr. flemming has been stunned." "this fall settles the match," decided hugh heffiner. "frank merriwell has won by throwing flemming two times in succession. permit me to congratulate you, mr. merriwell, for it is apparent that you are as expert in the art of wrestling as you have proved yourself to be in the other things you have attempted." "thank you," said frank, simply, as he accepted heffiner's hand. jack diamond whispered in tom thornton's ear: "it is your turn next!" diamond called on merriwell that evening. "you are a dandy, old man!" cried the virginian, admiringly. "you got back at flemming in great shape. they say he has been weak as a rag ever since you dropped him the second time, and it is pretty certain he will hold you in respect hereafter." "i shall be satisfied if he will let me alone," said frank, quietly. "i have no grudge against him, but the fellow who has not the nerve to fight his way in this world gets left. life is a battle from start to finish, and the hardest fighter is the winner." "true," nodded jack. "my mother was one of the gentlest women in the world," continued merriwell. "thoughts of strife and contention distressed her. to her a personal encounter was brutal and vulgar, and she instructed me never to fight unless absolutely compelled to do so. as far as possible i have tried to remember her teachings. i have not found it possible to do so at all times, as my enemies would ride over me if i did. when i see that a foe is determined to force me into an encounter then i become the aggressor. in another thing my mother was at fault. many times she told me never to strike the first blow. she was wrong. often the first blow wins the battle. if a person sees there is certain to be an encounter, he should do his best to get in the first blow, and make it a good one. then he should not be satisfied to let it rest there till his enemy has recovered, but he should follow it up. that is my belief." "and you are right. old man, you have a level head. i never saw another fellow like you, merriwell, and i doubt if there is another in the world." frank laughed. "you flatter me, diamond." "not at all." "ah, but you do. i know my own failings." "i wonder what they are?" "do not think for a moment that i have no failings! i have studied my own nature, and i have discovered them. as far as possible, i seek to remedy them. to myself i am a very ordinary sort of fellow. i know it, jack. the man who can see no flaws in himself is an egotist, a cad, and a shallow fool! as soon as he is perfectly satisfied with himself, he ceases to progress--he deteriorates." "that is true." "among my friends i see many things worthy of emulation. you, my dear diamond, are not aware of your own fine qualities, and----" "that will do, merry!" cried jack, blushing. "i am sure that i try to be a gentleman. my father was a true southern gentleman." "there can be no doubt of that. you show your breeding in every way. a natural gentleman will be a gentleman under any circumstances. he carries the air about him, and nothing can disguise it." jack sat down. "you have squared your score with flemming," he said; "but i have a little matter to settle with thornton. i am wondering how i shall settle it." "thornton is flemming's satellite. it would be cruel to use him roughly." "but i will not let him off! he should be taught a lesson." "look here, jack, i have a scheme." "what is it?" "let's put up a racket on him." "what sort of a racket?" "oh, one out of which we can get some sport and humiliate him at the same time. i am sure you do not want to fight with the fellow?" "i have been thinking that i would be ashamed to have an encounter with him." "exactly so. now, i know you are not much of a fellow for pranks, but i hope you will agree to this little scheme of mine." "state it," said jack, rather doubtfully. "well, you know thornton considers himself something of a masher. he gets stuck on every pretty girl who smiles on him." "yes." "danny griswold is a daisy as an impersonator of girls. you know he is to play a girl's part in one of the entertainments to be given in the fall. he has done the trick before, and he sent home for his outfit a week ago. yesterday, while rattleton and i were cramming for recitations the door opened, and a stunning blonde walked into the room. she seemed confused when she saw us, begged our pardon, and said she was looking for her cousin, danny griswold. she had entered the wrong room by accident. harry offered to show her to danny's rooms, but she said she could find the way. still she was in no hurry to go, and i began to be rather nervous, for i did not fancy the idea of having a young lady without a chaperon visit us. i feared it would become known, and we would receive a reprimand. she was decidedly giddy, and she sat on the arm of the easy-chair there and giggled and said it must be so nice to be a boy and go to yale. after a while i began to smell a rat. i got up and took a closer look at her. say, she was gotten up in great shape! it was that little imp griswold!" "well, what is your scheme?" asked jack, smiling. "it is to put griswold onto thornton. let danny rig up and see what he can do. it's ten to one thornton will think he has a new mash, and then we can have any amount of sport with the fellow." jack looked more doubtful than ever. "i don't see how that is getting square with him," he declared. "if the game works, you can pretend to be in love with the same girl. you can challenge thornton to mortal combat. he won't dare meet you. then you can expose him, and if that will not be getting even with him i don't know how you can get even." this scheme did not exactly meet diamond's approval, and frank found it difficult to induce him to agree to it. at last, however, merriwell succeeded. "we'll have barrels of fun out of this," laughed frank. "i feel in need of a little fun to wake me up." chapter xv. thornton's "mash." tom thornton was alone in his room when there came a knock on the door. "come in," called tom, without turning his head or taking his feet down from the table on which they were resting. as he had been out late the night before, he was not in a very agreeable mood. he had sent for his tailor some time before, and he supposed it was the tailor who had knocked and entered at his command. "well, here you are at last!" tom growled. "i've waited long enough for you, too! you are slower that molasses in midwinter! i suppose you want to know what ails me now. well, i'll tell you. that last pair of trousers you made me are too short in the waist and too full around the bottoms--that's what's the matter. i'd be mobbed if i should show myself in them. now, don't tell me they are all right! i'll just try them on right before you, and let you see---- great jupiter! what have i been saying!" he had turned his head, and he saw a vision that electrified him and brought his feet down from the table with a thump. just within the room a very pretty girl was standing, and she was staring at him in a half-frightened, half-amused manner. "i--i--i beg your pup-pup-pardon!" stammered thornton, jumping up, confused and flustered. "i didn't know! i--i thought it was my tailor!" "and you nearly frightened the senses out of me by growling at me in that way," giggled the girl. "why, i thought you were a great horrid bear, and you were going to eat me." "if i were a bear, i couldn't ask for a daintier meal," said tom, gallantly. "oh, my!" laughed the girl. "what a difference!" "i am bound to even matters if possible." "that's it? then you did not really mean what you just said, after all?" the smile vanished from her face, and she seemed a bit offended. "oh, yes i did--i vow i did!" exclaimed tom, hastening to repair the "break." "you see i am all broken up by the surprise. i--i didn't think of seeing a young lady here--alone." "i suppose not. i am looking for my cousin, mr. griswold." "griswold? griswold? why, i have heard of him. yes, he is a soph. you'll find him over in south middle. this is welch hall." "oh, dear! then i was misdirected. i was told i'd find him here somewhere. i beg your pardon, sir." "oh, don't mention it, miss--er--miss----" "darling. my name is grace darling, and i have come down to spend a week in new haven. you see i am from the country." "i should say so!" thought thornton; "and as fresh as they make 'em! but she is pretty--yes, she is a genuine stunner! a sort of wild flower. she is so innocent and unsophisticated!" "i presumed you were not familiar with yale, or you would not be in the dormitories without a chaperon," said thornton, aloud. "it is all right, though," he hastened to declare, as she seemed to shrink back. "i will escort you over to south middle, and help you find your cousin. my name is thornton--thomas thornton." "you are very good, mr. thornton, but i think i can find danny all right. i will not put you to the trouble." "oh, it will be no trouble--not the least in the world, i assure you." "still i don't know what danny would think. even though your company would be very pleasant, i dare not accept it without a proper introduction, mr.--mr. thornton." this was said in the most coquettish manner possible, and tom thornton felt his heart beating proudly. "i've struck her all right!" he told himself. "i mustn't let it slip. i'll improve the opportunity." so he talked to her in his most fascinating manner, and was bold enough to express a hope that he might see her again, to which she replied that he "might." and when she left tom was in a state of delighted satisfaction, thoroughly pleased with himself. thornton was inclined to boast of his conquests, and it was not long before he had told several of his friends about the "corking pretty girl" who had wandered into his room. "and i caught her without a struggle," he declared repeatedly. "country girl and rather unsophisticated; but a regular rustic rose--no, a regular daisy. cousin of some fellow over in south middle. her name? never mind. i am not giving things away. she is going to stay down a week, and gave me her promise that i should see her again. but she intends to be strictly proper, although she does not know much of city ways, for she declared that i must be properly introduced to her before she would make an appointment with me. oh, it's dead easy when you know how!" tad horner was thornton's roommate. "grace darling" had chosen an occasion when tad was not in, and thus had found tom alone. tom boasted of his conquest to tad, who grinned and tried to chaff him about his charming country girl. "did she have hayseed in her hair?" asked tad. "it's not that kind of a lady, horner. they'll all be envious of me. she is a stunning blonde, and her innocent country ways make her all the more attractive. she has such eyes--and such teeth! her lips are very inviting, my dear boy. it's just the sort of a mouth a fellow longs to kiss. and if i do not sip nectar from those ruby lips before she returns to her country home, i'll be dead slow." "wow!" whooped tad. "sip nectar! that beats! thornton, this rural maiden has knocked you silly!" "wait till you see her, and you will not wonder, my boy." "i'll go something you do not see her again." "oh, but i have her promise!" "ah, she was giving you a jolly!" "you'll see!" cried tom, piqued. "just wait a while." two days passed, and thornton began to think he would not hear anything from his "mash." then came an invitation to spend an evening at winnie lee's, and winnie hinted that among her guests there was to be a young lady from the country who wished to apologize for intruding upon mr. thornton in his room. "it's grace darling!" thought tom, exultantly. "she will be introduced to me! and she must be of fine people to be accepted as a guest at miss lee's, for the lees belong to the _élite_ of the town. oh, gracie is all right, if she is from the country!" on the evening of the party tom arrayed himself in his finest, used perfumery liberally--too liberally--on his handkerchief and his clothes, and set out with a light heart for miss lee's. as old readers know, winnie lee and frank merriwell were very friendly. as winnie was of a lively disposition and enjoyed a joke thoroughly, it was not difficult for frank to induce her to aid him in carrying out his plan. winnie was all the more ready to do so because she disliked tom thornton, who had made himself offensive by having declared that he could "catch" her without a struggle if he so desired, but she was not his style. this had been repeated to winnie, and she had treated thornton with the utmost disdain since hearing it; but frank had urged her to consent to invite tom to the party that the joke might be carried out, and she finally had consented. for a moment thornton wondered when he received the invitation, and then he decided that "grace darling" must have induced miss lee to offer it. tom little dreamed of the surprising events that were to take place before the evening was passed. chapter xvi. another challenge. thornton found merriwell, diamond, rattleton and browning were among winnie lee's guests. this he had expected, however, and he was resolved to notice them as little as possible. willis paulding was there, and tad horner came later, much to tom's surprise, as he had not known tad had been invited. there were a number of jolly girls, and thornton was not long in looking around for grace darling. when tom finally discovered her, to his disgust, she was chatting with jack diamond in a cozy corner, which was almost shut off from the rest of the room by portières. "hang that fellow!" thought thornton. "he has been introduced to her, and he has lost no time in getting in his work." as soon as diamond left the girl tom hastened to find winnie lee, of whom he requested an introduction to "miss darling." "oh, yes!" said winnie, laughing; "she spoke of you, but i had almost forgotten. i trust you will find her very entertaining, mr. thornton." "i am sure i shall," said tom. "we have seen each other, you know, but have not been introduced." "and she is very particular about that. being bred in the country, she is not fully conversant with the ways of the world, but she knows an introduction is the proper thing, and she insists on that. there she is." "miss darling" was seen chatting with a number of young gentlemen and ladies who had gathered about her. the group scattered as winnie and tom came up. "miss darling" saw them, and timidly held her fan before her face, peering over it shyly. "mr. thornton," laughed winnie lee, "it gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce you to miss darling." tom bowed profoundly, while the girl giggled, and made a courtesy. winnie lee laughed more than ever. at a distance frank merriwell and jack diamond were watching. "will you see winnie lee!" softly exclaimed merriwell. "she is nearly exploding with laughter. she can't hold it. it will be a miracle if thornton does not tumble." "all the others are laughing," said jack. "they had to get away when thornton was introduced. he will be crazy when he finds out how he has been fooled." frank was laughing. "oh, yes; he'll tear his hair. the story is bound to circulate. don't give him too much time with griswold before you get in your work and challenge him. horner is in the game, and he has agreed to help it along." "thornton will murder horner." "it will be remarkable if they do not suddenly cease to room together." "have you brought the pistols?" "you bet! everything is ready. willis paulding must be involved. we must soak him, as well as thornton. there go thornton and his mash toward the cozy corner. you must intrude before it becomes too warm for griswold, or he is liable to give the whole snap away." in the meantime thornton had expressed his delight at meeting his charmer again, and had led her away to the very cozy corner in which he had seen her chatting so vivaciously with jack diamond. once in the corner the girl ensconced herself in the shadow of the portières, and, for the first time, the fan dropped from her face. "this is charming," declared thornton, in his most fascinating manner. "ever since i first saw you i have dreamed of an occasion like this, miss darling." the girl giggled. "oh, you are such a flatterer, mr. thornton!" she returned, leaning toward him. "not at all," declared tom, as, apparently by accident, his hand fell on hers and remained there. "i am telling you the truth. since that hour when fate led you to my room, i have thought of you almost constantly by day, and i have dreamed of you at night. your face has been before my eyes continually." her head was bowed, so he could not see her eyes. he felt her hand quiver in his clasp. "oh, i am not doing a thing!" was his mental exclamation. "she can't resist me!" he grew bolder with amazing rapidity. he seemed to fancy that he could do so with this unsophisticated country girl without being "called down." "miss darling," he murmured, leaning yet nearer to her, and holding her hand with both of his own, "do you believe in love at first sight?" she giggled again. "why, i don't know," she confessed. "i do," declared tom. "i did not till i met you, but since that delightful moment i have." "oh, rot!" the girl seemed to say. "eh?" exclaimed thornton, in astonishment. "what did you say?" "i said, 'i think not,'" was the laughing answer. "my cousin has told me all about college fellows, and how they pretend to be all broken up over a girl, but are giving her the dead jolly all the time." tom gasped, for the girl rattled off slang as if thoroughly familiar with it. but this dampened thornton's ardor for no more than a moment. "i never give any one a jolly, miss darling," he declared, trying to appear sincere. "miss darling!" he murmured. "what a sweet name! and it suits you so well!" "do you think so?" laughed the girl. "i do--i do!" palpitated thornton. "it will be a lucky fellow who can call you his darling! if i might----" "mr. thornton, you are presuming! this is too much!" then jack diamond suddenly appeared, and asked: "did you call for aid, miss darling?" "i was about to do so," declared the girl. "mr. thornton has been very presuming and forward." "then mr. thornton shall answer to me!" came sternly from jack's lips. "if he is not a coward, he will come outside." tom turned pale and stammered. he felt like refusing to go outside, but he feared the girl would think him a coward. then he looked around, and his eyes fell on willis paulding. "yes, i will go out with you," he said. "miss darling" seemed to be overcome with fear. "don't kill him, jack!" she whispered. so she addressed diamond as "jack." that fired thornton till he longed to strangle the virginian. "lead on!" he exclaimed. "i will follow." they left the room, thornton calling to willis, who followed them, wonderingly. diamond had made a signal to merriwell, and frank was not far behind. diamond led the way to the garden. it was a moonlight night, and seemed almost as light as day. "mr. thornton," said diamond, sternly, "you have grossly insulted a young lady friend of mine. it is my duty to protect her. i challenge you to fight me, the weapons to be pistols, the place here, and the time now. your answer, sir--your answer!" thornton turned pale, and hesitated. he knew nothing of dueling, and therefore did not know that, being the challenged party, it was his privilege to name the weapons, the time and the place. in a moment, he found tad horner at his elbow. where tad had come from and how he happened to be there tom could not conceive. but tad was on hand, and he whispered: "take him up, old man--take him up! he is a regular fire-eater--in his mind. he thinks you will squeal. if he finds you will fight, he is sure to back out. he hasn't any real nerve. if he does fight, i'll fix it all right, for i will see that the pistols are loaded with blank cartridges. after the first shot, i will demand that the duel cease. thus you will get the reputation of having fought a duel, without incurring any danger to yourself." thornton was pleased with the scheme. he wished to be considered a dare-devil sort of fellow, and he felt that it would give him a great reputation if he fought a real duel. "sir," he said, turning to diamond, "i accept your challenge, and i shall do my best to shoot you through the heart!" five minutes later came the question: "gentlemen, are you ready?" "all ready," answered both diamond and thornton. "i will count three, and then give the word," said frank merriwell, distinctly. "one!" despite himself, willis paulding felt his flesh creep and heard his teeth chatter. thornton was shaking, even though he had been assured by tad horner that there were no bullets in the pistols. diamond was cool as an iceberg. the bright moonlight seemed to show a look of deadly determination on his face. "confound him!" thought thornton, quaking. "he'd as lief fight a duel as eat! hang those southerners! they do not know what it is to be afraid!" "two!" counted merriwell. the duelists raised their weapons and seemed to take careful aim. "three--fire!" at that instant there was a scream, and a female figure sprang out from the shadows and rushed before jack just as thornton pulled the trigger. there was a single report, and the female figure dropped to the ground, although diamond tried to catch her in his arms. thornton, the smoking pistol in his hand, stood staring, as if turned to stone. "good gracious!" gasped willis paulding. "you have shot somebody, thornton, deah boy!" "there must have been some mistake," said tad horner. "it seems that there was a bullet in your pistol, tom!" thornton hurried forward and looked down at the fallen girl, whose eyes were closed, and whose face seemed ghastly pale in the white moonlight. "it is miss darling!" came hoarsely from tom. "i have killed her!" "don't let the murderer escape!" cried diamond, sternly. "seize him and his second! they are both guilty!" "excuse me!" fluttered willis paulding. "i think i will go right away, don't yer 'now!" then he took to his heels, and ran, as if pursued by a hundred officers of the law. thornton was scarcely less terrified, and he slipped away into the shadows while the others were gathered around the fallen girl. when both willis and tom were gone, the girl suddenly sat up, and burst into a peal of boyish laughter. "there!" cried the voice of danny griswold; "didn't i do that all right? i wouldn't be surprised if thornton's hair turned gray. but i'm going to get out of this rig as soon as possible. these corsets are killing me. i can't get a full breath." "you little rascal!" laughed frank merriwell, as he gave griswold a shake. "you are a born actor, and you have given tom thornton a shock that he will not get over for some time--to say nothing of willis paulding." "if it cures thornton of bragging about his mashes i'll be satisfied," said tad horner. "but i'm afraid he'll never forgive me. i'll have to make a hustle and find him before he does something desperate. i'll tell him miss darling simply fainted, and was not injured at all. good-night, fellows. see you later." then he hastened away. "well, jack," said frank, addressing diamond, "it strikes me that you and i are more than square with mr. flemming and mr. thornton." "i think that is right," admitted the virginian, with a grim smile. chapter xvii. pure grit. all other college sports seem to grow dim in comparison with the great spring race. it is the crowning athletic event of the season. the vast gathering of people at new london occurs but once a year, and the only event to be compared with it is the annual football game in new york. new london for a week before the race is filled with "old grads," fathers of yale men who are interested in boating, college lads, mothers of students, sisters and sweethearts. at eastern point the fort griswold house is thronged with persons of this sort. the pequod is overflowing. on the broad piazzas old classmates meet and talk over former victories and defeats. there they watch the thronging craft upon the river. every one talks boating, whether he knows anything about it or not. "willie off the yacht" is there, togged in flannels and making a desperate struggle to roll in his gait. for a week, at least, he is a waterman, with the salt flavor in everything he says or does. and the girls--the girls! they, too, dress in flannels and yachting caps, and they try to talk knowingly about "strokes," "oars" and "the crew." but they are charming--every one of them! yale and harvard's quarters are on the left bank near gale's ferry. many of the "old oars" are permitted to visit the crew. the great coachers are there. they are regarded with awe and respect, for surely they know everything there is to know about racing! the race comes off at five in the afternoon. by midday the town is full, and every train brings fresh throngs of laughing girls and boisterous students. all are decorated with the blue or the crimson. flags are everywhere, and there are horns in abundance. at the docks the great sound steamers are moored, and they are packed with sight-seers. there are numberless yachts on the river, all decorated with gay colors and thronged with gay parties. within the boathouse, preparations were being made for the race. collingwood was giving final instructions to his men. bastow, an old coach, was surveying each and every one in the most critical manner possible. they were handsome fellows, these men of the crew. their flesh was brown and firm, and their eyes were bright. they had broad backs and powerful shoulders. collingwood looked troubled. it was evident there was something on his mind. fred flemming, in a new spring suit, is talking with popkay, the little cox. some wonder that flemming, who had been dropped for merriwell, should be there. among the spectators on a certain yacht are tom thornton and willis paulding. they are watching for the crew to appear, and, as they watch, thornton says something that betrays a knowledge of flemming's presence in the boathouse. "i'll go you two to one that flem rows after all," he declares. "do you dare take me, paulding?" "by the way you say that i should think you were betting on a sure thing, don't yer 'now," drawled willis. "i am," asserted tom. "i have it straight that merriwell is not in trim, and will be laid off. flemming was called to quarters at the last moment." "it'll be a corker on merriwell if he is not allowed to row, by jawve!" "yes; it will give me no end of satisfaction. that fellow put up the 'grace darling' job on me, and diamond helped him to carry it out. i have been a guy for the whole college ever since danny griswold told down at morey's how he fooled me. some day i'll wring that little rat's neck!" "they never could have worked the game if horner hadn't helped them." "of course not; but i have cut clear of horner. we have separated, and i never give the fellow a look when we meet. like the other fools, he is stuck on merriwell, and he thought he was doing something cunning when he helped them work the horse on me." "if merriwell doesn't row you'll have a chance to get back at them. you can say you knew it all the time, old chappie." "oh, he won't row to-day, and i'll rub it in when i get the opportunity." within the boathouse, at this very moment, bob collingwood was saying to frank merriwell: "you cannot row in the race to-day, merriwell. you are out of condition." frank turned pale. "if you say i can't row, that settles it," he said, huskily; "but i think you are making a mistake. i can row, and i'll prove it, if you will give me the chance. you shall have no cause to complain of me." "but i know you are not fit to pull an oar. you have tried to conceal it from me, but i know you have a felon on your hand. am i right?" "you are right," calmly admitted frank; "but give me a chance, and i will row for all there is in me, even if it takes my arm off at the shoulder." collingwood looked into merriwell's eyes, and what he saw there caused him to say: "all right, my boy, you shall row if we lose by it." "if we lose the race it will not be my fault," returned merriwell. the harvard cheer broke from a thousand throats as the harvard crew came down the stream and arrived first at the start. yale followed almost immediately, and two students who were on a trim little yacht craned their necks and glared at the men in the boat. something like a groan escaped the lips of tom thornton, and willis paulding declared: "i don't see flemming, but merriwell is there!" "yes!" grates tom; "he has managed to keep his place somehow! well, that settles it! harvard will win!" orders were shouted, and then it was seen that both crews were "set." the men, their brown backs gleaming in the afternoon sunshine, were reaching forward at arm's length, ready for the first stroke. a voice was heard commanding them to make ready, then came the cry: "go!" there was a pistol shot, and both boats darted forward. the four-mile race to the railway bridge piers of new london had begun. in an instant the great crowd set up a wild cheering, and colors fluttered everywhere. away went the boats, side by side. harvard's style of rowing had changed completely from that of the previous year, when her boat had jumped at every stroke. now her crew bent with a long sweep that sent the boat through the water with a steady motion. yale used a shorter and more snappy stroke. the men seemed to have more life at the start, but it was the kind of a stroke that was sure to pump away their energy to a great extent in a long race. but collingwood was crafty. he knew that it would be an easy thing to take the life out of his men by steep work at the beginning, and he doubted if the advantage thus gained could be held. to a certain extent, he regulated yale's speed by that of its rival. in his heart collingwood feared harvard's new style of rowing. he was not willing to acknowledge that anything english could be superior to anything american, and yet he remembered how the freshmen of 'umpty-eight, coached by merriwell, had adopted something like the oxford stroke, and had won the race from the sophomores at lake saltonstall. he also remembered merriwell's hand, and he feared the fellow must give out before the finish. if yale could hold her own till near the end collingwood hoped to win by a spurt. outside of merriwell, he felt that the crew was in perfect condition. he was sure the men were superior to those in the harvard boat. harvard begins to gain. that strong, steady stroke is telling. it looks as if the crimson lads were going to pull away from the blue with ease. collingwood does not allow himself to get excited in the least. he keeps his men steadily at work, husbanding their strength as far as possible. "'rah! 'rah! 'rah! harvard! harvard!" roared the crowd. frank merriwell was working perfectly with the rest, and no one could imagine from his appearance that every stroke seemed to drive a keen knife from his wrist to his elbow. his face was very pale, but that was all. at the end of the first mile harvard was two lengths in advance, and seemed to be gaining. still yale worked steadily, showing no signs of excitement or alarm. the crowds on the yachts were waving hats and handkerchiefs and flags. they cheered and yelled and hooted like human beings gone mad. it was a scene of the wildest excitement. it had become plain to all, despite the fact that harvard had a lead, that the race was to be a stern one. yale was out to win, if such a thing "lay in the wood." when the second mile was passed harvard was still another length in advance. but yale was beginning to work up steadily, forcing harvard to a more desperate struggle to hold her advantage. when the two and a half mile flag was passed it was seen that yale had begun to creep up. still she was not dangerous. her friends were encouraged, however, and the sound all yale men love--the yale yell--could be heard above the roaring of the crowd. that sound seemed to put fresh life and heart into the yale crew. at the beginning of the last mile harvard was scarcely two lengths in advance. it was a wonderful race. the excitement was at the highest pitch. the harvard crew, although it had started out so beautifully, had not the stamina to endure the strain. no. was pulling out of the boat, while no. showed signs of distress. yale begins to spurt. her men are working like machinery. no one could dream that one of them was suffering the tortures of a being on the rack, and still such was the truth. a hundred times it seemed to frank merriwell that he must give out; a hundred times he set his teeth and vowed that he would die before he would weaken. no one could know the almost superhuman courage and fortitude which enabled him to keep up and continue his work in the proper manner. those who watched the crew closely fancied that he worked with the utmost ease, for all of the long pull. collingwood had forgotten merriwell's felon. he was reckoning on the final spurt to bring "old eli" to the front. harder and harder he worked his men. now the uproar along the river was deafening. the prow of the yale boat was at harvard's stern--and then yale began to creep along by harvard's side. no. of the harvard crew reeled on his seat. then he braced up and went at it again. but he was not in stroke. the faces of both crews were set. they were like gladiators battling for their very lives. in the yale boat was one who seemed to be growing blind and numb. in his heart he was praying for strength as earnestly as he would have prayed for the salvation of his soul. only a few moments more--he must hold out. the boats were side by side, and the excitement was simply indescribable. such a finish was unprecedented. it was a race to be remembered for all years to come--to be spoken of with pride and discussed with wonder. then came the moment when collingwood drove his men for all there was in them. he was pitiless, and yale shot into the lead. the line was crossed. then cannons boomed and whistles shrieked. but in the yale boat was one whose ears were deaf to all this tumult of sound. frank merriwell had fallen in the bottom of the boat in a dead faint. but yale--yale had won! chapter xviii. after the boat race. "breka co ax co ax co ax! breka co ax co ax co ax! o--up! o--up! paraboleau! yale! yale! yale! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! yale!!!" imagine a thousand, full-lunged, hearty, healthy american lads shouting this cry in unison! it was a sound never to be forgotten by those who heard it. the victorious blue fluttered everywhere. harvard had made a gallant fight, and it had been "nobody's race" almost to the finish. the yale crew proved superior, but it won purely by brawn and stamina. old oars confessed that up to the last half mile harvard had shown better coaching and had seemed to establish the superiority of the oxford oar and stroke over american methods. but "old eli" had seemed to feel that it would be a lasting disgrace to be vanquished by anything about which there was an english flavor. the spirit of bunker hill and ' was aroused, and the defenders of the blue were willing to die in the struggle if such a sacrifice could bring victory. it was not the first time that pure grit had won against odds. as the yale boat crossed the line frank lay, deaf to all the tumult of applause, his eyes closed, but still with his pale face set in a look of mingled pain and unyielding determination. "it's merriwell!" exclaimed bob collingwood. "i had forgotten him." his words were drowned by the roaring of the excited thousands and the shrieking of the whistles. the prow of the yale boat was turned toward the bank. it was necessary to avoid the craft that came rushing about on every side, but the shore was soon reached. "hold her steady!" cried collingwood. "somebody dash water into merriwell's face." the command was obeyed, and in a moment frank opened his eyes. it was at the moment when the yale cheer was pealing from a thousand throats, and the look of pain on merriwell's face changed to one of satisfaction and joy. "did we win?" he huskily asked. collingwood nodded, his flushed face beaming, pride in his big blue eyes. "you bet!" he answered. "it's hard to beat old eli!" "i am satisfied!" gasped merriwell. his eyes drooped, and he seemed on the verge of going off into another swoon. "throw more water on him," pitilessly directed collingwood. it was done, and frank started up, gasping. "here--here!" exclaimed a man on the bank; "give him a pull at this. it will fix him all right." he stooped down and held out a flask. "what is it?" asked frank. "it's the best brandy money can buy," was the answer. it was passed to frank, but he pushed it away, shaking his head. "i never touch liquor," he declared. "i do not want it." "but it will not hurt you now--it will do you good," declared the man who owned the flask. "i can get along without it." "but i shall be offended if you do not take it." frank looked sharply at the man. he saw a suntanned individual, who wore a wide-brimmed hat and was dressed in clothes which were worn and appeared to have been made for service rather than for fit and elegance. there was something piercing about the man's dark eyes, and something about the beardless face that impressed it upon the boy's memory. there was a small purple scar on the man's chin, and frank noted this, although he might have overlooked it easily in that hasty glance. "then you will have to be offended, sir," said frank, firmly. "i do not wish to appear rude, but i never drink under any circumstances, and i will not begin now." the man drew back after the flask was returned to him. the last look he gave the boy was peculiar, as frank could not tell whether it was one of satisfaction or anger. in a moment this man was forgotten. the boat slipped out to the _clyde_, the little steam yacht that was to take the victorious crew back to quarters. the exhausted rowers were lifted on board amid renewed cheering, and the trip up the river began. it was a triumphant procession. all along the line the _clyde_, which was decorated with blue, was received with cheers and shrieking whistles. men waved hats and flags, pretty girls fluttered handkerchiefs and pennants, squads of students gave the yale cheer at intervals, and two scores of boats, crowded with students and friends, accompanied the boat that carried the victorious crew. the jubilant yale men sang songs of victory and cheered till their throats ached and they were hoarse. on board the _clyde_ were jack diamond and harry rattleton. when merriwell was lifted to the deck he found himself clasped in harry's arms, and the dear fellow laughed and cried as he hugged his roommate to his breast. "i never dought you'd threw it--i mean i never thought you'd do it!" cried harry, brokenly. "i thought that hand would knock you out sure. how could you do it, merry, old boy? it must have been awful! i saw you keel over when the line was crossed, but you never havered a ware--wavered a hair till the race was over." frank smiled a bit. "a fellow can do almost anything if he sets his determination on it," he said. "but i came near not having the opportunity to try." "how was that?" "collingwood found out about my hand. i am afraid you said something about it, harry." "not a word, save to diamond, and not to him till after the race began." "well, coll found it out some way, and he came near laying me off for flemming, who was on hand." "and now i understand a few things i heard this morning," broke in diamond. "emery and parker were offering to bet that flemming would row to-day." "how much did you fake 'em tor--i mean take 'em for?" cried harry. "i didn't know but some of the men had given out or something, so i did not take them at all. i did not imagine for a moment that they thought flemming was going to row in merry's place." collingwood came up. he was bundled from his ears to his heels. merriwell was in a sweater and coat. "how's your hand, old man?" asked bob, his eyes gleaming. "oh, it is giving me a jolly time!" grinned frank, grimly. "it isn't doing a thing." "mr. merriwell," said collingwood, earnestly, "i want to tell you frankly that to-day you made the greatest display of pure grit that it has ever been my fortune to witness. i did not believe it possible you could hold out through the race with that hand, and i meant to lay you off for flemming, although i regretted doing so, as he has not been working with us of late, and i felt that the change would weaken the crew. when you told me square and straight that it would be no fault of yours if the race were lost, i decided to keep you. after that i felt that i was making an error, but it was too late to change. now i know it was no error, and i wish to say that i am sure you aided materially by your splendid work to win." others of the crew came up. merriwell was surrounded by friends and admirers. diamond whispered in his ear: "you should be happy, old man, for you have triumphed over your enemies, and the story of your heroic work will be known to all yale by monday." then collingwood led frank below for a rub down. chapter xix. the yale spirit. at the boathouse there was a scene of riotous jollification. it was impossible to exclude the overjoyed friends of the crew. they crowded in and expressed their unbounded delight in almost every imaginable manner. there was a popping of corks, and "fizz" began to flow freely. now that the great race was over, the crew were no longer in training, and they were allowed to drink as much of the wine as they liked. it was forced upon them from all sides. merriwell was almost mobbed by the fellows who were determined that he should drink champagne with them. "you can't refuse now, old man!" shouted charlie creighton. "i saw it all, and no one suspected there was anything the matter with you. just to think that you rowed the race with a felon on your hand! it is marvelous! and i won a cool five hundred on old eli! whoop! if you refuse to take a drink of champagne with me i'll call you out and shoot you through the liver pad!" he was wildly waving a bottle of mumm's about his head as he made this excited speech. but merriwell did refuse, and he did it with a firmness that showed them all that he could not be induced to drink. "queer chap, that merriwell," commented charlie creighton, addressing his chum, paul hamilton. "never knew him very well, but i've seen enough of him to know he's the clean white stuff even if he is a temperance crank." "in the year and a half that he has been here," said hamilton, "he has made a greater record in athletics than any other man ever made in twice that time. and think of his rowing the race to-day with that hand, and then fainting the moment he knew the line was crossed and yale had won! i tell you, creighton, that fellow is all sand--every bit of him." "that's what he is," nodded creighton. "he is running over with the true yale spirit. i tell you, my boy, old yale bears mighty men! come, let's kill this bottle of fizz, which i got off the ice expressly for merriwell, confound him!" then they lost little time in opening the bottle and swallowing its sparkling contents. bob collingwood was overwhelmed with congratulations. he said very little before the crowd, but to a particular friend he declared: "it is one of the marvels of the year that we won to-day. harvard outrowed us for fully three-quarters of the course, and she would have finished in the lead if her crew had been as stocky as ours. their stroke is easier on a man than ours." "then you acknowledge at last that the oxford stroke is superior to the american?" eagerly questioned the friend. "i have acknowledged nothing yet, but i fear i'll be forced to." the jubilant fellows were making the boathouse ring with songs of victory. about twenty flushed lads were roaring: "how can they ever beat us-- how can they beat old yale? we down 'em when they meet us, you bet we never fail! we've got 'em so they fear us in every contest fair; and soon they'll not come near us, because they will not dare. chorus: "then give us a cheer for old eli-- a cheer for our gallant crew; she has won, and she wins forever, with her noble boys in blue. "poor harvard falls before us, she is not in the game; so swell the merry chorus, old eli's won again! it was a gallant battle, my boys who wear the blue; but you they cannot rattle, no matter what they do." there were other songs, and in the midst of all this rejoicing a crowd of pretty girls, accompanied by chaperons, came into the boathouse. among them was winnie lee, who lost no time in finding frank and congratulating him. "i knew you would win, frank--i knew you would!" she exclaimed, her bright eyes sparkling. "why, you are talking as if i rowed the whole race!" he said, laughing and blushing. "well, i'm sure they'd never won without you," she declared. "that's like a girl! of course yale would have won anyhow! how can they beat us?" at this moment collingwood came up, accompanied by a gentleman who carried a case in his hand. "here, merry, old boy," cried the captain of the crew, "i've brought a doctor to look after that hand of yours." "what is the matter with your hand?" asked winnie, anxiously. "oh, nothing much," assured frank, carelessly. "nothing much, only there is a bad felon on it," said collingwood. "a felon? and you rowed with a felon on your hand? oh, frank!" winnie looked at him with added admiration showing in her eyes. "that's what he did," nodded collingwood. "it was the greatest display of grit i've ever seen. do you wonder he flopped over in a dead faint when we crossed the line at the finish?" the doctor looked at frank's hand, which was now badly inflamed. after a thorough examination the physician glanced up at frank and observed: "if you were able to row with this hand, i rather think you'd endure burning at the stake by a band of indians without uttering a murmur!" "you dear fellow!" cried winnie, with girlish enthusiasm; "i feel just like giving you a good hug!" then frank blushed more than ever. the doctor opened his case and proceeded to dress merriwell's hand. while the physician was thus employed frank was somewhat surprised to observe at a little distance the same man who had offered him a drink of brandy as he was recovering from his swoon at the close of the race. this man was watching the boy in a strange manner, but the moment he saw he was observed he quickly turned away. frank's curiosity was aroused. "i wonder who he is and what he wants here?" thought the boy. "how did he get in here, anyway? he seems to take a remarkable interest in me, and i can't say that i like it." the man walked away and mingled with the throng. in a short time frank's hand was cared for, and the doctor gave directions for future treatment of the felon. "it is bound to trouble you for some time, and you will find it very painful," he said. "after what you have done to-day, i doubt if you sleep much to-night." "i don't care if i do not sleep for a week so long as yale won!" declared the boy. "you have the true yale spirit," said the doctor, approvingly. "yale men carry that unconquerable spirit out into the world, and that is why old eli turns out so many successful men in all walks of life. i think there is no fear as to your future, my boy." "thank you, sir," said merriwell, simply. chapter xx. spurning a bribe. "i would like to speak with you." frank felt a touch on his shoulder, and the words sounded in his ear. he turned quickly and found himself face to face with the mysterious stranger. it happened that at that moment they were alone, nearly all the throng having gathered about three fellows who, with banjo, mandolin and zither, were making some lively music. "what do you want?" asked frank, rather suspiciously. the man beckoned for him to come aside. "i have something i wish to say to you, and i do not care to be overheard by others," he declared. "well, i wonder what sort of a snap this is?" thought merriwell. he hesitated a moment, and then curiosity to know what the stranger had to say overcame him, and he followed the man to a corner of the room. the stranger was very mysterious in his manner. "you are a likely sort of youngster," he said, in a rather noncommittal way. "is that what you wish to tell me?" asked frank, sharply. "steady, young colt! don't be in too much of a hurry. it doesn't pay to be in a hurry--none whatever." frank's impatience increased. he did not like the stranger's manner, for there was something crafty and insinuating about it. "if any one were watching us, he'd be sure to think we were putting up some sort of a crooked game," thought merriwell. "my time is valuable," he said aloud. "then you can't make more out of it than you can by spending it gabbling with the crowd." the man's manner was offensive, but frank's curiosity caused him to hold himself in check and listen to what the stranger should say. "you are interested in other sports besides rowing, i reckon?" said the unknown, inquiringly. "yes." "baseball?" "yes." "i have heard that you pitch on the 'varsity nine." "that is right." the man assumed a more cautious air than ever, and lowered his voice still more. "i allow that the man who pitches can throw a game, if he wants to?" frank's dislike for the stranger increased rapidly. "he can throw a game if he is crooked and dirty enough to do such a mean thing!" came with spirit from the lad. "that is putting it a heap rough," deprecatingly declared the man. "every galoot is out for the dust. it is the way of the old world, as you will find before you have hoofed it much farther along the trail of life." "well, what are you driving at?" "yale won the race to-day, and i reckon she's got glory enough to last her a while." "go on." "the last ball game of the series between yale and harvard comes off next week?" "it does." "yale has won one, and harvard one." "that is right." "yale stands a right good chance of winning the deciding game?" "she is pretty sure of winning." "and i have a pot of dust on harvard. i can get odds that yale will win, so i can stake more money." frank fancied that he saw the stranger's game, and he felt his anger rising rapidly; but, with a great effort, he held himself in control, and pretended that he did not understand. the boy looked the man over from head to heels. he was making a study of the unknown. already he had decided by the man's appearance and language that he was a westerner, or wished to be considered such. frank was not absolutely certain that the fellow was not masquerading as a man from the west. as merriwell remained silent after the stranger's last statement, he went on: "if there is any way of knowing as how harvard will win, i can stake my rocks on her, and pull off a good thing." still frank was silent. "you can see that plain enough, can't you, youngster?" demanded the man, seeming to grow impatient and restless before the lad's steady, piercing gaze. "any one should be able to see that," was the cold answer. "then all i've got to do in order to make a stake is to fix it so that harvard is dead sure of winning." "how can you fix it?" "i don't see but one way." "how is that?" "make it worth something to the yale team to throw the game to harvard. i can afford to do that, i reckon; but i've got to find the right man to do the trick." frank's jaws seemed to grow square and hard, and there was a dangerous fire in his eyes. the stranger did not appear to discern this, however, for he went on: "it rather strikes me that the pitcher has the best chance to do the little turn i want done, and that's why i've come to you. now, don't go off half-cocked! hold hard, and hear me chirp. every young fellow at college needs money, and they need a right good bit of it, too. i don't allow that you are any exception. now, i reckon i can show you how you can make a smart bit of a pile and do it dead easy. nobody but you and me will ever know you did it at all, and there isn't any danger that we'll preach about it--none whatever." "make a square statement as to what you want," commanded frank, finding it difficult to keep his voice from quivering, and feeling that his cheeks were burning with the angry blood that had surged into them. "that's what i'll do, youngster. if you will pitch that game so harvard will win, i'll give you a thousand dollars in cold cash. now i reckon you understand me." "i think i do," came icily from frank. "you want me to sell the game for a thousand dollars! you put a small price on my honor, sir!" "a small price! you talk as if a thousand were nothing! hang me if i ever saw a youngster of your caliber! perhaps you think i'm fooling? perhaps you think i won't pay? look here! i'll make it two thousand dollars, and i'll give you a thousand in advance. that is a square deal, as you must allow." then he took a huge roll of bank notes from his pocket. some were new bills, while some were worn and soiled. he rapidly counted off a thousand dollars in ten, twenty, fifty and one hundred dollar bills. this money he thrust into merriwell's hands, saying: "there you have it, and that binds the bargain between us. i'll give you the other thousand directly harvard wins and i collect my wagers. i'm a man of my word. i reckon it is settled?" frank looked at the money, making sure it was genuine. he quickly satisfied himself on that point. it was all right. never before had such a bribe been offered merriwell, and, for some seconds, he stood with the money in his unbandaged hand, feeling somewhat dazed and doubtful. "put it out of sight!" whispered the stranger. "don't let 'em see you have it. give me your promise that you will throw the game to harvard." "i shall not pitch that game," said frank. "no?" "no, sir." "why not?" "my hand will not be in condition, as you should know. true it is my left hand, but i'll not be able to bat with it, even if i could pitch." "but you would throw the game if you could pitch?" "no!" cried merriwell, fiercely, letting his outraged indignation flame forth. "what do you take me for? i am no sneak and traitor, and not for ten thousand dollars--not for a hundred thousand dollars--not to save my very life would i do such a dastardly thing! you have made a mistake in your man! take back your dirty money! i would not touch a dollar of it for the world! it would contaminate me!" then he flung the roll of bills straight into the face of the astonished man. as the man stooped to pick up the money, which had fallen at his feet, frank caught him by the collar with his well hand, yanked him up, and started him on a run for an open window. clinging to the money, the stranger uttered a protest at such rude treatment, but he was unable to turn about or break away, although he tried to do so. headlong through the window frank pitched the fellow, giving him a powerful kick to help him along. there was a cry of pain and rage, and the man disappeared. this act of frank's had been noted by the others within the boathouse, and it created no little wonder and excitement. harry rattleton came running up, spluttering: "hello, frank! mut's the whatter--i mean what's the matter?" "oh, nothing in particular," answered merriwell, quietly. "i simply fired a scoundrel, that's all." "what was he up to, old man?" demanded bob collingwood, in a tone that indicated that he was sorry not to have taken a hand in the little fracas. "did he try to do you?" "no; but he is trying to do yale." "how is that?" frank explained, briefly telling of the bribe offered by the mysterious stranger. a circle of lads had gathered about merriwell, and they listened with rising anger to his words. cries of astonishment and rage broke from their lips when frank told of the truly astonishing bribe which the unknown had offered. "my only regret," concluded frank, "was that i did not have two good hands with which to handle the rascal." "and my regret is that i was not there to handle him for you!" cried jack diamond. "i wonder how the fellow got in here?" exclaimed collingwood. "i'll have to inquire into that." "he can't be far away," cried one of the angry lads. "let's get out and nab him!" "come on! come on!" was the general cry, and there was a rush for the door. but the unknown had not lingered in the vicinity of the boathouse. he was not found, which made it plain that he had taken to his heels as soon as he landed outside the window. "too bad!" growled collingwood. "a good soak in the river is what he'd got, if we'd caught him." chapter xxi. on the special train. some of the lads felt like staying in new london and making a night of it, but this was strictly against rules, and those who did so took a desperate chance of getting into trouble by it. after the race there was a general rush for the trains, and those bound west over the n. y., n. h. & h. were crowded. later on there was a special train for the yale crew and their friends. as this train was not exclusive and it was generally known that it would be run, large numbers of students waited for it, and it was quite as crowded as the trains which had preceded it. the car containing the victorious crew was a scene of wild merrymaking. the eight muscular lads who had pulled off another victory for old eli were gathered in the middle of the car and surrounded by admiring friends, who cheered and sang and smashed one another's hats, and played the very old nick with one another. beer, wine and whiskey had been brought on board the train, and it was urged upon the crew. danny griswold was in his glory. about half the time he was perched upon the shoulders of the crowd, and it was observable that he did not refuse anything that was offered him in the way of a liquid. still, for all that he drank so much and mixed his drinks, he did not seem to get any worse off than he had been when the train started from new london. charlie creighton climbed upon the backs of two seats and made a speech. "hark, ye noble sons of old eli!" he began, with a spread-eagle gesture that came near causing him to lose his balance and fall off headlong. "this is the great day when we can get up on our hind legs and make the welkin ring with war whoops of victory. to-day we stand with one foot on princeton's neck and the heel of the other foot gouging into harvard's back. they have bitten the dust before us, oh, mighty warriors in blue! they have fallen like autumn leaves before a gale. we have carried our colors on to victory in many a mad scrimmage, but never have we done a better job than we did this day. during the greater part of the race it looked as if harvard would take our scalps. we who watched the awful struggle felt our blood turn cold with fear. then, when we looked upon the calm face of our captain [cheers], we took heart and hoped. like clockwork he was handling his men, and his calm confidence gave them heart. they saw he did not fear the result, and when he began to drive them for the final spurt every one of that noble band responded like the greatest of heroes. [more cheers.] then it was that yale began to crowd harvard. then it was that the harvard crew showed how the pressure was telling on them. then it was that the backers of old eli who were watching the struggle became confident that we were still in it and would pull off the race after all. then old yale crept into the lead, the spurt being admirably timed, so that our boat crossed the line just in time to make old eli again the winner. and to whom is honor due for this? you know!" "collingwood! collingwood!" roared the jubilant crowd in the car. "hurrah for dear old bob!" then they cheered and cheered, and then they called for a speech from "dear old bob." collingwood was lifted to his feet. he protested that he could not make a speech, but they would not be satisfied till he had said something, and so he cried: "well, boys, we did them--and we did them good!" this was better than a long speech, and it produced the most unbounded enthusiasm. when the excitement had abated somewhat, collingwood arose again, and motioned for silence. in a moment he was receiving the full attention of every one. "every man on the crew deserves praise," began bob. "hooray for the croll hew--i mean the whole crew!" shouted harry rattleton, smashing his new straw hat over bandy robinson's head. "but there is one who deserves especial commendation," collingwood added. there was a breathless silence, and all eyes were turned on frank merriwell, who flushed beneath this sudden attention. "there was one man on the crew who was not in condition to row in the race to-day, and i came very near letting him out. now i am glad i did not, for, although he had a bad felon on his left hand, there was no man of the crew who pulled a stiffer stroke or showed more lasting powers till the finish was reached. he fainted then, it is true, but it was because of the frightful pain in his hand and arm, and i wish you to remember that he did not faint till the victory was won." "merriwell! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah!" not even bob collingwood himself received a greater ovation. frank was seized, he was lifted aloft, he was perched on the shoulders of his friends, and then there was a general howl for a speech. frank felt himself thrill from his hair to his toes; his eyes were dimmed with moisture, even though he laughed. in his bosom there was a choking sensation of gratitude and love for his comrades and the admiring throng around him. he forgot that he had a single foe at yale--that he had a foe in all the wide world. "boys," he said, somewhat brokenly, "i did my best for dear old yale--that is all." that was all he said. it was enough. it seemed to touch a chord in every breast, and there was a ring of patriotism in the cheering that followed. "here's to good old yale--drink it down! here's to good old yale--drink it down! here's to good old yale, she's so hearty and so hale-- drink it down! drink it down! down! down!" it seemed that every person in the car joined in singing this song. the enthusiasm was running higher and higher. in every heart the yale spirit grew deeper and stronger during that ride from new london to new haven. the students who were there never forgot that scene--never forgot how they thrilled with love for old yale. the hardships and struggles of college days were forgotten; the triumphs and joys alone were remembered. but with it all it is certain that the result of the race had disappointed no harvard man more than it did fred flemming. at the last moment he had been overjoyed to learn that merriwell had a bad felon on one of his hands, which, it seemed, must debar him from rowing in the great race. flemming had kept himself in condition as far as possible, and he lost no time to let collingwood know that he could be called on in case of emergency. that he would be called on seemed almost certain, for he was notified to be on hand at yale's quarters before the time set for the race to begin. he had been on hand, ready to strip off in a moment, and had seen collingwood talking earnestly with merriwell. then, to his inexpressible astonishment, he had been told that merriwell would row after all. from that moment flemming hoped and prayed that yale would lose the race. he would have given almost anything in his power to give had frank merriwell been unable to row to the finish. but merriwell had finished the race, and yale had won. flemming's friends, who had bet that he would row in the race, had lost money, and they were sore also. it was bitter gall for flemming and tom thornton to pretend to rejoice over yale's victory, but they dared not do otherwise. it happened that they waited till the special train left for new haven, and they were on that train and in the car which carried the victorious crew. occasionally they cheered with the others, to keep up appearances; but, for the most part, they remained seated in a corner at one end of the car and talked in low tones. "how was it that collingwood happened to retain the fellow for all of his hand?" asked thornton, referring to merriwell. "ask me something easy!" exclaimed flemming. "i am sure he intended to fire the fellow, but i think merriwell begged to be given a show, and collingwood did not have the nerve to chuck him off." "collingwood must be soft!" "oh, i don't know. i think that cad merriwell must be a hypnotist by the way he gets around some fellows." "i don't want to have anything further to do with him." "oh, you've lost your nerve since merriwell and griswold put up that girl job on you, and diamond drew you into a bogus duel." "that was enough to make any fellow lose his nerve." "rats!" "you may say 'rats,' but you don't know how you would have felt if you had been in my place. just as the word was given to fire and i pulled trigger, griswold, dressed as a girl, rushed between us. i fired, and, with a frightful shriek, he fell. then i ran forward and looked at him. the moonlight made him look deathly white, and i felt sure i had shot him. i'll never forget the sickening sensation that came over me at that moment! the hangman's noose seemed to dangle before my eyes. i dropped the pistol and rushed away to my room. i think i was stunned, for horner found me sitting on a chair and staring blankly at the wall about an hour afterward. then he said the girl had not been shot at all, but had fainted. say, flem, my boy, it is utterly impossible for me to tell the feeling of thankfulness and relief that rushed over me. i felt just like getting right down on my knees and thanking providence, but i didn't, for tad horner was watching me all the time, and i saw the laughing devil in his eyes. then, within two days, i found myself the guy of the whole college, and, finally, it all came out that 'grace darling' was danny griswold in his theatrical rig, and i had been played for a blooming guy by merriwell and diamond, assisted to a certain extent by horner, my own roommate." "and the only decent thing you ever did about it was to quit horner cold. you've never seemed to have sand enough to make an effort to get back at merriwell." "i decided that merriwell is a bad man to monkey with." "that's rot! it's his reputation that frightens you. i'm going to watch my chance to get even with him." "so am i, young man!" whispered a voice in flemming's ear. fred whirled swiftly, and saw close at his shoulder a rather rough-appearing, smooth-faced man, who wore a wide-brimmed hat, and was weather-tanned, as if by much exposure. "eh?" exclaimed the college lad. "who are you?" "one who has a good reason to dislike that fly chap, mr. frank merriwell," was his answer. flemming was suspicious. "why should you hate merriwell?" he asked. "because he kicked me," was the fierce reply. "he kicked you? then you are the man he fired out of the boathouse? i heard about that little affair." "i am the man." "you should have known better than to try to bribe merriwell to throw any sort of game or race to harvard. that chap is so honest that he has wings sprouting under his clothes. he said you pushed a thousand dollars at him?" "i did--i put it into his hand." "and he flung it into your face?" "yes, curse him! then he threw me out of the window!" "well, you do seem to have a reason for disliking him. what would you do to him if you got a good chance?" "ask me what i wouldn't do! all i want is the chance!" "can you keep your mouth closed?" "you bet your dust! i never peach!" "then you may be just the kind of a man i am looking for. i want somebody with nerve. the trouble with the fellows in college who hate merriwell is that they do not dare butt up against him. they are afraid of him." "well, i'm not afraid of any man living, let alone a mere boy. he's nothing but a tenderfoot! waugh!" "hear them shouting over him!" muttered thornton. "see! they have lifted him on their shoulders! one would think he alone won the race to-day!" then frank was heard to make the brief speech which elicited such hearty applause. "it is sickening!" growled flemming, pale with jealous rage. "it is," nodded the stranger. "it makes me want to give him back the kick he gave me!" "if you stick to me, i promise you that you shall have a good opportunity," said flemming. "you may bet your rocks that i'll tie to you, pard," assured the unknown. "i'll help you to get square, and you can help me. frank merriwell will have to keep his eyes open if he dodges us both." chapter xxii. the fight on the train. it happened that, as he was perched on the shoulders of his friends and admirers, frank merriwell saw flemming and thornton in the further end of the car. merriwell would not have given his enemies more than a passing glance, but it occurred that he saw and recognized the man who was talking to flemming. "it is the scoundrel who tried to bribe me!" muttered frank, angrily. "and he is with flemming and thornton! i fancy i smell a mouse." then he forced his friends to put him down, and, the moment he was on his feet, he hastened along the aisle toward the end of the car, having called diamond to follow him. the plotters saw frank coming, and the expression on his face told them that there was a storm brewing. "by jove!" fluttered thornton, in alarm; "he looks as if he means to thump somebody!" although he did not show it, flemming was not a little alarmed by merriwell's angry appearance. several of the students gathered about the crew saw there was something in the wind, and they followed merriwell and diamond down the crowded aisle. halting within a short distance of his enemies, frank pointed straight at the stranger and cried: "there he is! take a good look at him, boys! that is the creature who tried to bribe me to throw the ball game to harvard!" his words rang through the car, and were heard by every one. the uproar and excitement that followed was quite unexpected by frank. a wild shout of anger broke from the college lads, and there was a scramble for that end of the car. "mob the wretch!" "thump him!" "choke him!" "don't let him get away!" these cries broke from the crowd of lads, who strove in mad haste to get at the stranger. "great christopher!" gasped tom thornton, in terror. "i'm going to get out of this! it's altogether too hot for me!" then he tried to slip away. flemming did not know what to do. the manner of the angry lads was alarming, and he saw no reason why he should defend a man who was quite unknown to him. but the stranger did not wait to be defended. with a wild shout, that was like the war whoop of an indian, he leaped up and lunged straight into the crowd, striking out right and left. in less than ten seconds a general fight was taking place in that end of the car. jack diamond, who had a grudge against tom thornton, collared tom as he was trying to slip away. "hold on!" cried the virginian. "you can't play the sneak in that way! i saw you talking with that scoundrel! did you and flemming set him on to bribe merriwell?" "i don't know anything about it!" protested tom, struggling. "let go, diamond!" "well, not in a hurry!" returned jack. "i don't know where the money came from, but i believe you and flemming tried to ruin merriwell by bribing him to throw a game and then exposing him. if that was the trick, you fooled yourselves. frank merriwell is not that kind of a fellow!" with a fierce exclamation, thornton struck savagely at jack's face, but diamond dodged the blow. "oh, you will, will you!" he cried, and then he gave thornton a terrible thump between the eyes. in another moment they were at it fiercely. although flemming was a big fellow with a reputation as a bully, harry rattleton had not hesitated to lay hands on him. "you're a chine fap--i mean a fine chap!" shouted harry. "so you are concerned in this attempted bribery!" "get out!" snarled flemming. "i'll break your nose!" "break it!" invited rattleton. "i'll try to do a little something while you are about it!" flemming waited to say not another word, but, quick as a flash, he did strike harry a heavy blow on the jaw. rattleton was staggered, but he held on to flemming. a moment later both were swept down by the rush of the crowd. it was something of a blind fight, and it waged with great fierceness, although in an aimless manner, for some moments. several of the windows in the car were broken. bob collingwood waded into the midst of the struggling mass of human beings, scattering them with his powerful arms, and crying: "here, stop this senseless scrapping! where is the fellow who tried to bribe merriwell?" where, indeed? all looked around for him, but he was gone. in some manner he had made his escape in the midst of the tumult. "he must be on the train!" cried frank. "he can't escape from the train till it stops! here--i have his coat! he left it in my hands when the crowd tore us apart." merriwell held up the garment. "he must be in the car back of this!" declared collingwood. "i want to see him--i want to get a fair look at his face." "i'd like to do something else to his face!" shouted another student. "think of any one offering a yale pitcher money to throw a game to harvard!" this brought a mad howl from the angry students. rattleton and flemming had been torn apart during the struggle, and thornton and diamond were separated, but not until jack had thumped the fellow he disliked, and done it several times. both flemming and thornton were forgotten. the excited students rushed out by the open door, and crowded into the rear car, which was the only one on the train to which the unknown man could have escaped. "where is he?" was the hoarse shout that went up, as the angry boys packed into the car. they looked desperate and dangerous, as if they were thirsting for human blood. at the farther end of the car a man in his shirt-sleeves crouched and muttered: "well, derned if i expected to kick up this sort of a rumpus! i've seen all kinds of mobs, but i will allow that this reminds me of a regular judge lynch crowd, and no mistake. never judged a lot of youngsters would get stirred up this way any whatever. they're on a regular rampage." he kept out of sight as far as possible, feeling that it was the most "healthy" thing to do. "where is he?" demanded collingwood, who was just ahead of merriwell--"where is the man who belongs to this coat? he must have come in here! did a man in his shirt sleeves come in here?" "yes, yes!" replied several. "what has he been doing?" "doing!" roared "dear old bob," flushed with anger. "why, he is the creature that tried to bribe merriwell!" it seemed that this piece of business was generally known, for collingwood's words produced a roar of indignation. down at the rear end of the car a young man stood up and shouted: "this way! here he is! he can't get away!" then it seemed that the students all spotted their game at the same moment, and there was a fierce scramble for that end of the car. the hunted man saw them coming, and a desperate look settled on his face. "i'd as lief fall into the clutches of a whole tribe of apache indians!" he gasped. "they're after my scalp for sure!" he leaped to the door, and tore it open. "stop!" rang out the voice of frank merriwell. "you cannot escape, for you will be killed if you leap from the train!" the man hesitated one moment. he saw the college lads rushing down the aisle, and then, although the train was making a speed of at least forty miles an hour, he descended the steps. collingwood and merriwell came out through the open door. as they reached the platform, they saw the man clinging in the darkness at the foot of the steps. he was in a crouching position, his hands clasping the iron holds. in the gloom his face seemed fully as white as the sleeves of his shirt, which fluttered in the breeze. "for heaven's sake, don't jump!" cried frank. collingwood tried to grasp the man by the arm. as he did so, the mysterious man dropped from the steps, instantly disappearing in the darkness. "he's gone!" gasped frank, horrified. "yes, he is gone!" said collingwood, hoarsely. "that's the end of him, for surely he was killed when he struck the ground!" chapter xxiii. seen again. for two days frank scanned all the newspapers for an account of the finding of the body of an unknown man somewhere on the line of the n. y., n. h. & h. r. r., but he looked in vain. "well, that is remarkable!" merriwell decided. "i can't understand it. if that fellow escaped, it is a miracle. and if he escaped, i believe i shall hear from him again," he finished. the spring term was drawing to a close. but two more events were to transpire before the coming of the long summer vacation. there was the final ball game with harvard, and then the great intercollegiate athletic tournament at madison square garden in new york--the latter affair to be the great college event of the year. frank was entered for several of the contests in new york, but his hand, although improving, would not be in condition to allow him to play ball again that season. as for the coming vacation, his plans were not perfected as yet. some of his friends were going to bar harbor, some contemplated spending the summer quietly at home, some were going abroad for a flying trip, and many had expressed themselves as quite undecided as to the manner in which they would pass the summer months. frank had boldly proposed a bicycle journey across the continent, but all his friends, with the exception of diamond, had considered the proposition a joke. diamond grew enthusiastic over it, urging merriwell to carry out the plan, even though but two of them should make the jaunt. frank's plan embraced a party of at least four--possibly more. what made rattleton believe that merriwell was joking was that frank had soberly asked bruce browning, the reputedly laziest man at yale, to make one of the party. bruce came near fainting with horror at the mere mention of such a thing. "my dear merriwell!" he gasped, "is it possible that you take me for a candidate for a lunatic asylum? do you think that i am on the verge of lapsing into complete idiocy? or are you simply trying to have a little sport at my expense?" "nothing of the sort, my dear fellow, i assure you," said frank. "i am in sober earnest about getting up a party to make the trip across the continent, and i think it would be a fine thing for you if you were to make one of the company." bruce was reclining on a couch in merriwell's room at the time, lazily puffing away at a cigarette. he languidly reached out his hand and felt for frank's wrist. "permit me to examine your pulse, old fellow," he murmured. "if you are not trying to work some kind of a horse on me you must be in a bad way. ah!" he said, knowingly, with his thumb and finger on frank's wrist, "i thought so! pulse irregular--flutters like an old rag in the wind--flesh hot and dry, eye changing and unsteady, dryness in your throat and general vacancy in your stomach. what you need is a tonic--and you need it bad. you should take whiskey, it may be the only thing that will save you from an utter breaking up of the nervous system or premature death. the premature death will happen if you try to jolly me any more. i shall carry a gun with me constantly hereafter, and it will not cost too much of an effort to point it in your direction and pull the trigger." frank laughed. "i know you are almost too lazy to draw your breath," he said, "and i also know that the best thing that could happen to you would be just such an expedition as i have proposed. however, i suppose it is useless to waste my breath talking to you, and so i will drop it." but for all of browning's refusal to be one of the party, frank did not give up the project of a trip across the continent from ocean to ocean during the summer vacation. but almost immediately other matters occupied his attention. one night he was spending an evening in town with a jolly party of students. the others were drinking beer and ale, while merriwell took nothing but ginger ale or bottled soda. as they were leaving traeger's, frank caught a glimpse of the face of a man who seemed to be waiting for them to come out. for one moment merriwell stopped as if turned to stone, and then, with a hoarse shout of recognition, he leaped after the man, who had slipped away. the others followed frank, and they soon pursued him around a corner, where they found him standing still and staring about in a disappointed manner. "what is it, old man?" asked paul hamilton. "why did you give that whoop and then chase yourself around here in such a lively fashion?" "it was not myself i chased," declared frank. "it was quite another party, i assure you; but he has given me the slip, for i can see nothing of him." "who was it?" "the man who tried to bribe me to throw the last ball game to harvard!" "that fellow?" exclaimed all the lads, excitedly. "are you sure?" "dead sure," asserted frank, confidently. "i saw his face fairly in the light in front of traeger's when we came out." "then he was not killed in the leap from the train!" cried diamond. "how did he escape?" "ask me something easy!" exclaimed frank. "i never expected to look on that man's face again, unless i looked on it as a corpse." "confound him!" exploded harry rattleton. "i'd like to hake his break--i mean break his head! what does he want around here?" frank was silent. there was a grim look on his face, and it was plain that he had been not a little disturbed by the sight of the mysterious stranger. the boys turned toward college, discussing the queer actions of the unknown as they walked along. one or two of them fully believed the man must be a lunatic. that night, as frank and harry were preparing for bed, the former declared: "that strange man is about as large a mystery as i ever ran across. he is beginning to be a decided nuisance." "what do you make of him, anyway?" "that he is a westerner, or wishes to be thought such. his language betrays that. and he is the last man i could dream would be staking enough money on a game of college baseball to be able to offer a bribe of two thousand dollars to make sure that the game would result in his favor." "by jove!" cried rattleton; "if any other fellow but yourself had told me that a stranger had made them such an offer and had forked over one-half cash in advance i should have considered him a looming byer--no, a blooming liar!" "and you would not be to blame for thinking so. to me it seems like a dream, but i know it actually happened." "well, what is he hanging around new haven for?" "i'll give it up, unless he hopes to get at heffiner or dad hicks, one of whom must pitch the game at springfield." "he'll get used rough if he pushes his dirty dough at either heffiner or hicks!" cried rattleton. "i think so," nodded frank. "i believe they are loyal to dear old yale, and nothing can buy their honor." "most yale men are. there may be one or two sneaks who would sell out, as there are black sheep in every flock. i don't believe flemming would be above such a trick." "oh, i don't know! i do not wish to think that bad of flemming. i know he is my enemy, and i believe he hates me so he would do almost anything to injure me but i do not wish to think that a fellow like him even would stoop to such a dastardly trick as to betray old yale." "you always think every fellow is white till you are convinced to the contrary beyond the shadow of a doubt." "i had rather believe all men honest and deceive myself in that manner than to suspect everybody and thus think that one honest man was a rogue." harry regarded frank in a queer manner, slowly shaking his head, but saying nothing more. for all that they had been friends and roommates for a year and a half, rattleton was forced to confess to himself that there still remained many things about merriwell that he could not understand. that frank was shrewd harry knew, and yet merriwell sometimes seemed to deliberately deceive himself by thinking that certain fellows were honest when he should have known better. it seemed the hardest thing in the world for frank to be convinced that any fellow was thoroughly bad, even though that person might be an enemy who had endeavored in numerous ways to do him an injury. "merriwell seems to come out all right in everything," thought rattleton; "but it would not be the luck of any other fellow who dared take the chances he does." chapter xxiv. two warnings. the morning after the evening when frank saw the mysterious stranger in front of traeger's he received a warning note through the mail. it read as follows: "be constantly on your guard. your enemies are plotting to do you serious injury. i shall do what i can to foil them, but you had better watch out." it was unsigned, and the handwriting was cramped and awkward, as if the person who wrote it was not accustomed to handle a pen. "well, i wonder what sort of a game this is!" cried frank, in disgust. "it is a fake, pure and simple!" rattleton was at his side. "what is it?" asked harry. "read that!" invited frank, thrusting the anonymous warning into the ready hands of his friend. harry glanced it over and then whistled softly. "rot!" he cried. "anybody can see that's lot on the nevel--i mean not on the level." "but what sort of a game is it?" questioned frank, in perplexity. "if it was an appointment to meet somebody somewhere, or even a warning to stay away from some place, i could see something in it; but the mere statement that enemies are plotting to injure me doesn't indicate much in this case." "it seems to indicate that somebody fakes you for a tool--no, takes you for a fool!" spluttered rattleton. frank's face grew scornful. "that somebody may find out that it is not entirely healthy to try crooked games with me," he grimly said. "i believe i see through the trick." "what is it, then?" "this bogus warning will be followed by another. the other will go a little further than this. then will come the third, which will be the one intended to draw me into some sort of a trap. oh, the game is too thin!" harry looked into his roommate's face, and saw that frank merriwell was aroused at last. "what are you going to do?" asked rattleton. "i am going to have a few words with fred flemming at the first opportunity. i have been easy with flemming, for i could not believe the fellow all bad, even though he had tried to injure me, but, if he is going to hire a ruffian like this unknown man to try to work my ruin, i shall draw the lines on mr. flemming. he is rich, but that will not save him." "they say he has money to burn." "i don't care if he is a monte cristo. he cannot ride over me with all his money, and i do not believe that a scoundrel will be tolerated at yale after his villainy is exposed, even though he may be rich and have influential parents and connections." "what do you think the game is?" "as to that i am more or less at sea; but i believe that the bribe which was offered me to throw the ball game to harvard was a trap meant to work my undoing." "flemming must have known your hand would not permit you to play in that game, so he could not have been in that piece of business." "my dear boy, i do not fancy i was expected to pitch that game. it was thought that i would keep the money. that money was marked. this man would have gone forth and blowed that he had bribed me. he would have told what marked money he had given me. i should have been cornered--perhaps arrested--then searched. you see what that would have meant. the marked money would have been found on my person. it would have been exactly as the stranger had described it. it is certain that somebody was watching and saw him give me the money. that person would have testified against me. then frank merriwell's college career would have come to a sudden termination. in some ways it was a bungling plot, and in others it was crafty enough." "but a cool thousand--that was an awful roll to push at a fellow!" "it was a bold and desperate stroke, and the fact that such a sum was offered shows that the one who put up the job knew i could not be bought with a petty amount. he did not know that it made no difference whether it was one dollar or one million--i would not sell my honor and betray dear old yale for any sum!" "you have other enemies besides flemming." "yes--thornton." "he doesn't count, for he lacks nerve." "whom do you mean?" "harris does not love you." "it will be a long time before sport harris will venture to lift a hand against me again, for the memory of the fate of his comrade, hartwick, is too vivid before him. hartwick brought disgrace and ruin on himself by trying to injure me. he was forced to leave college, and then, when he came back to new haven and put up that race-track job on me, he finished his own downfall by robbing his father in order that he might have a sum of money to stake against me, feeling sure i must lose. directly after that race he was arrested." "what was done about that matter? was he sent to prison?" "no; his father would not press the case; but i have heard that the old man's heart is broken by hartwick's actions. the worthless rascal was the apple of the old man's eye. his father had expected to see him go through college and graduate with flying colors. the disgrace has bowed the father with grief, and it is said he cannot live long." "then hartwick will get all his money." "no. the old man has made a will that cuts evan off with a very small sum. the rest of the money and estate goes to other relatives and to charity." "and evan hartwick brought all this on himself by his dastardly attempts to injure you. it should be a warning to others." "it is an old saying that 'the way of the transgressor is hard,' but it seems to take human beings a long time to become convinced that it is absolutely true." frank kept his eyes open, and waited for the second warning, which he felt sure would come. he was not mistaken, for it came near night. a boy appeared at frank's door, and handed over a sealed envelope, which he explained he had received from a man with a heavy beard. he said he had been paid a quarter of a dollar to deliver it. frank tore it open and read: "you will be invited to go to the theatre to-night. do not go. your enemies will be on the watch for you." "oh. i knew it was coming!" cried frank, scornfully. "it is a flimsy trick! it actually disgusts me!" harry was out, and merriwell was alone. later harry came in, accompanied by diamond, browning, griswold and creighton. "i say, old man," cried charlie creighton, addressing frank, "we have something on for to-night, and we want you to take a hand." "you may take a few rotten eggs or decayed vegetables with that hand, if you like," grinned griswold. frank remembered the second warning. of the party creighton was the only fellow he did not know very well, and, if there was an enemy among them, creighton must be the man. frank resolved to show no suspicion. "what's up?" he asked. "to-night," cried griswold, dramatically, "the curtain will go up on one of the greatest tragedies ever enacted on any stage--nit!" "hush!" whispered creighton, mysteriously. "whisper it softly. 'uncle tom's cabin' is in town, with two _little evas_, two _marks_, three real siberian bloodhounds, bred in new jersey, and a jackass." "the jackass is the manager of the company," grinned griswold. "i presume you have heard of that immortal play, 'uncle tom's cabin,' mr. merriwell?" questioned creighton. "methinks i have," assured frank. "'methinks' is good," nodded creighton. "it has a fat sound." "eh?" grunted browning, who already had deposited his corpulent body on the couch. "did anybody speak to me?" "ah, mr. browning," said creighton, "i think you said as we were coming along that you have had the pleasure of seeing 'uncle tom's cabin'?" "yes, i said so." "then permit me to inquire if you have ever seen 'ten nights in a barroom'?" "no," grunted bruce; "but i have seen ten barrooms in a night." "here, hold up!" cried griswold, promptly. "that belongs to me, and i have used it on everybody i could hit with it." "never mind," murmured browning. "it is a good thing, so we'll have to move it along." "seriously," said diamond, "there is a crummy 'uncle tom's cabin' company at a cheap theatre in town, and creighton has purchased a box. he wants us to go along." "that's the idea," acknowledged charlie. "all the fellows are onto it, and there will be two or three hundred yale boys there. we won't do a thing to the hamfatters!" frank smiled. he saw that it would be an opportunity for any amount of sport he was sure, and the mere thought of it made him eager to go. but he remembered the warning. it was most remarkable that the invitation to the theatre had followed so closely after the receipt of the note from the unknown. "of course you'll go, old fellow?" cried creighton, who saw that merriwell was hesitating. "of course he will!" cried rattleton. "merry is always in for a little racket of this sort." "he is always foremost in anything of the kind," said diamond. "that is why i want him in my box," smiled creighton. "oh, we won't do a thing in that box--not a thing! i have ordered plenty of fizz on ice, and--oh, but you do not drink fizz, do you, merriwell?" "no," said frank; "but i am no temperance crank, and i do not make myself offensive by trying to convince everybody else that men who do drink are fools. college lads should have brains enough to know what they want and what they do not want, and it is impertinent for any fellow to go around trying to make good templars of men who enjoy a glass of beer or wine now and then." creighton impulsively grasped frank's hand. "merriwell," he cried, "by example you are the best possible temperance lecture, and you will make more converts by keeping still than by preaching." "there may be something in that," admitted frank. "i knew a parson once on a time who never mentioned religion unless some one broached the subject, except when he was in the pulpit. his name was lamfear. he did not go around with his face drawn down, asking everybody if they had received salvation and loved the lord. i admired him more than any parson i ever knew, and i used to go to his church sundays to hear him preach. he was a good man, although he seemed to enjoy seeing boys play baseball and skate and coast and fly kites. i remember that one time he put on skates himself, and took a spin on the river with the boys and girls. now i know that man did more good by keeping still about religion than he could have done had he dinned it into the ears of everybody he met. every one saw he was a good man, for his daily life told that. all the young folks admired him as much as they disliked another old parson who was forever talking about the wickedness of the world and the goodness of the lord, and collaring persons everywhere to ask them why they did not attend church oftener. good old parson lamfear! may his tribe increase!" "well," said griswold, "we'll let parson lamfear rest. what we want to know is if you are with us to-night." "to go, or not to go? that is the burning question," murmured browning, as, still stretched on his back, he struck a match, lighted a cigarette, dropped part of the match on his chin, and gave a howl of pain. frank suddenly made up his mind. "i'll go," he said. chapter xxv. the theatre party. it was a gay party that left south middle that evening and started for the theatre. merriwell had not said a word to rattleton concerning the receipt of the second warning. a spirit of sheer reckless defiance led him to accept the invitation to the theatre, even though he had not wished to spend his time that evening in such a manner. "this may be a jolly," he told himself; "if i were to stay away the fellows would have a horse on me sure." creighton had a beautiful tenor voice, and as they started out beneath the elms, he sang: "i shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth--i know not where----" danny griswold seemed to take a fiendish delight in giving a humorous twist to anything sentimental, and so he interrupted with: "the next day a man came around and sold me dead dog at a dollar a pound." "if that were original i wouldn't mind," said creighton; "but you got it from some star vaudeville performance, you little runt." "that's where i get all my gags," frankly confessed griswold. "i store them up for use, and they come in handy some time." "some time, when you spring a stale joke, i shall be led to assassinate you," declared bruce browning. "impossible!" cried griswold. "that would be a crime." "well, what's the odds?" "you are too fat to commit a crime." "how is that?" "it is difficult for fat persons to stoop to anything low, you know." "you seem to find considerable amusement because i am somewhat overweight," said bruce, with attempted severity. "not at all," chirped danny. "some men are well enough in their weight, but this doesn't apply to coal dealers." "say, griswold," called rattleton, "what's the average fate for a wool--no, i mean the average weight for a fool?" "a simple ton," replied the little fellow, quick as a flash. frank clapped danny on the back. "good boy!" he exclaimed, laughing. "rattleton didn't get ahead of you that time." "it is hard for anybody to get ahead of me," declared griswold. "i am really a lively man in a footrace, for my father is a watchmaker, and he has given me instructions in the business." "i fuf-fuf-fuf, fail to see huh-huh-how that applies," said joe gamp, a lad with a serious impediment in his speech. "why, you see i have learned how to make good time," chuckled danny. gamp roared with laughter. he was a big, raw-boned, hulking fellow from new hampshire, and his laugh was like the braying of a mule. creighton had invited gamp to the theatre for the amusement the country lad would provide. "he'll break the performers all up if he ever gets started laughing," said charlie to merriwell. "when he gets going in good style nothing will stop him." there was something about the country boy that merriwell liked. frank quickly decided that joe was a big-hearted, honest fellow, such a blunder-heels that he was certain to provoke ridicule, and yet thoroughly worthy and deserving. in laughing, gamp opened his mouth to the widest extent. he suddenly closed it, and clapped his hand to his jaw. "jee-ru-sa-lem!" he gasped; "there gug-gug-gug-goes that old aching tut-tut-tooth of mine! i was careless to let the night air gug-gug-get into it." "why don't you have it pulled out?" asked diamond. "i'm going to have it pup-pup-pup-pulled and all the rest of my 'tut-'tut-'tarnel teeth just as soon as i can afford the money to bub-buy a new set," declared gamp, honestly. "why spend your money in such a foolish way?" said griswold, with apparent seriousness. "save the dentist's bill. i know a dog that will insert a full set of teeth free of charge." open flew gamp's mouth again, and his braying laugh caused a passing pedestrian to dodge so suddenly that he jumped from under his own hat. "say!" exclaimed charlie creighton, getting hold of griswold; "save those till we get to the theatre. then you can set him going, and we'll have sport." "can't save them," declared danny. "they have to come when the opportunity offers." and so they went on their way to the theatre, laughing and joking, singing snatches of college songs, and having a jolly time generally. creighton had made no mistake in saying a large number of college lads would be present. it seemed that there were at least two hundred in the theatre, and it was apparent that they were there for "a racket." the moment creighton's party entered the box a tall young man in the first row of orchestra seats arose and faced the house, soberly saying: "ladies and gentlemen, this is a most auspicious, not to say suspicious, occasion. it is probable that many of you were not aware that we were to be honored to-night by having the privilege of witnessing the performance in company with royal personages, but such is the fact. the party that has just entered the box on the right is the prince of chow-chow, who is accompanied by the duke of dublinstout, the earl of easytogetajag, the emperor of buginhishead, the high mogul of whooperup, the chief pusher of whangdoodleland and the great muckamuck of hogansalley. gentlemen, it is your privilege to salute them." then every college boy in the house arose and bowed with great gravity toward the box. "well, this is sure to be a hot time!" laughed merriwell, delighted. "you bet it is!" assured charlie creighton. "we'll make _simon legree_ regret that he is living." an usher came down the aisle and remonstrated with the tall student. the tall student replied to the usher with exaggerated politeness, declaring that he meant no harm, but that he had felt it his duty to inform the audience that such distinguished personages were in the box. then when the tall young man sat down, as if by a prearranged signal, there was a wild outburst of applause, stamping of feet, whistling catcalls, and so forth. the musicians came out and began to put their instruments in tune. they composed an orchestra carried with the troupe, and were, as rattleton forcibly expressed it, "decidedly on the bum." some of the musicians seemed to dread what was coming, for they looked pale and agitated. "they know that some of the over-ripe vegetables and stale hen-fruit which the audience may toss at the performers is liable to fall short," smiled merriwell. having tuned up after a fashion, the orchestra began to file away at some sort of a medley. griswold rolled his eyes and said: "i am carried away with the music, as the monkey who was perched on the hand-organ remarked." it was with the utmost difficulty that the assembled students repressed a desire to uplift their voices and drown the sounds which came from the wretched orchestra; but they felt that it would not do to alarm the players by too great a demonstration, and so the only interruptions to the overture were a few catcalls. at last the curtain rolled up, and the play began. an ominous silence seemed to hang over the audience. the actors were nervous at first, but as the silence continued and offensive demonstrations were not immediately made, they gained courage and swung into their parts with as much enthusiasm and ability as possible. it is possible that the sight of two or three policemen at the back of the house gave the performers courage. the officers had been called in to overawe the college lads in case they became too demonstrative. at length, in a very pathetic part of the first act, griswold leaned over to joe gamp, and whispered: "it is very touching, isn't it?" "yes," said the country boy, chokingly, "it mum-mum-mum-makes me fuf-fuf-fuf-feel like th-th-thunder!" he nearly blubbered outright, for he had never seen many plays, having found it necessary to spend his money with the greatest care, as he was confined to a certain allowance to take him through college. "and uncle tom's bible," said danny--"it reminds me of a conundrum. how was the ark propelled?" "dud-dud-darned if i know." "by a noah, of course," explained griswold. gamp caught his breath, and then he lay back and roared: "haw! haw! haw! a-haw! a-haw! a-haw!" this roar of laughter, coming as it did at a solemn and pathetic point in the play, was most startling. _uncle tom_ came near collapsing on the stage, and the other actors were so disturbed that they got tangled in their lines. the students caught on, and there was an immediate burst of applause that swelled louder and louder. this died away most suddenly and unexpectedly, and joe gamp was heard to shout in his endeavor to make griswold hear: "by jiminy! that was a good one! a-haw! a-haw! a-haw! a-haw!" the lad from the country went off into another paroxysm of laughter, pressing his hands to his sides, and shutting his eyes, utterly unconscious for the moment of his surroundings. of a sudden joe remembered that he was at the theatre. his mouth came together with a snap, his eyes flew open, and he ceased to laugh and stiffened up, with a frightened look on his face. the change was so ludicrous that the entire audience was convulsed, and the actors could not help laughing. from that moment the play progressed under difficulties. in the scene where the slaves were being sold at auction some of the students began to pepper the actors with pea-shooters, doing it cautiously, so that they would not be spotted in the act. every time _marks_ would open his mouth to say "seventy-five" he would be struck by one or more peas, which were fired with force sufficient to make them sting like hornets. "seventy----wow! whoop!" yelled _marks_, clapping a hand to the side of his face, and suddenly dancing an original can-can. "five hundred," cried _legree_. "seventy-fi---- we-e-e-ow! stop it! somebody is shooting things at me!" _marks_ had been spotted on the end of his long nose, to which he was wildly clinging with both hands, as he pranced around the stage. "what's the matter?" growled _legree_, in a guarded tone, unable to understand what had happened. "have you gone crazy, you fool? stand up and bid!" then he cried: "six hundred!" "seventy-five---- hornets and blisters!" finished _marks_, as he was nailed by three or four peas. "i can't stand this! it's too much!" he bolted off the stage. _legree_ looked dismayed, and then he advanced to the footlights and addressed the audience. "ladies and gentlemen," he said, "i trust you will excuse the gentleman who is playing the part of _marks_. he has not been well for several days, and he is somewhat troubled with hallucinations. of course we know his troubles are all imaginary, and---- ye-e-e-ow! i'm shot!" a pea had struck him squarely between the eyes, and he started back so suddenly that he sat down on the stage as if he had been knocked off his feet. "a-haw! a-haw! a-haw!" roared the voice of joe gamp, and the audience joined in the shout of laughter. chapter xxvi. trapped. there was an uproar in the theatre, which the ushers and the police were unable to quell for some time. the curtain was rung down, and then, after a short wait, the manager came out and said the show would go on, if the audience would behave. he threatened to have the persons who were using the pea-shooters arrested, and this threat was greeted by hisses and catcalls. after a while, however, the curtain went up once more, and the play proceeded in a tangle of "real siberian bloodhounds," _gumption cutes_, _marks_, _topsies_, _little evas_, escaping slaves, slave hunters and general excitement and confusion. it was plain that the actors feared further trouble, and they were rushing through their lines, eager to get off the stage as soon as possible. the bloodhounds were cheered by the students and peppered with peas. when _topsy_ declared she "nebber was born, but jes' growed," some one inquired the name of the fertilizer used in her rearing. when the jackass appeared, a solemn voice from some uncertain part of the theatre called the attention of the audience to the "leading actor of the colossal aggregation." _little eva_ was invited to exhibit her wings. the college boys were irrepressible, and yet they did not do anything to absolutely break up the show, although joe gamp's haw-haws came near proving disastrous several times. a policeman came down to the box and threatened to arrest joe, but he was pacified by creighton, who had a decidedly smooth way of "fixing things." frank merriwell remained quiet until near the end of the play, enjoying the sport the other fellows were making. at last, however, he decided to produce some amusement himself. frank was a very good amateur ventriloquist, although he seldom practiced the art. now, however, he saw his opportunity. _little eva_ was on her deathbed, and the mourners were assembled about. all at once one of the mourners seemed to say: "this business is on the bum." every one started and stared. the actors were astounded, and the audience amused. then the death agony went on until another of the watchers by _eva's_ side observed: "it makes me sick!" the manager was heard to hiss from the shelter of the wings: "i'll make you sick when you come off!" "oh, go fall on yourself, you old cheat!" the actor seemed to fling back. then _little eva_, in her death agony, apparently remarked: "give it to the old duffer! he owes me six weeks' salary, and i'll quit dying right now if the ghost doesn't walk immediately!" this brought laughter and hearty applause from the college lads. when the applause had subsided _uncle tom_ apparently observed: "he can't get ahead of me. i've put an attachment on the jackass." this was more than the excitable manager could stand, and he rushed onto the stage, shaking his fist at _uncle tom_ and crying: "confound you! i don't owe you a cent! you obliged me to pay up before you would go on to-night!" and then he nearly collapsed when he realized what his anger had led him to do and say. the college lads arose from their seats and cheered. standing in the front of the box, charlie creighton shouted: "this is the best part of the show, fellows. let's give 'em one! now--all together!" then the yale yell pealed forth, and _little eva_ came near dying in reality from heart failure. this broke up the show entirely, and the curtain came down with a rush, while the frightened orchestra made haste to disappear. from behind the curtain the manager shouted that the show was over, and the laughing, tumultuous students hurried out of theatre. "well, merriwell," said charlie creighton, "how have you enjoyed the evening?" "immensely," laughed frank. "it was a regular sus-sus-sus-circus," declared joe gamp. "never had so much fuf-fuf-fuf-fuf-fun in all my bub-born days!" "we had them on a string, like a kite," murmured bruce browning. "and that's what made them soar," chuckled griswold. just as the street was reached, frank gave a slight exclamation, and quickly forced his way through the crowd toward a man who was near at hand. that man was the mysterious stranger. the unknown seemed to be watching merriwell, for he whirled about and hastened away the moment frank started in his direction. "oh, i want to get my hands on that fellow!" grated frank. the man did his best to escape, but merriwell was close after him. the stranger hurried along a street, and frank broke into a run. then the unknown glanced over his shoulder, and started to run himself. "hold on!" commanded frank. that made the stranger run the faster. frank followed, but could see nothing of the person he was pursuing. "he must have dodged into a doorway," decided the lad. "no--here is where he went, down this alley." the mouth of a dark alley was before him, and he plunged into it. he did not go far before he decided that further pursuit was folly, and he turned back. "he's slippery," muttered the boy; "but i'll catch him some time, if he continues to shadow me." dark forms appeared at the mouth of the alley, and a hoarse whisper came to merriwell's ears: "he went in here, and the alley is blind, so he can't get out. do him--and do him dirty!" for all that frank had been often in desperate peril, something about this situation chilled him to the heart. the uncanny darkness, the unknown alley, his creeping foes coming down upon him, possibly with deadly intent, all served to make him feel weak and helpless for the moment. there are times when the bravest heart shrinks with dread, and, for all that frank was a lad with remarkable nerve, it is not strange that he felt a thrill of fear at that moment. it is claimed that men have lived who "never knew the meaning of the word fear," and it is possible that this may be true; but in case they ever were placed in situations of extreme peril, such persons must have been lacking in some of the essential elements that compose a human being. we think of them as deficient in certain ways, wanting in the finer qualities, and naturally coarse and brutish. it is the person who experiences fear and conquers it by his own determination to do so who is the greatest hero. one of the bravest generals america has produced, a man who had the reputation of being utterly fearless, once was asked if he ever had been afraid while in battle. "no, sir," was his reply, "never in battle; but sometimes just before going into an engagement, i have felt it necessary to keep my teeth clinched to prevent my heart from jumping out of my mouth." still the men whom he commanded never knew that he experienced a single thrill of fear. he conquered his trepidation by his wonderful will power, and always in battle he appeared perfectly unaware that there was the least danger. indeed, he was sometimes criticised for his apparent recklessness in exposing himself to deadly peril. frank merriwell never courted peril, and he avoided danger when he could do so in a manly way and without lowering his own sense of dignity. once engaged in a dangerous encounter, or forced into a position of peril, frank's blood arose, and he seemed to be seized by a reckless disregard of his personal safety. then it was that he laughed in a singular manner, and his enemies had learned that he was the most dangerous when that laugh sounded from his lips. as he heard those unknown foes creeping down upon him in the darkness of the alley, frank crouched close to the ground, and felt about with his hand for some weapon of defense. fear suddenly gave place to anger, and he longed to retaliate on his enemies. he knew well enough that the men creeping down upon him were hired tools, chosen by his foes to do him severe bodily injury. "oh, for a club--a stone--anything!" he thought. but his hand found nothing that suited his need at that moment. the cautiously advancing men came nearer and nearer. he could hear them whispering to each other, and they seemed to block the entire width of the narrow alley. he could not make out their number, but he was sure there must be several of them. "can yer see him, jake?" "no, an' i can't hear him neither." "but he's here somewhere, and they say he'll fight. look out fer him." frank heard these whispered words, and then, without realizing that he was about to do so, he laughed! there were hoarse cries, curses and blows. a savage struggle suddenly was begun in the dark alley. frank had hoped to break through the line of his foes by his sudden rush, but he was not successful, although his hard right fist knocked a man down with his first blow. then he received a shock that seemed to cause a thousand bright lights to flash before his eyes, and he knew he had been struck on the head with some sort of weapon. the boy staggered. uttering hoarse exclamations, his assailants, like beasts of prey, sprang upon him. "give it to him!" cried a voice. with new strength, frank twisted and squirmed. in doing so, he threw his head from side to side, and it chanced that he succeeded in saving it from the blows which were intended to render him helpless. those blows, many of them, at least, fell on his shoulders and his back with benumbing force. he forgot that his left hand was not yet well, but he used it as freely and as vigorously as his right. and, once more, something like a laugh came from his lips. "hear him!" hissed one of the ruffians. "why, he's a perfect young fiend!" but frank could not long hold his own against such odds. some of the blows aimed at his head fell glancingly, but they were enough to rob him in a measure of his strength. he tried to tear away, and then he was felled to the ground. merriwell felt that "the jig was up" with him. they had him at their mercy, at last. then it was that a surprising thing happened. with encouraging cries, two men came through the darkness and attacked the boy's assailants. that the new arrivals on the battlefield were armed with heavy clubs was apparent, and they used them mercilessly on the ruffians. this attack was unexpected by frank's assailants, and they could not meet it. immediately they turned and fled, pursued by one of the men who had set upon them. just then, apparently disturbed by the sounds of the fight, some person came to a nearby window with a lighted lamp. the light shone out into the alley, and fell on frank merriwell and one of the men who had saved him. "plug kirby!" gasped frank, sitting up. "dat's wot, me boy!" cried the bruiser, cheerfully. "an' i kinder t'ink we didn't git round any too quick neider." "you came just in time." "be yer hurt much, youngster?" asked kirby, anxiously, assisting frank to arise. "i think not. got a few cracks and was upset, but that is all. where is the man who was with you?" "he whooped it along after der gang. kinder t'ink he wanted ter ketch one of der blokes an' hold him fer der perlice ter pinch." "who was he?" "dunno." "what?" cried frank, astonished--"don't know who was with you when you came to my aid?" "well, i dunno his name, youngster, and that's on der level." frank was eager to ask more questions, but plug said: "we'd best push outer dis. dunno wot'll happen if we stays here too long. der gang might come back." so they hurried out of the alley, frank receiving some assistance from kirby, as he was rather dizzy when he tried to walk. when the street was reached no one seemed to be in the immediate vicinity. "shall we wait for your friend?" asked merriwell. "naw," answered plug. "he ain't likely ter come back." a short time later they were seated at a table in a nearby resort, and frank was treating kirby. frank had examined his own injuries, and discovered they were not serious, although it was likely that he would be sore about the head and shoulders from the bruises he had received. "now tell me," urged frank, "who was with you when you came to my assistance? i am eager to know." "i tole yer dat i don't know der cove's name, but i do know dat he is all right an' on der level." "well, how is that you do not know his name?" "never asked him." "how do you happen to know him?" "well, yer see, it was dis way: i was inter jackson's der odder evenin' takin' me nightcap. dere was some fellers in dere wot was college chaps, and dey was talkin' about races and t'ings. pretty soon dey said somet'ing about you. some of 'em was hard on you, an' dat got me mad up. i jes' waded inter der gang an' offered ter lick anybody wot didn't t'ink you was der clean stuff." frank smiled a bit, realizing that he had, indeed, made a firm friend of this bruiser who had once tried to whip him, but had received a severe drubbing, instead. "dey didn't want ter shove up against me," kirby went on, "an' dey got out right away. den a man walks up ter me, and he says i was all right, an' he blows me. he continues ter blow me, an' ask me questions about you. arter a while, he asks me if i would fight fer you if i had der chance. 'would i!' says i, jes' like dat. 'well, old sport, show me der chance!' den he says dat you has some enemies wot is plannin' ter do yer, an' he might be able ter give me a chance ter put in a few licks fer yer. "well, dis evenin', as i was inter jackson's, who should come in an' call me aside but dis same cove. he says ter me, 'kirby'--he had found out me name--'kirby,' says he, jes' like dat, 'i'm goin' ter give yer dat chance ter put in some licks fer frank merriwell.' "den he tells me dat he were in a place an' heard a scheme ter put some toughs onter yer ter-night w'en yer was goin' home from der t'eeter. dey had heard some feller say dat he was goin' ter invite yer ter be in er box wid him at der t'eeter, an' so dey knew yer was goin'. "dat's all, 'cept dat me an' der bloke wot was wid me went ter der t'eeter, him payin' all expenses, an' we kept watch of yer. w'en we came out, you started fer him, an' he hooked it. i was s'prised, but i follered. den i found dere was odders follerin', an der gang run yer in here. der feller i was wid, as was in a doorway nigh der alley all der time, skipped back fer me, an' we jumped right down inter der alley, takin' some heavy canes, wot we had wid us all der time. you know wot happened arter dat." frank was puzzled and mystified. he asked plug to describe the mysterious man, and kirby did so. this added to frank's wonderment, for the description tallied with that of the stranger who had tried to bribe him to throw a ball game to harvard; but that it could be the same man, even though everything indicated that it must be, frank could not believe. that night, after going to bed, frank lay awake for hours, thinking of the stranger and the mystery which surrounded him. chapter xxvii. an emissary from the west. frank was determined to solve the mystery of the unknown man. he did not tell rattleton everything concerning his adventure of the previous night, although he was forced to explain that he had been in an encounter, and that he did not know who his assailants were. the theatre party had wondered greatly at frank's sudden disappearance, and frank confessed that he had followed the mysterious unknown, who had given him the slip. "that fellow is playing the shadow on you, frank," cried harry, indignantly. "he's up to some sort of crookedness." "he must bear a charmed life, or he would have been killed the night he jumped from the new london special," said frank. "he decided it was best to take chances by jumping rather than to fall into the hands of old eli's sons, and i think he was right." creighton came around to inquire how it happened that merriwell disappeared so suddenly the previous evening. since the boat race creighton had sought merriwell's company, although he had scarcely given frank any attention before that. creighton was a prominent society man and had considerable influence at yale; his friendship was of value to any fellow on whom he saw fit to bestow it. his father was rich, and charlie spent money freely, as his whims dictated. not even those with whom he was not on friendly terms, however, could justly accuse him of being a cad. "awfully jolly time last night," yawned creighton. "it was rather kiddish, but it is a relief to play the boy once in a while. it capped the whole business when the actors themselves finished the fun by giving the manager away in the last act." frank smiled, but did not explain his connection with the crowning event of the evening. "jove! i'm hungry," charlie declared. "come on, merriwell and rattleton, we'll go down to bob's, and have a chop." he would not take no for an answer, and so, a few minutes later, the trio crossed the campus, creighton in the middle, his arms locked with those of the other lads. all were laughing and joking in a light-hearted manner. creighton took them directly to a restaurant that was famous for its chops. they ordered, charlie and harry taking ale with their food. just as the chops were brought on, a man came in and took a seat at a table nearby. this man was dressed in a new suit of "store clothes," and wore a full beard. he gave his order to the waiter in a low tone, and then began perusing a paper, behind which his face was almost entirely hidden. rattleton happened to sit so that he naturally looked toward the man, and, several times, he caught that individual peering over the top of the paper. it did not take harry long to note that the person with the paper seemed to be watching frank merriwell. suddenly frank's roommate arose, and, with two swift steps, he was at the man's side. without a word, harry caught the gentleman by the beard, which he gave a sharp jerk. the beard came off in harry's hand! it was false! "look, frank!" cried rattleton, pointing at the smooth-shaven face exposed; "it is the mysterious man who has been following you about!" it was in truth the mysterious unknown, and frank was on his feet in a twinkling, resolved not to let the man escape till he had given a full explanation of his remarkable conduct. to merriwell's surprise, the stranger showed no desire to run away, but sat smiling serenely up at him, calmly observing: "do not excite yourself, mr. merriwell; there is no reason for it. i have completed my business in a most satisfactory manner, and i am now ready to explain everything to you." "it is an explanation which i expect and demand," said frank, coldly. "it is no more than fair that i should have one, as you have shown yourself my persistent enemy, and that without any just cause that i know of." "you are mistaken," returned the man; "instead of your enemy, i have been your firm friend from the very first." "i fail to see how you can make that out." "i will call at your rooms this evening and give you a full explanation." "no!" cried frank, promptly, "you will give me an explanation here and immediately." "i do not think you will press me to that," was the calm assertion. "i might speak of affairs of a personal and family nature." "you--you speak of such affairs--to me? now it strikes me that you are attempting a bluff, sir; but it will not work." the stranger reached into his pocket and took out something, which he held up before frank's eyes. "this," he said, with confidence, "will convince you that i speak nothing but the truth." "my father's ring!" gasped frank. "yes," bowed the man; "it is the ring that led him to one of the richest mines in the southwest. he said that it would simply be necessary for me to show it to you, and you would know that he sent me. shall i call this evening, mr. merriwell?" "if you please, sir," said frank, bowing respectfully. the boys were surprised, but frank said he would explain some time later. that evening the stranger called, as he had said he would. frank had taken pains to run harry out of the room, so they were quite alone. the boy locked the door, as a precaution against unwelcome interruptions. the mysterious man introduced himself as david scott, the confidential agent of charles merriwell, frank's unfortunate father, who had spent the best years of his life and separated himself from his family and friends in the mad search after "phantom fortune." at last charles merriwell had "struck it rich," and he was now a very wealthy man; but he was broken in health, and he often feared for his reason. as charles merriwell had been eccentric and unfathomable all his life while poor, thus he remained now that he was rich. of late he had been seized by a conviction that he could not live long, and it was his desire to make a will that would give almost his entire wealth to his son. but before he made such a will, mr. merriwell decided to know just what sort of a young man his son had become. as he did not feel like leaving his mine and going east to investigate, he sent his confidential clerk, david scott. in his instructions to scott, charles merriwell showed the peculiarities of his character. he provided the agent with plenty of money, and instructed him to thoroughly probe the inward character of the youth about which he was to acquire information. scott was instructed to discover all of frank's bad habits, and to determine if the lad could be led astray by evil influence, or in any other manner. the agent had carried out his instructions to his complete satisfaction, and he complimented the blushing boy on his integrity of character and sterling manhood. scott explained how he had pretended to ally himself with frank's foes, and thus had heard the plots against the boy. he had sent frank the warnings, and he had secured the aid of plug kirby to aid him in beating off merriwell's ruffianly assailants. "i scarcely think you will be troubled any more by your enemies," declared scott. "i had a session with them last night, after the failure of their attempt on you, and i sent the varmints scurrying for tall timber in a hurry. i told them that i was your friend, and not your enemy, and that i would come up as a witness against them if you saw fit to prosecute them. then they begged me to keep still, and agreed to let up on you for good and all if i wouldn't chirp. i made the galoots no promises." for hours frank and scott sat and talked of charles merriwell, his health, his mine and his plans. and when the man departed, it was with a letter from frank merriwell to charles merriwell in his possession. the next evening frank received a call which surprised him greatly. what it was the next chapter will tell. chapter xxviii. friends or foes. thump--bang! thump--bang! "open this door!" thumpety--thump--bang! bang; bang! "open this door, or i will dake it brown--i mean i will break it down!" harry was excited. "hold on a moment, can't you?" cried the laughing voice of frank from within the room. harry was pressing against the door with one hand, having rained the heavy blows upon it with the other hand, which was clinched in a most threatening manner. the door flew open with a suddenness that precipitated rattleton into the room with a headlong rush and plunged him plump into the stomach of a young man who happened to be in the way. "ugh!" "wow!" bump! bump!--both went down, clasped in each other's arms. two other lads stood staring at the fallen ones. they were frank merriwell and fred flemming. tom thornton was the unfortunate who stood in the way of rattleton's headlong rush. and harry, quite unintentionally, had struck thornton a smart blow with his clinched fist. at that moment it did look as if the excited lad had rushed into the room with the premeditated purpose of hitting tom. "here! here!--break away!" cried merriwell, sharply. "not much!" panted tom, in excitement and anger. "think i'm going to let him go, so he can hit me again?" "catch hold, flemming," ordered frank--"catch hold of your friend, and we'll part them." he grasped rattleton by the collar as he spoke, but fred made no move to pull thornton away. seeing this, merriwell obtained a firm hold on the collars of both harry and tom, and, with a surprising display of strength, wrenched them apart, yanked them to their feet, and held them at arm's length. "steady, now!" he cried, as they seemed to betray a desire to get at each other. "quit it!" "he struck me!" cried thornton. "it was antirely excidental--no, entirely accidental," declared harry, flourishing his arms. tom dodged. "well, you act as if you are trying to bring about another accident," he said. "i know you hit me intentionally, and i'll make you pay for it, too!" "bah! you can't make me pay for anything!" flung back harry, his anger aroused by thornton's words. "do you think you can run around punching fellows in this way without getting it back? you'll find you are mistaken!" "you were in my way when i came in." "i didn't have time to get out of your way." "well, what's all this about anyway?" demanded frank. "are you fellows trying to settle some sort of a score?" "it looks to me," said flemming, stiffly, "as if mr. rattleton took advantage of our presence in this room to strike thornton." "well, what are you chaps here for, anyway?" demanded harry. "that is what i would like to know. we don't run in your class, and so----" "hold up, old man," interrupted merriwell, promptly. "mr. flemming and mr. thornton called to see me about a personal matter." "i thought so," declared rattleton, "and i decided you would get the worst end of it, as they were two to your one--and the door was locked. if they are here to do you, count me into it. i'll take care of this fellow thornton while you polish off flemming." "we did not come here to fight," said fred, haughtily. "didn't?" exclaimed harry, in surprise. "then what sort of a game are you up to, for i know it is something crooked?" flemming tossed his head. "mr. rattleton," he said, "your language is very offensive to me." "had to glear it--i mean glad to hear it," shot back rattleton, rudely. "i didn't want you to misunderstand me." "mr. merriwell," said fred, turning to frank, "i think we had better go. our business was with you, and mr. rattleton seems determined to raise a quarrel with us. as you know, we did not come here to quarrel, and, regarding mr. rattleton as your friend, we will endeavor to overlook his behavior and insulting language." "but we cannot forget it," added thornton, giving harry a fierce look. "it will be remembered." "i am sure i don't want you to forget it," flung back rattleton. "come, tom," urged flemming, "we will go. good-day, mr. merriwell." frank released thornton, who followed flemming from the room, simply pausing at the door to say: "good-by, mr. merriwell." "good-by," smiled frank. and then, when the door had closed behind them, frank dropped into a chair and laughed softly but heartily. "well, i fail to fee anything sunny about it--i mean i fail to see anything funny about it," growled rattleton, prancing fiercely up and down the room. "if you'll tell me where the laugh comes in, i'll snicker, just to keep you company." "the whole thing is very funny," laughed merriwell. "why, you were eager to hammer thornton, and the fellow was afraid you would, for all the bluff he put up." "it would have given me great satisfaction to thump him," confessed harry; "for i know it is exactly what he deserves. what were they up to, anyway? that's what puzzles me. i expected to find that they had done you up." "oh, nothing of the sort!" "but they were up to some crooked game--i know it. i thought they had fastened the door, so that they could do the job without being interrupted." "ha! ha! ha!" laughed frank. "that explains why you looked as if you were literally thirsting for gore when you lunged into the room and grappled with thornton." "did i hit him?" "you had your fist clinched, and you may have given him a slight rap in your excitement." "well, i did not give him that rap intentionally; if i had, he'd found something entirely different. by jingoes! i may get the chance to show him the difference some time!" "you'd better drop it, old man." "eh? drop it?" "that's what i said, harry, and that is what i meant, my boy." "but why? i don't think i understand you. those fellows are your enemies, and that makes them mine." "they have been my enemies, but we have had a peace conference." "the dickens!" "and we buried the hatchet." "well, i didn't suppose you could be fooled so easy! i knew they were up to some sort of a game--i knew it." "well, what sort of a game do you think it was?" "they're trying to fool you--trying to make you think they are ready to bury the hatchet, while they are still waiting to hit you behind your back whenever they can. that's the kind of chaps they are. they can't fool me, if they can you. if they can lull you into carelessness till their opportunity comes, they will drive the knife into you, and sink it deep. don't mink i'm thisted--i mean don't think i'm twisted. i am dead certain of the sort of cattle i'm talking about. you will be playing right into their hands if you get the idea that they have let up on you in the least. when they get a good chance, you'll get it in the neck." "well, harry, you may be right; but i have reasons to believe that flemming is anxious to call a truce just at present. he made a serious mistake when he tried to enlist david scott against me. scott found out all of flemming's plots and secured enough evidence of the fellow's rascality to cause his expulsion from yale if it were made public." "well, it should be made public immediately." "oh, i don't know about that! expulsion from college might mean the ruin of flemming's future." "if he keeps on, he'll do that, whether he is expelled or not." "if he does it himself, i shall not have it on my conscience. if i were to bring about his expulsion, and he went to the dogs, i might blame myself for it, thinking he would have done differently had he remained here. do you catch on?" "i catch on that you are dead easy with your enemies till they force you to down them for good." "but when they do compel me to down them----" "i will acknowledge that you always do a good job," said rattleton, with an approving grin. "mr. scott believed that i should be severe with flemming and thornton," admitted frank; "but i knew that thornton was dragged into the business by flemming, without having any real heart for what he was doing. if i were to expose flemming, it would implicate thornton, and that seemed too much of a retaliation. i thought the whole matter over carefully, and decided to give the fellows a chance. then mr. scott went to them and nearly frightened the life out of them by saying he meant to expose them to the faculty. that brought them to their knees immediately." rattleton expressed his satisfaction by a vigorous pantomime. "finally," continued frank, "when they had begged and promised, mr. scott agreed to let up on them if they would come to me, offer apologies, and give me their pledge to let me alone in the future." "and that is how they happened to be here to-day?" "yes." "why was the door locked?" "i locked it to prevent any of the fellows from dropping in on us while we were talking the matter over." "well, jones told me he had seen those chaps come in here, and i decided they were looking for bother, so i made a hustle to get here. when i found the door locked, i was sure they had you in a corner, and so i threatened to break it down if it was not opened without delay." "and, when it was opened, you came in like a raging lion." "well, i was ready for any scrim of a shortage--i mean any sort of a scrimmage." "you showed your readiness," laughed frank. "i have the word of those fellows that they will let me quite alone if i drop the past." "i wouldn't believe either of them under oath!" "you are a doubter anyway. we'll wait and see what will occur." chapter xxix. talk of a tour. there was a rap on the door, which immediately popped open, and in bobbed a head, thatched with carroty hair, upon which was perched a crumpled cap. a freckled, jolly face was wrinkled into a cheerful grin, and a voice that was made up of bubbles and hollows cried: "hello, chaps! i just looked in to see if you were doing well, as the cook said to the lobster, when she lifted the sauce-pan lid." "come in, stubbs," invited frank, promptly--"come in and make yourself as big a nuisance as possible." "no need to tell me to do that," piped the lad at the door, as he bounced into the room. "i always make myself a nuisance wherever i am. it is my policy." he was a little short-legged fellow, with a roly-poly body and twinkling eyes. good nature bubbled out all over him. at a glance you could see he was the sort of chap who would try to be merry under almost any circumstances. this was bink stubbs, a lad with whom frank and harry had recently become acquainted. frank had picked him up because of his merry ways and quaint sayings of the wise and humorous order. "have you fellers got any smokers?" asked bink, as he deposited himself on a chair. "no, we haven't got any smokers," answered harry. "and the last time you were here, bruce browning said you swiped a whole package of cigarettes from him." stubbs tried to look horrified, and then cried: "well, i'll be hanged! as the picture said when it found the cord was tied to it." "you know neither of us smoke," said merriwell. "i know you pretend you do not, but i don't know that you are not bluffing when you say so." "what's that? do you mean to insinuate that i am lying? why, i'll step on you, stubbsie!" "in that case my days are numbered, as the calendar said to the blotter." there was a sound of voices outside the door, and then, with very little ceremony, three lads came filing into the room. there were browning, diamond and griswold. "get up, you little villain!" said bruce, as he collared stubbs and yanked him off the easy-chair. "don't you know enough to let other folks have a chance to sit down, you lazy little rascal?" and then, with a sigh of relief, bruce deposited his corpulent form on the chair. stubbs bristled up, as if he meant to fight, then seemed to change his mind, and shook his head and remarked: "such things are bound to a cur, as the dog said when he looked at the tin can that was tied to his tail." the boys were welcomed by frank and harry, and merriwell said: "i'm glad you fellows dropped in. i want to find out how many of you are going to take that bicycle trip across the continent during the summer vacation." "jeewhiskers!" grinned danny griswold. "think of bruce browning, the champion lazy man at yale, riding a bicycle across the continent. the exertion of riding across the campus would utterly prostrate him." "um!" grunted bruce. "it's singular that small things annoy one worst." "oh, yes," returned danny, promptly; "even a little mosquito bores me frightfully." "say, griswold," piped stubbs, "that's a bad habit to get into." "what's a bad habit to get into?" demanded danny, bristling up resentfully. "that suit of clothes you have on," said stubbs, whimsically. "it's a miserable fit." "well, you'll have a bad fit if i get after you!" exclaimed griswold, hotly. "you're a base fraud and an impostor! you are trying to steal my thunder by reading the same comic papers that i do. if you keep this up you'll use up all of my original jokes." "oh, well," said stubbs, "cough up a cigarette and i'll let you forgive me. i'm dying for a whiff." griswold hesitated, and then flung a package of cigarettes at bink, who skillfully caught them, extracted one, closed the package, and tossed it back. a moment later the little chap had lighted the cigarette, and, as he deposited himself at full length on a tiger-skin rug, he puffed out a great whiff of smoke, and murmured: "now i have something to blow about, as the cyclone said when it lifted a house and barn into the next state." "speaking about clothes," said browning, languidly, "did you see goldstein, the tailor, to-day, rattleton?" "yes, i saw him," nodded harry. "and did you tell him i said i would settle that little bill?" "sure." "that's kind of you. did he seem convinced?" "he said he was." "was what?" "convinced that you lied." this provoked a laugh. when the laughing had ceased, griswold sagely observed: "it is remarkable that man is the only animal that can lie standing up." "say, you chaps," called frank, "drop this sort of chatter, and answer my question. how many of you are in for spending the summer vacation in a bicycle trip across the continent?" "you'll have to excuse me," said griswold, as he followed stubbs' example and lighted a cigarette. "i'm going down to bar harbor, and play tennis on my vacation." "i can't endure tennis," drawled browning. "i should say not. too much exertion for you." "it is not that. i don't like to be around where others are playing it." "don't? why not?" "because it is so noisy." "noisy? christmas! how do you make that out?" "why, you can't play it without a racket," said browning. griswold staggered and clutched at his heart. "what papers have you been reading?" he gasped. diamond spoke up for the first time: "i'll tell you what i'll do, merriwell--i'll go on this bicycle trip across the continent, if i can secure my mother's consent?" "will you?" cried frank, eagerly. "then see her as soon as possible. i couldn't ask for a better fellow than you. harry thinks he can go, and that makes three of us. we'll do the trick, even if we can't get another fellow. is it agreed?" "it is agreed if i can get my mother to agree to it," assured jack. "well, let's talk about another matter," said bruce. "the tournament at madison square garden is right upon us. are you on for anything, merriwell?" "yes," answered frank, "i shall take part in several contests." "how about the mile run?" questioned diamond. "i believe yates is in for that," said merriwell. "that's something i want to speak to you about," drawled bruce. frank was rather surprised, as browning had taken very little interest in athletics of late. during his early days at yale, bruce had been a pusher in athletic matters, being at that time an athlete himself, as he kept himself in form and held back the threatening development of flesh by the severest sort of training. but bruce could not continue to resist the temptations of his appetite, and it became more and more difficult for him to keep in trim. as long as he was a freshman he had done so, but when he became a sophomore he gradually abandoned the struggle. still he had remained active as a leader, and had been known at one time as "the king of the sophomores." his final effort at training had been when he put himself in condition to meet merriwell in a four-round hard-glove contest. the bout had been pronounced a draw, but browning afterward acknowledged that he must have been knocked out had it continued to a finish. from that time browning's interest in athletic matters waned. he lost ambition in that line, and he soon became so overburdened with flesh that nothing save a question of life or death could have induced him to go into training. it was not so very long before bruce was known as the champion lazy man at yale. all that he seemed to care about was to eat, drink, smoke and loaf. he seldom was known to "grind," and his attempts at "skinning" were pitiable failures. then he was dropped a class, and, as he still stuck to yale, he found himself arrayed with merriwell and the fellows whom he at one time had regarded as enemies. in that class merriwell was regarded as a leader in athletic matters, and bruce seldom mentioned anything of the kind. now, however, to merriwell's surprise, he displayed sudden interest in the great intercollegiate tournament to be held in madison square garden, new york, directly at the close of the spring terms. in the various contests yale was to be represented by her best men. there had been some uncertainty concerning the one who would wear yale's colors in the mile run, but the belief grew that duncan yates, a junior, would be the one finally settled on by the committee in charge of the matter. "why don't you go into that race, browning, old sylph?" grinned danny griswold. "you would astonish the public." "some time i'll sit on you, runtie," growled bruce. stubbs remarked: "that will settle it, as the sugar observed when the egg dropped into the coffee." rattleton threw a slipper at bink, who grunted as it struck him in the ribs, but serenely continued to smoke, his mottled face wrinkled into a quaint grimace. "what is it that you want to say about the mile race, browning?" asked frank, his curiosity aroused. "i want to say that i do not believe yates is the proper man to represent old eli." "he is fast, and he has a record." "it's no use to talk about his record." "why not?" "orton, of u. p., lays over him, and this will be a case of yale against the field. better men than orton may show up." "yates may break his own record." "that word 'may' is all right, but it can be applied both ways. he may not." "there's van tassle," said diamond. "he claims to be a record-breaker." "a record-breaker!" sniffed griswold. "why, that fellow couldn't break an egg!" "that's right," nodded rattleton. "he breaks records with his mouth. don't talk about him." "well, there are others," laughed frank. "name a few of them," invited browning, with more animation than he had displayed for some time. "there's hickson." "he's stiff in the joints, as you know." "walter gordan." "he's no stayer. that fellow can run, but he has not the sand to make himself a winner." "he thinks himself the biggest thing on ice," said rattleton. "by the way," broke in griswold, "what is the biggest thing on ice?" "the profit," promptly answered stubbs, and then he made a scramble to get out of griswold's way. "it's no use, i can't shine when that chap is around!" exclaimed danny, with attempted seriousness. "he has an answer for all my conundrums." "that makes me think of one for you," piped bink, who was now perched on the back of a high chair, like a monkey. "why is a duel a quick affair?" "answer it yourself. i'll never tell." "well, a duel is a quick affair because it takes only two seconds to arrange it." "there won't be a duel in this case," grunted browning; "but there'll be a cold-blooded murder if you kids keep on. i'll assassinate you both!" frank laughed. "oh, let them go it, bruce," he said. "it seems to amuse them, and it doesn't harm anybody else." "i think browning is right about yates," declared diamond. "he is not the proper man to represent yale in that race." "whom would you suggest?" asked frank. "frank merriwell, by all means." "now that is folly!" said merriwell, seriously. "i fail to see why it is folly," cried browning. "you are the man i have had in my mind all along." "but i have no record." "to the winds with your records! what we want is a man who can run. he'll make a record." "why do you think i can run?" "i have seen you run, and i have heard the fellows tell about your speed. that is enough in your case." frank shook his head. "it is not enough," he contradicted. "i know i have a record as a base runner in a ball game, but the best base runners are not always able to make good showings in races. besides that, base running is dash work, and this is a case of running a mile. there is a vast difference." "that's all right," spluttered harry, quickly. "you can mun a rile--i mean run a mile with the best of 'em. i've seen you on a long run." "when was that?" "when we had that turkey chase. you led us all, and it didn't bother you a bit. then, after you made the run out into the country and back, pierson got after you before you could get to our rooms. you ran away from him, and held on to the turkey. that settled in pierson's mind that you could hustle along all right, and it had something to do with his giving you a place for a trial on the ball team." "that is true," frank was forced to confess. "have you ever been in any races?" asked diamond. "oh, i took part in some races when i was at fardale academy." "what did you do in them?" "i believe i won, but you must remember that i had no such rivals to go against as will be found at the tournament." "and you were in no such condition as you are now. is that right?" frank was forced to confess that it was. then browning tried to pin frank down and make him answer the question whether he did not have confidence enough in himself to believe he could race duncan yates for a mile. "of course i could race him," smiled frank, "but the matter of winning is another question." "well, i believe you are the man to run for yale in that race," said browning; "and i am going to use my influence to see that you, and not yates, are entered. that is settled, and it is no use for you to make any objections." chapter xxx. a hot run. soon it became evident that bruce browning had not lost his old-time push entirely. when there was something to arouse him, he could bestir himself and get to work in a marvelous manner, as long as it was not necessary for him to again go into training. browning knew paul pierson, who was one of the committee of arrangements for the coming tournament, and he knew that pierson was well aware of frank merriwell's general ability. bruce had heard pierson express a belief that merriwell was one of the persons who, by sheer determination and sand, as well as ability, was bound to win in almost everything he attempted. bruce went to pierson immediately after leaving merriwell's room. pierson was one of the sort who seldom said much, and browning left him without knowing whether he had made an impression or not. late that afternoon, however, pierson accidentally met frank, who was crossing the campus. "i say, merriwell," said paul, in his abrupt manner, "can you run?" "some," answered frank, sententiously. "hum!" grunted pierson. then he looked frank all over, as if he had never seen him before and was taking his physical measure. "you keep yourself in the very best condition all the time, i see," he finally observed. "well i seldom do anything to abuse myself." "are you in training for a race?" "not exactly." "how long would it take for you to put yourself in condition?" "possibly a week." "what are you good for--a short dash, or a long run?" "i think i can do either fairly well." "fairly well does not go at yale, as you know, merriwell. you must do things exceptionally well. you are altogether too modest. if something had not brought you out, nobody could have known you could do anything at all. you have been pushed in various ways by others, but you fail to push yourself." "oh, i do not go about blowing my own horn," said frank, smiling. "you will find you'll have to blow your own horn when you go into business, or my brother is a liar. he keeps hammering at me that the man who does not blow his horn is the fellow who gets left. to a large extent, it is that way here at yale. the fellow who keeps still and sits back gets left. that's my sermon. i'm not going to say any more now. get into training for a long run. i'll come round at nine this evening and go you a sprint of a mile or two, just to see how you show up." that was all. pierson turned and sauntered away, without another word. frank whistled softly, and smiled. "this is browning's work," he muttered. "pierson takes things for granted. how does he know i will take any part in a race? he does not ask if i will, but he tells me to go to work and get into shape. he is coming round to-night to see how i show up. all right." at ten minutes of nine that evening, paul pierson rapped on the door of merriwell's room, and was invited to walk in. he was in a rig for running, and he immediately said: "come, come! get out of those duds, merriwell. you are to run with me to-night." "how far?" "from one to five miles, as i take a fancy." "oh, well, i won't change my clothes for a little thing like that," said frank, carelessly. "you'd better," declared paul. "i'm going to give you a hustle, and you'll find you can keep up better if you are in a suitable rig." "i'll take the chances of keeping just as i am." pierson's teeth came together with a click. he did not like that, although he tried not to show it. "the fellow thinks he can outrun me on a long pull, as he happened to do so for a short distance once on a time," he thought. "i'll see if i can fool him." pierson considered himself an excellent long-distance runner, although he seldom took part in races, realizing that, good though he was, there were still better men. frank had on a loose thin shirt, and a light-weight suit of clothes. he caught up a cap, and announced that he was ready to go with paul. they went out, and soon were crossing the campus. having arrived at a point quite outside the college grounds, paul paused and said: "we will start from here and make a run out into the country. i will set the pace going out, but when we turn to come back, it will be a case of the best man gets home first. the termination of the run will be your room." "that is satisfactory," nodded frank. far away a band of jolly students were singing "stars of the summer night," their melodious voices making sweet music beneath the great elms. the soft breath of june came across the campus, seeming to gently bear the words of the beautiful song to their ears. "are you ready?" asked pierson, sharply. "all ready." "then here we go." they were off, shoulder to shoulder. although frank had not seemed to prepare for the run, he had put on his running shoes, feeling that he might absolutely need them. along the streets of new haven they went, attracting but little attention, as it was not an uncommon sight at that season to see some of the college lads taking a night run in that manner. they passed a group of fellows who were standing beneath a street light near a corner. "here!" softly exclaimed one of the group; "who are these chaps?" the entire party turned to take a look at the runners. "it's pierson----" "and merriwell!" "what did i tell you, yates!" exclaimed fred flemming, a ring of satisfaction in his voice. "well, may i be kicked!" growled duncan yates, as he started after the two lads, who had passed and were scudding along the street at a steady trot. "flem seldom makes a mistake," murmured tom thornton. "but merriwell is not in his rig," said andy emery, the fourth one of the group. "that doesn't make any difference," declared flemming. "he is taking a run with pierson, and that proves what i told yates. you all know how that chap undermined me on the crew. i don't say that he can't row, mind you--i do not claim that i could have done any better than he did; but i do claim that he is full of such sneaking underhand tricks, and i knew he was trying for something when i saw him stop pierson on the campus to-day." yates was silent, staring along the street, down which the two runners had disappeared. "come, old man!" cried flemming, slapping yates on the back, "let's go into morey's and sit down, where we can have a drink and talk this matter over." duncan shook his head. "i won't go in there," he said. "why not?" "i am in training, you know, and somebody would see me drinking there. that would kick up some talk." "well, will you go anywhere?" "yes, i'll go somewhere that we can sit down in a quiet room, where there is no chance that fellows who know me will drop in. i feel just like having something." "i know the very place," declared flemming. "come on." then the quartet moved away, flemming leading. in the meantime merriwell and pierson had continued on their way. as had been agreed, pierson set the pace. at first he ran along at a gentle trot, but by the time the outskirts of new haven were reached he had begun to increase his speed. "now," he thought, "i'll put merriwell to the test, and i do not fancy he will be in condition to make a very hot run on the return." faster and faster went paul, and still the lad at his side kept there with apparent ease. with their clinched hands held close to their breasts and their heads thrown back, they ran on and on. there was a slice of a moon in the western sky, shedding a thin white light over the world. from far to the south came the shrill whistle of a locomotive, cutting through the air like a keen knife. the road which pierson had selected was one over which there was considerable travel, and it was in very fair condition. without appearing to do so, paul slyly kept watch of merriwell, wishing to see just how frank stood the strain. he was forced to acknowledge that, for a time at least, merriwell was standing it very well. "oh, he is endeavoring to show me how easy he can do it!" mentally exclaimed paul. "wait--wait a bit! i think i will give him a hot push for a bit." faster and faster ran pierson, and soon he was rather gratified to hear frank beginning to breathe heavily. yes, although paul had hoped that merriwell would show up well, he did feel a momentary sense of satisfaction when it seemed that he was making the pace a hot one for his companion. then frank began to lag. he did not fall far behind paul, and still he seemed unable to keep his place at pierson's side. "i won't do a thing to him coming back!" decided paul. "browning was dead wrong. the fellow is capable of short dashes, but he is not the man for a long run. i am rather sorry." at last, he decided that they had gone far enough into the country, and so he turned about, without stopping, calling to frank: "now for the hustle into town, and let's see what you are made of, my boy. i am going to run away from you as if you were standing still." "i wouldn't do that!" flung back merriwell, as he wheeled about. somehow it seemed to paul that there was a touch of sarcasm in the way frank uttered the words. that aroused the committeeman still more, and he retorted: "no, you wouldn't do it, because you couldn't; but i am going to." "all right," laughed frank. "i don't suppose there is any danger that somebody will steal me for my beauty if you leave me alone out here in the country. go ahead and run away from me." "good-by." "good-by." then pierson did run. he skimmed over the ground in a wonderful manner, but the sound of running feet clung close behind him, and, when he glanced over his shoulder, merriwell was still there. "hanged if he doesn't hold on well!" mentally exclaimed paul. then, as he glanced around, it began to seem that merriwell was running with still greater ease than he had at any previous time. somehow it appeared as if he was keeping close behind pierson without any particular effort. "you're doing well," paul finally flung over his shoulder. "can you keep it up?" "i think so," was the half-laughing answer. "i am holding myself in so that i can make an attempt to follow you a short distance when you get ready to run away from me." "great smoke!" thought paul. "is he guying me? or does he fancy i have not been doing my best?" after a little, he confessed: "i am beginning to think that won't be an easy trick, merriwell. you will not be far behind when we reach your room." at this, frank suddenly came up beside paul. "judging by the way you talk, you are somewhat out of wind," he said. "not at all," declared pierson. "then i presume you are in condition for a little dash?" "oh, of course! but you may beat yourself out if you crowd yourself too hard." "think so?" "sure. better not." "oh, i think i'll chance it. come on, old man, let's tear up some dust." then frank spurted. pierson set his teeth and made a desperate effort to keep up, but, despite his determination not to fall behind, he found that merriwell was steadily and surely drawing away. "come on," called frank, in a rather tantalizing manner. "it can't be that you are going to let me run away from you?" paul did not answer. "what's the matter?" called frank again. "are you ill?" still no answer. "well, you are not sociable at all," laughed the lad in advance, tauntingly. "i don't seem to like your company, and so i think i will move along. good-by." with that, pierson could see that the tantalizing fellow actually made an increase of speed. "confound him!" grated paul. "i believe he was fooling me all along when he seemed to be having a hard time to keep up. all that panting and heavy breathing was put on." it was decidedly humiliating to be "jollied" in such a manner; but paul found he could not hold his own with frank, and he finally gave up the struggle. still he continued to run on, thinking that the lad ahead would use up his wind by such a burst of speed, and believing there was a possibility of overtaking merriwell before south middle was reached. this did not happen, however, and when paul burst into frank's room, he found rattleton there, listening to a funny story that merriwell was telling. and merriwell? he had his feet resting comfortably on the top of a table, while he lay back in an easy-chair, looking remarkably cool, as if he had not lately made a run of several miles. more than that, he had changed his clothes, as the suit he had on was not the same he had worn during the run! paul staggered in, and dropped limply on the couch, staring at frank, as if he saw a ghost. "look--here--merriwell," he panted, "what--are--you--made--of? are--you--run--by--steam?" "oh, no!" laughed frank. "i beg your pardon for leaving you in such a manner, but you know you had become so very unsociable that i had to do----" pierson made a weak gesture, and interrupted with: "don't apologize for that--it was the agreement that one should run away from the other, if possible, on the way back. you had a right to do it." "what is all this about?" asked rattleton, in a mystified manner. "what have you fellows been doing?" "don't you know?" cried paul, amazed. "no, i don't know," declared rattleton. "frank walked into the room a short time ago, went into his bedroom, took a sponge bath and changed his clothes, and we have been telling stories since then." "took a sponge bath?" shouted pierson, popping bolt upright. "jerusalem. you talk as if he had been here half an hour! i will admit that this beats anything i ever experienced!" then he flopped down on the couch again, as if utterly overcome. chapter xxxi. an incentive to win. paul pierson had made a discovery that night, and, before he left, he told frank merriwell to put himself into condition to enter one of the races at the madison square garden tournament in new york. "you seem to be in pretty good condition now," he said, with a grim smile; "but you know whether you can improve your condition or not. if you can, do it, for you are liable to be pitted against men who will give you a decidedly hotter time than you have ever struck." "all right," said frank, quietly. "you'll find that i shall be in shape, and i'll do my best to be a credit to old yale." "you have been a credit to yale ever since the day you entered college," said pierson, sincerely. "to-night has settled one thing in my mind. i believe you are a wonder in almost anything in the way of athletics." "oh, not a wonder!" said frank. "but you can be sure that i am bound to do my level best in anything i attempt." "i know it! i am not sure i'll be able to get you on, but i am going to try to run you into the one-mile race. we have some men for the shorter dashes, but do not seem to have but one man besides yourself who can be considered for the mile run. he has been in training for some time, and the committee had nearly decided on him. now i am satisfied that you are the better man, but i'll have to satisfy the others." "i want you to bear witness that i have not worked to fill the place of any other fellow." "it might be better for yale if you would work for such things," growled pierson. "you will not find other fellows holding back. if any chap is capable of filling your place at anything, you may be sure he will fill it, and he'll never stop to consider your feelings about the matter." "that is rust jite--i mean just right!" cried rattleton, approvingly. "well, i am going to my rooms and take a rub down," said paul. "good-night, fellows." "good-night, mr. pierson." when the door had closed behind paul, rattleton executed a grotesque dance on the carpet. "whoop!" he softly cried. "didn't i knock him silly when i pretended not to know anything about the run this evening! oh, wheejiz--er, jeewhiz! he nearly fainted when i told him you calmly walked into the room, took a sponge bath, put on another suit, and then we had been telling stories." "you rascal!" cried frank, laughing and giving harry a shake. "that was all your own work. i didn't know you were thinking of running such a bluff on him." "never thought of it myself till he came in," chuckled harry. "between us we managed to get you out of your other clothes, give you a quick rub, and jump you into a fresh suit before pierson showed up." "it has been a very enjoyable evening," smiled frank, as he again deposited himself on the easy-chair. "if i had planned to have sport with pierson, i could not have worked it better. you should have heard me panting and puffing along behind him on our way out! you should have heard him bidding me good-by when we started to come back! and then you should have heard me asking him if he was ill when i got ready to leave him!" harry laughed in the heartiest manner, as his imagination supplied the picture. "it is too good!" he cried. "and you will go into the mile run sure! browning caused pierson to tackle you." "it seems that i have done pretty well in athletic matters this spring," said frank, "and i was rather indifferent concerning the matter of taking any prominent part in the tournament at madison square. however, if i can do anything to uphold the standard of old eli, i want to do my best." "frank, if you run in that race, you will win," came soberly from harry's lips. "i shall stake every dollar i can rake on you. if you do win, i'll have enough cash to take me through the summer vacation we have planned." the door had been softly opened, and the most of rattleton's speech was overheard by a third person, who now exclaimed: "and i'm going to bank my cash on you, merriwell! if you win, i'll--i'll--why, hang me! i'll make that trip across the continent with you!" it was bruce browning, who advanced into the room. "are you in earnest about that, bruce?" asked frank. "you bet i am in earnest!" was the assurance. "you will try to pump a bicycle from new york to san francisco?" "try it! confound it! i tell you i'll do it if you win the mile run for old yale!" "then," said frank, "i have a double object to work for, and i am going to win if it is in my body to do so!" rattleton was astonished to see browning show so much animation. "why, you actually appear like your old self!" he exclaimed. bruce sat down. "tell me about it," he invited, speaking to frank. "some of the fellows said they saw you and pierson chasing yourselves, and i caught what rattleton was saying just as i came in." frank told bruce all about the night run, and a lazy smile spread over the fat lad's round face as he listened. "that's one on pierson!" he exclaimed. "he thinks he is unequalled when it comes to a long-distance run, and i'll wager something that you have fixed him so he will fight to get you into that race. i can see him bidding you farewell! ha! ha! ha! and then i can see him when you took your turn! ha! ha! ha!" bruce laughed in a hearty manner, and, for some time they talked over the events of the evening. "what sort of a fellow is yates?" asked frank. "i've never met him to have a talk with him." "oh, he isn't half bad," answered bruce, in a somewhat noncommittal manner. "i presume he will feel injured if i am chosen to run, instead of him?" "what if he does? that's none of your business." chapter xxxii. the run to the station. the final ball game of the series between harvard and yale was to take place at springfield. the day of the game arrived, and there was an exodus from yale. there was a rush for the last train by which the college lads could reach springfield in time to witness the whole of the game. on their way to the station, frank and harry fell in with jack diamond and danny griswold. "we've got to hurry," said diamond, glancing at his watch. "there is no time to waste if we want to catch the train." they soon overtook flemming, emery and yates. these fellows were in the company of several other lads, among whom were two of the committee of arrangements for the tournament. "you fellows seem to be in a great rush," one of the party called to frank and his friends. "you had better rush a little, if you want to catch the train," flung back griswold. "ah!" said andy emery, with an undisguised sneer; "it's merriwell and his trainers. they are putting him in condition to beat the field in that race he expects to enter." "go him to the station, yates!" exclaimed one of the lads accompanying duncan. "just show him he doesn't know how to run." "yah!" flung back griswold, quick as a flash. "yates knows better than to try that. where would he be when merriwell reached the station?" "buying his ticket inside," sneered emery, in return. that aroused jack diamond, who flushed hotly and turned on andy. "i'll go you ten even that merriwell beats yates to the station platform," he flashed, producing a roll of bills. "this is business! take me if you have the nerve!" "oh, i'll take you!" cried emery; "and, when the business is over, i'll take your money, too." he promptly produced a ten-dollar bill, and the money was quickly thrust into the hands of a stakeholder, who was chosen by mutual agreement. "it strikes me you men are pretty swift," said yates, in a manner that showed his disapproval. "how do you know i will run?" "'sh!" warned flemming. "you'll have to run now, or they'll say you were afraid to go against merriwell." it was plain that yates did not feel at all pleased by the situation, but he said: "if i must run, i will, and i'll beat the fellow, but i don't care about getting into a sweat just now." "never mind that," said emery, in yates' ear. "if you beat merriwell to the station, it is pretty sure that you spoil his show for getting into the mile run. this is your chance to do that little job, so don't let it slip." frank had said very little. it was not easy to tell if he felt satisfied or displeased over the situation. the party turned a corner, and came in view of the station. "here is a good starting point," said emery. "does it satisfy you, diamond?" "perfectly," bowed jack. "then that's all right. are you going to run, fellows?" "i leave that entirely to mr. yates," said frank, quietly. "oh, i'll go you--and i'll do you!" exclaimed yates, as he tore off both coat and vest and flung them at flemming, who caught them. that started rattleton, who excitedly cried: "i'll tet you ben dollars--i mean i'll bet you ten dollars you don't do it!" yates paid no attention to this, but flemming said: "i'll have to go you, rattleton. put up the tenner." the money was quickly posted, and then the rivals stood side by side, with their coats and vests removed, ready for the word. merriwell seemed quiet and indifferent, as if it were an event of no particular moment; while on yates' face there was a look that plainly showed he was determined to settle all dispute by winning the dash to the station. one of the committee had been chosen to give the word, and he stepped out, sharply calling: "ready!" the lads leaned forward over the scratch in the dirt, which had been drawn by somebody's heel. "go!" away shot the rivals like leaping fawns. they seemed like two foxes, and the crowd of lads who broke away in pursuit resembled a pack of hounds. it was a hot dash, and, for some time, the boys were running side by side, neither seeming to have an advantage. "wait a bit," panted emery, at diamond's side; "you'll soon see yates spurt and leave merriwell." "what do you think merriwell will be doing while yates is spurting?" asked jack, sarcastically. "he'll seem to be standing still." "will he? wait and see!" the rivals were drawing near the station, and still it seemed that they were keeping side by side. "now they are spurting!" yes, they were spurting for the finish, but, to the amazement of yates' friends, a single bound had seemed to carry frank merriwell two yards in advance of the other runner, and this advantage merriwell maintained. in another moment the station would be reached, and the race must end. seeing this, andy emery was bitterly grinding out an exclamation of rage and disgust. suddenly yates seemed to trip and fall heavily. he tried to spring up, but seemed to be hurt, and he was struggling to rise when flemming reached the spot and lifted him to his feet. "are you hurt?" asked several, as they gathered around duncan. "not much," he answered, rather thickly; "but i lost the dash by that fall." "rats!" muttered harry rattleton. "he had lost it before he fell." "i was ready to make the final spurt, which would have carried me ahead of merriwell at the finish," declared yates. "oh, it is a case of beastly luck!" growled andy emery. "it is the way everything turns in merriwell's favor. he never wins except it is by cold luck." "oh, come off!" chirped danny griswold. "you're sore, that's all ails you!" "shut up, or i'll wring your neck!" "you can't catch me, you know," taunted the little fellow, as he skipped out of reach. on the station platform merriwell was quietly waiting the arrival of the others, fanning himself with his handkerchief. it happened that bruce browning was at the station, and he had seen the race between the rivals. in his ponderous manner, he hurried to congratulate frank. "yates was a fool to try it!" declared bruce, his round face seeming to expand into one broad grin. "he might have known what would happen. i see crockett and gibbs, two of the committee, with the fellows. they witnessed the whole business, and it must have settled matters in their minds." "i wish yates had not fallen," said frank, with regret. "he did not fall accidentally, and you can bet your greasy coin on that! it was plain enough." "then you think--just what?" "that he saw he was beaten, and fell so that he might make a claim that you outran him by accident." "i had the lead." "yes, and he could not have recovered and overtaken you in a week! but that makes no difference. allee samee, i rather fancy yates will not fool anybody very much." the knot of fellows now approached the station, where there was a great throng of yale lads who had seen the race. yates was very pale, but there was a burning light in his eyes. he advanced straight to frank, and distinctly said: "mr. merriwell, you beat me this time through an accident; but i will run you again, and i'll win." frank bowed with the utmost courtesy. "mr. yates," he said, "you will find me willing and ready to run with you any time." "whoopee!" squealed danny griswold, turning a handspring. "that's business straight from headquarters!" "here comes the train!" was the cry. then there was a scramble for tickets and for seats on the train. chapter xxxiii. enemies at work. it happened that merriwell and his friends entered the smoker. they found bink stubbs curled up in a corner, puffing away at a cigarette. "you seem to be well fixed, stubbs," said frank. and the little fellow cheerfully returned: "oh, i've got a snap, as the bear said when he stepped into the steel trap." then room was made for a jolly little party in the corner, and all the fellows who smoked lighted up cigarettes or cigars. "i've got ten more to put on the game to-day," cried rattleton, gleefully. "and i took it out of flemming. that is what pleases me the most." jack diamond smiled. "it pleases me to say that i pulled a sawbuck out of emery," he said. "he squirmed a little, but it was too late to squeal." "we'll all come back with our clothes stuffed with money," declared browning. "yale is sure to win to-day, and that will put lots of fellows on their feet. some of the boys have soaked everything they could rake together to get money to put on the game, for heffiner's arm is in great form, and he says he will make monkeys of the harvard willies." "speaking about hocking things," said bandy robinson, "i let my unc. have a dozen white shirts, among other things. if yale doesn't win, i won't have a shirt to my name." "that's nothing," declared ben halliday, nonchalantly, as he blew out a big whiff of smoke. "i've soaked my entire wardrobe, save what i have on my back. but willis paulding did the slickest trick to raise the wind." "paulding?" cried diamond. "i'd never dreamed he could do anything very smooth." "he did, just the same. last year, when merry pitched the deciding game of the series, paulding felt sure harvard would win, and he stuck on 'em every last rag of money he could rake and scrape. well, yale won, and willis was busted. he was forced to tell his old man the whole truth before he could get money enough to let him out of new haven for the summer. more than that, the old man has taken precautions to prevent willis from having any money to waste in betting this year. he has all of willis' bills sent to him to settle, and keeps his son horribly short of filthy. just as hard, willis found out that the governor had told his tailor to make the boy all the clothes he wanted. that was enough. willis ordered six suits at fifty dollars each, and he soaked every one of them at ten each as soon as he got them. so you see paulding is provided with plenty of coin for this little racket, and he says he is going to put every red he has on old yale. last year cured him of betting against his own colors." "if willis thought of that scheme himself, he has more brains in his head than i fancied," smiled diamond. "tell you how i made a strike," chirped danny griswold. "you know i've been writing a few things and giving them away to the papers. well, the governor heard of it, and he decided i was making a fool of myself, so he sat down and fired a shot at me. he called my attention to the fact that johnson said the man who writes for anything but money is a fool. this is the way i answered: 'dear gov: i observe you say some chap by the name of johnson says the man who writes for anything but money is a fool. i quite agree with mr. johnson. please send me one hundred dollars.' that must have hit the old boy about right, for he sent me fifty." danny ended with a gleeful chuckle, and the listening lads laughed. "that's pretty good--for you," nodded bink stubbs; "but speaking about clothes reminds me that i had a little lunch in a restaurant last evening, and i found a button in the salad. i called the waiter's attention to it, and he calmly said, 'that's all right, sir; it's part of the dressing.'" "now he has broken loose!" cried danny griswold. "there is no telling what sort of a rusty old gag he'll try to spring. if we only had a few stale eggs for him!" bink grinned, as he observed: "there's nothing like poached eggs, as the nigger said when he robbed the hencoop." diamond proposed a song, and soon the boys were at it. when they had finished one song, browning soberly observed: "it seems to me that there is one song which would be particularly appropriate for this season when all of us are soaking something in order to raise the wind." "what is it?" shouted several voices. "solomon levi." in another moment the merry lads were shouting: "my name is solomon levi, my store's on salem street; that's where you buy your coats and vests and everything that's neat. i've second-handed ulsterettes, and everything that's fine, for all the boys they trade with me at a hundred and forty-nine. chorus: "oh, solomon levi! tra, la, la, la! poor sheeny levi! tra, la, la, la, la, la, la, la! "and if a bummer comes along to my store on salem street and tries to hang me up for coats and vests so very neat, i kick that bummer right out of my store, and on him sets my pup, for i won't sell clothing to any man who tries to hang me up." thus the rollicking lads spent the time as the train rolled along bearing them to witness the great ball game of the season with harvard. again and again frank merriwell's friends expressed regret because his hand, on which there had been a felon, prevented him from taking part in the game. they could not forget that he had pitched the deciding game between yale and harvard the previous year, and had won it. frank had also done some good work during the present season, and sporting papers all over the country had declared that he was one of the very best college "twirlers." this, however, was hugh heffiner's last year at yale, and, without doubt, the coming game was the last he would ever pitch for "old eli." until merriwell appeared, heffiner had been yale's mainstay in the box, and his admirers declared that it was pretty sure that a long time would elapse before he would have a worthy successor. but heffiner was overworked, and he came near throwing his arm out. as it was, he strained his arm so that he was utterly unable to pitch at all. then it was that it was found necessary to find somebody to assist the "change pitcher," dad hicks, in his work. hicks was good for four or five innings, but he was unable to keep up the strain through an entire game. paul pierson, captain and manager of the yale nine, had seen merriwell do some pitching for the freshmen, and he resolved to give frank a trial. pierson's judgment was not at fault, and merriwell quickly proved that he was worthy to become heffiner's successor. of course there was much regret because frank could not be on the bench, at least, ready to go into the game if needed; but all seemed to feel confident that heffiner would make his last game for yale a hot one. he had done some marvelous work, and, as he declared himself in prime condition, there was no reason why he should not hold harvard down on this occasion. while merriwell was surrounded by friends in the smoker, and the boys were having a decidedly jolly time, duncan yates was getting into a decidedly ugly mood in the adjoining car. when yates thought of his failure to beat his rival in the dash to the station he ground his teeth and muttered bitter curses. and he was egged on by fred flemming and andy emery. tom thornton had joined the group, but he said very little; and, when he found an opportunity, he whispered in flemming's ear: "better go slow. remember the promise we gave merriwell. if he finds out we are working against him, it will go hard with us." "he won't find it out. i hate him too much to keep still if i can arouse another fellow against him. give me your flask. yates has killed all i have in mine." thornton took a whiskey flask from his pocket, and slipped it into flemming's hand. then he left, for he did not wish merriwell's friends to see him in such company. flemming and emery made a pretense of drinking with yates, but they did not take much. yates, however, continued to "hit the bottle hard." his face became flushed, and his eyes glowed as flemming continued to tell him of merriwell's "underhand work." "that fellow did me dirt," declared flemming. "in this same sneaking way, he had me dropped from the crew this spring, and got on in my place." "that's right," agreed emery. "he has a way of influencing such men as he can get at, and he is using his influence to get the committee to throw you over." "and he can't run with you, anyway," said flemming. "it is possible that he can lead you in a short dash, like the race to the station to-day, but he would not be in it in a long run." "that race was one of his tricks," asserted emery. "i believe the job was put up by him." "how?" asked yates, huskily. "why, he saw you in company with the rest of us, and he thought he stood a good show of outrunning you for a short spurt, so he had diamond and rattleton make the talk that they did to bring the race about." "if that was not crooked, i don't know what you could call it," nodded flemming. "he sprung it on you when you were not suspecting, and he led you to go against him for a short run, in which he is at his best. all the time, he knew he was not your match for a long race. that doesn't make a bit of difference to him." "not a bit," said andy. "he is not looking for the good of old yale, but he is looking to get into the big race at the tournament. he has been lucky in everything he has tried, and he is depending on his luck to win the race and acquire further glory for himself." "let's have another drink all round," suggested flemming, as he produced thornton's flask once more. yates took several swallows. emery and flemming pretended to drink in a hearty manner, but they allowed very little whiskey to go down their throats. this drink seemed to be the one that aroused yates to action. he suddenly jumped to his feet, and there was a fierce look on his face as he cried: "come on!" "what are you going to do?" asked flemming, quickly thrusting the flask into his pocket. "i am going to find frank merriwell!" came hoarsely from yates' lips. chapter xxxiv. baseball. there was a crush in the rear end of the smoker. a crowd had gathered there, and the lads were singing, shouting, laughing and making merry in various ways. some fellows were sitting on the backs of the seats. the trainmen could not drive them down. it was useless to try with such a set of lads. danny griswold was astride the shoulders of dismal jones, who was the only solemn-looking man in the car. occasionally jones would "break out" in his peculiar camp-meeting revivalist's style and would deliver fragments of a sermon on the frivolous things of the world. each time he was quickly suppressed, however. into the midst of this jolly crowd came a lad whose face was flushed and whose eyes were gleaming strangely. his lips curled back over his set teeth, and he seemed to quiver with a strange eagerness. "let me through!" he growled, forcing his way along. "there is a fellow here i want to see." there was something in his voice that caused them to give him room to advance till he was standing directly in front of frank merriwell. then his hands clinched, and, as he tried to speak, he choked with passion, so that words failed him. a sudden hush came over the throng, for they saw that there was trouble impending. "it's yates!" somebody muttered the words, and they seemed to break the spell that had fallen on the enraged lad who was glaring at frank. "yes, it is yates!" he snarled. "i suppose all you fellows are frank merriwell's chums, but that makes no difference to me." he stopped a moment, but he did not take his eyes from frank's face. he seemed to be gathering himself for the supreme effort. "merriwell," he said, his voice shaking, "you are a sneak!" every one expected frank would leap to his feet and strike yates, but he did nothing of the kind. the hot blood rushed to his face, and then fled away again, leaving him cold and pale. about his firm jaws there was a sudden hardening, and in turn he showed his teeth. "mr. yates," he said, "you are not complimentary." "i do not mean to be to such a fellow as you!" yates shot back. "you are insulting!" "i am if the truth can be considered an insult." "i demand an explanation." "i do not propose to waste any breath in giving explanations to such as you. you know why i say you are a sneak--you know you are a sneak!" frank merriwell laughed. that laugh was a warning that he was dangerous. diamond knew it; rattleton knew it. they held themselves ready to make room when frank merriwell saw fit to act. "you put yourself in a bad light by calling a man a sneak and then refusing to tell why you call him that," said frank. yates did not know merriwell very well and that laugh had not sounded a warning to him. instead, it really seemed that frank was frightened, and he had laughed to conceal the fact. "it is my conviction," he cried, "that you are not only a sneak, but you are also a coward! if that is not enough, i will make it still more forcible." quick as a flash, he struck frank in the face with his clinched fist. a gasp came from those who witnessed this act. there was no time given for further words. like a leaping panther, frank merriwell shot up and alighted on duncan yates. he clutched yates in his strong grasp, snapped him off his feet, swung him into the air. the spectators had fallen back in a wild sort of scramble to get out of the way. thus enough room was made for merriwell to act. it was a warm day, and the car door was open. almost before any one could tell what frank thought of doing, he leaped out through the doorway, and, with the lad who had delivered the blow still poised above his head, seemed on the verge of hurling yates from the flying train! "stop, frank!" diamond shouted the words. cries of horror broke from the lips of the other spectators of the scene, but, strangely enough, none of them made a move to prevent merriwell from carrying out his apparent purpose. if merriwell flung yates from the train the unfortunate lad who had aroused frank's wrath must be instantly killed. at first, when he had felt himself clutched, yates had struggled, but, to his amazement, he seemed like a child in the grasp of the infuriated athlete. as frank reached the platform and poised yates aloft, the latter seemed to realize his peril, and fear robbed him of nerve and strength. he was limp and helpless in merriwell's grasp. and then, almost as quickly as frank had caught the lad up, he lowered him to his feet. again merriwell laughed, but this time there really seemed to be something of amusement in the sound. "if i had dropped you off, mr. yates, you must have been injured," he said, and his voice was soft and gentle. yates gasped. "jee!" chattered bink stubbs. "that was a regular hair-raiser, as the fellow said when he finished the blood-and-thunder story." yates swayed and caught at the iron rail. the flush had gone out of his face, which was ashen-gray. "better go into the car," said merriwell. "you seem rather unsteady, and you might fall off here." without a word, yates steadied himself by taking hold of the side of the door, and entered the car. merriwell followed, taking out his handkerchief and pressing it lightly to the spot on his cheek where a slight bruise marked the spot that had felt the enraged lad's fist. the witnesses of this scene seemed to breathe freely for the first time. they stared at frank as if his marvelous display of strength had been a revelation to them. yates had plenty of friends, as he had never seemed a bad sort of fellow, but the fact that he had struck merriwell while the latter was sitting down was against him. "he's been drinking," one declared. "merriwell could not have handled him that way otherwise." "did merriwell really mean to throw him off?" asked another. there were some murmurs of disapproval at frank's action, but the expressions of astonishment and admiration for his display of strength drowned all other sounds. yates turned and looked at frank, but he seemed unable to express his feelings by means of words. jack diamond was flushed with rage. "it would have served the fellow right if merriwell had dropped him off!" declared the hot-blooded southerner. andy emery was near at hand, but he had been unable to give yates any assistance when the latter was grasped by frank. "good heavens!" he kept repeating, as he stared at frank merriwell in a manner that showed his unutterable amazement. it was plain that such a display of strength had been a revelation to him, and from that time emery was bound to regard merriwell with renewed respect. "mr. yates," said frank, quietly, "this is no place to settle any quarrel that has arisen between us; but i wish to say before witnesses that i consider you entirely in the wrong, and certainly you owe me an apology. you may not think so now, but i believe you will think so in time." that was all. he returned to his seat and sat down. yates seemed to hesitate, and then turned away, accompanied by emery. flemming had kept himself in the background during the entire affair. when the train reached springfield yates was in no condition to go to the ball ground. he had taken too much whiskey to carry, and his pretended friends, flemming and emery, were forced to get him out of sight as soon as possible. "that ought to be a settler for him," said diamond. "a fellow who is in training for a race can't afford to get loaded." yale men had heavily backed their own club to win, and it seemed that the majority of the harvard crew was trying to put money on the blue. it was expected by harvard that merriwell would pitch the deciding game, for the actual condition of his hand had been kept a secret, and harvard feared merriwell. to himself frank confessed that he could pitch the game, as his hand was in fairly good condition, but such improvement had not been expected, and it had been arranged that he should do no "twirling." besides that, it was heffiner's last game for yale, and, taking into consideration the record he had made, it seemed no more than right that he should be placed in the box. the usual crowd had gathered to witness the game, and there was the usual display of flags. yale was over-confident; harvard was hopeful, but filled with fears. the game began, and for three innings yale had the advantage. the "sons of old eli" were jubilant, and they made the air ring with their cheers and songs. at the end of the third inning it was seen that harvard must make a change if it had any hope of winning. yedding, the great cambridge pitcher, was "rocky." he could not find the plate, and he was "hammered" when he did "get 'em over." some yale man with an inclination to rhyme had composed some doggerel verse, which about twenty lads were singing to some sort of mongrel tune. "poor harvard she can talk-- (that's all!) at other things she'll balk; we'll beat her in a walk-- hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! "poor harvard's lost her grip-- (that's so!) she's let the pennant slip, we've done her up this trip-- hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" "it is altogether too early in the game to crow," declared frank merriwell. "several things may happen before the ninth inning is over." "oh, we've got the game nailed solid now!" declared bruce browning, in a satisfied way. "robinson will be able to get his shirts out of soak." in the fourth inning harvard sent a new pitcher into the box. it was coulter, who, as a freshman, had pitched against merriwell. coulter was nervous and rather wild at first, but he puzzled the yale men, who could not hit him when he did get them over the plate. "if he steadies down, he will prove to be a bad man," said frank, soberly. "this is his first trial on the regular team, and he is not at his best just now." yale secured one score in the fourth inning, while harvard retired with her third whitewash. in the fifth there was a change. coulter did steady down in a most astonishing manner, for he sent the yale men to the bench in one-two-three order. that seemed to give harvard new life, and, when she came to bat, she showed a determination to do something. right there was where heffiner took a streak of wildness, and harvard scored three times. coulter kept up his work in the sixth, by allowing but one short single to be taken off his delivery, and no yale man got further than second base. then it seemed that harvard came to the plate with a determination to "pound it out." the defenders of the crimson jumped on heffiner's curves, and the way they banged the leather gave the yale crowd symptoms of heart failure. a single, a two-bagger and a homer in quick succession caused heffiner to develop a bad case of "rattles," and it seemed that harvard would never let up. there was consternation in the yale ranks when harvard tied the score with but one man out, and that consternation threatened to become a panic when two more scores came in. old man hicks was set at work "warming up," although it was felt that he must be a desperate resort. when harvard scored again, hicks was sent into the box. the change seemed to work well, for harvard's score getting was brought to an abrupt termination. but yale was in a desperate situation, for, at the beginning of the seventh, harvard was three scores in the lead. merriwell had been on the point of going down and offering to do what he could to check harvard's wild career, but it seemed that old man hicks had done that, and so he sat still. but yale could not score. coulter seemed to feel that the opportunity of his life had arrived, and he sent the spalding's over the plate with all sorts of twists. the yale men could not make fair and satisfactory connections with the ball, so no man reached home. hicks was lucky, and he succeeded in scattering the hits, which, with fine support, enabled him to retire harvard with another goose's egg. the eighth inning was disastrous for the blue, although yale won a score by hard base running. when harvard took her turn, she seemed to fathom dad hicks' delivery, and, for a short time, he was treated quite as bad as heffiner had been. at the end of the eighth inning harvard was six scores ahead, and it was plain that the game was lost for yale. scores of sad-faced yale spectators were heard expressing regret that frank merriwell had not been used in the game. some of the wearers of the blue left the field immediately, unwilling to witness the termination of the game. with despair set upon their faces, the yale men went to the bat, ready to fight to the last gasp. but coulter was also determined not to let slip any of the glory he had won, and all yale's efforts to score were fruitless. the game ended with harvard still six in the lead. phil coulter was the hero of harvard that night, while poor hugh heffiner returned to new haven with his heart almost bursting with disappointment. chapter xxxv. kidnaped. "we'll down harvard in everything at the tournament," was the angry resolve of the disappointed yale crowd, who returned to new haven to find no band and no great gathering of cheering students awaiting them at the station. among them all, not excepting hugh heffiner himself, no one felt worse about the defeat than did frank merriwell. in his heart, he blamed himself for not going to the manager of the yale team and offering his services in case of emergency. he knew it was possible he might not have been able to save the game, but still the possibility that he might have done so bore heavily upon him. but frank did not dream that his enemies would make capital out of the fact that he had not taken any part in the game. he did not know they were saying he had kept among the spectators where he could not be found when things seemed to turn against yale. "merriwell didn't dare pitch any part of that game," they were saying. "he was afraid, and he knew it would dim his glory if harvard won. he has his record, and you won't see him pitching out any games in order to pull yale out of a hole." but yates had ruined his chance of running in the mile race at the tournament by getting full on the train. directly after the next meeting of the committee of arrangements, frank was notified that he had been chosen to represent yale. each night frank took a run out into the country. he was determined to put himself in the very best condition possible. this practice of merriwell's was generally known, and he was watched with interest by friends and foes. the time for the tournament drew near. arrangements for all the contests had been completed. the end of the spring terms had come. commencement was over, and another class had been showered with sheepskins. in all the doings of this busy time of the college year merriwell took little part, as he was putting himself in shape to do his best at the tournament, and the time he had to spare from "grinding" was given to hard physical work. then he went down to a summer cottage on the sound. the cottage was located near southport, and there he continued his training, taking long runs into the country. the day before the great tournament came at last. that afternoon frank took his last run in training. he waited till near evening, and then jogged gently out along the country road. it was dusk when he turned back toward the cottage where he knew bruce browning, rattleton and diamond were loafing on the veranda and awaiting his reappearance. as he was passing through a small patch of woods, a cord that was strung across the road, about six inches from the ground, tripped him, and he fell heavily. frank was stunned by the shock. before he could recover, dark forms rushed out and flung themselves upon him. frank realized that he had been attacked, and he tried to make a fight of it, but the shock of the fall had taken away his strength, and then he found there were three against him. "work lively!" growled a hoarse voice. "he's worse than a tiger in a scrap!" his hands were twisted about behind his back and held there, while a cord was bound about them. in a remarkably brief space of time he was rendered helpless. then frank's feet were bound, and he was forced to submit to the tying of a blindfold over his eyes. before this was accomplished, however, he saw the three men through the gloom, and discovered that all wore masks to hide their faces. when frank was blindfolded, the man who had given all the commands, and who seemed to be the leader, said: "bring out the team." frank's ears told him that one of the men went away, and soon, by the sound, the boy decided that a team was being brought from some place in the woods, where it had been concealed. "what sort of a job is this?" thought the captive lad. "it seems to be a case of real highwaymen right here in connecticut. and still they do not seem like highwaymen, for then they would have robbed me and let me go. they are up to something else." he soon found that his captors meant to remove him from the spot, for he was lifted from the ground and tossed into the bottom of the wagon, like a sack of grain. then the men climbed in, the horses were whipped up, and away they all went. after a drive of at least two hours, during which frank had several times asked where they were taking him, and had been repeatedly cautioned to "shut up," the team came to a halt. frank was glad of it, for much of the distance had been made over rough roads, and he had been several times menaced in order to keep him quiet, and once choked into silence by two of the men, who sat upon him while they passed another team. frank was taken from the wagon, his feet were set at liberty, and he was marched into some sort of a building. "there," said the hoarse voice of the leader. "he's safe and solid here." through the blindfold there was a glow of light, and then the cloth was removed from his eyes. frank found himself in a rough room, to which there seemed to be no windows and but one door. in the room there was a table, a broken chair, and a rude sort of bed. one of the two men who had brought him into the room coolly sat down astride the chair, and stared at frank, his eyes gleaming by the flaring light of the tallow-dip that burned on the table. "set down," invited the man, making a motion toward the bed. "we offer our visitors the upholstered furniture out of courtesy. make yourself at home." "don't care if i do," returned the boy, with equal coolness, "but in order for me to be thoroughly comfortable, it will be necessary for me to have my hands free." "sorry i can't accommodate ye just now, but i want to have a talk with yer first. set down." frank obeyed. "well," he observed, "i suppose i might as well, as long as i do not seem to have much to say about it; but i'd like to know what this little game is." "thought you'd be kinder curious," said the man, with a hoarse laugh. "well, ye see, it's this way. we've heard so much about you that we thought we'd kinder like the pleasure of your company for a day or two, and so we brought you over here." a day or two! frank gasped for breath, as a sudden light dawned upon him. if he were held there for a single day he would not appear at madison square garden to take part in the tournament! "this is the work of my enemies!" he mentally cried. "they have hired these ruffians to kidnap and hold me till the tournament is over! cæsar's ghost! i never dreamed such a thing could be done in this quiet part of the new england states!" chapter xxxvi. the tournament. the interior of madison square garden was decorated with the colors of a dozen colleges, and was aglow with hundreds of bright lights. the rows of seats, tier upon tier, were packed with people. the private boxes were all taken. a band was playing a lively air, and the tournament was on. down in the great cleared space young men from the various prominent colleges of the country were struggling for victory in the athletic feats on the programme. at times some well-known amateur contestant was greeted by cheers as he appeared or accomplished a feat that was plainly remarkable. the favorites were greeted by the yells of the colleges which they represented, as they were seen preparing for some difficult attempt. it was a scene of the greatest excitement and enthusiasm. pretty girls were there in large numbers, their faces glowing with admiration for the young men who were struggling like gladiators down in the modern arena. the swell set of new york occupied the boxes. fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, cousins and aunts of the contestants were on hand, watching with eagerness for the appearance of those in which their interest centered. in some instances the parents of the young men engaged in the contests were plainly from the country. their manners, their dress, their language indicated this. it was a wonderful occasion for them, and their hearts almost ceased beating when the favorite for whom they were watching showed himself and made his brave effort in some trial of strength and skill. happy were they if he acquitted himself nobly. the blue of old yale dominated one great section of seats. and when a yale man won in some of the contests hundreds upon hundreds of strong-lunged young men arose to their feet and sent the college slogan pealing forth, while that great mass of blue fluttered and swayed as if swept by a fitful tempest. it was yale against the field, and old eli was acquitting herself nobly. one of the private boxes was occupied by the hon. andrew flemming and his family. his wife and his two daughters were there. in a corner of the box sat two lads who were talking earnestly in guarded tones. they were tom thornton and andy emery. thornton and emery had been entertaining fred flemming's sisters, but now, for the moment, they had drawn aside and were earnestly discussing some point that seemed to interest them greatly. "it must be that the matter is settled, and yates has been substituted for the one who is missing," said thornton; "but it seems rather astonishing that flem should be so sure merriwell would not appear." "but he did seem sure," nodded emery. "he told me over and over that merriwell would not be here to run." "and you must know enough of frank merriwell to be sure he would be here if he could get here, even if he had to crawl on his knees." "that's right." "then what has happened to merriwell?" "you tell!" "i can't. i know flemming would go to any extreme to carry out his desires. in fact, he is altogether too reckless and headstrong. i knew he did not mean it when he told merriwell he was ready to bury the hatchet, and i have felt that he was not talking to hear his own voice when he told us merriwell would not be on hand to race to-night." at this moment fred flemming entered the box. his face was flushed, and there was a look of triumph in his eyes. he spoke to his mother, and then addressed himself to the two boys, saying: "it's all right." some event below attracted the full attention of all in the box save the trio in one corner. "yates will run?" asked emery, eagerly. "you bet your filthy!" nodded fred. "i told you he would." "but where is merriwell?" flemming smiled mysteriously. "it is evident," he said, "that mr. merriwell decided not to attend the tournament." "look here, fred," said thornton, nervously, "you haven't done anything that will get you into trouble, have you?" flemming snapped his fingers. "what is it to me if merriwell sees fit to stay away?" he asked. "he may tell some sort of a wild story, but it seems that he was afraid to appear and run. all i ask of you fellows is that you keep your mouths closed on one point." "what is that?" "i don't care to have you breathe to a living soul that i knew in advance that merriwell would not be on hand." "we'll not say a word about it." "yates had no idea that he might be called on. i found it necessary to keep with him all the time and see that he did not get geared up. then i had him where he could be found by the committee in case he was needed." "and----" "and he was found." "he has gone to prepare for the race?" "sure." "that settles it! merriwell has failed to show up!" a wild yale cheer turned their attention to the arena at this moment. big hickok was preparing to put the shot, and he had been greeted in this manner by his admirers as he stepped out. hickok was a giant, and yale had the utmost confidence in him. thus far the best record made by any other man was forty-one feet and five inches. hickok must do his very best to beat that. the cheers died away as the yale goliath poised himself for the effort. he crouched, and then the heavy iron sailed through the air and fell with a thud to the ground. the tape was quickly drawn, and then the score went up. forty-two feet and three inches! once more yale let herself loose, and it seemed that the roof must crack. hickok quietly declined to take the two remaining trials open to him. he was the last man on the list, and yale had won. the hammer-throwing was to follow, and he was entered for the contest. in the hammer-throwing contest yale had another opportunity to yell, for hickok was again the winner over all others, making a record of one hundred and twenty-three feet and nine inches. the contests followed each other in swift succession, and yale more than held her own. there was no reason why the wearers of the blue should not be jubilant. at last, the races came on. up in the flemming box were three lads who were anxiously awaiting the announcement of the one-mile run. despite the triumph which he felt, fred flemming betrayed a sort of hilarious nervousness as he chatted with his sisters and his friends. watching fred closely, tom thornton saw that he was under a strain. and again thornton wondered what had become of frank merriwell. princeton won one of the shorter races, and harvard won another. in each of these a yale man was second. "if mr. merriwell had contented himself with being less ambitious, he might be here to-night," said flemming, in an aside to his college comrades. emery and thornton exchanged glances. there was a significance about such language that could not be misunderstood. thornton shivered a bit, and, unconsciously, drew back from flemming. the excitement of the evening was at its highest pitch thus far. the contestants for yet another race were getting into position, and, in another moment, they were off like a pack of greyhounds. this time a yale man carried his colors to victory, and the "sons of old eli" yelled their approval and delight. yale was doing nobly. this night she was making a record for herself that would be remembered. but now came the greatest race of all--the mile run. preparations were made for it, and feverish anticipation swayed the great multitude. fred flemming was literally quivering as he leaned over the rail of the box. "let's give yatsie a great send-off!" he exclaimed. "they are coming out in a minute." he was watching the point where the runners must first appear. his hand shook on the rail. the runners appeared. the first was beatty, the harvard man, and the harvard crowd "hoo-rahed" hoarsely. then came mansford, of princeton, and the tigers let themselves loose. jetting, of dartmouth, followed, and the new hampshire lads greeted him in a manner that brought the blood to his cheeks. then little judd, the u. p. man, trotted out, and he was received with howls of delight from the quakers. "now--now comes yates!" cried fred flemming. the yale man appeared, and flemming stood up to cheer. he dropped into his seat as if he had been shot, his face turning ashen gray, and the cheer dying on his lips. "good heavens!" gasped tom thornton. "it is frank merriwell!" but his exclamation was drowned by the mighty cheer which greeted the appearance of the yale standard-bearer. chapter xxxvii. to victory--conclusion. "merriwell! merriwell! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah!" it was a mighty roar of voices. then came the well-known yale yell, which was repeated again and again. the entire yale crowd was standing, wildly waving hands, hats, flags, handkerchiefs, anything and everything that could be found to wave. it was an ovation that might have gladdened the heart of an emperor. it was not strange that the sound nerved the yale man to vow within himself to die in the effort to win for dear "old eli," if he could not win otherwise. but up in one of the boxes not far from the starting point were three young men who were utterly overcome with amazement and consternation. one of them had a face that was drawn and pale, as if he had received a mortal wound. "what's it mean, flem?" asked andy emery, in fred's ear. "merriwell is here! have you been horsing us?" then, for all that his parents and his sisters were present, fred flemming ground out a bitter cry. his voice shook and he choked, as he answered: "you know as well as i what it means! oh, what luck!" he was utterly unmanned, and his mother, observing his pallor, asked him if he had been suddenly taken ill. he answered her with a snarl, like a mad dog. the five runners came down to the line. just as they did so, duncan yates burst into the flemming box. "what sort of a jolly business is this, flemming?" he demanded, his face pale with anger. and then, seeing there were ladies present, he removed his cap and mumbled an apology. fred did not introduce yates; he was too much broken up to think of such a thing. "that's what i'd like to know," he said, helplessly. "you know we were told merriwell was not on hand to run." "but he showed up in time to dress, and i was coolly informed that i wasn't in it. i object to such treatment, and i want to know if it was a job on me." "if it was a job, i'll give you my word i know nothing about it," said fred, in a weak and humble manner. at this moment, as they looked down, frank merriwell was seen to gaze straight toward them, and something like a scornful, triumphant smile flitted across his face. "i'd like to strangle him!" grated flemming. the runners were preparing for the start. pistol in hand, the starter stood ready to give the signal. his voice was heard bidding them make ready. a moment later, the pistol cracked, and the runners leaped away. "oh, if he'll come in the tail-ender!" panted fred flemming. the band was playing its liveliest air, and the runners sped around the track like fawns. graceful fellows they were, with the possible exception of little judd. judd started off bravely, however, seeming to scoot into the lead like a squirrel, his short legs fairly twinkling. the u. p. crowd let out a great cheer to encourage the little fellow. beatty, of harvard, was likewise a quick starter, and he was right at judd's heels, while mansford and merriwell got away side by side. jetting, the dartmouth representative, was slow about starting, but still he was a runner. it had been expected that other colleges would take part in this race, but, for certain reasons, there were but five starters. around the track ran the lithe-limbed youngsters, with judd holding the lead for two laps. then he was passed by beatty, who spurted to get to the front, and this gave harvard an opportunity to "hoo-rah." from the very outset it seemed that merriwell and mansford were in for a neck-and-neck match. they clung together in a singular manner. for a time the five runners were well bunched, but there came a stringing out at last. little judd began to lag, and jetting, who had pushed past merriwell and mansford, went by the u. p. man and began to crowd beatty. the new hampshire boys cheered him on, and the sound of the yell he loved to hear got into his head and worked his undoing. otherwise jetting must have been a dangerous man for the leaders at the finish. as it was, he pumped himself out some seconds too soon. at the first quarter harvard led, and she was still leading, with dartmouth second, when the first half was passed. then came a fierce struggle for the lead, which ended with the weakening of both beatty and jetting. beatty weakened first, however, and fell back, but jetting was seen to stagger a bit, recover and go on. merriwell and mansford passed beatty and narrowed the gap between them and jetting. mansford set his teeth and gained an advantage of ten feet by a quick break. this advantage he was resolved to hold. jetting fought like a tiger to hold the lead, but mansford crowded him harder and harder, finally going to the front. then came a desperate struggle between merriwell and jetting, but yale's colors were carried into second place at the beginning of the last quarter. and now--now there was excitement. the finish was drawing near, and princeton had the lead, although the distance was short. as frank passed the yale crowd he was given a rousing cheer, which seemed to put fresh life and strength into his body. he crept up on mansford, who was running like the wind. the difference grew less and less. eight feet, six feet, four feet--could he close the gap? then, for a moment, a black cloud seemed to pass before frank's eyes. his heart was in his mouth, where it lay hot and dry, like a stone that has baked in the sun. it seemed that he must fall. "win or die! win or die!" those words rang through his head as if some one had shouted them into his ear. "i will!" he knew the end was close at hand, and still the black and yellow was before him. then it was that frank nerved himself for one last great effort, and dashed forward with a fresh burst of speed that seemed little short of marvelous. that burst carried him to mansford's side--carried him into the lead--carried him over the line at the finish--a winner! there was a grand supper in new york that night, at which frank merriwell was the guest of honor. he was toasted again and again by his admiring friends, and it seemed that everybody was his friend at last. there were speeches and songs and a general merry time. old yale had carved her way to glory once more, and among her standard-bearers merriwell was the leader. "tell us, tell us, old man," cried paul pierson, "how was it that you happened to be so late in appearing at the garden? really we had given up hope that you would come, and were for getting yates into running rig. you barely got along in time. what kept you away?" "i was unavoidably detained," answered frank, smiling. "yes, but that is an unsatisfactory explanation. rattleton and the fellows who were with you reported your mysterious disappearance, and we were for putting detectives on the case to-morrow. can't you clear up the mystery?" "well, you see, it is like this: i fell in with some gentlemen who seemed to take a strong interest in me. note the word strong there. in fact they were too strong for me. they seemed to like me exceedingly well, and they pressed me to stay all night with them. i was sort of roped into it, as it were. i found it difficult to get away without wounding their feelings." this was said in a queer manner, and the lads about the table looked at each other inquiringly. "but you managed to get away?" said pierson. "yes, i offered them inducements in the shape of coin of the realm. they seemed to be out for stuff, and some person, who must love me dearly--had induced them to take charge of me and care for me tenderly. however i worked on their greed by offering more than my friend had offered, and, as i promised not to make too much of a fuss about it, i was let off, but barely in time to reach here. i am not going to say anything more about this matter just now, but i expect to look around some and find out who my friend is who engaged the gentlemen to care for me so tenderly. when i find him--well, i won't do a thing to him!" "well, here's luck to you!" cried pierson, lifting his glass. "gentlemen, here's luck to frank merriwell, the best all-around man who ever called dear old yale _alma mater_. drink--drink hearty!" a few words more and we will bring this story to a close. frank was truly the hero of the college, and it was many a day before his wonderful dash was forgotten by even the most indifferent of the students. transcriber's note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. bold text is denoted by =equal signs=. the 'pointing hand' symbol has been replaced by ==>. the form of fractions in this book, for example ' - ' for ¼, has been retained. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. more detail can be found at the end of the book. [illustration: hand book of summer sports pedestrianism running & jumping bicycling archery hare & hounds &c. beadle and adams--new york the american news co., & chambers st. n.y.] standard books of games and pastimes beadle and adams, publishers, new york. dime base-ball player for . containing the league and national club averages for , together with the model games of the season. the prize winners in the national championship, and new chapters on batting, fielding, and base running. also, a new scoring system, with record of the metropolitan championship games and pacific league averages. edited by henry chadwick. hand-book of croquet. a complete guide to the principles and practice of the game. this popular pastime has, during the few years of its existence, rapidly outgrown the first vague and imperfect rules and regulations of its inventor; and, as almost every house at which it is played adopts a different code of laws, it becomes a difficult matter for a stranger to assimilate his play to that of other people. it is, therefore, highly desirable that one uniform system should be generally adopted, and hence the object of this work is to establish a recognized method of playing the game. dime book of games. out-door and in-door summer games for tourists and families in the country, picnics, etc., comprising games, forfeits and conundrums for childhood and youth, single and married, grave and gay. a pocket hand-book for the summer season. cricket and foot-ball. a desirable cricketer's companion, containing complete instructions in the elements of bowling, batting and fielding; also the revised laws of the game; remarks on the duties of umpires; the mary-le-bone cricket club rules and regulations; bets, etc. by henry chadwick. hand-book of pedestrianism. giving the rules for training and practice in walking, running, leaping, vaulting, etc. edited by henry chadwick. yachting and rowing. this volume will be found very complete as a guide to the conduct of watercraft, and full of interesting information alike to the amateur and the novice. the chapter referring to the great rowing-match of the oxford and cambridge clubs on the thames, will be found particularly interesting. riding and driving. a sure guide to correct horsemanship, with complete directions for the road and field; and a specific section of directions and information for female equestrians. drawn largely from "stonehenge's" fine manual, this volume will be found all that can be desired by those seeking to know all about the horse, and his management in harness and under the saddle. guide to swimming. comprising advisory instructions; rules upon entering the water; general directions for swimming; diving: how to come to the surface; swimming on the back; how to swim in times of danger; surf-bathing--how to manage the waves, the tides, etc.; a chapter for the ladies; a specimen female swimming school; how to manage cases of drowning; dr. franklin's code for swimmers; etc. illustrated. by capt. philip peterson. ==> for sale by all newsdealers; or sent, _post-paid_, to any address, on receipt of price--ten cents each. beadle and adams, publishers, william st., n. y. handbook of summer athletic sports, comprising: walking, running, jumping, hare and hounds, bicycling, archery, etc. _with complete american and english athletic rules._ edited by capt. fred. whittaker. new york: beadle and adams, publishers, william street. entered according to act of congress, in the year , by beadle and adams, in the office of the librarian of congress, at washington. [illustration: spectators seats.] contents. page. pedestrianism, walkers vs. runners, scientific walking, scientific running, dress for pedestrians, training for a match, laying out a track, conducting a match, records of pedestrianism, jumping and pole-leaping, bicycling, american athletic rules, english athletic rules, hare and hounds, archery, handbook of summer athletic sports. pedestrianism. a wonderful increase of popularity has lately attended the art of walking. the steady improvement made in speed and endurance by professional and amateur walkers and the introduction of international contests have brought this about within a few years. when the firm of beadle and adams published their first dime book of pedestrianism, the only american walker of reputation was edward payson weston. the record of professionals and amateurs had then developed nothing greater than the performances of captain barclay of england, who first did a thousand miles in a thousand hours. weston's famous walk from portland to chicago caused the only ripple of excitement in the sporting world on the subject of walking from the time of barclay up to . since that period, things have changed greatly. weston's achievements have inspired others, and those others have not only equaled but excelled weston on many occasions. the names of o'leary, rowell, corkey, and "blower" brown, all men born in the british islands, have been recorded above those of weston at different times; but it remains to the glory of the american pedestrian that in he beat them all. all these changes and ups and downs in pedestrianism for the last ten years have made the old books obsolete, and the publishers of the former dime book of pedestrianism have determined to issue a new edition, fully up to the times in all respects. besides practical instructions in walking, founded on the different styles of noted professionals, we shall annex much matter never before put in a handbook, concerning the preparation of tracks, measurements, timing and scoring, for the information of that large class of people living in country towns and villages, who have plenty of walkers, but no experience in the conduct of matches, and no opportunity to see how things are done in first class matches. every one can walk, but not every one can become a great walker. any young man of good health and strength can learn to walk five miles in an hour, but the number of men who can walk twenty-five miles in five hours is very small, and will always remain so. if we take the population of any town or village we shall find that out of every hundred young men from eighteen to twenty-five years of age, there are about sixty more or less given to athletic sports, twenty who are very enthusiastic about them, and six or eight who would make _good_ walkers, runners and general athletes. of this six or eight, there is generally one who is better than his fellows, and he becomes the village champion in one sport or another. this is about the true proportion--one per cent--of the young male community, that is capable of being taken at random and converted into good professional walkers. a general system of early physical training would soon increase this proportion, but as we are never likely to see any such system adopted we must be content with what we can get. out of those capable of becoming great walkers and striving to become so, the proportion of second rate men is quite large. there have been great long-distance walkers before, and probably will be again; but a man of the peculiar constitution of edward payson weston is very seldom met with. other men have, at times, beaten him; but he has outstayed them all at last in endurance. no other athlete on record has remained among contestants of the first-class for so many years, for be it remembered that weston's career as a walker began on thanksgiving day, , the day on which he arrived at chicago from portland, and that so late as , twelve years after, he was able to do miles in a week against the best men of england, at a time when his latest rival, o'leary, had utterly broken down. ten years after his first appearance on the track, he was able to give o'leary, in his prime, a tough battle, making miles in six days, and none of his antagonists can say as much for themselves. the average duration of a great long-distance man, whether walker or runner, seems to be about two years. it was in that o'leary came to the top of the wave, and in he went under. weston alone keeps on, apparently as fresh at forty as he was at twenty-six. all this argues in weston very great physical power and strictly temperate habits, and he possesses both in a remarkable degree. there, however, the praise ends. as a scientific walker, weston is inferior, not only to o'leary, but even pitted against such amateurs as harry armstrong, of harlem, c. bruce gillie, of the scottish-american club, or a dozen others we could name. when he was in his best form, about - , it was the remark of an english trainer, that weston was "a mystery to him; that he didn't see how he could walk at all on the bad system he used, and that any other man would have broken down utterly in the attempt." weston used to get through his tasks, and does still, but only at the cost of terrible fatigue, which he might have saved himself on a better system. o'leary, on the other hand, is an example of how the best training, constitution and system may be neutralized and overthrown by over-confidence and dissipation. as a scientific walker, o'leary has no equal, and were he of the same temperate habits as weston, he might still head the list as world's champion. as it is, the rows of empty champagne bottles that were taken from his tent at gilmore's, when he broke down in the rowell match, were the evidence and symbol of his ruin. it was not in his case, as he said in the _spirit of the times_, that "runners can beat walkers." o'leary, himself, in four or five matches, had beaten all the time ever made by runners, save that of "blower" brown; but the o'leary of those days had succumbed to high living, and a poor excuse was better than none. yet, the man's system was, and is, magnificent, and enabled him to do respectable work against hughes and campana, when he really was not fit to go at all. had he possessed weston's temperate habits, or had weston possessed o'leary's science as a walker, the result would have been a pedestrian wonder that would have lasted many years longer than o'leary. walkers vs. runners. the success of weston and o'leary in their long-distance walks in england surprised the britons greatly. up to the time of weston's appearance in that country, englishmen had been accustomed to consider themselves the best walkers in the world; but the two americans--the native and the naturalized--soon took the conceit out of them. the best english long-distance walkers were peter crossland and henry vaughan, who had both done excellent work in matches of the kind then practiced in england. but the introduction of six-day contests, first started by weston, put these professionals on unfamiliar ground, and they found that a man who could walk a hundred miles in one day was not able to cope with these american wonders, who could finish five hundred miles in six days. the englishmen laid their defeat to the right cause--unfamiliar methods; and sir john astley, a rich sporting baronet, to put both parties on an equality, introduced the six-day "go-as-you-please" match, soon to supersede all others. it was thought that runners would have the advantage over walkers in this match. their backers claimed that by going over the ground faster they would gain more time for rest, and so in the end go further. the first astley belt match falsified all their data. in the famous contest at agricultural hall, london, from march th to march d, , daniel o'leary covered - miles, in hours minutes seconds, confining himself to walking after the first fifty miles. he had against him the great english long-distance runners and the best long-distance walker, vaughan, all of whom he defeated decisively. vaughan stopped at miles--a score he has never since equaled--"blower" brown retired at , and "corkey," who had things all his own way for the first three days, broke down utterly on the fourth; while hazael and rowell were earlier satisfied that they had no chance. in the same year o'leary defeated with ease john hughes and peter napoleon campana, surnamed "sport," both runners, and seemed to be secure of holding the astley belt for life. indeed, had he not, like most sporting men, been deceived by the exaggerated reports of campana's prowess, he might be champion to-day. the reason for this statement is simple. campana's bridgeport record, as it turned out from after investigation, was a deliberate fraud, got up by some low sporting men, who probably did not at first dare to hope for the success which it attained. they began by running their man on a short track, and when that fraud was discovered made a merit of having the course publicly remeasured by the city surveyor. the more important part of the fraud was not discovered till after "sport's" ignominious defeat by o'leary, and then only by the confession of his bridgeport scorers and time-keepers. it turned out that they had been crediting him with laps never run, and that they had employed men to personate him, late at nights, when he was really asleep, these men running for him. by means of these fraudulent representations they rolled up such a score for campana that he was credited with miles in a six-day match. o'leary, who, besides his hughes match, had been giving several -mile walks, knew that he was no longer in condition to walk against a good man for the championship, and therefore made the match one for money alone. had he allowed the belt to be in the stakes there is no doubt that he would have won it for the third and last time, when he would have become its absolute possessor. in the meantime, however, the runners in england had been improving their style immensely, for in the second astley match, beginning oct. th, and closing nov. d, , william gentleman, (_alias_ "corkey,") made - miles in hours, min., sec.; thus beating o'leary's distance by a trifle, and his time by more than an hour. this match it was that raised the spirits of sir john astley, and induced him to send over rowell (who made miles in the same match) to beat o'leary. sir john knew what he was about, and had kept o'leary in view all the year. the scores of the american champion's matches with hughes and campana, showed that the man was failing, and if so, rowell was good enough to beat him, as there was no other really formidable walker in america; so astley judged, and correctly, too. the victory of rowell over the american walkers caused an instantaneous revulsion of public sentiment in favor of runners, a revulsion artfully increased by o'leary's widely-published dictum that the runners were always "bound to beat the walkers." this, however, was not by any means proven at that time. the real truth was that champagne, not rowell, beat o'leary; and rowell's record in the race was twenty miles short of the champion's best walking record. the other competitors in the match were simply not first-class men. the cause of the runners has, however, received a fresh impetus since rowell's victory by the still more remarkable feat of "blower" brown (always a "good man") who in the third astley belt match, april d- th, , made the amazing distance of miles in hours. finally the veteran weston beat even brown's record by the superlative score of miles over the same track, opposed to brown himself and hazael. since that time brown has made miles over the same track, and a negro lawyer from boston named hart has made miles in madison square garden, finishing april , . as the record now stands, in contests where almost super-human endurance and speed are required, ordinary runners may win, but only at the expense of a waste of physical energy that a scientific walker does not suffer. they go faster and manage to live through the contest, but that is all. the introduction of "go-as-you-please" contests, has, however, given rise to a new style of long-distance running, which is as strictly scientific as professional walking, and to these two branches of pedestrianism let us now devote our attention. scientific walking. every one walks more or less, but very few understand the principles of scientific walking. the science consists in two things: st. how to acquire the longest stride practicable to the physique of the walker; d. how to distribute the weight of the body so that the greatest effort shall be made with the least possible exertion. [illustration: the unskilled walker.] many walkers acquire the first part of this science, and some understand the second division of the subject, but very few can combine the two, like o'leary. for short-distance matches, in which contests up to twenty-five miles are included, the number of scientific walkers is reasonably large, both among professionals and so-called amateurs. they almost all walk on a correct system, similar to that of o'leary, but inasmuch as their exertions do not last so long a time, they can afford to make them more vigorous. if their stride be no longer, proportionately, than that of o'leary, the number of steps per minute taken by them is greater, and they cover the ground at a rate that no untrained person can equal without breaking into a trot. the rate at which the best of them can go is shown by the marvelous feats of perkins, the english champion, who has the record of a mile walked in _six minutes and twenty-three seconds_, and eight miles walked in _an hour, less fifty-five seconds_. such performances show that perkins can out-walk any ordinary road-horse going on a trot. even an amateur of our own country--t. h. armstrong--has walked seven miles in fifty-six minutes. it is needless to say that no untrained person could equal this, four miles an hour being very sharp walking to most people; and it becomes a matter of interest to know how the professionals do it, and how their walk differs from that of an unskilled man. [illustration: the professional.] the sight of a walking-match does a good deal toward explaining the mystery, and the foregoing cuts will show the main points of difference between the skilled and unskilled pedestrian. the unskilled amateur, who sets out to walk fast, generally makes several grave mistakes. he leans his body forward, bends his back, lowers his head, swings his arms at full length, and allows his knees to bend. the consequence is that when he is doing his very best his attitude is very much like that in the first cut, depicting the unskilled walker. there is no question that the poor fellow is doing his best, and very little doubt that he can not last long at the rate he is going. contrast with this figure that of the second cut, showing a professional in full stride. you are at full liberty to laugh at the figure, for there is no question that it has strong elements of the ludicrous; but for all that it is not exaggerated, and such attitudes may be seen in every last short-distance match. now it is time to note the points of difference between the two men and to show where the professional has the advantage over the other. first note that a perpendicular line dropped from the center of each man's chest between the shoulders to the ground, and continued upward through his head would represent the line in which his weight falls. draw such a line and you will find that in the case of the unskilled walker it strikes the ground close to his forward heel, while his head is in advance of it. consequently he has to support the weight of his head, with all the disadvantage of leverage, by muscular exertion, and the strain must fall on his back. in the professional, on the other hand, the weight falls on a nearly perpendicular column through the body, which is in balance, striking the ground midway between the points of support--the feet. if the man were to stop just where he is, he is in a position to resist a shove either forward or back. a smart push from behind would infallibly send our unskilled friend on his nose. note also that the professional's body, if anything, inclines backward, and think of the reason. remember that when in rapid motion there is always a strong tendency to fall forward with the upper part of the body, a consequence of its weight and momentum. the balance of the body can therefore be sent a little back of the line which would be proper when standing still, to counteract the force of this momentum. so much for distribution of weight. next note that the professional has both legs straight, and can therefore take a greater stride than any one with bent knees. note, moreover, that he plants his heel first at the very extremity of his stride, and thus gains on every step the whole length of his foot, for after the heel is planted the toe comes down in advance by its own weight without labor. if he were to point his toe downward, as in the military "goose-step," he would lose all this advantage as soon as the foot was planted. our next remark is that whereas the tyro swings his arms full length with open hands the professional clenches his fists and bends his arms double. with this same action of the arms comes another of the shoulders, which is of great importance. the working of the shoulders in fast walking is a natural and almost ineradicable habit. a fast walker _will_ swing his arms, no matter how he is cautioned. we have seen many a drill master driven to despair by the swinging of arms of a marching squad, after all his cautions. the fact is, the swing is right and the drill master wrong. the faster a man walks, the more his shoulders swing, by an effort of nature to lift the weight of his body from the rear foot and to let it down on the front heel as lightly as possible. the usual way of accomplishing this result is to swing the arm at full length, but this fatigues the walker in two ways: first, by the resistance of the air to the arm, cutting it; second, by the leverage of the hand at the end of the arm, which has to be counteracted by the shoulder muscles. both these effects are obviated by the simple expedient of bending the arm in proportion to the speed, and clenching the hand. when at top speed, the forearm of the advanced shoulder should be perpendicular, that of the rear shoulder horizontal, and as the speed decreases so should the angle of the arms become less acute. the difference in speed and ease of movement between a walker who holds up his arms and one who lets them swing full length is very striking, and our readers can try for themselves the experiment of walking in both ways, noting the advantage given by holding up the arms. in a race, it is a point that soon tells. lastly we must give one special caution with regard to taking the cut for an exactly accurate representation of what a man should do in order to become a fast walker. as the artist has finished the figure, many people might imagine that he had just made a _spring from the toes of the left foot_, which is in rear. this should not be done, as any weight sent on the toes soon tires out the walker, and although the foot is bent as in the cut, the weight is taken off the toes by working the shoulders. in fact as an english writer has well said, modern professional walking is a series of springs from heel to heel. there are some other points in scientific walking which require the assistance of diagrams to explain them, and these concern the position of the feet best calculated to secure a long stride at the least expense of physical exertion. if there is anything in scientific walking that is puzzling to a civilized beginner, it is the things taught him in childhood which he is now compelled to unlearn. a young savage who has never had any lessons in "deportment," walks correctly enough, though he does not generally care to exert himself sufficiently to make good time at that pace, preferring the "dog-trot." but so far as he walks, he always walks correctly, with a hollow back, stepping from heel to heel, his arms bent, his head thrown back, his toes turned in. the civilized boy, on the other hand, has a bad lesson given to him as soon as he can talk. he is told to "turn his toes out." now it so happens that if you take two men, equally good walkers, and let one turn his toes out, the other in, the "parrot-toed" man is sure to beat the other in the long run. the reason for this statement will be made plain by looking at the following cut and reflecting on a few facts in connection therewith. [illustration: two methods of walking.] in the upper figure we have the foot tracks of a man walking with his toes turned out; in the lower one the same foot takes the same stride "parrot-toed." note that both start with heels on the same line, and that before a step is taken, the man who turns out his toes has lost nearly an inch of forward progress, his toes not touching the same line as that reached by the other, who carries his feet straight. with the close of the first step the difference increases, _both parties taking the same stride, measured from toe to toe_. the parrot-toed man sets his heel down in advance of the other's heel, and gains a further advantage by the greater reach of his toe at every step. the gain of the parrot-toed man is thus shown to be constant when both parties use the same exertion, and must always give him the race, other things being equal. but there is another loss in turning the toes out, which is not less important, and which is shown by the position of the large black spots in the cut. these spots represent the point on which the weight of the body falls in the middle of each stride, and a very important difference will be noted in their position. in the case of the man who turns his toes out, this spot comes under the joint of the great toe, while in the other foot it lies between the second and third toes. in other words, when a man turns out his toes he places _all his weight on a single joint_; when he walks parrot-toed it is _distributed among five joints_. this difference in strain is sure to tell in a long race. it is the experience of many a tramp in moccasins and bare feet that makes the indians and other wild tribes walk parrot-toed, because any other way would soon lame them. our civilized stiff-soled boots, by distributing the weight of the body over a large surface, permit us to go on walking in a vicious fashion, as long as we do not have to use much exertion, but when we come to serious pedestrianism, we must return to savage _i.e._ natural ways, or the strain will tell in lameness, inside of twenty-four hours' work. the celebrated indian-painter, george catlin, gives in his "travels" a striking instance of the difference of the two systems. he was a large, powerful man, and counted himself a good walker in the old times. therefore, when, in company with a number of trappers, fur-traders and indian employes of the fur company, he set out for a hundred-and-fifty-mile tramp over the prairie in moccasins, he made up his mind to lead the caravan and outwalk every one. for the first day he did so, but then found himself lame; and next day, in spite of all he could do, he fell behind inferior men and became a straggler. at the evening camp-fire, the second day, an old trapper noticed his condition and told him the secret of his non-success. "you are walking in moccasins," said the hunter, "and you must learn _to turn in your toes, as the indians do_." catlin took the advice, went to the head of the line next day, and had no more trouble in keeping his place. the moral of the story is obvious. if you wish to last to the end of a match, _turn your toes in_. scientific running. if there is anything which the records of modern pedestrianism settles, it is that we have yet a good deal to learn from savages. here we have been walking matches and running other matches for the last fifty years, only to settle down into the regular indian lope, or dog-trot, for long distance traveling, as faster and less exhausting than the fastest walk. this pace, introduced for the first time into civilized contests by "blower" brown, hazael, corkey and rowell, is the very same which the indian runners of the forest tribes have used from time immemorial. it is the same with which the hindoo palkee-bearers swing through the jungle for mile after mile under a tropic sun without apparent distress, and the universal method adopted by savage and semi-barbarous people whenever they wish to journey fast on foot. the civilized untrained man when he tries the same pace commonly makes a mess of it. "old sport," _alias_ campana, was a good exemplar of the civilized idea of a dog-trot--that of the old volunteer fire-brigade of new york city. it was a fair trot, but it would not last forever. campana put up both arms, working his shoulders as in a walk, and lifted his feet high before and behind, with a weary-looking, lagging step. it entailed about the same exertion as a fast walk and got over the ground no faster. too much work was _wasted in perpendicular motion_. [illustration: long-distance runner.] a model of truly scientific long-distance running is found in little charley rowell, whose style is an exact imitation of brown, corkey and hazael. all four are men of about the same size and weight, standing five feet six inches, and weighing from to lbs. the probable reason for their taking to running was their small size, which debarred them from success as walkers against men with six inches more stride. as runners they have all glided into the same system, which is fairly represented in the cut above, taken from the attitude of rowell. the first thing that one notices about this figure is its ease, and the absence of all appearance of effort. the professional walker, in the cut in preceding chapter, looks as if he was walking hard, but this fellow seems trying to run as slow as he can. the fact is that, while not actually trying to go _slow_, he is trying to _save himself_ as much exertion as is compatible with getting over the ground a little faster than the fastest walk. such a pace is from six to eight miles an hour, and such a pace can be maintained by a well-trained man like rowell after he is unable to walk over three miles an hour. there are several points to notice about the attitude, especially the position of the head and the way the nose is elevated in the air. when rowell started after o'leary on his dog-trot with his nose in the air, people laughed at him and thought he was playing monkey tricks; but when rowell kept his nose in the air for six days it began to be seen that he had a reason for so doing. if any of our readers will try the experiment of running for a distance with the head down and then change to rowell's plan, nose in air and teeth tightly clenched, they will be surprised at the difference in ease of respiration. throwing up the head makes the passage from nose to windpipe nearly straight, and the air has no corners to turn before reaching the lungs. in fast running, or any long-continued exertion, it is necessary to keep the mouth closed, to prevent the rapid evaporation that takes place when the air comes in through the open mouth, parching up the throat. but if we try to breathe _through the nose alone_, with the head bent down, we find that the air does not come freely enough, and distress soon compels us to open the mouth, after which we are speedily at the end of our tether--and wind. holding up the head in the fashion depicted in the cut renders a two hours' run a matter of comparative ease to a well-trained man, and enables one like hazael to run his miles in hours. the next point to notice about our long-distance friend is the position of his arms, which are slightly bent and held rigid by the sides, to steady the walls of the lungs and thus let the chest be kept fully dilated as long as possible. if the man in the cut were running a "sprint race"--that is for any distance inside of a furlong--his arms would go up to the same angles as those of the professional walker, because then he would be at top speed. as it is he is going _as easily as he can_, and does not run fast enough to be able to keep his arms up, _without a conscious muscular exertion, which would tell in a race_. the art of long-distance running is one of real value to any one who wishes to increase the size of his legs to shapeliness, and to be able to go long steps rapidly with the least fatigue. this pace, alternated with walking whenever the breath fails, can be adopted by any person with advantage to health. the strain comes on the muscles of the front of the thigh and calf of the leg, and a return to walking rests these more completely than actual standing still. the combination of the two forms the "go-as-you-please" contest. [illustration: sprint runner.] we have thus fully noticed long-distance running before treating of "sprint" races and other short dashes, because it is a more important branch of athletics. the correct system is one that can be readily acquired by all, old and young, and will be found of great value whenever one is in a hurry to go to a certain place. the regular long-distance trot will take a person further and faster than any other known method of unaided progression. a few words about sprint running will appropriately close this chapter. by the term "sprint" races are meant all those dashes at full speed which are not over a furlong in length. seventy-five and one-hundred-yard dashes are the most common, and the question of excellence as a sprint racer, or "sprinter," depends on single seconds or fractions thereof in time, while the benefits derived from the practice are nothing like those of the mile or ten-mile runner. the form required, however, merits observation. sprint running is only an exaggeration of the system displayed in long-distance work. the arms rise as in fast walking, and for the same reasons, till they are doubled up. the work, being fast, requires that the lungs be kept expanded, therefore the arms are kept stiff and rigid to aid the chest muscles in holding out the walls of the thorax to give room to the lungs. the distribution of weight, on account of the rapid motion, comes to be much the same as in fast walking, but the knees are bent of necessity; because in running the progression is made by springs from toe to toe, instead of heel to heel. the same cause admits of the upper part of the body falling forward, though the elevation of nose and hollowing of back is even more important than in long-distance work, inasmuch as the exertion is more severe while it lasts. the cut on preceding page will illustrate the difference between the sprint runner and the long-distance man. having thus treated of scientific walking and running simply with regard to their mechanical action, we can next turn to the subject of the proper dress to be adopted to make both easy for the pedestrian. dress for pedestrians. the first question of importance both to walkers and runners is how they shall be shod, and too much attention cannot be paid to this matter. we will begin with the needs of a walker. it is not our intention to advertise any particular firm of shoemakers as unequaled in the manufacture of walking-shoes; for the fact is that the very best of the crack firms will turn out botch jobs if you do not watch them sharply. there are four points to be attended to in the selection of walking-shoes:--first, the sole of the shoe must be _under the whole of the foot_; second, the uppers must be soft and flexible; third, the fit must be snug around the ankle and heel, but easy at the toes; fourth, the heels must be low and broad. to secure the first of these points there is only one certain way, which is to stand in stocking feet on a piece of paper, and have the outline of your sole traced on the paper, the actual sole of the shoe being cut to this pattern, and never coming inside of the line. the second and third points depend on your own vigilance and determination not to let the maker put off a stiff, ill-fitting pair of shoes on you. as for the last point, low broad heels, no heels at all would be better. very low heels of india rubber would, however, diminish the jar of fast walking, and are worth more trial than they have yet had. the only reason for having a heel on a walking-shoe is to enable it to resist the unequal wear that comes on that spot, and not to elevate the heel of the natural foot. with regard to the first point, that of the sole being under the whole of the foot, this cannot be too much insisted on, for shoemakers _will_ make them narrower, with the idea of giving an appearance of smallness to the feet. your only remedy is to refuse to take all shoes where the maker does not follow exactly the paper pattern of sole. the softness and flexibility of the uppers are more easily secured, as also the fit round the ankle, where walking-shoes should be _laced_. buttoned boots or "congress gaiters" with elastic sides are not fit to walk in, as neither can be accommodated to the size of a foot that is swelling during a severe match. laces can be relaxed or tightened; buttons are inflexible; while elastic webbing always keeps the same pressure. a professional walker, or one who is ambitious of excelling on the track will need six pairs of shoes in a long race, beginning with those that fit close and changing to those that are old, worn, and easy to the foot, as it becomes sore and inflamed. the man who rests his hopes of fame on mile-walks, needs a different foot-gear, analogous to that of the sprint runner, whom he resembles. strong shoes are thrown away on him. he needs the very lightest kind of slipper that can be made, consistent with enough leather to preserve the foot from bruises, and the running slippers that are sold in all sporting warehouses are just the thing for this kind of work. those that are furnished with spikes are well enough for running on turf, but to be avoided on hard tracks. next after the shoes, and equally great in importance, come the socks. there is only one point necessary to be observed about these: they should be of soft woolen and as thick as possible. hand-knit are preferable to woven socks, but the thickness and softness are the great points, as these secure the absorption of the perspiration. cotton socks would be sure to work into hard wrinkles in a match-walk and cause severe blisters, though it must be owned that these will sometimes occur in spite of all imaginable precautions. about the rest of a pedestrian's dress there is but little to say; as it depends almost entirely on individual fancy. there is no doubt that the best dress for active work of all kinds is a suit of common white cotton tights, which cost less than two dollars, while trunk-breeches can be made at home at an almost nominal cost. but whether the walker rejoice in silk tights and velvet trunks, or remain satisfied with the homely flannel drawers and cardigan jackets of rowell, is a matter of indifference to his speed. the only things he cannot wear if he hopes to do good walking, are ulster overcoats and trowsers. in a word, his dress may be anything he likes, so long as it leaves his joints free; and this is why knee-breeches have never given way to trowsers on a walking-track. trowsers are in fact the worst dress possible for all active exercise. they cramp the knee and prevent its free action in a manner which, while it does not interfere materially with walking at ordinary rates of speed, affects a runner seriously by the time he has passed over a few yards at top speed. training for a match. the word "training" in modern times has come to comprise two separate branches of athletic science. the first is a system of practice on a special feat till the trained man accomplishes it with ease and certainty; the other and more important branch aims to bring the trained man to the highest pitch of health and strength. when he has attained this point he is said to be in "condition." it is plain therefore that a perfect system of training cannot afford to leave out either of these branches. a man may be trained to walk or run in the best possible style and fail in a race on account of poor condition; or again he may be in the finest physical condition and fail on account of defective system of walking or running. the many races of the late champion daniel o'leary illustrate both these facts very sensibly. when he went to england to meet weston and the great pedestrians, he kept himself in good condition, and used the best system of walking known. the consequence was that he was prepared at all points and beat all comers. when he came back to the united states he was pitted successively against hughes and campana, men whom he despised as opponents. hughes was in excellent condition, but did not understand the science of either walking or running; and so tired himself out early in the race, which was easily won by o'leary on a small record. next the champion met campana, a man who began to run too late in life, and who then understood nothing but the jog trot for a day or two. as a walker he was nowhere, his system being so bad that he tired himself out when going at only four miles an hour. here also o'leary had an easy victory; but it is worthy of remark that he was more distressed to do four hundred miles in the campana match, than he had been to accomplish five hundred and twenty in the first astley belt match. the whole reason was that he had allowed himself to get out of condition, and so found his system feverish when it should have been vigorous; while blisters that should have yielded to care rapidly increased in size and made the greater part of the walk a positive torture to him. it became evident that if he were to be pitted against a man in good condition with a good system, he would go under, and the next race realized the expectation. coming against rowell, harriman and ennis, all in fair condition, he broke down utterly and left the track for good. rowell, the winner of the match, is an example of the success which is sure to meet a man who combines perfect system and perfect condition. his opponents, harriman and ennis, while not in bad condition, were not models in that way. harriman was too much of a vegetarian, and ennis was always cursed with a rebellious stomach. the little englishman on the other hand was in perfect condition and used a system of progression that exactly suited him. his short legs made a long walking stride impossible; therefore he took to trotting; but by dint of long practice acquired a trot which he could keep up for hours at a time, with no more fatigue than that involved in fast walking, while it covered more ground. later matches have but emphasized these points. the records of distance made in six-day contests have gradually risen, as man after man has acquired a better system of traveling, while all have kept themselves in better condition; and thus we see men who began like merritt, krohme, hart, panchot, fitzgerald and a dozen others, gradually bettering their performances, till the american track has fairly beaten the english in the number of "five hundred mile men" it has turned out. one thing has been demonstrated in all these races beyond a doubt; which is, that no man can safely train _himself_ for a great feat. he may do it during preliminary practice and at small matches where his opponents are not dangerous; but when it comes to a supreme effort, he must put himself into the hands of others, if he hope to make a good record. the men who do the training for matches in large cities are generally retired pugilists or professional athletes of other kinds and there's not much choice between them. the special work of the old pugilistic trainer is to bring his man up to the highest point of health and strength, besides sustaining him during the match. he is generally a careful and experienced nurse, who understands the efficacy of rubbings and baths to take the pain out of tired joints; and will often perform wonders in the way of restoring a jaded man to comparative freshness. his weakness as a special trainer for pedestrians, lies in the fact that he is not an expert in systems of walking, and so cannot give his man much valuable instruction during his training. the weakness of a professional pedestrian, on the other hand, lies in the direction where the pugilist is strongest, that of general physical training. his best point will probably be his ability to criticise and improve the style of his pupil before the match. if such a trainer can make his man go more miles in an hour with less fatigue than he has ever done before, he will be worth a good deal of money; but as a sustainer and imparter of strength he is not always as successful. he is apt to let his man eat things that are not only not beneficial, but often positively injurious; a mistake which the pugilistic trainer never commits. these facts render the selection of trainers a matter requiring a good deal of judgment, and indicates different men for different kinds of races. if the object of ambition is to beat the world in a mile, five-mile or twenty-five mile walk, square heel and toe, a professional pedestrian is the man to employ as a trainer; as style and swiftness are his special points, and the efforts required in short contests are not so severe as to cause an exhausting drain on the physical powers. when the trial is changed to a sprint race, where great speed is required and a severe temporary strain comes on heart and lungs, the pugilist would answer the purpose better, as condition is the great point in such a match, style being secondary. for longer running contests up to twenty miles, where economy of strength is everything, style becomes a valuable adjunct; and here the professional runner is indicated as the proper trainer. for twenty-four-hour walks and runs the professional pedestrian is also the man to employ, as such efforts are not above the capacity of men in fair condition. even as far as three-day contests, a moderate amount of physical condition will take a man through without breaking down under the strain, and a pugilistic trainer may be unnecessary. when it comes, however, to the supreme efforts required to accomplish five hundred miles in six days, two trainers are almost imperatively required; one a pedestrian, to train for speed and style; the other an old pugilist, who understands every point involved in putting a man into first-class condition and nursing him under the tremendous strain involved in a match. these men must be in constant attendance on their pupil before the match, and will be obliged to lose as much sleep as the competitor during the trial itself, unless they can be relieved by others as good as themselves. we have said this much on the subject of training, although experience shows that trainers are not made by books. we recommend every reader, ambitious to become a crack pedestrian, to put himself into the hands of an old trainer whenever he can, paying his price if he can afford it. if, however, this be impossible, and it be absolutely necessary for the aspirant to train himself, a few safe general rules may be laid down, which can be followed without danger, and the observance of which is sure to give an easy victory over _untrained_ men, such as attend country matches. we will take them in order, beginning with sprint-racing. how to train for a sprint race. if it be for a seventy-five-yard dash, find some place where you can lay out a straight track, just that length. in the country this is easy, in the city more difficult, the public parks being the only places where it is practicable. having laid out the track, take a friend to time you, and run the course regularly three or four times a day, one or two trials each time, keeping a record of the average for a week. do this in your ordinary clothes and shoes. you will probably find your first week's average about eleven seconds, if not more. during this first week there is no special diet to recommend, save to eat as few vegetables, and as little sweet stuff as may be. if the bowels become free, as they are apt to do under the running exercise, no medicine need be taken, but if the system is much clogged, a succession of three doses of epsom salts or citrate of magnesia, taken every other morning, will remove waste matter and restore a healthy tone. the second week begin to run for time, and to improve the wind. increase the number of dashes to five or six a day, and run the course at least twice each trial. you are pretty sure now to get your record below ten seconds, if you throw off your upper clothes and run in shirt and trowsers. during this week eat lean meat, mutton or beef, with stale bread, and drink as little as possible. remember that to keep the bowels regular, there is nothing like regular habits; and that the system should be cleared out twice a day. on the third week try the track at top speed, once every hour, and begin to practice in running costume. you will find that your record has now come down below nine seconds. your appetite will become furious during this week, and you will find it hard to stick to your temperate fare of bread and meat, but this is essential to success, as a sprint runner can hardly be too thin and hard for his work. if the aspirant be at all fat, he should run in heavy clothes to sweat himself down, or else try a turkish bath, which takes off the fat quicker than anything else. the fourth week should be that of the race, and the previous exercise should be increased by running the track once every half hour in the morning, and returning to the previous week's practice in the afternoon. if any young man out in the country will try this method of training faithfully, beginning four weeks before the match comes off, he will be able to beat all his untrained competitors by one and perhaps two seconds; for sprint running depends on the capacity to take the greatest possible number of steps inside of twenty seconds, and so does not require the elaborate training necessary to accomplish more exhausting feats. hundred-yard dashes require the same training as seventy-five-yard spurts; and so do hundred-and-twenty-yard races. the longest sprint race, and the most severe of all, is the furlong dash--two hundred and twenty yards. this kind of racing is a tremendous strain on the lungs and heart, as the same pace which carries the runner over the hundred yard track has to be kept up and even increased. it requires a broad deep chest in the runner, with little flesh, and that hard and firm. to train for such a race requires at least a year's practice, and amateurs would do well to leave it alone altogether. to train for mile or two-mile walks. here the first requisite is a track for practice, and the directions for sprinter's training will serve in all respects as to diet and medicine. the period of training however needs to be longer, the mile walker needing more time to perfect his style and speed. the margin of difference between a green sprinter and a trained one is only a few seconds, but the green walker has to overcome a difference of several minutes before he can hope for success in a mile match. his exercise has one great advantage about it, that it aids him to train himself into first class condition. if he will study to acquire the walk of the professional, described in previous chapters, he will be able in six weeks to cut down his mile record from twelve minutes to less than nine, and will have a fair chance in any amateur race. when he can do a mile in eight minutes, he can enter with a fair degree of confidence almost anywhere, and can travel round to country races carrying all before him. training for mile runs. here the training should be long and severe, and no amateur can hope to do very much in mile runs in the way of time. it is true that there are some young men, calling themselves amateurs, that have made fine records at mile runs, but they were in reality professionals; that is, they made a business of running, even if they did not take money prizes. begin with sprint racing if you hope to become eminent as a mile runner, and keep on extending the length of your trials gradually. it takes a good year's hard work to make a respectable mile-runner. training for long runs. here it is difficult, if not impossible, to give any fixed rules beyond those indicated at the earlier part of this chapter. the best way is to get a good trainer, put yourself in his hands and follow his instructions faithfully. laying out a track. nothing is so common a cause of spoiling a walking or running record as "a short track." this is peculiarly the case in the country, where pedestrian contests are apt to be conducted in a rough manner, unaccompanied by the guards found to be essential in the first-class matches held in large cities. too much care cannot be exercised in measuring a track; and it is always best to secure the services of the official engineer of the county or town as a measurer to make sure of the proper length. the reason for securing an engineer rather than trusting to your own measurement is that engineers can always be depended on to use _standard measures, made of metal, which do not stretch_. common measuring tapes, being made of woven materials or leather, are liable to many errors from stretching or shrinking; and though these may not amount to more than a few inches in a fifty-foot tape, they make a serious hole in a record of five hundred miles. sometimes these mistakes will occur in the best regulated contests, as became evident after the astley belt match of in gilmore's garden. there was a great deal of litigation and dispute between the representatives of the astley and o'leary parties before this match came off; and the o'leary people, who took possession of the garden the week after the match, in their eagerness to find some fault with their predecessors, had the track remeasured. the result showed that the track used in the astley belt match lacked several feet of being a full furlong, and the difference spoiled all the records, taking six or eight miles off rowell's excellent performance. the commonest cause of country records being bad is that country pedestrians too frequently use horse-racing tracks, which are measured in a peculiar manner. in a horse-race, especially in a trotting contest with wheels, the mile or half-mile line runs in the middle, or near the middle of the track, to equalize the chances of horses starting abreast. the advantage of "hugging the pole"--keeping to the inside of this line--on a circular or elliptic track, are too obvious to be enlarged upon, but the ardor of the horses seldom permits one to hold this advantage long, and the animals are continually crossing the line of distance, thereby making a serpentine course which equalizes the chances of all. in pedestrian contests, on the other hand, each man hugs the rail as close as he can, and therefore the track must always be measured _close to the inside rail_. in a hall or theater, where most walking tracks have been laid, the length must be suited to the capacity of the building; but when an open air track is available, there is no question as to the necessity of making it some simple multiple of a mile. a quarter-mile open air track would be the beau-ideal of a place for summer pedestrian contests, but if a half-mile or mile track is to be used, where one already exists for trotting contests, it will be necessary to lay out a second railing at the proper distance from the horse-rail, to enable the record to be made in the only way it can count. open air tracks, however, are not fit for six-day matches, on account of the liability to rain, and dew, which would spoil the track for walkers by making it muddy. moreover, such tracks are seldom found near enough to cities to admit of the crowds that are necessary to make a foot-race pay. horse racing is the pastime of rich people, who can afford to enjoy their amusement without regard to cost; but pedestrian matches are dependent on large crowds of spectators who must be tempted to drop in at any and all times. therefore it is that pedestrian matches are almost always, and six-day contests invariably, held in large buildings, under cover; and the average length of track is either or yards, so as to make either eight or sixteen "laps" to the mile. the word "lap" has now become so familiar that few people reflect that it is merely the revival of an obsolete word meaning "to turn," and that so many "laps" mean so many "turns." if the building is large enough to hold an eight-lap track, it is to be preferred; but failing that, one must be satisfied with a ten, twelve, or sixteen lap track. for the convenience of our readers, we furnish a table of lengths of tracks, making so many laps to the mile: a track feet long gives laps to the mile. " " - " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " - " " " " " " " " - " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " this table shows the kind of tracks to avoid as difficult to measure. they are the thirteen and fourteen-lap tracks, which contain fractions that involve a division of inches and are so far improper. all the others are easily measured. next to the length comes the question of the best shape of track and the size of the building which controls it. the greatest possible length to be secured in any given building would obviously be in a line which should run against the outer wall all round, leaving the seats for the spectators in the center. this plan is open, however, to two objections. first, the spectators could only see the men when they were on their own side of the track; and, second, the pedestrians would have to turn four sharp corners in every lap round an ordinary building. these things must be avoided somehow. the pedestrians must at all times be visible from every point of the house and the corners of their track must be rounded for them to make the going easy. the next form of track which would suggest itself is a circular one, in the middle of the building, but this has its own objection. a circular track is sure to produce dizziness, especially if it be a small one. the experience of the past few years has therefore dictated the use of the largest buildings only, with tracks where straight lines and curves are blended into a sort of ellipse; and the proportion of each adopted in agricultural hall, london, and gilmore's garden, new york, has proved itself capable of giving the best results in time to the men and comfort to the spectators. these now famous tracks have a center formed by a parallelogram, with the upper and lower ends rounded into semi-circles. this center is longer than it is broad, and leaves about two-thirds of the track--the sides--in nearly straight lines, the circular parts at the ends being each one one-sixth of the whole distance. if only two men are competing, as in the o'leary matches with hughes and campana, the path is broad enough to lay out two tracks, on which the men can walk without interfering with each other's movements. this is the fairest plan; but if there are more than two competitors they use a single eight-lap track, where the man who wishes to pass his opponent has to do so on the outside, before he can take the rail in front of him. the center around which the track runs is a good place for spectators who wish to see the men closely; and is always occupied by a crowd of people, moving from side to side, and cheering vehemently at the more exciting portions of the race. to reach this center visitors have to cross the track; but this, though objectionable, has not yet been found to have any very bad effects. all round the other side of the broad pathway are the rows of benches and private boxes where are seated the great mass of the spectators who do not care to stand. the only objection to gilmore's, now madison square garden, as a place for pedestrian contests, is the fact that the building is cheaply constructed, with a large number of wooden pillars which interrupt the view of portions of the track; but this defect is not serious in a race, where the point of view is constantly shifting. we give on the frontispiece a diagram of the general arrangement of a building on the same principle as madison square garden. the model hall is of the largest size used, but gives a longer track. the inside path, shortest of all, measures eight laps to the mile, while a track laid out on the dotted line will give only seven laps to the mile. this line is fifteen feet and a quarter of an inch from the inner rail. the eight-lap track is five feet wide, to give ample room for each competitor to pass the other on the outside if he can. each track has two straight stretches of feet each, and a semi-circular turn at each end. the diameter of the eight-lap semi-circles is seventy feet three inches, and that of the seven-lap tracks is one-hundred feet and half an inch. in each case the actual measurement of the track will be a trifle over, rather than under the calculated distance, which must be tested by the measuring tape when the rail is set up. if it prove long, the rail is bent in, if short pushed out, till the tape just fits. those who cannot secure an engineer or official surveyor to measure their tracks are advised to use brass chains or steel tapes, especially the last, which are very handy. a hall of the size given will hold thirteen thousand spectators when the whole of the ring is crowded with standers, as it was at the close of every astley belt match in new york, while there are good seats for seven thousand people outside the track, in a building by feet. the main path on which the different lap tracks are constructed, is twenty-five feet wide, to accommodate races where the starters are numerous, such as sprints of seventy-five yards or upward. this size of building and track will be found the best for large cities, on account of the advantages it gives for the meetings of athletic clubs, who always have two or more sprint races and handicap mile or two-mile walks. hundred-yard dashes on such a track are made down one side, with the least possible turn; and by laying the finishing line on a slant across the curve at the end, the outside men can be favored enough to make all run just the same distance. there is no trouble about starting five or six men at a time on such a track. the following estimates will show how, by following the same general outline and proportions, smaller buildings can accommodate the greatest number of spectators and the greatest length of track. a building feet by will hold a railed inclosure feet inches long by feet inches across, giving a track feet inches long, laps to the mile, and feet wide, with accommodation for spectators inside and outside the ring, having seats. a building by feet will hold a -lap track and nearly people, seating . a building by feet will hold a -lap track, and spectators, on seats. with these general data and the diagram, a calculation of the capacity of any given building is easy. the main point is to have as long a track as can be squeezed in, consistently with securing a good view for the largest number of spectators. having treated of the best shape for a pedestrian track, the next question comes as to the materials of which it should be made. bearing in mind that the broad twenty-five foot track is to be a permanency for the use of athletic clubs and sprint races, it will have to undergo a great deal of wear and tear, and requires a firm smooth surface. simple dirt will get trodden into ridges or become loose and heavy, while a stone pavement is too hard. an asphalt pavement, laid on the bare earth, gives a mixture of elasticity and firmness that suits sprint races very well, and has the further advantage of being easily repaired. for the main track, a thick covering of asphalt can hardly be bettered. for six-day walks, however, the main track is altogether too hard. the long continuance of such walks makes the feet of the pedestrians very tender, and they require something softer. tanbark and sawdust are the agents used to build a special walking track, and the latter is far the most common. the best kind of track that has been laid in the united states, and one that has served as a model for all others since, was that used in the astley belt match, won by rowell in from o'leary, harriman and ennis. this track was bordered on both sides with planks, and filled with some three inches of dry sawdust, smoothed with rollers. after o'leary's retirement, the track was sprinkled with water and rolled all the time, the roller having to keep out of the way of the pedestrians. this path, thus rolled and wetted into firmness, was the perfection of a walking track. the dry sawdust was too soft and slippery, but the wet rolled path was perfection. it made no dust, was always springy and elastic, soft and cool to the foot, and conducive to good time. such a path can hardly be bettered by any means with which the sporting world is now acquainted, and it is so easily made anywhere that we can heartily recommend it. open air tracks for summer sprint-racing can hardly follow a better model than a common trotting track, but if a turf surface, level and free from stones, holes or roots, can be secured, it is still better except in a long drought, when the turf becomes very slippery. conducting a match. the management of a pedestrian match of whatever kind is by no means an easy matter, and one that increases in difficulty with the magnitude of the prizes involved. large prizes are sure to attract numerous competitors, and large crowds of spectators generally follow the athletes. every year sees a number of athletic games held in our large cities, such as new york, boston, chicago, philadelphia, cincinnati or st. louis, but it is safe to say that not ten per cent. of these are even fairly carried out, while most are sad scenes of confusion. in new york city the only club that gives thoroughly satisfactory exhibitions is the new york athletic, and the only well-conducted six-day matches involving more than two competitors have been the astley and o'leary belt matches. this statement involves a short account of the difficulties incident to a large pedestrian match or athletic meeting. the troubles arise from two causes, numerous competitors and numerous spectators. these require a numerous staff to attend to their wants and prevent disorder and waste of money. let us first take the spectators. to bring them in is the ambition of every man or club that gives a match. to do so requires that the entertainment shall be well and plainly advertised; and it is not every one who can draw up an advertisement properly. the daily papers must be visited by the managers to secure notices in the news columns; and the walls of conspicuous buildings must be lined with show-bills, setting forth the _place_ and _date_ of the show, with the _price of admission_. every bill _should_ contain this information, but a great many amateur club bills do not contain it. having attracted the people, the next thing is to admit them in such a way that no one shall get in without paying or on a complimentary ticket, and that the tickets shall act as a check on the money-takers' accounts. we have seen amateur shows where the man at the door took money and tickets indifferently, so that the managers were entirely at the mercy of his honesty. it is therefore absolutely necessary that two persons should be at the door, one to take the tickets, the other to sell them, and no person should be admitted except by a ticket of some sort. the tickets should, as fast as received, be dropped into a box with a slit at the top, the box to be locked and the manager to have the key. the tickets sold at the office should be of different color from the complimentaries, of which the manager should be sole custodian. at the "counting of the house" the ticket-box is unlocked, the tickets carefully counted, and the result shows how much money ought to be in the box-office. in a six-day match, where the receipts are very large and constantly accumulating, it is usual to have two sets of ticket-takers and box-office men, and to count the house morning and evening. in large matches, too, the managers are sometimes obliged to change the shape, color and appearance of their tickets from day to day, to avoid the introduction of forgeries, while detectives are necessary to watch the ticket-takers for fear they may be in collusion with the box-office man. within the house, if there are any reserved seats, it is necessary to have ushers to direct the holders of coupons to their proper places, but reserved seats are not much in favor at walking matches. in large matches where there is a great mixed crowd, the attendance of the police is frequently advisable to prevent attacks on competitors by the backers of men opposed to them. had it not been for the police, rowell and hazael would have both probably been severely hurt, if not disabled for life at the last astley belt match. with regard to the competitors, the duty of the management is confined to giving them a good track, air as pure as possible, with responsible scorers and timers. their quarters and diet are matters for their own attention, and depend on the finances of each. it has become customary to set up tents for all competitors in a six-day match round the inside rail and opening on the track. these tents are in fact preferable to huts of board, unless the weather is very cold indeed, but they should be provided with camp stoves in case it becomes necessary to give the competitor a warm bath, as frequently happens. the duties of the management as regards a good track for a six-day match have already been explained. it is also their duty to see that a sufficient force of scorers and timers is on hand. where the competitors are few this is not difficult, but where there are fifty or more it demands great care to prevent confusion. in a six-day match it is usual to have twelve relays of scorers, volunteers from the various athletic clubs who take every alternate twelve hours from monday to saturday inclusive. the system of scoring adopted and used at the late great walk in madison square garden was a great advance on all previous efforts and could hardly be excelled for simplicity and accuracy. there were sixty competitors, and each had to be recognized and scored eight times for every mile, or four thousand times in five hundred miles, in such a manner that there could be no mistake as to his identity. to effect this result the following were the arrangements: each competitor carried the number of his entry in figures a foot long on his left breast, and they were started in sets of four or six, to each of which was given a special timer and scorer. it was the timer's business to watch for his numbers and no one else's, and to call them out every time they came by the stand. behind him sat the scorer with his book, and it was his business to make a mark against each number as called by the timer, columns being ruled for that purpose in the book. thus each man attended to his business, without any temptation to increase or diminish his scores. besides attending to the scoring of the competitors, the management owes a duty to the spectators of announcing the results of that scoring through the varying fortunes of the race. this is generally done by means of a large blackboard, whereon the names and scores of the leaders are chalked up, so that every one can see them; but where the competitors are numerous this will not serve for all, and another method is taken at the scoring stand where each man has his name on a placard two feet long, underneath which are placed two more placards one bearing the word "miles," the other the word "laps." before each of these is a vacancy where a number can be hung, and each name has a man to attend to it, whose duty is to move the "mile" and "lap" numbers as they change. in the last match dials with pointers were substituted for the cards, with the advantage of increased simplicity. so much for six-day professional matches, which are the best managed as a rule. something remains to be said about amateur walks and runs, because they are subject to much mismanagement. the new york athletic club is in fact almost the only organization in the metropolis that gives thoroughly enjoyable entertainments, because they are properly managed. the reason of the trouble at most amateur matches is that the competitors are not kept in proper discipline, but are allowed to run over the management, violate rules, interfere, argue, protest and grumble, till the managers lose their heads in the confusion. the first thing for the managers of an athletic meeting to do is to make a set of rules that will cover all conceivable cases, and then to stick to them, and no better example of such rules can be given than those of the new york athletic club, which will be found in a later chapter. the troubles generally arise in questions of time and precedence among a large number of walkers, for it is in square walking contests that the dispute generally occurs. there may be fifty or more men at the scratch and all or most have walked fairly enough till near the finish, when they have tried on their most knowing tricks to cover up a run and get in first. it is here that the experience and temper of the judges are most severely tried. they may have to rule out as many as three or four men and give the first prize to a man who crosses the score third or fourth, and this is a difficult thing to do without appearing unjust. the competitors in such matches must always wear numbers to save confusion, and the scorers and timers have less work than in a six-day race. "timing" a man _correctly_ requires two men; one to hold the watch with his thumb ready on the stop looking at nothing else; the other to watch the man and call out "stop" as he crosses the line. no man can do timing single-handed. he is sure to make mistakes from disturbance of mind on account of divided attention. for the convenience of those without practical experience in conducting athletic meetings we print an additional chapter containing the most approved rules, to which we refer the reader. records of pedestrianism. the first reliable record that we have of modern pedestrianism bears the name of captain robert barclay. of course there had been walkers before his time; but he was the first to bring walking, as a means of locomotion, into general notice. the first public match of this remarkable man took place in , when he is said to have walked from ury to craithynaird, scotland, and return, a distance of miles, in hours. three years later, we find his most notable record. during the interval he had taken the name of allardice in addition to his own, and is described on the records, as captain robert barclay allardice, who made a match of two thousand guineas at newmarket, england, that he could walk , miles in , consecutive hours, and did it, too. this was the first of these endurance matches publicly attempted, and was walked in the open air on the high road, where two inns were found, just a mile apart, near the town of newcastle. captain barclay favored himself in this match by walking a mile at the end of one hour and going on with the next mile at the beginning of the succeeding hour, thus giving himself an hour and a half clear sleep or rest between each two miles. he won his bet, beginning june st, and ending july th, . this feat remained unexcelled till , when william gale beat it all to pieces. starting on august th of that year, and ending october th, he succeeded in walking , miles in , hours, a mile and a half each hour, commencing on the stroke of the hour. this feat was done at lillie bridge, england, and was followed in november of the same year by , quarter miles done in , consecutive periods of ten minutes each. this gale was the same person who trained madam anderson to bring the quarter-mile match to the united states; and that lady made a great monetary success out of it, though her feats were not remarkable, save as being executed by a woman. the first flutter of interest in pedestrianism excited in the united states, was when e. p. weston started, oct. , to walk from portland, maine, to chicago, illinois, which he reached november th, (thanksgiving day) having successfully accomplished the task he set himself. up to that time, while there had been some races, where good runners had contested, walking was at a discount in the united states; but from the date of weston's feat, pedestrianism became a fashionable amusement, and rich club-men were found who would walk matches on foot, instead of lolling in carriages, or trotting their horses. the professionals during that time had been chiefly confined to england, where the best records had been made. the best -yard sprinter of his day was george seward, of hammersmith, england, who made the amazing time of - seconds, sept. , , and did yards in - seconds, may , . these records have not yet been beaten. the other early records that are still unexcelled are those of w. g. scarlet, newcastle, england, sept. , , who ran yards in seconds; charles westhall, manchester, england, feb. , , who did yards in seconds, and seward's unapproachable record of yards in - seconds, made march , . seward was one of the very few men who could keep up the rate of ten yards a second for a distance over a hundred yards. since his day, records of all other distances have improved greatly. the best -yard record is american; that of j. w. cozad, made nov. , , at long island fashion course, in - seconds. the year before, william johnson, at fenham park, england, did yards in - second less time. the best -yard record is - seconds, made april , , by l. junker, at london. junker was an amateur, and his performance is below that of seward before referred to, not quite reaching yards a second, while seward beat that average. the best furlong records are made by amateurs in the same year; w. phillips doing the distance in - seconds, in london, england, sept. , ; and l. e. myers at mott haven, n. y., making it in - seconds, sept. , . beyond a furlong, no man has yet succeeded in keeping up the rate of ten yards a second, the nearest approach being that of r. buttery, newcastle, england, oct. , . this runner did a quarter of a mile-- yards--in - seconds, beating the best english record by two seconds and the best american by four seconds. the best half-mile record was made in new zealand by frank hewitt, of lyttleton, in september, , in - seconds, beating the best english records by four and the best american by ten seconds. the best mile record was made in a dead heat between richards and lang, at manchester, england, august , , in minutes - seconds; seven seconds better than had ever been done before. lang had previously made two miles in m. - s., in manchester, england, august , . the best records from three to seven miles inclusive were all made by john white, at london, may , . they were as follows: miles in m. s.; miles in m. s.; miles in m. s.; miles in m. s.; and miles in m. s. the best records for eight and nine miles were made june , , by james howitt, of london. he ran miles in m. s., and in m. s. this same howitt, next year, march , , ran miles in m. s.; miles in m. s.; miles in m.; and miles in m. s. the best times for , and miles are m. s.; m. s.; and m. s.; all made by l. bennett (_alias_ deerfoot) at london, april , . from to miles george hazael is the champion, having done miles in h. m. s.; miles in h. m. and miles in h. m. s. hazael also made the best -mile record up to , when his time was beaten by p. byrnes at halifax, nova scotia, oct. . byrnes ran miles in h. m.--three minutes less than hazael's best time. beyond twenty miles the running records are scanty and not remarkable. the best records of walking are credited to william perkins, the present english champion, as far as miles. this perkins is as remarkable in his specialty as was seward in his sprinting, easily passing all competitors. he made his first great effort in london, june , , when he left the best on record up to eight miles. he did his first mile in m. s.; the second in m. s.; the third in m. s.; the fourth in m. s.; the fifth in m. s.; the sixth in m. s.; the seventh in m. s.; the eighth in m. s.; thus making over eight miles an hour. three years later he beat his own record july , , and placed his name at the top of the list all the way up to miles. the records were as follows: ninth mile, h. m. - s.; tenth mile, h. m. s.; eleventh mile, h. m. s.; twelfth mile, h. m. - s.; thirteenth mile, h. m. - s.; fourteenth mile, h. m. s.; fifteenth mile, h. m. s.; sixteenth mile, h. m. - s.; seventeenth mile, h. m. - s.; eighteenth mile, h. m. s.; nineteenth mile, h. m. s.; twentieth mile, h. m. s.; twenty-first mile, h. m. s.; twenty-second mile, h. m. s. the best records from thence to twenty-five miles perkins did not beat. he had done the greatest distance on record in three hours and the miles above twenty-two remained credited to john smith of london, sixteen years before. this pedestrian nov. , , finished his twenty-third mile in h. m. s.; his twenty-fourth in h. m. s.; and his twenty-fifth in h. m. s. the difference between him and perkins is shown in the difference of time between the and miles, which is m. s., whereas the average of each of perkins's miles was m. - s. from twenty-five up to fifty miles the best walking time on record is credited to william howes, who on march , , made miles in h. m. s., minutes ahead of all others before or since. he made a record of miles in h. m. seconds. we omit the intermediate times as unimportant; but the average of each mile was m. s. from thence to miles daniel o'leary takes the palm, his th mile having been accomplished in h. m. s. at chicago, illinois, nov. , . beyond that distance, howes again takes the lead, with the best records up to miles, made feb. and , , at london. o'leary made the best american records up to miles in his chicago walk. howes's record for miles is hours, minutes and seconds; while his th mile was walked in hours minutes and seconds. from thence to miles henry vaughan takes the lead at square walking, having accomplished that distance in hours, minutes and seconds. beyond this point daniel o'leary comes again to the front, in his matches with weston at agricultural hall, london, and with crossland at manchester, both in . his time for miles was hours, minutes, seconds, and from thence to miles he made the best walking time on record, the last distance being accomplished in hours, minutes, seconds. peter crossland then passed him and led for miles, making miles in hours, minutes, seconds. from this point upward daniel o'leary still remains the king of the square walkers, having accomplished miles in hours, minutes and seconds. the longest distance ever walked without a rest is miles, done by crossland sept. , , . our own harriman did miles with only minutes rest in new york, may , . howes leads the record for one-day walks with miles, and o'leary tops all the rest up to six days. perkins leads the records for one, two and three hours. since these records, the "go-as-you-please" race has been introduced, where walking and running are used _ad libitum_, and the distances gone in given times has steadily risen. george hazael leads the record with miles in hours, not likely ever to be beaten, and frank hart has passed them all, by running miles in six days. the general excellence of records in these matches steadily improves, and where there were only two men in the first match who made miles or over--vaughan and o'leary--we have lately seen no less than eight men beat miles out of a field of sixty starters, and nine men beat miles in the same time. the total distance made by o'leary when he won the first match of this sort was miles and a fraction, most of it walked, but since then the runners have passed him beginning with corkey, who made a fraction of a mile more in less time. then blower brown did miles, and people called him a marvel, till a few weeks later weston ran miles in the same time. since that, the limit has been passed by brown, in the last english match, where he made miles, and by hart as above. rowell, the luckiest of lucky pedestrians, who has made an independent fortune out of his two muscular legs, has not had to make any very remarkable records to win the $ , that he carried away from madison square garden. he won his first race by miles and his second by a nominal , which proved to be only on account of a short track. an overrated man; his successes have arisen from the fact that he has always taken better men than himself at a disadvantage in point of condition, and so has won an easy victory. before he can be rated as the foremost pedestrian, he will have to beat hart's best record. this brief sketch of the records of pedestrianism is given to furnish our readers with a standard of comparison by which to estimate the value of their own performances, and a short abstract of the shorter distances will be found convenient for use. abstract. ten yards per second has been done by sprinters up to yards. a mile has been run in m. s. ten miles has been run in m. s. twenty miles in h. m. s. a mile has been walked in m. s., but only once, by the same man who walked - miles in one hour, - miles in two hours, - miles in three hours. these records should be kept in the memory as convenient, so that the amateur may gauge his own powers correctly by the best professional work. jumping and pole-leaping. the sport of jumping is one of those most beneficial to the health and muscles of any commonly practiced. it is divided into three branches: , standing jumps; , running jumps; , pole-leaping. standing jumps are either high or broad, the latter being the most common. the secret of making a _high_ standing jump consists in standing _sidewise_ to the bar or tape, and throwing the body over as if vaulting with one hand, arching the back inward as much as possible. the best standing high jumper on record is e. w. johnson, a toronto man, now keeper of the baltimore athletic club gymnasium. he jumped a bar feet inches high, at the caledonian games, at baltimore, may , . this beats the best english records inches. in jumping, johnson leaves the ground with the right foot first, as in the cut on next page, which shows the direction in which his feet go over the bar. the cut also shows the common leaping-bar and standards furnished with holes three inches apart, in which pegs are stuck to support the bar on the side opposite the jumper. if he strikes it by accident it falls without hurting him, being merely a light strip of pine scantling. the standing broad jump is made straight forward into a piece of soft earth which has been dug up for the purpose. it is made with or without weights in the hands, and depends on the strength of the thigh and calf of the jumper, and on long practice. [illustration: standing high jump.] the best standing jump on record was made by james emerick, oil city, pa., sept. , . it was feet inches, with weights; besides which, feet inches have been done by an english professional, and feet - inches by a california amateur. there is but little to say about the standing broad jump except that practice makes perfect. running jumps are also high and broad. the high jump is made over the bar figured in last chapter, but in a different manner. we have seen johnson try to go over it sidewise, as in his standing jump, but not with enough success to justify his method. the running high jump then must be made square to the bar, beginning with a slow run, quickened in the last twenty steps, till both feet spurn the ground with their utmost force and the leaper goes over the bar. here, also, there is very little to be said as to proper or improper methods of leaping. instinct teaches the right way for a high leap better than anything else, and nothing but constant practice will strengthen the muscles to enable the leaper to make a good record. the best high jump on record was made by an english amateur, m. j. brooks, an oxford student, april , . he topped a bar feet - inches, passing the best english professionals by inches and johnson by inches. the best american amateur jump was made by a columbia student, conover, in , and is only feet - inches--not much compared with the english record. the running broad jump is made with or without a spring board, the only official records being those made without the board, and off level ground. the best on record is english, or rather irish, amateur, john lane, of the dublin university athletic club, having made feet - inches, june , . the best american records are nearly two feet behind this performance. pole-leaping is either high or broad, and in either case is a very valuable accomplishment to acquire. with a pole, a practiced athlete can make light of a six-foot wall, for its hight is well within his powers. the art takes some time to acquire, and is one that exercises every muscle of the body. it calls first for a pole from six to nine feet in length, made preferably of ash, as that is both light and tough. to begin learning on this, the pupil rests one end on the ground, and grasps the pole with both hands above his head. then, jumping up, he raises his body with bent arms, and swings as far as he can. with a week's practice almost any young man can learn to take a jump of eight or ten feet in breadth from a standing position. to cross a broad ditch a short run is taken and the pole is held differently. the right hand grasps it above the head, _thumb uppermost_, while the left hand holds it, _thumb down_, as high as the waist. the pole is grasped higher up in proportion to the distance to be cleared, beginning with small ones and slowly increasing the length of pole, till it can be taken by the very end. this becomes still more necessary in the high pole leap, where eleven feet and an inch have been cleared in england. to take such a leap requires at least a thirteen-foot pole. in pole-leaping the weight of the body on the pole is sustained by the arms, and the whole office of the legs is to enable the body to go high enough to carry the pole to a perpendicular. the hight leaped is only limited by the possible length of pole carried. pole-leaping is coming into fashion but slowly in america; the best records being nearly a foot behind those of england, where there is more practice of the kind. for a sportsman in the country, pole-leaping is a very valuable accomplishment, as it would save him many a ducking in ditches and climb over fences. in the chapter on athletic meetings will be found all the rules that govern leaping contests for prizes, to which we refer the reader. bicycling. the sport of bicycling is one that has come into rapid favor in this country since the advent of the english riders, who have accomplished a thousand miles a week; and the only drawback to its universal adoption is the first cost of the machines. when that is reduced, as it will be, to about fifty dollars, payable in installments like sewing machines, the bicycle will become a favorite with the whole american population as it is in england with the majority of middle class young men. even now the fever is spreading rapidly thanks chiefly to the efforts of mr. wentworth rollins, the present king of bicyclists in america. he sells machines to people he can trust on installments and has a large stock of goods on hand which he sells below the usual prices to beginners. the pioneers of bicycling in the united states were the pope manufacturing company, who started factories and schools in the cities of boston and san francisco, where the fever started almost at the same time, but since that period bicycling has spread to most of the large cities, and has training schools in all. there is but little information that can be given to an intending bicycler except to recommend him _not to buy a machine till he has been at the school long enough to know the good and bad points of every bicycle in the market_. the prices of bicycles range from $ to $ , according to size of wheel; the smallest being inches in diameter, the largest inches. the best way to get enjoyment out of the sport is to form a club of congenial spirits who will ride together. a single bicyclist is apt to attract too much attention in country places, and would often be insulted, where two or three together would meet with a hearty welcome. moreover, company is elevating to the spirits. for the use of bicycle clubs we subjoin the model rules of the san francisco club, which can hardly be excelled for completeness and care. they are printed on strips of cardboard, and carried by each member of a club for reference, till he is perfectly familiar with them. bicycling rules. section .--the time named for a club excursion is the exact time of _the start_, which will in all cases be punctually observed. members are therefore urgently requested to be at the spot named at least _ten minutes before_, that they may arrange themselves in order for the start and receive the instructions of the leader as regards signals, and any other directions that may be necessary. sec. .--at the sound of "fall in," the members will arrange themselves side by side upon the right of the road, with bicycle facing inward, leaving a space of at least eight feet between each man. at the sound of "mount," the machines will be turned in the direction of the proposed run, and the company will mount, beginning at the front, each man before he starts, being careful to see that the rider immediately in front of him has safely reached the saddle, and proceeded at least two revolutions. sec. .--as a general rule the company should ride two abreast; but in towns and villages; in meeting and passing vehicles (unless the road is broad); in riding up and down hills, and where the road is bad and requires picking, single file should be taken, _the right-hand man_ always _quickening_, and the left-hand man dropping in behind him. sec. .--when in single-file, an interval of at least _four_ bicycle lengths should be kept between each rider, and in double-file, eight lengths between each pair. in approaching a hill, whether up or down, the leading files should quicken and the rear files slacken, so as to allow of the company extending out to double distance, and on reaching the level they should slacken and quicken respectively, until the original interval is attained. sec. .--dismounting should always be commenced from the rear, each man passing the word forward as he reaches the ground. sec. .--it is undesirable for a company to ride down a long hill with a curve obstructing a view of the bottom. it is better for the leader to advance alone until he sees that all is clear, and then whistle the others on. sec. .--the ordinary rules of the road as regards the passing of vehicles, etc., should be rigidly adhered to, as follows: a--in meeting a vehicle, always pass to the right. b--in overtaking a vehicle, always pass to the left. c--the ground in front of a horse should not be taken until the bicyclist is at least ten yards ahead of him. d--a horse should _never_ be passed _on both sides_ at once. e--a _led_ horse should always be passed on the same side as the man who is leading it. f--before overtaking a rider, it is well to give some sort of a warning. when alone, a short cough will generally suffice. in company-riding, a word to your companion will attract the necessary attention. the mere sound of a human voice is often all that is wanted to prevent a horse from starting at the sudden passage of the noiseless machine. g--if a horse on meeting a bicycle, shows signs of restiveness, the leader should order a dismount at his discretion (even if he himself has passed the horse), and should invariably do so on any signal or request from the driver or horseman. h--in company-riding, the leader, on passing any one (whether driving, riding or walking,) should announce that _others_ are following close after, and the rear man should in the same way signify that all have passed. i--inattention to these and other rules and courtesies of the road will cause annoyance to the public, and create prejudice against bicycling. signals. sec. .--the following signals will be used when on a run in company, to preserve order and insure against accident: _fall in_--one long whistle. _mount_--one short whistle. _dismount and halt_--two short whistles. _dismount and walk_--two long whistles. _form twos_--two short whistles three times. _form single file_--three short well separated whistles. _extend line_--one short and one long whistle three times. _close up line_--one long and one short whistle three times. _quicken speed_--three short whistles three times. _slacken speed_--one long whistle. _ride at ease_--two short and one long whistle three times. _danger_--look out when signaled from front to rear--six or more short whistles; accident when signaled from rear to front--six or more short whistles. rules for athletic meetings. to make this work as complete as possible, we have resolved to insert the best models of rules for athletic meetings of all kinds, founded on those of the n. y. athletic club. this association is the largest in the country and has always been successful in its meetings, which have passed off without a single fiasco on record. its rules can therefore hardly be unworthy of imitation and have in fact been the model for those of all successful athletic clubs. these rules we therefore print below. they cover, as will be seen, all sorts of athletic sports which do not need other description. american athletic rules. meetings. _officers._--the officers of an athletic meeting shall be: one clerk of the course, with assistants, if necessary; one starter; one judge of walking, with assistants, if necessary; one scorer, with assistants, if necessary; three timekeepers; three judges at the finish; three measurers; one referee. _clerk of the course._--he shall record the name of each competitor who shall report to him; shall give him his number for each game in which he is entered, and notify him, five minutes before the start, of every event in which he is engaged. the assistants shall do such portions of his work as he may assign to them. _starter._--he shall have entire control of competitors at their marks; shall strictly enforce law , and shall be the sole judge of fact as to whether or no any man has gone over his mark. his decision in such cases shall be final and without appeal. _judge of walking._--he shall have entire control of competitors during the race; shall strictly enforce law , and his decision as to unfair walking shall be final and without appeal. the assistants shall do such portion of his work as he may assign to them. _scorer._--he shall record the laps made by each competitor, and call them aloud when tallied, for the information of the contestants. he shall record the order of finishing and the times of the competitors in walking and running races. the assistants shall do such portions of his work as he may assign to them. _timekeepers._--each of the three timekeepers shall time every event, and in case of disagreement the average of the three shall be the official time. time to be taken from the flash of the pistol. _judges at the finish._--two shall stand at one end of the tape, and the third at the other. one shall take the winner, another the second man, and the other the third man; they shall also note the distances between the first three as they finish. in case of disagreement the majority shall decide. their decisions as to the order in which the men finish shall be final and without appeal. _measurers._--they shall measure and record each trial of each competitor in all games whose record is one of distance or hight. their decision as to the performance of each man shall be final and without appeal. _referee._--he shall, when appealed to, decide all questions whose settlement is not provided for in these rules, and his decision shall be final and without appeal. _competitors._--immediately on arriving at the grounds each competitor shall report to the clerk of the course, and receive his number for the game in which he is entered. he shall inform himself of the times at which he must compete, and will report promptly at the start, without waiting to be notified. no competitor allowed to start without his proper number. _inner grounds._--no person whatsoever allowed inside the track except the officials and properly accredited representatives of the press. the authorized persons will wear a badge, and intruders will be promptly ejected. competitors not engaged in the game actually taking place will not be allowed inside or upon the track. laws. . _attendants._--no attendants shall accompany a competitor on the scratch or in the race. . _starting signals._--all races (except time handicaps) shall be started by report of pistol fired behind the competitors. a miss fire shall be no start. there shall be no recall after the pistol is fired. time handicaps shall be started by the word "go." . _starting._--when the starter receives a signal from the judges at the finish that everything is in readiness he shall direct the competitors to get on their marks. any competitor starting before the signal shall be put back one yard, for the second offense two yards, and for the third shall be disqualified. he shall be held to have started when any portion of his body touches the ground in front of his mark. stations count from the inside. . _keeping proper course._--in all races on a straight track, each competitor shall keep his own position on the course from start to finish. . _change of course._--in all races on other than a straight track, a competitor may change toward the inside whenever he is two steps ahead of the man whose path he crosses. . _fouling._--any competitor shall be disqualified for willfully jostling, running across, or in any way impeding another. . _finish._--a thread shall be stretched across the track at the finish, four feet above the ground. it shall not be held by the judges, but be fastened to the finish posts on either side, so that it may always be at right angles to the course and parallel to the ground. the finish line is not this thread, but the line on the ground drawn across the track from post to post and the thread is intended merely to assist the judges in their decision. the men shall be placed in the order in which they cross the finish line. . _walking._--the judge shall caution for any unfair walking, and the third caution shall disqualify the offender. on the last lap an unfair walker shall be disqualified without previous caution. . _hurdles._--the regular hurdle race shall be yards, over hurdles, each ft. in. high. the first hurdle shall be placed yards from the scratch, and there shall be yards between each hurdle. there may be (by special announcement) hurdle races of different distances and with different number and length of hurdles. . _jumping._--no weights or artificial aid will be allowed in any jumping contest except by special agreement or announcement. when weights are allowed there shall be no restriction as to size, shape, or material. . _running high jump._--the hight of the bar at starting and at each successive elevation, shall be determined by a majority of the qualified competitors. in case of a tie the referee shall decide. three tries allowed at each hight. each competitor shall make one attempt in the order of his name on the programme; then those that have failed, if any, shall have a second trial in regular order, and those failing on this trial shall then take their final trial. displacing the bar and nothing else, counts as a "try." a competitor may omit his trials at any hight, but if he fails at the next hight he shall not be allowed to go back and try the hight which he omitted. . _pole-leaping._--the rules for this game shall be the same as those of the running high jump. . _hitch-and-kick._--the competitors are allowed unlimited run, but must spring, kick, alight, and hop twice with the same foot. the hight of the object at starting and at each successive elevation, shall be determined by a majority of the qualified competitors. in case of a tie the referee shall decide. three tries allowed at each hight. each competitor shall make one attempt in the order of his name on the programme; then those who have failed, if any, shall have a second trial in regular order, and those failing on this trial shall then take their final trial. hitting the object, and nothing else, counts as a kick, and kicking higher than the object without hitting it is not a kick. springing from the ground counts as a try. a competitor may omit his trials at any hight, but if he fail at the next hight he shall not be allowed to go back and try the hight which he omitted. . _standing high jump._--the competitors may stand as they please, but must jump from the first spring. the hight of the bar at starting and at each successive elevation, shall be determined by a majority of the qualified competitors. in case of a tie the referee shall decide. three tries allowed at each hight. each competitor shall make one attempt in the order of his name on the programme; then those who have failed, if any, shall have a second trial in regular order, and those failing on this trial shall then take their final trial. displacing the bar and nothing else, counts as a "try." a competitor may omit his trials at any hight, but if he fail at the next hight he shall not be allowed to go back and try the hight which he omitted. . _running wide jump._--the competitors shall have unlimited run, but must take off behind the scratch. stepping any part of the foot over the scratch in an attempt shall be "no jump," but shall count as a "try." each competitor allowed three trials, and the best three men have three more trials each. each competitor shall be credited with the best of all his jumps. the measurement shall be from the scratch line in front of the jumper's feet to the nearest break of the ground made by any part of his person. the same rules govern running hop step and jump, and all similar games. . _standing wide jump._--competitors must jump from the first spring. stepping any part of the foot over the scratch in an attempt shall be "no jump," but shall count as a "try." each competitor allowed three trials, and the best three men have three more trials each. each competitor shall be credited with the best of all his jumps. the measurement shall be from the scratch line in front of the jumper's feet to the nearest break of the ground made by any part of his person. the same rules govern standing three jumps, standing hop, step and jump, and all similar games. . _putting the shot._--the shot shall be a solid iron sphere weighing lbs. it shall be put from the shoulder with one hand, from between two parallel lines, ft. apart. touching the ground outside either line with any part of person, before the shot alights, shall make the attempt "no put," which counts as a "try." each competitor allowed three trials, and the best three men have three more trials each. each competitor shall be credited with the best of all his puts. the measurement shall be from the nearest break of the ground made by the ball, perpendicularly to the scratch line, extended, if necessary, to meet this perpendicular. . _throwing the hammer._--the hammer-head shall be a solid iron sphere, weighing lbs., the handle shall be of hickory wood, and the length of hammer and handle, over all, shall be ft, in. the competitor shall stand at and behind the scratch, facing as he pleases, and throw with either or both hands. touching the ground in front of the scratch with any portion of the person, before the hammer alights, shall make the attempt "no throw," which counts as a "try." letting go of the hammer in an attempt counts as a "try." each competitor allowed three trials, and the best three men have three more trials each. each competitor shall be credited with the best of all his throws. if the head strike first the measurement shall be from the nearest break of the ground made by it. if the handle strikes first, one length of the hammer shall be allowed from the mark made by the end of the handle toward the mark made by the head of the hammer, and the measurement shall be from this point. the measurement shall be to the scratch line half-way between the thrower's feet. . _throwing the hammer with a run._--the hammer-head shall be a solid iron sphere, weighing lbs., the handle shall be of hickory wood, and the length of hammer and handle over all shall be ft. in. unlimited run is allowed, and the competitor may deliver the hammer as he pleases. letting go of the hammer in an attempt counts as "a try." each competitor allowed three trials, and the best three men have three more trials each. each competitor shall be credited with the best of all his throws. if the head strikes first, the measurement shall be from the nearest break of the ground made by it. if the handle strikes first, one length of the hammer shall be allowed from the mark made by the end of the handle, toward the mark made by the head of the hammer, and the measurement shall be from this point. the measurement shall be to the nearest footprint at the delivery. the footprints of the competitors shall be effaced after each throw. . _throwing fifty-six pound weight._--this shall be of solid iron, and any shape of weight and handle is allowed, provided the whole weighs lbs. the competitor will stand at and behind the scratch, facing as he pleases, grasping the weight by the handle, and shall throw it with one hand. touching the ground in front of the scratch with any portion of the person, before the weight alights, shall make the attempt "no throw," which counts as "a try." letting go of the weight in an attempt shall count as "a try." each competitor allowed three trials, and the best three men have three more trials each. each competitor shall be credited with the best of all his throws. the measurement shall be from the scratch line (in front of the thrower's left foot), to the nearest break of the ground made by the weight, exclusive of handle. . _tossing the caber._--the length of the caber to be ft., the diameter at the thick end not more than in., and at the small end not more than in. the caber must be held by the small end, and tossed over so that the small end shall fall and remain beyond the butt. the competitors shall have unlimited run, but must take off behind the scratch. stepping any part of the foot over the scratch in an attempt shall be "no toss," but shall count as "a try." each competitor allowed three trials, and the best three men have three more trials each. each competitor shall be credited with the best of all his tosses. the measurement shall be from the small end of the caber perpendicularly to the scratch line, extended, if necessary, to meet this perpendicular. . _throwing the ball_ (_lacrosse_, _cricket_, _or base-ball_).--the lacrosse ball shall be thrown from the lacrosse, the cricket and base-ball from the hand. the competitors shall have unlimited run, but must take off behind the scratch. touching the ground in front of the scratch-line with any part of the person before the ball alights, shall make the attempt "no throw," which shall count as "a try." each competitor allowed three trials, and the best three men have three more trials each. each competitor shall be credited with the best of all his throws. to facilitate the measurement, a line shall be drawn parallel to and ft. in front of the scratch-line. the measurement shall be from the nearest break of the ground made by the ball, perpendicularly to the measuring line, extended, if necessary, to meet this perpendicular. . _tug-of-war._--in tug-of-war the following rules will be observed: ( .) the side creases to be ft. from the center crease. ( .) the mark on the rope to be over the center crease when the word "heave" is given, and the team hauling that mark over the crease on its own side to be the winners. ( .) no footing holes to be made before the start. ( .) the contestants to wear socks, slippers, boots or shoes without spikes. ( .) the rope to be - in. in diameter. ( .) immediately before the contest the captains of all the contesting teams shall draw their numbers. ( .) not less than five minutes shall be allowed each team between heats. ( .) captains shall toss for choice of sides before each pull. but if the same two teams pull more than once during the day, they shall change ends at each successive pull. ( .) with two teams, they shall pull best in . with three teams, one and two shall pull, then two and three, and three and one. with four teams, one and two shall pull, then three and four, and the winners pull the final. with five teams, first round, one and two, three and four, five has a bye; second round, winner of first heat pulls with five, and the winner of this heat pulls the final with the winner of second heat of first round. with six teams, first round, one and two, three and four, five and six; second round, winner of first and second heats. winner of this heat pulls the final with winner of third heat, first round. where more than six teams are entered, the arrangement of trials shall be on the same principle as in the above examples. . _bicycling._--when ordered into position for a start the men shall mount their machines, and one assistant for each competitor will hold his machine with its front wheel at the mark; at the starting signal the attendants are allowed to push the machine forward but not to follow it up. riders must pass each other on the outside, and be a clear length of the bicycle in front before taking the inside; the inside man must allow room on the outside for other competitors to pass. any competitor infringing this rule will be disqualified. in a race without using the handles, competitors must ride with the arms folded, or the hands and arms otherwise kept quite off the machine. any competitor touching any part of his machine with his hands or arms will be disqualified. the laws of athletes govern all points not above specified. in case there are any of our readers who think the above rules too long and complicated, we recommend for their use the much simpler and almost equally comprehensive english rules which follow. english athletic rules. . no attendant to accompany a competitor on the scratch or in the race. . any competitor starting before the word, to be put back one yard, at the discretion of the starter. on a repetition of the offense, to be disqualified. . all races to start by report of pistol. . in hurdle-races each competitor to keep his own hurdles throughout the race. . in sprint racing each runner to keep his own course. . jostling, running across, or willfully obstructing another, so as to impede his progress, to disqualify the offender from further competitions. . all cases of dispute to be referred to the committee of management at the time. . the decision of the judges in all competitions to be final. . in pole leaping and high jumping, three tries allowed at each hight. the hight at each successive elevation to be determined by the majority of the competitors. displacing the bar only to count as a try. . in broad jumping and weight putting, three tries allowed. in hammer throwing, two tries allowed. the three best competitors of the first trials to be allowed three more tries each for the final. the furthest throw of the five attempts, and put or jump of the six attempts, to win. . in hammer throwing and weight putting, the length of the run to be limited to ft. the weight to be delivered from the shoulder. . in broad jumping and weight putting, crossing the scratch-line in the attempt to count as "no try," and in hammer throwing as "no throw." . "no tries" and "no throws" count as tries. . the weight of the hammer and weight to be lbs. each. . the length from end of the handle of the hammer to the bottom of the sphere to be ft. in. over all. . no put or throw to count if the weight or hammer be delivered or followed with any part of the body touching the ground over the mark. all puts and throws to be measured from the edge of the pitch nearest the scratch-line to the scratch-line, and at right angles with the same. . in hurdle races, the hight of the hurdles when fixed to be ft. in., measured perpendicularly from the ground to the top bar. hare and hounds. inasmuch as this game has become a popular pastime in america we have thought it best to make our handbook complete by giving a short account of the sport and its success in this country. hare and hounds is an old pastime of english schools, and it is essentially a healthy game, good for boys and young men. it requires only one thing, plenty of good runners; and all young fellows are fond of running. two of the fleetest of the club are chosen for "hares" and provided with a sack full of scraps of paper for "scent." the rest of the club are "hounds." the hares are allowed ten or fifteen minutes' start, and set off across the country, dropping scraps as they go, throwing a handful behind them every hundred feet and scattering gradually. it is their object to get out of sight as soon as possible. the hounds are put on the trail at the sound of a horn, and have to catch the hares if they can. this is the whole of the game. the first hare and hounds club in america was organized in in westchester county, new york, and held its first meeting on thanksgiving day of that year. the idea of the club originated in a conversation on the harlem boat, and the members were carefully chosen. the officers elected for - were: president, j. j. brady; first vice-president, w. w. white; second vice-president, e. nelson; secretary, g. heilwig; assistant secretary, g. dolde; treasurer, f. n. lord; executive committee, l. a. berte, w. s. vosburgh, w. c. hamilton, w. i. k. kendrick, and j. b. haviland; field-captain, w. s. vosburgh; lieutenants, f. h. banham and w. smythe. the field-captain of the club is also called the "pace-maker;" and he and the lieutenants--who are denominated "whippers in"--keep the hounds together and prevent the pack from straggling. the "hounds" must follow the "scent" and are not allowed to cut off corners after the "hares." since the organization of this club several others have been started, but the westchester club continues to be the most successful, holding meetings on all holidays when the mud is not too heavy for good running. as practiced, hare and hounds clubs generally have a uniform suitable for running. that of the westchester club is a scarlet jacket, black knee-breeches or knickerbockers and black cap. this is a good running dress and should be followed in its general features, though any colors are admissible. knee-breeches are preferable to trowsers on every account, as they do not cramp the knee in running. [illustration: hare and hounds.] the latest improvement in the game is the introduction of two colors in the paper thrown for scent. the hares drop white paper when they go out, and red paper on the return home. the game is an excellent one for young men and boys, and can be followed anywhere, with or without uniforms. the less frippery they indulge in the more will americans like the sport. red jackets can be replaced by red shirts, which cost less and are lighter to run in. if the members of the club cannot afford to buy knee-breeches, they can probably alter old pantaloons into the necessary shape, and in the case of boys below twelve the common fashion of knickerbockers saves all trouble. in forming hare and hounds clubs, as in walking clubs, it is advisable that the members should be equal in physical strength, when selected, to insure good runs and general satisfaction. if a hundred boys at some public school should wish to form clubs, it would be better to make at least two--one of large, the other of small boys--than to consolidate them. if both run together, the little fellows are sure to drop out in disgust when the others force the pace beyond their abilities, while the large boys will grumble at having to wait for the little ones. clubs of small boys can be called "beagles" to distinguish them from the larger "hounds," and can enjoy a run as much as any one. we repeat here--the less frippery indulged in by way of uniform, the better, though all should dress alike, so as to be recognized a long way off. a white band round the cap, with the letters of the club name, is enough to show out at a distance; and the captain could have a different colored cap to distinguish him. the westchester club is composed of young men in good circumstances, and they can afford velvet collars and gold tassels. the less of these that our schoolboys affect, the better for the success of the club. archery. the pastime of archery, once the national sport of england, has in late years experienced a sudden and remarkable revival, both in that country and the united states. in england, as a revived amusement it became popular about the beginning of the reign of queen victoria; but in that country it has never been more than the pastime of a few dilettanti, the ladies forming the greatest portion of every gathering. in the united states it has only become a recognized sport within the last few years, the archery fever dating from the month of july, , when mr. maurice thompson issued his first illustrated article on the subject in _scribner's monthly_. since that time this gentleman and his brother william have roused a great interest in the subject, and have superintended or instigated the foundation of a number of archery clubs in the various sections of the union. the new sport spread so rapidly that in these clubs sent delegates to a grand archers' congress in chicago, where they held a successful and well-attended meeting which bids fair to be repeated yearly and has roused enthusiasm for archery all over the union. the secret of this success lies in the fact that the brothers thompson have appealed to the practical side of the american character in their plea for archery. they have shown that as an amusement it is cheap and healthful, giving the best of exercise in the open air. they have further shown that as a means of sport in the pursuit of game it has many advantages over the shot-gun, and these advantages are so well stated by maurice thompson in his first paper that we cannot do better than to reproduce them. he says: "if you can keep the shot-gunners away, three or four miles of a well-stocked stream will afford two archers plenty of sport for a whole season. hunting them with the bow does not drive the birds off to other haunts; but the sound of a gun soon depopulates a stream, whether any duck be killed or not. * * * * * * * * "i do not wish to put in a special plea for archery, but i venture to say that no man or woman who cares at all for out-door sport can resist its fascination after he has once mastered its first difficulties. i have yet to find a person so grave and dignified that archery could not coax him into a bending humor. indeed the bow is the _natural_ weapon of man, and it affords him the most perfect physical and mental recreative exercise that can be conceived of. it is to the mind and body what music and poetry are to the soul--it trains them to the highest degree of healthfulness and strength. [illustration: archer's position.] "i do not decry angling and gunning, except that the latter is too destructive of game. i am an enthusiastic "disciple of the rod," but whenever i cast a fly or troll a minnow my long-bow is near at hand, and a well-filled quiver at my side. you cannot combine gunning and angling on account of the weight of the gun and accouterments, and still more because the noise of firearms is sure to render timid fish sullen. i have known the bass in a well-stocked pool utterly to refuse the most tempting bait through an entire day, for nothing more than a pistol-shot fired close by. the twang of a bowstring seems to frighten nothing. it was the old first note of music made by apollo." nothing that we could add to this little abstract of the advantages would tell the story more neatly and clearly, therefore we shall at once proceed to the practical part of the art. the first thing necessary for archery practice is to secure a good bow and arrows. till within a year, philip highfield of london was known as the best "bowyer" or bow-maker in the world; but since the advent of the american archery fever, horstmann brothers of new york have succeeded in making a line of archery goods that are pronounced by the brothers thompson to be equal in every respect to the best english make; and peck and snyder of new york have also turned out good work. the best bows of lemonwood, yew, or snakewood, cost $ ; while the best target arrows are worth $ a dozen; and thompson's model hunting arrows are worth $ a dozen. the other paraphernalia (targets, quivers etc.) may be home made; but it is poor economy to buy cheap bows and arrows. the targets are made of plaited straw, covered with canvas, and contain four rings, which count as follows: bulls-eye ; first ring ; second ring ; third ring ; outside ring . in archery meetings two targets are used, facing each other at any distance: the archers stand by one target and shoot at the other, any number of arrows agreed on. when all have shot, they walk over to the target, pick out their arrows and shoot back at the first target, combining walking and shooting. the maximum distance is eighty yards between targets, the minimum twenty. the dress for an archer should be close, with no fluttering skirts to entangle the bowstring, and the secrets of position and accuracy are thus laid down by archery authorities. roger ascham, who wrote in queen elizabeth's time, says: "the first point is, when a man should shoot, to take such footing and standing as shall be both comely to the eye and profitable to his use, setting his countenance and all other parts of his body after such a behavior and port, that both all his strength may be employed to his own most advantage and his shot made and handled to other men's pleasure and delight. a man must not go too hastily to it, for that is rashness, nor yet make too much to do about it, for that is curiosity; the one foot must not stand too far from the other, lest he stoop too much, which is unseemly, nor yet too near together, lest he stand too straight up, for so a man shall neither use his strength well, nor yet stand steadfastly. the mean betwixt both must be kept, a thing more pleasant to behold when it is done, than easy to be taught how it should be done." maurice thompson says: "a little care at first will save you a great deal of trouble and annoyance. when you begin to shoot, learn at once to stand firmly on your feet, the left slightly advanced, the head easily poised, the upper portion of the body gently inclined forward, and the shoulders neither lifted nor drooped. hold the bow vertically with the left hand, the arm extended straight. nock the arrow well on the string, draw with all the fingers of your right hand till you feel your right ear, fix your eyes steadily on the target and let fly. the arrow rests on the left hand, and is drawn to the head. the nock end of the shaft is held between the first and second fingers of the right hand and upon the string, which is drawn to the right ear by all the fingers being hooked stiffly over it. the release must be smart and clear, giving the arrow a strong, even flight. "never try to take aim when shooting, but fix your eyes steadily on the mark, and guide your arrow by your _sense of direction_. "_squeeze_ the bow-handle with the left hand. you cannot hold it too fast. draw quickly and evenly. let go without, 'bobbling' or tremor." in a little story written by william thompson (the brother of maurice and the champion archer of the union) there is a still more valuable piece of advice as to how to take aim. he makes one of the characters, who has hitherto always been unsuccessful at a target, hit on the secret, which he tells his friend. it is virtually as follows: "after nocking the arrow, _draw it up to the right ear with the right hand, and hold it there as if it was screwed fast_. think no more of your right hand, but _point your left fist_ at the target and let fly." this tells the secret of archery better than an elaborate treatise. the aim is taken _with the left arm, not the right_. target shooting is, however, a bad school for learning to shoot at game, and here again maurice thompson comes in with his invaluable practical hints on the subject. he says: "one who is trained to aim at a large, graduated target, either with gun or bow, can rarely shoot well at game. the reason is that in target shooting at a fixed distance he gets used to a certain size, color, and condition of _background_, and when he gets into the woods and lifts his bow to draw on a bird or a hare, his accustomed rings and dark background are not there. his vision is blurred, he draws waveringly and shoots indifferently. a black rubber ball four inches in diameter, suspended in mid-air by a string fastened to the low limb of an apple-tree, makes a first-rate substitute for a bird, and a small bag of straw, placed flat on the ground and shot at at about twenty-five yards, makes good hare practice. you will soon learn the great advantage of not using the same distance all the time, as in the game of archery. for, after all, a bowman's skill is scarcely worthy of admiration if it is confined to a fixed range." a few words about the strength of bows, and we have said enough for the purposes of a little handbook. bows are graduated by the number of pounds' weight required to bend them. ladies' bows range from fourteen to thirty pounds pull, while gentlemen can take from forty to sixty pound bows. the heaviest bows should be used for hunting purposes, but for target practice at short range a bow under your strength is recommended, as it is easier to take aim with such a weapon than with one that tasks all your force merely to bend it. the end. standard dime dialogues for school exhibitions and home entertainments. nos. to inclusive. to popular dialogues and dramas in each book. each volume mo pages, sent post-paid, on receipt of price, ten cents. beadle & adams, publishers, william st., n. y. these volumes have been prepared with especial reference to their availability for exhibitions, being adapted to schools and parlors with or without the furniture of a stage, and suited to scholars and young people of every age, both male and female. it is fair to assume that no other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues and dramas of wit, pathos, humor and sentiment. dime dialogues, no. . meeting of the muses. for nine young ladies. baiting a live englishman. for three boys. tasso's coronation. for male and female. fashion. for two ladies. the rehearsal. for six boys. which will you choose? for two boys. the queen of may. for two little girls. the tea party. for four ladies. three scenes in wedded life. male and female. mrs. sniffles' confession. for male and female. the mission of the spirits. five young ladies. hobnobbing. for five speakers. the secret of success. for three speakers. young america. three males and two females. josephine's destiny. four females, one male. the folly of the duel. for three male speakers. dogmatism. for three male speakers. the ignorant confounded. for two boys. the fast young man. for two males. the year's reckoning. females and male. the village with one gentleman. for eight females and one male. dime dialogues, no. . the genius of liberty. males and female. cinderella: or, the little glass slipper. doing good and saying bad. several characters. the golden rule. two males and two females. the gift of the fairy queen. several females. taken in and done for. for two characters. the country aunt's visit to the city. for several characters. the two romans. for two males. trying the characters. for three males. the happy family. for several 'animals.' the rainbow. for several characters. how to write 'popular' stories. two males. the new and the old. for two males. a sensation at last. for two males. the greenhorn. for two males. the three men of science. for four males. the old lady's will. for four males. the little philosophers. for two little girls. how to find an heir. for five males. the virtues. for six young ladies. a connubial eclogue. the public meeting. five males and one female. the english traveler. for two males. dime dialogues, no. . the may queen. for an entire school. dress reform convention. for ten females. keeping bad company. a farce. for five males. courting under difficulties. males, female. national representatives. a burlesque. males. escaping the draft. for numerous males. the genteel cook. for two males. masterpiece. for two males and two females. the two romans. for two males. the same. second scene. for two males. showing the white feather. males, female. the battle call. a recitative. for one male. dime dialogues, no. the frost king. for ten or more persons. starting in life. three males and two females. faith, hope and charity. for three little girls. darby and joan. for two males and one female. the may. a floral fancy. for six little girls. the enchanted princess. males, several females. honor to whom honor is due. males, female. the gentle client. for several males, one female. phrenology. a discussion. for twenty males. the stubbletown volunteer. males, female. a scene from "paul pry." for four males. the charms. for three males and one female. bee, clock and broom. for three little girls. the right way. a colloquy. for two boys. what the ledger says. for two males. the crimes of dress. a colloquy. for two boys. the reward of benevolence. for four males. the letter. for two males. dime dialogues, no. . the three guesses. for school or parlor. sentiment. a "three persons" farce. behind the curtain. for males and females. the eta pi society. five boys and a teacher. examination day. for several female characters. trading in "traps." for several males. the school boys' tribunal. for ten boys. a loose tongue. several males and females. how not to get an answer. for two females. putting on airs. a colloquy. for two males. the straight mark. for several boys. two ideas of life. a colloquy. for ten girls. extract from marino faliero. ma-try-money. an acting charade. the six virtues. for six young ladies. the irishman at home. for two males. fashionable requirements. for three girls. a bevy of i's (eyes). for eight or less little girls. dime dialogues, no. . the way they kept a secret. male and females. the poet under difficulties. for five males. william tell. for a whole school. woman's rights. seven females and two males. all is not gold that glitters. male and females. the generous jew. for six males. shopping. for three males and one female. the two counselors. for three males. the votaries of folly. for a number of females. aunt betsy's beaux. four females and two males. the libel suit. for two females and one male. santa claus. for a number of boys. christmas fairies. for several little girls. the three rings. for two males. dime dialect speaker, no. . dat's wat's de matter, the mississippi miracle, ven te tide cooms in, dose lams vot mary haf got, pat o'flaherty on woman's rights, the home rulers, how they "spakes," hezekiah dawson on mothers-in-law, he didn't sell the farm, the true story of franklin's kite, i would i were a boy again, a pathetic story, all about a bee, scandal, a dark side view, to pesser vay, on learning german, mary's shmall vite lamb, a healthy discourse, tobias so to speak, old mrs. grimes, a parody, mars and cats, bill underwood, pilot, old granley, the pill peddler's oration, widder green's last words, latest chinese outrage, the manifest destiny of the irishman, peggy mccann, sprays from josh billings, de circumstances ob de sitiwation, dar's nuffin new under de sun, a negro religious poem, that violin, picnic delights, our candidate's views, dundreary's wisdom, plain language by truthful jane, my neighbor's dogs, condensed mythology, pictus, the nereides, legends of attica, the stove-pipe tragedy, a doketor's drubbles, the coming man, the illigant affair at muldoon's, that little baby round the corner, a genewine inference, an invitation to the bird of liberty, the crow, out west. dime dialogues no. . poor cousins. three ladies and two gentlemen. mountains and mole-hills. six ladies and several spectators. a test that did not fail. six boys. two ways of seeing things. two little girls. don't count your chickens before they are hatched. four ladies and a boy. all is fair in love and war. ladies, gentlemen. how uncle josh got rid of the legacy. two males, with several transformations. the lesson of mercy. two very small girls. practice what you preach. four ladies. politician. numerous characters. the canvassing agent. two males and two females. grub. two males. a slight scare. three females and one male. embodied sunshine. three young ladies. how jim peters died. two males. ==> the above books are sold by newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of price, cents each. beadle & adams, publishers, william st., n.y. popular dime hand-books. beadle and adams, publishers, new york. _each volume mo. pages, sent post-paid on receipt of price--ten cents each._ standard school series. dime speakers. . dime american speaker. . dime national speaker. . dime patriotic speaker. . dime comic speaker. . dime elocutionist. . dime humorous speaker. . dime standard speaker. . dime stump speaker. . dime juvenile speaker. . dime spread-eagle speaker. . dime debater and chairman's guide. . dime exhibition speaker. . dime school speaker. . dime ludicrous speaker. . carl pretzel's komikal speaker. . dime youth's speaker. . dime eloquent speaker. . dime hail columbia speaker. . dime serio-comic speaker. . dime select speaker. dime melodist. (music and words.) school melodist. (music and words.) dime dialogues. dime dialogues number one. dime dialogues number two. dime dialogues number three. dime dialogues number four. dime dialogues number five. dime dialogues number six. dime dialogues number seven. dime dialogues number eight. dime dialogues number nine. dime dialogues number ten. dime dialogues number eleven. dime dialogues number twelve. dime dialogues number thirteen. dime dialogues number fourteen. dime dialogues number fifteen. dime dialogues number sixteen. dime dialogues number seventeen. dime dialogues number eighteen dime dialogues number nineteen. dime dialogues number twenty. dime dialogues number twenty-one. young people's series. = --dime gents' letter-writer=--embracing forms, models, suggestions and rules for the use of all classes, on all occasions. = --dime book of etiquette=--for ladies and gentlemen: being a guide to true gentility and good-breeding, and a directory to the usages of society. = --dime book of verses=--comprising verses for valentines, mottoes, couplets, st. valentine verses, bridal and marriage verses, verses of love, etc. = --dime book of dreams=--their romance and mystery; with a complete interpreting dictionary. compiled from the most accredited sources. = --dime fortune-teller=--comprising the art of fortune-telling, how to read character, etc. = --dime ladies' letter-writer=--giving the various forms of letters of school days, love and friendship, of society, etc. = --dime lovers' casket=--a treatise and guide to friendship, love, courtship and marriage. embracing also a complete floral dictionary, etc. = --dime ball-room companion=--and guide to dancing. giving rules of etiquette, hints on private parties, toilettes for the ball-room, etc. = --book of games=--out-door and in-door summer games for tourists and families in the country, picnics, etc., comprising games, forfeits, etc. = --dime chess instructor=--a complete hand-book of instruction, giving the entertaining mysteries of this most interesting and fascinating of games. = --dime book of croquet=--a complete guide to the game, with the latest rules, diagrams, croquet dictionary, parlor croquet, etc. = --dime book of beauty=--a delightful book, full of interesting information. it deserves a place in the hands of every one who would be beautiful. =dime robinson crusoe=--in large octavo, double columns, illustrated. family series. . dime cook book. . dime recipe book. . dime housewife's manual. . dime family physician. . dime dressmaking and millinery. ==> the above books are sold by newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent, _post-paid_, to any address, on receipt of price, cents each. beadle & adams. publishers, william street, new york. peck & snyder & nassau st., new york [illustration: (sports shirt)] we are now manufacturing a complete line of club uniforms, in flannel or cloth, also knit cotton and worsted goods. estimates for special styles furnished on application. [illustration: (rugby ball)] english leather foot balls. nos. , , , , , , $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . each. american rubber foot balls. nos. , , , , , , $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . each. peck & snyder's patent palm boxing gloves. this line of gloves are the best glove on the market. [illustration: (boxing glove)] nos. a. b. c. d. e. f. per set. $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . nos. g. h. i. j. k. l. per set. $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . $ . . trade discount per cent. for a full description of these gloves see page , our catalogue. we have issued a complete list of base ball goods, fishing tackle, archery, lawn tennis, cricket, and all sporting goods, which we mail on application. address all orders to peck & snyder, & nassau st., n. y. transcriber's note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. bold text is denoted by =equal signs=. the 'pointing hand' symbol has been replaced by ==>. the form of fractions in this book, for example ' - ' for ¼, has been retained. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. except for those changes noted below, misspelling by the author, and inconsistent or archaic usage, has been retained. for example, trowsers; hight; inclosure; unexcelled; employes. pg . 'outstaid' replaced by 'outstayed'. pg . 'as man turn out' replaced by 'a man turns out'. pg . 'throax' replaced by 'thorax'. pg . 'cincinnatti' replaced by 'cincinnati'. pg . 'best engglish' replaced by 'best english'. pg . 'he placed' replaced by 'be placed'. pg . 'of the the ground' replaced by 'of the ground'. punch library of humour edited by j. a. hammerton designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "punch," from its beginning in to the present day. * * * * * mr. punch's book of sports [illustration] * * * * * [illustration: _boy_ (_reassuringly_). "it's all right, miss, i'm only looking for our cricket-ball!"] * * * * * mr. punch's book of sports the humours of cricket, football, tennis, polo, croquet, hockey, racing, &c. [illustration] as pictured by linley sambourne, phil may, l. raven-hill, f. h. townsend, e. t. reed, george du maurier, charles keene, frank reynolds, lewis baumer, gunning king, g. d. armour, arthur hopkins, everard hopkins, j. a. shepherd, and others. _with illustrations_ published by arrangement with the proprietors of "punch" the educational book co. ltd. * * * * * the punch library of humour _twenty-five volumes, crown vo, pages fully illustrated_ life in london country life in the highlands scottish humour irish humour cockney humour in society after dinner stories in bohemia at the play mr. punch at home on the continong railway book at the seaside mr. punch afloat in the hunting field mr. punch on tour with rod and gun mr. punch awheel book of sports golf stories in wig and gown on the warpath book of love with the children [illustration] * * * * * [illustration] mr. punch is nothing if not typical of his fellow countrymen in his interest in sport. if there be any truth in the assertion that englishmen are neglecting the more serious affairs of life in their devotion to all forms of athletic sports, mr. punch would seem to be determined that there shall be no lack of humour in the process; for an immense proportion of his merry pages have been occupied with the humour of sport. indeed, there is no kind of open-air pastime which has escaped the kindly attention of our national humorist, and the fact that he never tires of poking good-natured fun at these hobbies of his countrymen, making merry over their misadventures, indicates in some degree that, whatever our social critics may think of the national taste for outdoor games, these must have a humanising influence and make for manliness, when their devotees can thus with good grace look upon themselves in mr. punch's mirror, and join in the laughter at their own expense. but it must not be assumed that mr. punch's attitude is one of satirical criticism; on the contrary, his sympathies are with every form of sportsmanship, and it is chiefly because his jovial knights of the pencil delight to illustrate the mishaps incidental to all games that we are entitled to look upon him as a great patron of our sports. and is not he always ready to pillory the cad and the incompetent as further proof of the soundness of his heart? certain volumes of this library are devoted entirely to one or other of our popular pastimes, determined mainly on their varying richness in humour, but in this "book of sports" we have brought together a carefully chosen selection of mr. punch's wittiest sayings on a variety of games and pastimes. cricket might of itself have furnished forth a volume, football, and racing also; but we have sought after variety rather than repletion, and to this end even the passing craze for ping-pong has not been ignored, as it is not the least of the merits of the punch library of humour that within these volumes is enshrined a comic chronicle of the passing time. [illustration] * * * * * mr. punch's book of sports [illustration] the british "sphere of influence."--the cricket ball. * * * * * cricketers who ought to be good hands at playing a tie.--"the eleven of notts." * * * * * nomenclature.--the professional cricketer who makes a "duck's egg" ought surely to be dubbed a "quack." * * * * * a model cricket match.--one that begins with a "draw," but does not end with one. * * * * * epitaph on a cricketer.--"over!" * * * * * a cricketing paradox.--any eleven can make a score. * * * * * lord's! [illustration] there's a glorious sanctum of cricket, away in the wood of st. john; no spot in creation can lick it for the game at which grace is the "don." though melbourne may claim a "medina," the "mecca" of cricket must be in the beautiful classic arena, the home of the "old" m. c. c. home, sweet home of the m. c. c., ever my fancy is turning to thee! up with king willow and down with the dumps hark to the rattle of leather and stumps. oh, what a rapturous thrill it affords! give yourself up to the magic of "lord's." * * * * * scoring for dr. grace.--"a running commentary." * * * * * all work and no play.--the umpire's part. * * * * * the irrepressible joker again (on bail.)-- _q._ where ought ducks' eggs to be most readily found? _a._ at the oval. [_bail estreated._ * * * * * [illustration: _hairdresser_ (_about to part customer`s hair_). "centre, sir?" _flannelled fool_ (_rather an absent-minded beggar_). "oh--er--_middle an' 'eg_!"] * * * * * all the year round; _or, keeping up the ball._ [illustration: a straight tip and a new sensation.] when september soaks the fields, and the leaves begin to fall, cricket unto football yields,-- that is all! yes--in hot or humid weather, at all seasons of the year, life is little without leather in a sphere. in the scrimmage, at the stumps, 'neath the goal, behind the sticks, life's a ball, which summer thumps, winter kicks. our "terrestrial ball" is round, (is it an idea chimerical?) man, by hidden instincts bound, loves the spherical. in rotund, elastic bounders, plainly the great joy of men is, witness cricket, billiards, rounders, and lawn-tennis. * * * * * classic title for dr. grace.--"the centurion." * * * * * [illustration: _he._ "you're fond of cricket, then?" _she._ "oh, i'm passionately devoted to it!" _he._ "what part of a match do you enjoy the most?" _she._ "oh, this part--the promenade!"] * * * * * [illustration: mr. punch keeps his eye on cricket then ( ) and now ( ).] * * * * * toast for tavern landlords.--the cricketer, who always runs up a score by his innings. * * * * * appropriate cricket ground.--battersy-park. * * * * * things to which cricketing members of the anti-gambling league are addicted.--"pitch" and "toss." * * * * * dr. w. g. grace's favourite dish.--"batter pudding." * * * * * [illustration] at the eton and harrow match.--_simperton._ what, you in light blue, miss gloriosa! i thought you were harrovian to the core! _miss gloriosa._ so i am, but i'm also cambridge, and as i can't possibly afford two new dresses in one week, i decided to choose the most becoming colour! [_and_ simperton _of the dark blue was quite satisfied with the explanation_. * * * * * "follow on!" (_a cricketer's_ "_catch_" air--"_come follow_!") _first voice._ come follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow on! _second voice._ why then should i follow, follow, follow, why then must i follow, follow on? _third voice._ when you're eighty runs or more behind our score you follow on! * * * * * [illustration: "train up your parents the way they should go." --"you know papa has been asked to play in the 'fathers against the boys' match?" "yes, mother. but i hope the boys will win this year. if the fathers win again they'll be so beastly cocky!"] * * * * * [illustration: "'collapse of essex.' dear, dear! i wonder if my property at ilford is safe?" [_buys paper to see._ ] * * * * * cricketer's favourite fish.--slips. * * * * * the coup de grace.--leg hit for six. * * * * * riddle made "on the ground."--why are cricket matches like the backs of cheap chairs? because they're "fixed to come off". * * * * * seasonable field sport.--leather-hunting. * * * * * [illustration: prehistoric peeps. (_a cricket match._) "how's that, umpire?"] * * * * * wet-willow a song of a sloppy season. (_by a washed-out willow-wielder._) air--"_titwillow._" in the dull, damp pavilion a popular "bat" sang "willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!" and i said "oh! great slogger, pray what are you at, singing 'willow, wet-willow, wet-willow'? is it lowness of average, batsman," i cried; "or a bad 'brace of ducks' that has lowered your pride?" with a low-muttered swear-word or two he replied, "oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!" he said "in the mud one can't score, anyhow, singing willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! the people are raising a deuce of a row, oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! i've been waiting all day in these flannels--they're damp!-- the spectators impatiently shout, shriek, and stamp, but a batsman, you see, cannot play with a gamp, oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!" "now i feel just as sure as i am that my name isn't willow, wet-willow, wet-willow, the people will swear that i don't play the game, oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow! my spirits are low and my scores are not high, but day after day, we've soaked turf and grey sky, and i sha'n't have a chance till the wickets get dry. oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!!!" * * * * * cricket prospects (_from dumb-crambo junior's point of view._) [illustration: marrow-bone club] [illustration: a domestic fixture] [illustration: a rising player] [illustration: a promising young bowler] [illustration: trial matches] [illustration: batter and bawl] * * * * * the ladies at lord's old style--early sixties. scene--_the ground and its accessories._ _superior creature._ really very pleasant. _weaker sex._ oh! charming. so delightful having luncheon _al fresco_. the lobster salad was capital. _s. c._ very good. and the champagne really drinkable. _w. s._ and our chat has been so interesting, captain smorltork. _s. c._ so pleased. and now, what do you think of the cricket? _w. s._ oh! i haven't time to think of the cricket. * * * new style--late nineties. scene--_the same._ _mere man._ really rather nice. _stronger sex._ quite nice. capital game, too. up to county form. that last over was perfect bowling. _m. m._ yes; and the batting was well above the average. _s. s._ tol-lish. and really, when i come to think of it, mr. smorltork-gossip, you have been also entertaining. _m. m._ proud and honoured! and now, what do you think about the luncheon? _s. s._ oh! i haven't time to think about the luncheon. [illustration] * * * * * [illustration: fair batter (ætat. ). "now, just look here, algy jones--none of your patronage! you dare to bowl to me with your left hand again, and i'll box your ears!"] * * * * * a match miscalled.--considering the style and number of the turn-outs on the ground, and the amount of champagne-cups consumed at lord's during the great public school cricket encounter, suppose it were re-christened the _drag_ and _drinking_, instead of the _harrow_ and _eton_, match? * * * * * at the village cricket match.--_umpire_ (_carried away by enthusiasm on seeing the young squire send a ball hard to leg_). well hit, master arthur, well hit! (_remembering himself._) but don't make no short runs! * * * * * cricket at lord's (_hits by dumb-crambo, jun._) [illustration: a patient innings] [illustration: a cut in front of point] [illustration: over!] [illustration: last man. his usual form] * * * * * bait appreciated by both cricketers and fishermen.--lobs. * * * * * a tie.--("_ladies v. gentlemen._") the ladies came out as they had gone in, all "ducks." and what did the gentlemen make?--love. * * * * * the lady cricketer (_directions for attaining perfection._) get up a match by saying to some local subaltern that it would be such fun to have a game, and you know a girl who could give points to grace. agree with the youthful warrior that the fun would be increased by allowing the men to play with broom-sticks, and left-handed, and the girls, of course, with bats, and unrestricted. arrange your eleven in such a fashion that you come out as captain in the most picturesque costume. be careful to "kill" your colleagues' appearance by an artful combination of discordant hues. carry out the above scheme with the assistance of a joint committee consisting of two, yourself and the local subaltern. arrange, at the last moment, that the men shall only send out six of their team to field. manage to put yourself in first, and play with confidence the initial ball. amidst the applause of the six fielders you will be clean bowled. retire gracefully, and devote the rest of the afternoon to tea and mild flirtation with the five men who have been weeded out. * * * * * curious cricket anomaly. when a batsman has piled up a hundred, or more, though five twenties he's hit, he has made but "a score." * * * * * cricket catches (_by d. crambo, junior._) [illustration: a forward style] [illustration: out with a beautiful bailer] [illustration: collaring the bowling] [illustration: a prominent player] [illustration: sent back with a shooter] [illustration: a difficult wicket] * * * * * fair cricketers [illustration] ["the growing favour with which athletic exercises are being regarded by those who are still 'the gentler sex,' is evidenced by the rapid adoption of cricket into the roll of those games which may be practised by ladies without the sober world being shocked. in the course of the past summer there have been several matches."--_standard._] you may play the game of cricket, like the men well known to fame, and be good "all round," like some folks at that fascinating game; you may bowl like mr. spofforth at the demon's deadly pace, you may lead a team like harris, and may bat like doctor grace; but in vain your skill and prowess--can you dare to win the day, although hope may spring eternal, when the ladies come to play? they have conquered us at croquet, though philosophers might scoff, and the masculine intelligence was beaten by "two off." as a vehicle for flirting we acknowledged all its charms, and gay soldiers fell before it, although used to war's alarms; but they held me-thinks their cricket-bats as doughty as their swords, and they never dreamt of ladies at the oval or at lord's. then we turned to roller-skating, how the god of love must wink as he ponders o'er the havoc wrought on many a pleasant rink; there the ladies, as their wont is, held indubitable sway, as they circled like the seagull in as fair and facile way; and we yielded, though at prince's woman held all hearts in thrall, for we thought of our one empire, that of cricket--bat and ball. comes the era of lawn tennis, when the balls spin o'er the net, what avail the "renshaw smashes" when the ladies win the "sett," and the boldest of all volleys will be found of little use when the women gain "advantage," their opponents at the "deuce." so we leave the lawn to ladies, it were graceful there to yield; but we thought that still at cricket we were masters of the field. vain the hope, for lo! the ladies give poor men no hour of peace. can we dare to "pop the question" when they front the "popping-crease"? though with "leg before the wicket" your short innings may be o'er, will the umpire be as truthful when it's "petticoat before"? so lay down "the willow," batsmen, and, oh, bowler, leave the wicket, ye must yield once more to woman, for the ladies now play cricket! * * * * * [illustration: the last ball of the season] * * * * * [illustration: uninvited.--we had bowled out their best men, and should have won the match, but somebody came on the ground with a confounded hyæna-coloured bull-terrier, who ran after the ball, and wouldn't give it up.] * * * * * [illustration: "boots and chambermaid."--_robin_ (_the morning after the cricket supper_). "what does this 'b' and 'c' mean, dick?" _richard_ (_with a headache_). "o, brandy an' soda, of course. ring 'em both, there's a good fellow!"] * * * * * at the 'varsity cricket match.--_newcomer_ (_to gent in front_). if you would kindly move your head an eighth of an inch, i think that by standing on tip-toe i might be able, between the box-seat and body of that carriage, to ascertain the colour of long leg's cap. * * * * * pudding it plainly.--why is a promising cricketer like flour and eggs? because he's calculated to make a good batter. * * * * * the most remarkable instance of a hybrid animal is the cricket-bat. * * * * * the real "triple alliance."--a three-figure innings at cricket. * * * * * [illustration: our village cricket club.--we had thirty seconds left before the time for drawing stumps. our two last men were in, and we wanted one run to tie and two to win. it was the most exciting finish on record.] * * * * * the useful cricketer (_a candid veteran's confession._) i am rather a "pootlesome" bat-- i seldom, indeed, make a run; but i'm rather the gainer by that, for it's bad to work hard in the sun. as a "field" i am not worth a jot, and no one expects me to be; my run is an adipose trot, my "chances" i never can see. i am never invited to bowl, and though, p'r'aps, this seems like a slight, in the depths of my innermost soul i've a notion the captain is right. in short, i may freely admit i am not what you'd call a great catch but yet my initials are writ in the book against every match! for although--ay, and there is the rub-- i am forty and running to fat, i have made it all right with the club, by presenting an average bat! * * * * * another title!! supplemental gazette of birthday honours.--dr. w. g. grace to be cricket-field-marshal. * * * * * [illustration: _muscular high church curate._ "wonderful things 'grace' does!" _low church vicar_ (_surprised at the serious observation from his volatile friend_). "ah, my dear sir, true----" _high church curate._ "yes. only fancy, y'know!--ninety-two, and not out!!"] * * * * * "le cricquette" _how he will be played--shortly._ _offices of the athletic congress, paris._ [illustration: crick-it] monsieur, i am overwhelmed with my gratitude to you and to the generous dignitaries the chancellors of your universities, the heads of your great public seminaries, and the principal of your renowned mary-le-bone college club for the information they have given me concerning "le criquette," your unique national game, and i thank you in the name of my committee for your present of implements--_les wickettes_, _le boule de canon_, _les gros bois_ (the batsman's weapons), _le cuirasse pour les jambes de longstoppe_, and other necessaries for the dangers of the contest that you have so kindly forwarded for our inspection. but most of all are we indebted to you for sending over a 'ome team of your brave professionals to play the match against our parisian "_onze_," for you rightly conjectured that by our experience of the formidable game in action, we should be able to judge of its risks and dangers, and after mature investigation be able so to revise and ameliorate the manner of its playing as to bring it into harmony with the taste and feeling of the athletic ambition of the rising generation of our young france. a match has taken place, as you will see by "le score" subjoined, which i enclose for your inspection. it was not without its fruits. it disclosed to us, as you will remark by referring to "le score," very practically the dangerous, and i must add, the murderous capabilities that "le cricquette" manifestly possesses. our revising committee has already the matter in hand, and when their report is fully drawn up, i shall have much satisfaction in forwarding it to you. meantime, i must say that the substitution of a light large ball of silk, or some other soft material for the deadly "_boule de canon_" as used by your countrymen, has been decided upon as absolutely necessary to deprive the game of barbarism, and harmonise it with the instincts which modern and republican france associates with the pursuit of a harmless pastime. _les wickettes_, as being too small for the bowlsman to reach them, should be raised to six feet high, and the umpire, a grave anomaly in a game cherished by a liberty-loving people, should be instantly suppressed. the "overre," too, should consist of sixteen balls. but this and many other matters are under the consideration of the committee. i now subjoin "le score" i mentioned; a brief perusal of it will show you what excellent grounds the committee have for making the humanising alterations at which i have hinted. all france v. an english 'ome-team. all france. m. de boissy (struck with murderous force on the front of his forehead by the _boule de canon_, and obliged to retire), b. jones-johnson.... m. naudin (hit on his fingers, which are pinched blue with the _boule de canon_, and incapacitated), b. jones-johnson.... le marquis de carousel (receives a blow from the _boule de canon_ on the front bone of his leg, and is compelled to relinquish the contest), b. jones-johnson.... m. busson (receives a severe contusion of the cheek-bone from the _boule de canon_, which is delivered with murderous intent by a swift "round-and bowlsman"), b. jones-johnson.... le général grex (hits his three _wickettes_ into the air, in a daring attempt to stop the _boule de canon_ with his batsman's club), b. jones-johnson.... le duc de septfaces (has his _pince-nez_ shattered to atoms by the _boule de canon_, and, being unable to see, withdraws from the "innings"), b. jones-johnson.... m. carillon, m. le docteur giroflÉ, le professeur d'equitation (all the three being given, in turn, "out, legs in front of the _wickette_," leave the ground to arrange a duel with the umpire), b. jones-johnson.... m. de montmorency (on reaching the _wickette_ and seeing the terrible approach of the _boule de canon_, has a shivering fit which obliges him to sit down), b. jones-johnson.... m. jolibois, coming in last, triumphantly avoids the "overre," and is, in consequence, _not out_.... the english 'ome team. jones-johnson, not out brown-smith, not out so the game stood at the end of the fifth day, when, spite all the efforts of "all france," even the putting on of three "bowlsmen" at once, it was found impossible to take even one of the "'ome-team" _wickettes_. yet the contest was maintained by the "outside" with a wonderful heroism and _élan_, for though by degrees, in nobly attempting to stop the flight of the _boule de canon_ as it sped on its murderous course, driven by the furious and savage blows of the batsmen in all directions over the field, the fieldsmen, one by one, struck in the arms, legs, head and back, began to grow feeble under their unceasing blows and contusions, still one and all from the "long-leg-off" to the indomitable "longstoppe," faced the dangers of their situation with a proud smile, indicative of the noble calm of an admirable spirit. so, monsieur, the game, which was not finished, and which, in consequence, the umpire, with a chivalrous generosity, announced as "drawn," came to its conclusion. you will understand, from the perusal of the above, the direction in which my committee will be likely to modify the rules of the game, and simplify the apparatus for playing it, so as to give your "cricquette" a chance of finding itself permanently acclimatised in this country. accept, monsieur, the assurance of my most distinguished consideration, the secretary of the paris athletic congress. * * * * * [illustration: the "leviathan bat." _or many-centuried marvel of the modern_ (_cricket_) _world, in his high-soaring, top-scoring, summer-day flight._ (_dr. william gilbert grace._) as champion him the whole world hails, lords! how he smites and thumps! it takes a week to reach the bails when he's before the stumps. "_chevy chase_" (_revised_).] * * * * * [illustration: caught at lord's.--_cambridge swell._ "aw, public schools' match! aw, nevar was at one before! not so bad!" _stumpy oxonian._ "ours in miniatu-are! ours in miniatu-are!!"] * * * * * [illustration: eatin' _v._ harrow] * * * * * [illustration: delightful out-door exercise in warm weather running after "another four!" at cricket, amidst derisive shouts of "now then, butter-fingers!"--"oh! oh"--"throw it in! look sharp!"--"quick! in with it!" &c. &c.] * * * * * [illustration: suggestion for the cricket season the new pneumatic leg guard. (_mr. punch's_ patent.)] * * * * * [illustration: form _public school boy_ (_to general sir george, g.c.b., g.s.i., v.c., &c., &c., &c._). i say, grandpapa,--a--would you mind just putting on your hat _a little straighter_? here comes _codgers_--he's awfully particular--and he's the _captain of our eleven, you know_!"] * * * * * _laura_ (_who wishes to master the mysteries of cricket_). "but then, emily, what happens if the bowler gets out before the batter?" [_emily gives it up!_ * * * * * [illustration: eatin' boy at lord's] * * * * * small boy cricket.--_father._ well, and how did you get on? _small boy._ oh, i kept wicket and caught one out. it came off his foot. _father._ but that wouldn't be out. _small boy._ oh, yes, it was. the umpire gave it out. you see, it hit him "below the elbow." * * * * * to cricketers.--what would you give a thirsty batsman? why, a _full pitcher_. * * * * * cricketing and fashionable intelligence.--we hear that a distinguished member of the cricketing eleven of all england is going to be married. it is said that the object of his affections is a beautiful catch. * * * * * wicket jokes _by dumb-crambo junior._ [illustration: winning the toss] [illustration: following on, and opening with a wide] [illustration: excellent fielding] [illustration: long stop] [illustration: bowling his off stump] [illustration: caught at the wicket] * * * * * [illustration: precedence at battersea "garn! the treasurer goes in before the bloomin' seckertary!"] * * * * * the cry of the cricketer (_in a pluvial autumn._) rain, rain, go away, come again before next may! the driving shower and chilling raw gust are most inopportune in august. rain has a chance to reign, remember, till early summer from september. why come and spoil cricket's last pages, our wickets--and our averages? * * * * * [illustration: lord's in danger. the m. c. c. go out to meet the enemy ["sir edward watkin proposes to construct a railway passing through lord's cricket ground."] ] * * * * * [illustration: our opening match.--"i say, bill, you've got that pad on the wrong leg." "yus, i know. i thought as i were goin' in t' other end!"] * * * * * [illustration: "cricketing intelligence."--_sporting old parson_ (_to professional player_). "why is a ball like that called a 'yorker,' sir?" _professional player._ "a 'yorker,' sir? oh, when the ball's pitched right up to the block----" _sporting parson._ "yes, yes--i didn't ask you what a 'yorker' was"--(_with dignity_)--"i know that as well as you do. but why is it called a 'yorker'?" _professional player._ "well, i can't say, sir. i don't know what else you could call it!"] * * * * * king cricket the canny scot may talk a lot of golf and its attraction, and "putt" and "tee" for him may be a source of satisfaction; while maidens meek with rapture speak of croquet's fascination, tho' i suspect 'twere more correct to call their game "flirtation." but cricket's the thing for summer and spring! three cheers for cricket, of all games the king! the man who boats his time devotes to rowing or to sailing, in shine or rain he has to train, with energy unfailing. a tennis set finds favour yet with merry men and matrons. in lazy souls the game of bowls is not without its patrons. a day that's fine i do opine is much to be desired; an "even pitch" i ask for, which is certainly required; then add to that a "steady bat," a bowler "on the wicket," a "field" that's "smart," then we can start the noble game of cricket. * * * * * cricket _drawn with a stump by dumb-crambo junior._ [illustration: bowling started with a maiden] [illustration: a cut for three] [illustration: a drive to the off for a couple] [illustration: caught at slip] [illustration: taken at point] [illustration: wide bawl and buy] * * * * * the lady cricketer's guide bowling. . should you desire to bowl leg-breaks, close the right eye. . off-breaks are obtained by closing the left eye. . to bowl straight, close both. batting. . don't be afraid to leave the "popping" crease--there is another at the other end. . county cricketers use the curved side of the bat for driving. . a "leg glance" is not football. . when "over" is called, don't cross the wicket. fielding. . stop the ball with your feet. if you are unable to find it, step on one side. . to catch a ball, sit down gracefully and wait. . when throwing in from the country, aim half-way up the pitch; you may then hit one of the wickets--which one i don't know. _postscript._ the spirit in which the game should be played is best shown by the following extract from the _leicester daily mercury_:-- barrow ladies _v._ thrussington ladies. "barrow went in first, but were dismissed for sixteen. only three thrussington ladies batted, owing to the barrow team refusing to field, because the umpire gave miss reid in for an appeal for run out." * * * * * what is the companion game to parlour croquet? cricket on the hearth. * * * * * epitaph on an old cricketer's tombstone.--"out at ." * * * * * operatic song for a cricketer.--"_batti, batti!_" * * * * * sentiment for a cricket club dinner.--may the british umpire rule the wide world over. * * * * * cricket hits _by dumb-crambo, off his own bat._ [illustration: long leg and short leg] [illustration: short mid off] [illustration: cutting for four] [illustration: a clean bowl] * * * * * the battle of the sexes.--_middlesex_ v. _sussex_. * * * * * cricket match to come off.--the teetotallers' eleven _v._ the licensed victuallers'. * * * * * stump orations.--speeches at cricket-club dinners. * * * * * our village eleven [illustration: tom bowling] except at lunch, i cannot say with truth that we are stayers; yet, though on village greens we play, we're far from common players. the mason blocks with careful eye; we dub him "old stonewall." the blacksmith hammers hard and high, and the spreading chestnuts fall. sheer terror strikes our enemies when comes the postman's knock, whereas his slow deliveries would suit the veriest crock. the butcher prides himself on chops; his leg-cuts are a joke; but when he lambs the slow long-hops there's beef behind his stroke. the grocer seldom cracks his egg: he cannot catch; he butters. the gardener mows each ball to leg, and trundles daisy-cutters. our tailor's cut is world-renowned; the coachman's drives are rare; he'll either cart you from the ground or go home with a pair. the village constable is stout, yet tries short runs to win; they say he's run more people out than ever he ran in. the curate (captain) every match bowls piffle doomed to slaughter, but still is thought a splendid catch-- by the vicar's elderly daughter. the watchmaker winds up the side, but fails to time his pulls; by now he must be well supplied with pairs of spectacles. our umpire's fair; he says "not out," or "out," just as he thinks; and gives the benefit of the doubt to all who stand him drinks. no beatings (beatings are the rule) can make our pride diminish; last week we downed the blind boys' school after a glorious finish! * * * * * [illustration: "animal spirits" the great cricket match. "england _v._ australia." umpires, the two wombats.] * * * * * cockney motto for a feeble cricketer.--"take 'art of grace!" * * * * * good news after the last cricket match.--rest for the wicket. * * * * * cricket hits _by dumb-crambo, off his own bat._ [illustration: stumped] [illustration: caught out] [illustration: run out] [illustration: drawing the stumps] * * * * * at the gentlemen v. players return match.--_new yorker._ say, can i get a square meal here? _waiter_ (_with dignity_). this, sir, is the oval _s._ _d._ luncheon. * * * * * dramatic duet _sharp person_ (_asks, singing_). in what hand should a cricketer write? _dull person_ (_answers, also singing_). i don't quite understand. _sharp person_ (_annoyed_). shall i repeat-- _sharper person_ (_briskly sings_). oh no! i see't, he'll write in a _bowl'd round hand_. [_exit_ sharp person l.h. sharper person _dances off_ r.h. dull person _is left thinking_. * * * * * a hundred up _tommy_ (_reading daily paper_). what's a centenarian, bill? _bill_ (_promptly_). a cricketer, of course, who makes a hundred runs. _tommy._ you don't say so. _i_ thought he was called a centurion. * * * * * a well-known cricketer was expecting an interesting family event. suddenly the nurse rushed into his smoking-room. "well, nurse?" he said, "what is it?" "two fine byes," announced the nurse. * * * * * cricket hits _by dumb-crambo, off his own bat._ [illustration: pitching the wicket] [illustration: a maiden over----?] [illustration: a drive to the pavilion] [illustration: holding a catch] * * * * * to be seen for nothing.--the play of the features. * * * * * motto for british cricketers.--strike only at the ball! * * * * * a few questions on cricket _q._ what is "fielding"? _a._ the author of _tom jones_. _q._ how do you stop a ball? _a._ by putting out the lights. _q._ when does a party change sides? _a._ when he's in bed, and got the fidgets. _q._ what do you call "a long slip"? _a._ a hundred songs for a halfpenny. _q._ how much is game? _a._ it depends whether it's in season. * * * * * fancy our dear old lady's horror when she heard that last week, at lord's, a cricketer had bowled a maiden over. "poor thing!" exclaimed mrs. r., "i hope she was picked up again quickly, and wasn't much hurt." * * * * * philosophy at the popping crease "the glorious uncertainty?" why, to be sure, that it _must_ be the slowest should see at a glance, for cricket, as long as the sport shall endure, _must_ be in its nature a mere game of chance, "'tis all pitch and toss"; one can show it is so;-- 't isn't science or strength rules its losses or winnings. half depends on the "pitch"--of the wickets, you know, the rest on the "toss"--for first innings. * * * * * [illustration: _bowler_ (_his sixth appeal for an obvious leg-before_). "'ow's that?" _umpire_ (_drawing out watch_). "well, he's been in ten minutes now--hout!"] * * * * * [illustration: our village cricket club.--tom huggins, of the local fire brigade, umpires for the visiting team in an emergency. laden, as is usual, with their wealth, watches, etc., he hears the fire-bell, and obeys duty's call without loss of time!] * * * * * [illustration: the limitations of fame.--"and what are you?" "oh, i'm the wicket-keeper." "then why aren't you busy taking the gate-money?"] * * * * * con. for a cricketer miss nelly sits cool in the cricketer's booth and watches the game, about which, in good sooth, her curious interest ne'er ceases. she now wants to know of the flannel-clad youth, however the wickets can well be kept smooth, when she hears they are always _in creases_! * * * * * miltonic meditation (_by a looker-on at lawn-tennis_).--"they also _serve_ who only stand and wait." * * * * * appropriate to the season.--_q._ what is double as good a game as fives?--_a._ (_evident_) tennis. * * * * * going to the deuce.--getting thirty to forty at lawn-tennis. * * * * * suggestion to provincial lawn-tennis club.--why not give lawn-tennis balls in costume during the winter? * * * * * most appropriate attire.--a "grass-lawn" tennis costume. * * * * * the game for rackety bishops.--lawn-tennis. * * * * * [illustration: _miss delamode_ (_of belgravia_). "well, dear, i must be off. don't you love lord's?" _miss dowdesley_ (_of far-west kensingtonia_). "i'm sure i should, only----" (_immersed in her own dreams_)--"we don't know any!"] * * * * * our village cricket club i at our opening match, spinner, the demon left-hander, was again in great form. his masterly skill in placing the field, and his sound knowledge of the game, really won the match for us. [illustration: "about three feet nine to the right, please, colonel--that is to say, your right. that's it. back a little, just where the buff orpington's feeding. thanks."] ii [illustration: "you, mr. stewart, by this thistle. just to save the one, you know."] iii [illustration: his ruses were magnificent. when the squire came in, spinner (who had previously held a private consultation with the other bowler) shouted, "you won't want a fine leg for this man. put him deep and square." and then----] iv [illustration: the squire was neatly taken first ball off a glance at fine leg by spinner himself, who had crossed over (exactly as arranged) from his place at slip.] * * * * * a trill for tennis now lawn-tennis is beginning, and we'll set the balls a-spinning o'er the net and on the greensward with a very careful aim; you must work, as i'm a sinner, if you wish to prove a winner, for we're getting scientific at this fascinating game. you must know when it is folly to attempt a clever "volley," or to give the ball when "serving" it an aggravating twist; though a neatly-made backhander may arouse a rival's dander, you'll remember when you try it that it's very often missed. though your play thrown in the shade is by the prowess of the ladies, you must take your beating kindly with a smile upon your face; and 'twill often be the duty of some tennis-playing beauty to console you by remarking that defeat is not disgrace. for you doubtless find flirtation at this pleasant occupation is as easy as at croquet; when you're "serving" by _her_ side, you can hint your tender feeling, all your state of mind revealing, and, when winning "sets" together, you may find you've won a bride. so we'll don the flannel jacket, and take out the trusty racket, and though other folks slay pigeons, we'll forswear that cruel sport, and through summer seek a haven on the sward so smoothly shaven, with the whitened lines _en règle_ for a neat lawn-tennis court. * * * * * the place for lawn-tennis.--"_way down in tennessee._" * * * * * [illustration: a sketch at lord's _eva_ (_for the benefit of maud, who is not so well-informed_). "--and those upright sticks you see are the _wickets_. harrow's in at one end, and eton's in at the other, you know!"] * * * * * a polonaise "_nemo me on pony lacessit._" mad bards, i hear, have gaily trolled the boundless joys of cricket; have praised the bowler and the bowled and keeper of the wicket. i cannot join their merry song-- _non valeo sed volo_-- but really i can come out strong, whene'er i sing of polo! let golfophiles delight to air their putter-niblick learning; and, scarlet-coated, swipe and swear when summer sun is burning! let _artful cards_ sit up and pass their nights in playing bolo; but let me gambol--o'er the grass-- and make my game at polo! on chequered chess-boards students gaze o'er futile moves oft grieving; with knights content to pass their days, and constant checks receiving. 'mid kings and queens i have no place, _espiscopari nolo_-- i'd rather o'er the greensward race, and find no check in polo! then let me have my supple steed-- good-tempered, uncomplaining-- so sure of foot, so rare in speed, in perfect polo training. and let me toast in rare old port, in heidsieck or barolo, in shady-gaff or something short-- the keen delights of polo! * * * * * motto for croquet.--"she stoops to conquer." * * * * * in-door amusement for old people.--the game of croakey. * * * * * how to learn to love your enemies.--play at croquet. * * * * * for the drawing-room (_when there's a dead silence._)--my first is a bird; my second's a letter of the alphabet: my whole is some game. _explanation._ crow. k. (_croquet._) * * * * * [illustration: _lucy mildmay_ (_who is fond of technical terms_). "by the way--a--are they playing '_rugby_' or '_association_'?"] * * * * * [illustration: "out! first ball! a catch!!"] * * * * * a player who sprained his wrist at lawn-tennis explained that "he had been trying a regular _wrenchaw_, and did it effectually." * * * * * sportive song an old croquet-player ruminates i like to see a game revive like flower refreshed by rain, and so i say, "may croquet thrive, and may it live again!" it brings back thoughts of long ago, and memories most sweet, when amy loved her feet to show in shoes too small, but neat. i think i can see amy now, her vengeful arm upraised to croquet me to where a cow unheeding chewed and grazed. and amy's prowess with the ball reminds me that her style was not so taking after all as fanny's skill _plus_ smile. yes! fanny had a winsome laugh, that round her mouth would wreath, and make me wonder if her chaff was shaped to show her teeth. they were so pretty, just like pearls set fast in carmine case; still in the match between the girls selina won the race. selina had such lustrous eyes of real sapphire blue, they seemed one's soul to mesmerise, and looked one through and through. yet agnes i cannot forget, she brought me joy with pain. i would that we had never met---- "your stroke!" that voice! my jane! * * * * * [illustration: _bowler._ "how's that?" _umpire._ "wasn't looking. but if 'e does it again, 'e's out!"] * * * * * croquet o feeblest game, how strange if you should rise to favour, _vice_ tennis superseded! and yet beneath such glowing summer skies when wildest energy is invalided, mere hitting balls through little hoops seems work enough. one merely stoops, and lounges round; no other toil is needed. upon a breezy lawn beneath the shade of rustling trees that hide the sky so sunny, i'll play, no steady game as would be played by solemn, earnest folks as though for money-- for love is better. simply stoop, and hit the ball. it's through the hoop! my partner smiles; she seems to think it funny. my pretty partner, whose bright, laughing eyes gaze at me while i aim another blow; lo, i've missed because i looked at her! with sighs i murmur an apologetic solo. the proudest athlete here might stoop, to hit a ball just through a hoop, and say the game--with her--beats golf and polo. * * * * * [illustration: cricket--the pride of the village "good match, old fellow?" "oh, yes; awfully jolly!" "what did you do?" "i 'ad a hover of jackson; the first ball 'it me on the 'and, the second 'ad me on the knee; the third was in my eye; and the fourth bowled me out!" [_jolly game._ ] * * * * * advice to young croquet-players [illustration] . always take your own mallet to a garden party. this will impress everyone with the idea that you are a fine player. or an alternative plan is to play with one provided by your host, and then throughout the game to attribute every bad stroke to the fact that you have not your own implement with you. [illustration] . use as many technical terms as you can, eking them out with a few borrowed from golf. thus it will always impress your partner if you say that you are "stimied," especially as she won't know what it means. but a carefully-nurtured reputation may be destroyed at once if you confuse "roquet" with "croquet," so be very careful that you get these words right. . aim for at least three minutes before striking the ball, and appear overcome with amazement when you miss. if you have done so many times in succession, it may be well to remark on the unevenness of the ground. if you hit a ball by mistake always pretend that you aimed at it. . it is a great point to give your partner advice in a loud and authoritative tone--it doesn't matter in the least whether it is feasible or not. something like the following, said very quickly, always sounds well:--"hit one red, take two off him and make your hoop; send two red towards me and get into position." in a game of croquet there is always one on each side who gives advice, and one who receives (and disregards) it. all the lookers-on naturally regard the former as the finer player, therefore begin giving advice on your partner's first stroke. if she happens to be a good player this may annoy her, but that is no consequence. . remember that "a mallet's length from the boundary" varies considerably. if you play next, it means three yards, if your opponent does so, it means three inches. so, too, with the other "rules," which no one really knows. when in an awkward position, the best course is to invent a new rule on the spur of the moment, and to allege (which will be perfectly true) that "it has just been introduced." [illustration: genuine enthusiasm] . much may be done by giving your ball a gentle kick when the backs of the other players happen to be turned. many an apparently hopeless game has been saved by this method. leave your conscience behind when you come to a croquet-party. [illustration] * * * * * sweet name for young ladies playing croquet.--hammerdryads. [illustration] * * * * * the poet of croquet.--mallet. * * * * * [illustration: lawn-tennis costume (_designed by mr. punch._)] * * * * * [illustration: "nouvelles couches sociales!" "i say, uncle, that was young baldock that went by,--wilmington baldock, you know----!" "who the dickens is _he_?" "what! haven't you heard of him? hang it! he's making himself a very first-rate position in the _lawn-tennis_ world, i can _tell_ you!"] * * * * * [illustration: "sporting."--_cabby_ (_on the rank at the top of our square_.) "beg your pardon, miss!--'takin' the liberty--but--'ow does the game stand now, miss? 'cause me and this 'ere 'ansom's gota dollar on it!"] * * * * * [illustration: honi soit qui mal y pense _auntie._ "archie, run up to the house, and fetch my racket. there's a dear!" _archie_ (_preparing to depart_). "all right. but i say, auntie, don't let anybody take my seat, will you?"] * * * * * [illustration: barbarous technicalities of lawn-tennis.--_woolwich cadet_ (_suddenly, to his poor grandmother, who has had army on the brain ever since he passed his exam._). "the service is awfully severe, by jove! look at colonel pendragon--he invariably _shoots or hangs_!" _his poor grandmother._ "good heavens, algy! i hope you won't be in _his_ regiment!"] * * * * * [illustration: comforting _proud mother._ "did you _ever_ see anybody so light and slender as dear algernon, jack?" _uncle jack_ (_at thirty-five_). "oh, you mustn't trouble about _that_, maria. i was _exactly_ his build at eighteen!"] * * * * * [illustration: "donkeys have ears."--_emily_ (_playing at lawn-tennis with the new curate_). "what's the game, now, mr. miniver?" _curate._ "forty--love." _irreverent gardener_ (_overhearing_). "did y'ever hear such imperence! 'love,' indeed! and him not been in the parish above a week! just like them parsons!"] * * * * * [illustration: lawn-tennis under difficulties--"play!" if space is limited, there is no reason why one shouldn't play with one's next-door neighbours, over the garden wall. (one needn't visit them, you know!)] * * * * * [illustration: _stout gentleman_ (_whose play had been conspicuously bad_). "i'm such a wretched feeder, you see, mrs. klipper--a wretched feeder! always was!" _mrs. klipper_ (_who doesn't understand lawn-tennis_). "indeed! well, i should never have thought it!"] * * * * * [illustration: _she._ "what a fine looking man mr. o'brien is!" _he._ "h'm--hah--rather rough-hewn, i think. can't say i admire that loud-laughing, strong-voiced, robust kind of man. now that's a fine-looking woman he's talking to!" _she._ "well--er--somewhat _effeminate_, you know. confess i don't admire _effeminate_ women!"] * * * * * lawn-tennis lobs (_served by dumb-crambo junior._) [illustration: gentlemen's doubles] [illustration: smart service] [illustration: ladies singles] [illustration: back play] [illustration: a splendid rally] [illustration: smothering the bawl] [illustration: deuce!] [illustration: two sets to one] [illustration: playing up to the net] [illustration: love game] * * * * * the sport of the future ["the lawns that were erstwhile cumbered with tennis nets now bristle with croquet hoops, and the sedate mallet has driven out the frisky racquet."--_the world._] welcome, reason, on the scene, milder influences reviving! far too long have pastimes been senseless, useless, arduous striving, brutalising men of strength, dangerous to those who lack it: lo! it speaks their doom at length-- the decadence of the racket. purged from customs fierce and rude soon shall sports become more gentle, (as the grosser kinds of food yield the palm to bean and lentil), roller skates long since are "off," tennis is no longer o.k., rivals threaten even golf as the fashion sets for croquet. hence, then, cricket, young and vain, football, fraught with brutal bustle, you at reason's light shall wane-- modern upstart cult of muscle; so may purer tastes begin all our fiercer games refining, till, when spelicans come in, _i_ may get a chance of shining. [illustration: line ball] [illustration: out of court] * * * * * more lawn tennis lobs (_served by dumb-crambo junior._) [illustration: a let] [illustration: 'vaunt-age] [illustration: serving caught] [illustration: screw and twister] [illustration: the "wrencher (renshaw) smash"] [illustration: smart returns.] * * * * * [illustration: golden memories.--"i wonder why mr. poppstein serves with three balls?" "old associations, i suppose."] * * * * * [illustration: _smith._ "let me put your name down for this tournament?" _jones_ (_who thinks himself another renshaw, and doesn't care to play with a scratch lot_). "a--thanks--no! i'd _rather_ not!" _smith._ "oh, they're frightful duffers, _all_ of them! you'll stand a very fair chance! _do!_"] * * * * * [illustration: professional jealousy.--_miss matilda_ (_referring to her new lawn tennis shoes, black, with india-rubber soles_). "the worst of it is, they _draw_ the feet so!" _our artist_ (_an ingenuous and captivating youth_). "ah, they _may_ draw the feet; but they'll _never do justice to yours_, miss matilda!" [_sighs deeply._ ] * * * * * [illustration: trials of the umpire at a ladies' double _lilian and claribel._ "it was out, _wasn't_ it, captain standish?" _adeline and eleanore._ "oh, it _wasn't_ out, captain standish, was it?"] * * * * * [illustration: things one would rather have left unsaid _she._ "would you mind putting my lawn tennis shoes in your pockets, mr. green?" _he._ "i'm afraid my pockets are hardly big enough, miss gladys; but i shall be delighted to _carry_ them for you!"] * * * * * [illustration: _excited young lady._ "father, directly this set is over get introduced to the little man by the fireplace, and make him come to our party on tuesday. _her father._ "certainly, my dear, if you wish it. but--er--he's rather a scrubby little person, isn't he?" _excited young lady._ "father, do you know _who_ he is? they tell me he is the amateur champion of peckham! i don't suppose he'll play; but if you can get him just to look in, that will be _something_!"] * * * * * [illustration: a nice quiet game for the home.--this is only a little game of "ping-pong" in progress, and some of the balls are missing!] * * * * * [illustration: ping-pong in the stone age] * * * * * [illustration: the first time captain f. tried to play that pony he picked up so cheaply, he found it true to the description given of it by the late owner, who guaranteed it _not in the least afraid of the stick_]. * * * * * [illustration: a long shot. (_before the commencement of the polo match_).--_young lady_ (_making her first acquaintance with the game_). "oh, i wish you would begin. i'm so anxious to see the sweet ponie kick the ball about!" [_her only excuse is that she hails from a great football county._ ] * * * * * [illustration: our local polo match _excited drummer._ "vat! he iss your only ball? ach, donner und blitzen! he haf proke insides my only drum! you pay ze drum, you haf ze ball!"] * * * * * [illustration: "if you have any raw ponies, always play them in big matches; it gets them accustomed to the crowd, and the band, and things."] * * * * * [illustration: at hurlingham.--_captain smith_ (_who is showing his cousins polo for the first time_). "well, what do you think of it?" _millicent._ "oh, we think it is a _ripping_ game. it must be such _awfully_ good practice for croquet!"] * * * * * [illustration: the possibilities of croquet the above represents the game of "all against all," as played by brown, miss jones, and the major.] * * * * * ejaculations _on being asked to play croquet, a.d. ._ ["it is impossible to visit any part of the country without realising the fact that the long-discredited game of croquet is fast coming into vogue again.... this is partly owing to the abolition of 'tight croqueting.'"--_pall mall gazette._] eh? what? why? how? are we back in the sixties again? i am rubbing my eyes--is it _then_, or now? i'm a _rip van winkle_, it's plain! hoop, ball, stick, cage? eh, fetch them all out once more? why, look, they're begrimed and cracked with age, and their playing days are o'er! well--yes--here goes for a primitive chaste delight! let us soberly, solemnly beat our foes, for croquet's no longer "tight"! [illustration] * * * * * [illustration: charles keenesque croquet period. ] * * * * * [illustration: an objectionable old man.--_young ladies._ "going to make a flower-bed here, smithers? why, it'll quite spoil our croquet ground!" _gardener._ "well, that's yer pa's orders, miss! he'll hev' it laid out for 'orticultur', not for 'usbandry'".] * * * * * [illustration: sweet delusion.--_chorus of young ladies_ (_speaking technically_). "no _spooning_, mr. lovel! no _spooning_ allowed _here_!" _miss tabitha_ (_with the long curls_). "those naughty, _n-n-naughty_ girls! i suppose they allude to you and me, mr. lovel. but, lor'! never mind them!--_i_ don't."] * * * * * [illustration: so ready!--_snooks_ (_coming out conversationally_). "i think that every woman who is not out-and-out plain considers herself a beauty." _miss rinkle._ "does that include _me_?" _snooks._ "oh, of course not!"] * * * * * [illustration: the momentous question _eligible bachelor._ "shall i follow you up, annie; or leave myself for lizzie?"] * * * * * [illustration: [according to _country life_, croquet, which was revived last summer, is likely to increase in popularity this year. a splendid opportunity to revive the pastime and the costumes of the early sixties at the same time.] ] * * * * * the wooing [the sporting instinct is now so keen among girls that a man who gallantly moderates his hitting in mixed hockey is merely regarded as an _incapable slacker_ by his fair opponents.] when first i played hockey with kitty, i was right off my usual game, for she looked so bewitchingly pretty when straight for the circle she came; as a rule i'm not backward, or chary, of hitting and harassing too, but who can be rough with a fairy-- not i--so i let her go through. she scored, and we couldn't get equal; the others all thought me a fool, and kitty herself, in the sequel, grew most unexpectedly cool. they gave us a licking, as stated, i was sick at the sight of the ball, she thought me a lot over-rated, and wondered they played me at all. but she frankly approved percy waters, who uses his stick like a flail, and always impartially slaughters both sexes, the strong and the frail; a mutual friendliness followed, i watched its career with dismay-- next match-day my feelings i swallowed. and hit in my orthodox way. i caught her a crunch on the knuckle, a clip on the knee and the cheek, she said, with a rapturous chuckle, "i see--you weren't trying last week." such conduct its cruelty loses when it brings consolation to both, for after she'd counted her bruises that evening we plighted our troth. * * * * * [illustration: an alarming threat.--_miss dora_ (_debating her stroke_). "i have a great mind to knock you into the bushes mr. pipps!" [_mr. pipps (who is a complete novice at the game) contemplates instant flight. he was just on the point of proposing, too._ ] * * * * * [illustration: ladies at hockey (_from an old print._)] * * * * * the pursuit of beauty i saw an aged, aged man one morning near the row, who sat, dejected and forlorn, till it was time to go. it made me quite depressed and bad to see a man so wholly sad-- i went and told him so. i asked him why he sat and stared at all the passers-by, and why on ladies young and fair he turned his watery eye. he looked at me without a word, and then--it really was absurd-- the man began to cry. but when his rugged sobs were stayed-- it made my heart rejoice-- he said that of the young and fair he sought to make a choice. he was an artist, it appeared-- i might have guessed it by his beard, or by his gurgling voice. his aim in life was to procure a model fit to paint as "beauty on a pedestal," or "figure of a saint." but every woman seemed to be as crooked as a willow tree-- his metaphors were quaint. "and have you not observed," he asked, "that all the girls you meet have either 'hockey elbows' or ungainly 'cycling feet'? their backs are bent, their faces red, from 'cricket stoop,' or 'football head.'" he spoke to me with heat. "but have you never found," i said, "some girl without a fault? are all the women in the world misshapen, lame or halt?" he gazed at me with eyes aglow, and, though the tears had ceased to flow, his beard was fringed with salt. "there was a day, i mind it well, a lady passed me by in whose physique my searching glance no blemish could descry. i followed her at headlong pace, but when i saw her, face to face, _she had the 'billiard eye'!_" * * * * * [illustration: di got me to play hockey. never again!] * * * * * [illustration: "our great hockey match was in full swing, when a horrid cow, from the adjoining meadow, strolled on the ground. play was by general consent postponed."] * * * * * mixed hockey you came down the field like a shaft from a bow the vision remains with me yet. i hastened to check you: the sequel you know: alas! we unluckily met. you rushed at the ball, whirled your stick like a flail, and you hit with the vigour of two: a knight in his armour had surely turned pale, if he had played hockey with you. they gathered me up, and they took me to bed: they called for a doctor and lint: with ice in a bag they enveloped my head; my arm they enclosed in a splint. my ankles are swelled to a terrible size; my shins are a wonderful blue; i have lain here a cripple, unable to rise, since the day i played hockey with you. yet still, in the cloud hanging o'er me so black, a silvery lining i spy: a man who's unhappily laid on his back can yet have a solace. may i? an angel is woman in moments of pain, sang scott: clever poet, _he_ knew: it may, i perceive, be distinctly a gain to have fallen at hockey with you. for if you'll but nurse me (come quickly, come now), if you'll but administer balm, and press at my bidding my feverish brow with a cool but affectionate palm; if you'll sit by my side, it is possible, quite, that i may be induced to review with a feeling more nearly akin to delight that day i played hockey with you. [illustration] * * * * * [illustration: _major bunker_ (_who has been persuaded to join in a game of hockey for the first time, absent-mindedly preparing to drive_). "fore."] * * * * * [illustration: our ladies' hockey club miss hopper cannot understand how it is she is always put "in goal." but really the explanation is so simple. there's no room for a ball to get past her.] * * * * * [illustration: _extract from mabel's correspondence._--"we had a scratch game with the 'black and blue' club yesterday, but had an awful job to get any men. enid's brother and a friend of his turned up at the last moment; but they didn't do much except call 'offside' or 'foul' every other minute, and they were both as nervous as cats!"] * * * * * [illustration: our ladies' hockey club one of the inferior sex who volunteered to umpire soon discovered his office was no sinecure.] * * * * * [illustration: hare and hounds--and may their shadows never grow less.--_mrs. miniver._ "how exhausted they look, poor fellows! fancy doing that sort of thing for mere pleasure!" _little timpkins_ (_his bosom swelling with national pride_). "ah, but it's all through doing that sort of thing for _mere pleasure_, mind you, that we english are--_what we are_!" [_bully for little timpkins!_ ] * * * * * [illustration: hare and hounds--and donkey "seen two men with bags of paper pass this way?"--"no!" "did they tell you to say no?"--"yes."] * * * * * [illustration: happy thought.--the good old game of "hare and hounds," or "paper-chase," is still played in the northern suburbs of london during the winter. why should not young ladies be the hares?] * * * * * [illustration: a meeting of the "bandy" association for the promotion of "hockey on the ice."] * * * * * an idyl on the ice fur-apparelled for the skating, comes the pond's acknowledged belle: i am duly there in waiting, for i'll lose no time in stating that i love the lady well. then to don her skates, and surely mine the task to fit them tight, strap and fasten them securely, while she offers me, demurely, first the left foot then the right. off she circles, swiftly flying to the pond's extremest verge; then returning, and replying with disdain to all my sighing, and the love i dare not urge. vainly do i follow after, she's surrounded in a trice, other men have come and chaffed her, and the echo of her laughter comes across the ringing ice. still i've hope, a hope that never in my patient heart is dead; though fate for a time might sever, though she skated on for ever, i would follow where she fled. * * * * * [illustration: shakspeare illustrated "i am down again!"--_cymbeline_, act v., sc. .] * * * * * to football farewell to thee, cricket, thy last match is o'er; thy bat, ball, and wicket are needed no more. to thy sister we turn, for her coming we pray; her worshippers burn for the heat of the fray. hail! goddess of battle, yet hated of ma(r)s, how ceaseless their tattle of tumbles and scars! such warnings are vain, for thy rites we prepare, youth is yearning again in thy perils to share. broken limbs and black eyes may, perchance, be our lot; but grant goals and ties and we care not a jot. too sacred to name with thy posts, ball, and field, there is no winter game to which thou canst yield. * * * * * motto for an impecunious football club.--"more kicks than halfpence." * * * * * [illustration: prehistoric peeps during a considerable portion of the year the skating was excellent, and was much enjoyed by all classes.] * * * * * [illustration: _little jones_ (_to lady who has just collided with him_). "i-i-i-i beg your pardon! i-i-i hope i haven't hurt you!"] * * * * * [illustration: genuine enthusiasm (_a thaw picture._) what matter an inch or two of surface-water, if the ice be still sound underneath!] * * * * * "le foote-balle" _offices of the athletic convention, paris._ monsieur,--having already expressed my views as to the capabilities possessed by "le cricquette" for becoming a national game worthy the attention of the young sporting gentlemen of our modern france, i now turn me to the consideration of your "foote-balle." i have examined the apparatus for the play you have so kindly sent over,--the great leathern bag of wind which is kicked, "_les_ goalpoles", and the regulations for the playing of the game, and have seen your fifteen professional county "kicksmen" engage,--i shudder as i recall the terrible sight,--in a contest, horrible, murderous, and demoniacal, with an equal number of my unhappy compatriots, alas! in their enthusiasm and _élan_, ignorant of the deadly struggle that awaited them in the game in which they were about innocently to join. to witness the savage rush of your professional kicksmen was terrifying, and when, in displaying "_le scrimmage_", they scattered, with the kicks of their legs, my fainting compatriots, who fell lamed and wounded in all directions, i said to myself, this "foote-balle" is not a pastime, it is an encounter of wild beasts, "_un vrai carnage_," fit to be played, not by civilised sporting gentlemen, but by cannibals. but let me explain that it is not the kick to which i object, for is not _le coup de pied_ the national defence of france? indeed, in your own fist contest in "le boxe-match," is not to deliver a kick in the jaw of your antagonist considered a meritorious _coup_, showing great skill in the boxeman? and do not our own _garçons de collège_ kick a _confrère_ when he is "down," and point to the circumstance with a legitimate pride and satisfaction? no, it is not _le coup de pied_ which makes horrible "le foote-balle," but the conspiracy organised of the kicksmen--_les demidos_ (the 'alf-backs), _les en avants_ (the forwards), and the "goal-keepers"--all to kick the leathern bag of wind at once, and so produce a murderous _mêlée_ in which arms, legs, ribs, thighs, necks, and spines are all broken together, and may be heard simultaneously cracking by any of the terror-struck but helpless spectators who are watching the ghastly contest. viewing the game under this aspect, you will not be surprised to hear that my committee have, as they did in dealing with "le cricquette," revised the rules and regulations for the playing of your "foote-balle," so as to suit it to the tastes and requirements of the rising generation of our modern france. i cannot at present furnish you with full details of the suggested modifications, but i may inform you that it has been unanimously decided that the "balle," which is to be of "some light, airy, floating material, and three times its present size," is not to be touched by the foot at all, but struck lightly by the palm of the hand, and thus wafted harmlessly, with a smart smack, over the heads of the combatants. as to costume, the game is to be played in white satin bed-room slippers, with (as a protection in the event, spite every possible precaution, of "_le scrimmage_" arising) feather pillows strapped over the knees and chest. it is calculated by our committee that the savage proclivities of the game, as fostered by the terrible rules of your murderous "rugby association," will be thus, in some measure, counteracted. hoping soon to hear from you on the subject of your _courses d'eau_, as i shall doubtless have some suggestions to make in reference to the conduct of your aquatic contests, receive, monsieur, the assurance of my most distinguished consideration, the secretary to the congress. * * * * * [illustration: "oh, i say, they're gone for a rope or something. awfully sorry, you know, i can't come any nearer, but i'll stay here and talk to you."] * * * * * [illustration: nemesis.--inquisitive old gentleman. "who's won?" first football player. "we've lost!" inquisitive old gentleman. "what have you got in that bag?" second football player. "the umpire!"] * * * * * professionals of the floor and field. exactly the same, though not so in name, are dancing and football "pros." for both money make and salaries take for supporting the ball with their toes. * * * * * eton football (_special report by dumb-crambo junior._) [illustration: corner] [illustration: flying man] [illustration: post and back up post] [illustration: long behind and short behind] [illustration: old eat-onions] [illustration: the usual bully] [illustration: after the kick-off james effected a fine run,] [illustration: which he finished up by sending the ball just over the cross bar] [illustration: change was announced] [illustration: a scrim-age] [illustration: time was then called] [illustration: they made one rouge] * * * * * [illustration: how the goal-keeper appears to the opposing forward, who is about to shoot.] [illustration: and how the goal-keeper _feels_ when the opposing forward is about to shoot.] * * * * * that foot-ball _an athletic father's lament._ what was it made me cricket snub, and force my seven sons to sub- sidize a local "rugby" club? that foot-ball! yet, what first drew from me a sigh, when tom, my eldest, missed a "try," but got instead a broken thigh? that foot-ball! what in my second, stalwart jack, caused some inside machine to crack, and kept him ten months on his back--? that foot-ball! what brought my third, unhappy ted, to fade and sink, and keep his bed, and finally go off his head?-- that foot-ball! my fourth and fifth, poor john and jim, what made the sight of one so dim? what made the other lack a limb? that foot-ball! then frank, my sixth, who cannot touch the ground unaided by a crutch, alas! of what had he too much? that foot-ball! the seventh ends the mournful line, poor stephen with his fractured spine, a debt owe these good sons of mine, that foot-ball! and as we pass the street-boys cry, "look at them cripples!" i but sigh, "you're right, my friends. but would you fly a lot like ours; oh, do not try that foot-ball!" * * * * * [illustration: _uncle dick._ "ah yes, cricket is a fine game, no doubt--a very fine game. but football now! that's the game to make your hair curl!"] _miss dulcie_ (_meditatively_). "do you play football much, uncle?"] * * * * * eton football (_by dumb-crambo junior._) [illustration: mixed wall "game"] [illustration: four shies to love] [illustration: the "demons" took part in the game.--_newspaper report_] [illustration: furking out the _bawl_ from the bullies] * * * * * [illustration: animal spirits football. "the zambesi scorchers."] * * * * * foot-ball À la mode [hardly a week passes without our hearing of one or more dangerous accidents at football.] a manly game it is, i think, although in private be it spoken, while at a scrimmage i don't shrink, that bones may be too often broken. i snapped my clavicle last week, just like the rib of an umbrella; and sprained my ankle, not to speak of something wrong with my _patella_. last season, too, my leg i broke, and lay at home an idle dreamer, it's not considered quite a joke to contemplate a broken _femur_. and when, despite the doctor's hints, again at foot-ball i had tussles, i found myself once more in splints, with damaged gastronomic muscles. some three times every week my head, is cut, contused, or sorely shaken; my friends expect me brought home dead, but up to now i've saved my bacon. but what are broken bones, my boys, compared with noble recreation? the scrimmages and all the joys of rugby or association! * * * * * [illustration: association _v._ rugby _she_ (_plaintively--to famous rugby half-back_). "_would_ it get you very much out of practice if we were to dance 'socker' a little."] * * * * * open letter to a pair of football boots (_with acknowledgments to mr. c. b. fry in the "daily express"_) dear old pals,--i want to speak to you seriously and as man to man, because you're not mere dead hide, are you? no, no, you are intelligent, sentient soles, and to be treated as such by every player. ah! booties, booties, you little beauties, what a lot you mean to us, don't you? and how hardly we use you. i've known men to take you off after a game, hurl you--as jove hurled his thunderbolts--into a corner of the pav. and there leave you till you are next required. ah! old men, that's not right, is it? how would we great machines of bone, muscle, and nerve-centre (ah! those nerve-centres, what tricky things they are!), how would we be for the next match if we were treated like that? pretty stiff and stale, eh, old booties? now, look here, when we come in after a hard, slogging game, our bodies and the grey matter in our brains thoroughly exhausted, immediately we've had our bath, our rub-down, and our cup of steaming hot hercubos (i find hercubos the finest thing to keep fit on during a hard season) we must turn our attention to you, booties. first, out from our little bag must come our piece of clean, sweet selvyt. with it all that nasty black slime that gets into your pores and makes you crack must be wiped off. now, before a good blazing fire of coal--not coke, mind, the fumes of a coke fire pale and de-oxygenate the red corpuscles of our blood, you know--we must carefully warm you till you are ripe to receive a real good dousing of our porpo (i find porpo the finest thing for keeping boots soft and pliable). finally, with a white silk handkerchief we must give you a soft polishing, and there you are, sweet and trim against our next match. every morning you may be sure we will, like boreas, drive away the clouds of dust that collect on you. and then there are the laces to attend to. oh, yes, your laces are like our nerve-fibres, the little threads that keep the whole big body taut and sound. they, too, must have a good rubbing of porpo and a rest if they need it. ah! and won't you repay our trouble, booties, when next we slip you on? how tightly you will clasp us just above the tubercles of our tibiæ, how firmly you will grip our pliant toes, how you will help us to send the ball swishing--low and swift--into the well-tarred net! good-night, booties. * * * * * the "ball of the season."--foot-ball. * * * * * appropriate football fixture for the fifth of november.--a match against guy's. [illustration: "the shinner quartette;" or, musical football.] * * * * * [illustration: researches in ancient sports.--football match. romulus rovers _v_. nero half-backs.] * * * * * [illustration: prehistoric peeps.--the annual football match between the old red sandstone rovers and the pliocene wanderers was immensely and deservedly popular!!] * * * * * [illustration: sunday football.--"just look what your boys have done to my hat, mrs. jones!" "oh, the dears! oh, i _am_ so sorry! now, tom and harry, say how sorry _you_ are, and mr. lambourne won't mind!"] * * * * * [illustration: "socker" on the brain.--_harry._ "smart sort that on the right--forward." _tom_ (_a devoted "footer"_). "right forward? oh! no good forward; but looks like making a fair 'half-back'!"] * * * * * [illustration: exchange! _togswell (in the washing room at the office, proceeding to dress for the de browncy's dinner-party)._ "hullo! what the dooce"--(_pulling out, in dismay, from black bag, a pair of blue flannel tights, a pink striped jersey, and a spiked canvas shoe_).--"confound it! yes!--i must have taken that fellow's bag who said he was going to the athletic sports this afternoon, and he's got mine with my dress clothes!!"] * * * * * a derby dialogue scene--_in town._ jones _meets_ brown. [illustration] _jones._ going to epsom? _brown._ no, i think not. fact is, the place gets duller year by year. the train has knocked the fun out of the road. _jones._ such a waste of time. why go in a crowd to see some horses race, when you can read all about it in the evening papers? _brown._ just so. no fun. no excitement. and the downs are wretched if it rains or snows. _jones._ certainly. the luncheon, too, is all very well; but, after all, it spoils one's dinner. _brown._ distinctly. and champagne at two o'clock is premature. _jones._ and lobster-salad undoubtedly indigestible. so it's much better not to go to the derby--in spite of the luncheon. _brown._ yes,--in spite of the luncheon. [illustration] (_two hours pass. scene changes to epsom._) _jones._ hullo! you here? _brown._ hullo! and if it comes to that, you here, too? _jones._ well, i really found so little doing in town that i thought i might be here as well as anywhere else. _brown._ just my case. not that there's much to see or do. silly as usual. _jones._ quite. always said the derby was a fraud. but i am afraid, my dear fellow, i must hurry away, as i have got to get back to my party for luncheon. _brown._ so have i. [exeunt severally. * * * * * maxim for the derby day there's many a slip 'twixt the race and the tip. * * * * * [illustration: "last, but not least" "why do you call him a good jockey! he never rides a winner." "that just proves it. he can finish last on the best horse in the race!"] * * * * * [illustration: in search of a "certainty."--_cautious gambler._ "four to one be blowed! i want a chaunce of gettin' a bit for my money." _bookmaker._ "tell you what you want. you ought to join a burial society. sure to get somethin' out o' that!"] * * * * * [illustration: an echo from epsom.--"wot's the matter, chawley?" "matter! see that hinnercent babby there? 'e's got 'is pockets full o' tin tacks!"] * * * * * [illustration: what shall we do with our girls? (_why not give them a few lessons in the science of book-making?_) _mr. professor._ "and now, ladies, having closed our book on the favourite, and the betting being seven to three bar one, i will show you how to work out the odds against the double event."] * * * * * [illustration: cold comfort.--scene--_badly beaten horse walking in with crowd. first sporting gent (to second ditto, who has plunged disastrously on his advice)._ "told yer he was a foregorne conclusion for this race, did i? well, and what more d'yer want? ain't he jolly well the conclusion of it?"] * * * * * [illustration: derby day. down the road.--matches that strike upon the box.] * * * * * how to win the derby (_by one who has all but done it._) [illustration] take great care in purchasing a really good colt. don't let expense stand in your way, but be sure you get for money money's worth. obtain the most experienced trainer in the market, and confide your colt to his care. but, at the same time, let him have the advantage of your personal encouragement and the opinion of those of your sporting friends upon whose judgment you can place reliance. when the day of the great race draws near, secure the most reliable jockey and every other advantage that you can obtain for your valuable animal. then, having taken every precaution to win the derby, why--win it! * * * * * [illustration: at the post.--_first gentleman rider._ "who is the swell on the lame horse?" _second gentleman rider._ "oh--forget his name--he's the son of the great furniture man, don'tcherknow." _first gentleman rider._ "goes as if he had a caster off, eh?" * * * * * [illustration: ascot week racing note going in for a sweep.] * * * * * on the course.--_angelina._ what do they mean, dear, by the outside ring? _edwin._ oh! that's the place where we always back outsiders. a splendid institution! [_so it was, till edwin fell among gentlemen from wales._ * * * * * at the close of the racing season.--_owner (to friend, pointing to disappointing colt)._ there he is, as well bred as any horse in the world, but can't win a race. now what's to be done with him? _friend (suddenly inspired)._ harness the beast in front of a motor-car. he'll _have_ to travel, then. * * * * * real autumn handy-cap.--a deerstalker. * * * * * [illustration: _uncle._ "ah, milly, i'm afraid you've lost your money over that one. he's gone the wrong way!" _milly (at her first race-meeting)._ "oh, no, uncle, i'm all right. george told me to back it 'both ways.'"] * * * * * [illustration: the joys of a gentleman rider _trainer (to g. r., who has taken a chance mount)._ "so glad you turned up. this horse is such a rocky jumper you know, i can't get a professional to ride him."] * * * * * very racy.--_q._ when a parent gives his son the "straight tip" about a race, what vegetable does he recall to one's mind? _a._ pa ('s)-snip, of course. * * * * * [illustration: easy problem picture. "name the winner!" judging from their countenances, which of these two, who have just returned from a race meeting, has "made a bit"?] * * * * * [illustration: respice finem scene--_a little race meeting, under local rules and management._ _starter._ "'ere's a pretty mess! two runners--the favourite won't start--and if i let the other win, the crowd 'll just about murder me!"] * * * * * [illustration: his first book. (_at a provincial race meeting_).--_novice._ "look here, i've taken ten to one against _blueglass_, and i've given twelve to one against him! what do i stand to win?"] * * * * * [illustration: the hunt steeple-chase season _the joys of a gentleman rider._ _voice from the crowd._ "now, then, guv'nor, take care you don't get sunburnt!"] * * * * * racy sketches (_by d. crambo, junior_) [illustration: sire (sigher)] and [illustration: dam!] [illustration: maiden allowance] [illustration: settling at the clubs] [illustration: an objection on the ground of "boring"] [illustration: winning by a clever head] * * * * * [illustration: _owner._ "why didn't you ride as i told you? didn't i tell you to force the pace early and come away at the corner?" _jockey._ "yes, m'lord, but i couldn't very well leave the horse behind."] * * * * * at newmarket.--_lady plongère (to sir charles hamidoot)._ oh! sir charles, please put me a tenner each way on the favourite. _sir charles._ but will you repay me the money laid out? _lady p. (sweetly)._ of course i will, if i win. [_sir c. forgets to execute the commission._ * * * * * [illustration: heard at newmarket _jockey (whose horse has broken down)._ "thought you said it was as good as a walk over?" _trainer_. "well, ain't you _walkin_' over?"] * * * * * [illustration: a motor-horse steeple-chase] * * * * * [illustration: prehistoric peeps even the "derby" had its primeval counterpart.] * * * * * [illustration: _brown._ "confound it! done again! i lose on every race. (_to barber._) here's your shilling." _barber._ "couldn't think of taking it, sir. just won £ on the hascot cup!"] * * * * * [illustration: sporting event--a record she won the sweep!] * * * * * amusements for ascot (_provided for the better sex_) after taking infinite trouble to secure a dream of a dress, to wait expectantly to see whether it will rain or keep up. after arriving on the course to find one's only duchess monopolised by the buckingham-browns, to dismay of all semi-outsiders. between the races to notice one's hated rivals in the sacred enclosure, to which one has no admittance. at luncheon, to contrast the men of this year who have remained at home with those of last season who are now at the front. [illustration] and--perhaps safest of all--to leave the doubts and fears, the heart-burnings and disappointment of the meeting to others, and to learn all about ascot by reading the papers. * * * * * [illustration: "non est inventus" (_a derby problem._) _ostler_ (_on the downs, after the races_). "don't you even remember 'is colour, guv'nor?"] * * * * * the prevailing passion.--_father_ (_reading newspaper_). i see another rugby man has been appointed archbishop of canterbury. that's the third rugby man in succession. _son_ (_a football enthusiast_). well, i think it is time one of the association had a turn. [illustration] bradbury, agnew, & co. ld., printers, london and tonbridge. an almanac of twelve sports by william nicholson _words by rudyard kipling_ published by r. h. russell. new york. . . january. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ -- _wednesday_ -- _thursday_ -- _friday_ -- _saturday_ -- february. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ -- _wednesday_ -- _thursday_ -- _friday_ -- _saturday_ -- march. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ _wednesday_ _thursday_ _friday_ -- _saturday_ -- april. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ _wednesday_ _thursday_ _friday_ _saturday_ may. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ _wednesday_ -- _thursday_ -- _friday_ -- _saturday_ -- june. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ _wednesday_ _thursday_ _friday_ -- _saturday_ -- here is a horse to tame-- here is a gun to handle-- god knows you can enter the game if you'll only pay for the same, and the price of the game is a candle-- one single flickering candle! . july. _sunday_ _monday_ -- _tuesday_ -- _wednesday_ -- _thursday_ -- _friday_ -- _saturday_ -- august. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ _wednesday_ _thursday_ -- _friday_ -- _saturday_ -- september. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ _wednesday_ _thursday_ _friday_ _saturday_ -- october. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ -- _wednesday_ -- _thursday_ -- _friday_ -- _saturday_ -- november. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ _wednesday_ _thursday_ -- _friday_ -- _saturday_ -- december. _sunday_ _monday_ _tuesday_ _wednesday_ _thursday_ _friday_ _saturday_ hunting. certes it is a noble sport and men have quitted selle and swum for't, but i am of a meeker sort and i prefer surtees in comfort. reach down my "handley cross" again. my run, where never danger lurks, is with jorrocks and his deathless train pigg, binjimin and arterxerxes! [illustration: january.] coursing. most men harry the world for fun-- each man seeks it a different way but "of all daft devils under the sun a grey'ound's the daftest" said jorrocks j. [illustration: february.] racing. the horse is ridden--the jockey rides-- the backers back--the owners own but ... there are lots of things besides, and i should leave this play alone. [illustration: march.] boating. the pope of rome he could not win from pleasant meat and pleasant sin these who, in honour's hope, endure lean days and lives enforced pure. these who, replying not, submit unto the curses of the pit which he that rides (o greater shame!) flings forth by number not by name... could triple crown or jesuit's oath do what yon shuffle-stocking doth? [illustration: april.] fishing. behold a parable! _a_ fished for _b_. _c_ took her bait; her heart was set on _d_. thank heaven, who cooled your blood and cramped your wishes, men and not gods torment you, little fishes. [illustration: may.] cricket. thank god who made the british isles and taught me how to play, i do not worship crocodiles or bow the knee to clay! give me a willow wand and i, with hide and cork and twine, from century to century will gambol round my shrine. [illustration: june.] archery. the child of the nineties considers with laughter the maid whom his sire in the sixties ran after, while careering himself in pursuit of a girl whom the twenties will dub a "last century heir-loom." [illustration: july.] coaching. the pious horse to church may trot. a maid may work a man's salvation. four horses and a girl are not, however, aids to reformation. [illustration: august.] shooting. "peace upon earth, goodwill to men!" so greet we christmas day. oh christian load your gun and then, o christian, out and slay! [illustration: september.] golf. why golf is art and art is golf we have not far to seek-- so much depends upon the lie, so much upon the cleek. [illustration: october.] boxing. read here the moral roundly writ for him that into battle goes-- each soul that, hitting hard and hit, encounters gross or ghostly foes:-- prince, blown by many overthrows half blind with shame, half choked with dirt _man cannot tell but allah knows how much the other side was hurt!_ [illustration: november.] skating. over the ice she flies perfect and poised and fair-- stars in my true-love's eyes teach me to do and to dare! now will i fly as she flies ... woe for the stars that misled! stars that i saw in her eyes now do i see in my head! [illustration: december.] now we must come away. what are you out of pocket? 'sorry to spoil your play, but somebody says we must pay-- and the candle's down to the socket-- its horrible tallowy socket! the gold bat by p. g. wodehouse [dedication] to that prince of slackers, herbert westbrook contents chapter i the fifteenth place ii the gold bat iii the mayor's statue iv the league's warning v mill receives visitors vi trevor remains firm vii "with the compliments of the league" viii o'hara on the track ix mainly about ferrets x being a chapter of accidents xi the house-matches xii news of the gold bat xiii victim number three xiv the white figure xv a sprain and a vacant place xvi the ripton match xvii the watchers in the vault xviii o'hara excels himself xix the mayor's visit xx the finding of the bat xxi the league revealed xxii a dress rehearsal xxiii what renford saw xxiv conclusion i the fifteenth place "outside!" "don't be an idiot, man. i bagged it first." "my dear chap, i've been waiting here a month." "when you fellows have _quite_ finished rotting about in front of that bath don't let _me_ detain you." "anybody seen that sponge?" "well, look here"--this in a tone of compromise--"let's toss for it." "all right. odd man out." all of which, being interpreted, meant that the first match of the easter term had just come to an end, and that those of the team who, being day boys, changed over at the pavilion, instead of performing the operation at leisure and in comfort, as did the members of houses, were discussing the vital question--who was to have first bath? the field sports committee at wrykyn--that is, at the school which stood some half-mile outside that town and took its name from it--were not lavish in their expenditure as regarded the changing accommodation in the pavilion. letters appeared in every second number of the _wrykinian_, some short, others long, some from members of the school, others from old boys, all protesting against the condition of the first, second, and third fifteen dressing-rooms. "indignant" would inquire acidly, in half a page of small type, if the editor happened to be aware that there was no hair-brush in the second room, and only half a comb. "disgusted o. w." would remark that when he came down with the wandering zephyrs to play against the third fifteen, the water supply had suddenly and mysteriously failed, and the w.z.'s had been obliged to go home as they were, in a state of primeval grime, and he thought that this was "a very bad thing in a school of over six hundred boys", though what the number of boys had to do with the fact that there was no water he omitted to explain. the editor would express his regret in brackets, and things would go on as before. there was only one bath in the first fifteen room, and there were on the present occasion six claimants to it. and each claimant was of the fixed opinion that, whatever happened subsequently, he was going to have it first. finally, on the suggestion of otway, who had reduced tossing to a fine art, a mystic game of tommy dodd was played. otway having triumphantly obtained first innings, the conversation reverted to the subject of the match. the easter term always opened with a scratch game against a mixed team of masters and old boys, and the school usually won without any great exertion. on this occasion the match had been rather more even than the average, and the team had only just pulled the thing off by a couple of tries to a goal. otway expressed an opinion that the school had played badly. "why on earth don't you forwards let the ball out occasionally?" he asked. otway was one of the first fifteen halves. "they were so jolly heavy in the scrum," said maurice, one of the forwards. "and when we did let it out, the outsides nearly always mucked it." "well, it wasn't the halves' fault. we always got it out to the centres." "it wasn't the centres," put in robinson. "they played awfully well. trevor was ripping." "trevor always is," said otway; "i should think he's about the best captain we've had here for a long time. he's certainly one of the best centres." "best there's been since rivers-jones," said clephane. rivers-jones was one of those players who mark an epoch. he had been in the team fifteen years ago, and had left wrykyn to captain cambridge and play three years in succession for wales. the school regarded the standard set by him as one that did not admit of comparison. however good a wrykyn centre three-quarter might be, the most he could hope to be considered was "the best _since_ rivers-jones". "since" rivers-jones, however, covered fifteen years, and to be looked on as the best centre the school could boast of during that time, meant something. for wrykyn knew how to play football. since it had been decided thus that the faults in the school attack did not lie with the halves, forwards, or centres, it was more or less evident that they must be attributable to the wings. and the search for the weak spot was even further narrowed down by the general verdict that clowes, on the left wing, had played well. with a beautiful unanimity the six occupants of the first fifteen room came to the conclusion that the man who had let the team down that day had been the man on the right--rand-brown, to wit, of seymour's. "i'll bet he doesn't stay in the first long," said clephane, who was now in the bath, _vice_ otway, retired. "i suppose they had to try him, as he was the senior wing three-quarter of the second, but he's no earthly good." "he only got into the second because he's big," was robinson's opinion. "a man who's big and strong can always get his second colours." "even if he's a funk, like rand-brown," said clephane. "did any of you chaps notice the way he let paget through that time he scored for them? he simply didn't attempt to tackle him. he could have brought him down like a shot if he'd only gone for him. paget was running straight along the touch-line, and hadn't any room to dodge. i know trevor was jolly sick about it. and then he let him through once before in just the same way in the first half, only trevor got round and stopped him. he was rank." "missed every other pass, too," said otway. clephane summed up. "he was rank," he said again. "trevor won't keep him in the team long." "i wish paget hadn't left," said otway, referring to the wing three-quarter who, by leaving unexpectedly at the end of the christmas term, had let rand-brown into the team. his loss was likely to be felt. up till christmas wrykyn had done well, and paget had been their scoring man. rand-brown had occupied a similar position in the second fifteen. he was big and speedy, and in second fifteen matches these qualities make up for a great deal. if a man scores one or two tries in nearly every match, people are inclined to overlook in him such failings as timidity and clumsiness. it is only when he comes to be tried in football of a higher class that he is seen through. in the second fifteen the fact that rand-brown was afraid to tackle his man had almost escaped notice. but the habit would not do in first fifteen circles. "all the same," said clephane, pursuing his subject, "if they don't play him, i don't see who they're going to get. he's the best of the second three-quarters, as far as i can see." it was this very problem that was puzzling trevor, as he walked off the field with paget and clowes, when they had got into their blazers after the match. clowes was in the same house as trevor--donaldson's--and paget was staying there, too. he had been head of donaldson's up to christmas. "it strikes me," said paget, "the school haven't got over the holidays yet. i never saw such a lot of slackers. you ought to have taken thirty points off the sort of team you had against you today." "have you ever known the school play well on the second day of term?" asked clowes. "the forwards always play as if the whole thing bored them to death." "it wasn't the forwards that mattered so much," said trevor. "they'll shake down all right after a few matches. a little running and passing will put them right." "let's hope so," paget observed, "or we might as well scratch to ripton at once. there's a jolly sight too much of the mince-pie and christmas pudding about their play at present." there was a pause. then paget brought out the question towards which he had been moving all the time. "what do you think of rand-brown?" he asked. it was pretty clear by the way he spoke what he thought of that player himself, but in discussing with a football captain the capabilities of the various members of his team, it is best to avoid a too positive statement one way or the other before one has heard his views on the subject. and paget was one of those people who like to know the opinions of others before committing themselves. clowes, on the other hand, was in the habit of forming his views on his own account, and expressing them. if people agreed with them, well and good: it afforded strong presumptive evidence of their sanity. if they disagreed, it was unfortunate, but he was not going to alter his opinions for that, unless convinced at great length that they were unsound. he summed things up, and gave you the result. you could take it or leave it, as you preferred. "i thought he was bad," said clowes. "bad!" exclaimed trevor, "he was a disgrace. one can understand a chap having his off-days at any game, but one doesn't expect a man in the wrykyn first to funk. he mucked five out of every six passes i gave him, too, and the ball wasn't a bit slippery. still, i shouldn't mind that so much if he had only gone for his man properly. it isn't being out of practice that makes you funk. and even when he did have a try at you, paget, he always went high." "that," said clowes thoughtfully, "would seem to show that he was game." nobody so much as smiled. nobody ever did smile at clowes' essays in wit, perhaps because of the solemn, almost sad, tone of voice in which he delivered them. he was tall and dark and thin, and had a pensive eye, which encouraged the more soulful of his female relatives to entertain hopes that he would some day take orders. "well," said paget, relieved at finding that he did not stand alone in his views on rand-brown's performance, "i must say i thought he was awfully bad myself." "i shall try somebody else next match," said trevor. "it'll be rather hard, though. the man one would naturally put in, bryce, left at christmas, worse luck." bryce was the other wing three-quarter of the second fifteen. "isn't there anybody in the third?" asked paget. "barry," said clowes briefly. "clowes thinks barry's good," explained trevor. "he _is_ good," said clowes. "i admit he's small, but he can tackle." "the question is, would he be any good in the first? a chap might do jolly well for the third, and still not be worth trying for the first." "i don't remember much about barry," said paget, "except being collared by him when we played seymour's last year in the final. i certainly came away with a sort of impression that he could tackle. i thought he marked me jolly well." "there you are, then," said clowes. "a year ago barry could tackle paget. there's no reason for supposing that he's fallen off since then. we've seen that rand-brown _can't_ tackle paget. ergo, barry is better worth playing for the team than rand-brown. q.e.d." "all right, then," replied trevor. "there can't be any harm in trying him. we'll have another scratch game on thursday. will you be here then, paget?" "oh, yes. i'm stopping till saturday." "good man. then we shall be able to see how he does against you. i wish you hadn't left, though, by jove. we should have had ripton on toast, the same as last term." wrykyn played five schools, but six school matches. the school that they played twice in the season was ripton. to win one ripton match meant that, however many losses it might have sustained in the other matches, the school had had, at any rate, a passable season. to win two ripton matches in the same year was almost unheard of. this year there had seemed every likelihood of it. the match before christmas on the ripton ground had resulted in a win for wrykyn by two goals and a try to a try. but the calculations of the school had been upset by the sudden departure of paget at the end of term, and also of bryce, who had hitherto been regarded as his understudy. and in the first ripton match the two goals had both been scored by paget, and both had been brilliant bits of individual play, which a lesser man could not have carried through. the conclusion, therefore, at which the school reluctantly arrived, was that their chances of winning the second match could not be judged by their previous success. they would have to approach the easter term fixture from another--a non-paget--standpoint. in these circumstances it became a serious problem: who was to get the fifteenth place? whoever played in paget's stead against ripton would be certain, if the match were won, to receive his colours. who, then, would fill the vacancy? "rand-brown, of course," said the crowd. but the experts, as we have shown, were of a different opinion. ii the gold bat trevor did not take long to resume a garb of civilisation. he never wasted much time over anything. he was gifted with a boundless energy, which might possibly have made him unpopular had he not justified it by results. the football of the school had never been in such a flourishing condition as it had attained to on his succeeding to the captaincy. it was not only that the first fifteen was good. the excellence of a first fifteen does not always depend on the captain. but the games, even down to the very humblest junior game, had woken up one morning--at the beginning of the previous term--to find themselves, much to their surprise, organised going concerns. like the immortal captain pott, trevor was "a terror to the shirker and the lubber". and the resemblance was further increased by the fact that he was "a toughish lot", who was "little, but steel and india-rubber". at first sight his appearance was not imposing. paterfamilias, who had heard his son's eulogies on trevor's performances during the holidays, and came down to watch the school play a match, was generally rather disappointed on seeing five feet six where he had looked for at least six foot one, and ten stone where he had expected thirteen. but then, what there was of trevor was, as previously remarked, steel and india-rubber, and he certainly played football like a miniature stoddart. it was characteristic of him that, though this was the first match of the term, his condition seemed to be as good as possible. he had done all his own work on the field and most of rand-brown's, and apparently had not turned a hair. he was one of those conscientious people who train in the holidays. when he had changed, he went down the passage to clowes' study. clowes was in the position he frequently took up when the weather was good--wedged into his window in a sitting position, one leg in the study, the other hanging outside over space. the indoor leg lacked a boot, so that it was evident that its owner had at least had the energy to begin to change. that he had given the thing up after that, exhausted with the effort, was what one naturally expected from clowes. he would have made a splendid actor: he was so good at resting. "hurry up and dress," said trevor; "i want you to come over to the baths." "what on earth do you want over at the baths?" "i want to see o'hara." "oh, yes, i remember. dexter's are camping out there, aren't they? i heard they were. why is it?" "one of the dexter kids got measles in the last week of the holidays, so they shunted all the beds and things across, and the chaps went back there instead of to the house." in the winter term the baths were always boarded over and converted into a sort of extra gymnasium where you could go and box or fence when there was no room to do it in the real gymnasium. socker and stump-cricket were also largely played there, the floor being admirably suited to such games, though the light was always rather tricky, and prevented heavy scoring. "i should think," said clowes, "from what i've seen of dexter's beauties, that dexter would like them to camp out at the bottom of the baths all the year round. it would be a happy release for him if they were all drowned. and i suppose if he had to choose any one of them for a violent death, he'd pick o'hara. o'hara must be a boon to a house-master. i've known chaps break rules when the spirit moved them, but he's the only one i've met who breaks them all day long and well into the night simply for amusement. i've often thought of writing to the s.p.c.a. about it. i suppose you could call dexter an animal all right?" "o'hara's right enough, really. a man like dexter would make any fellow run amuck. and then o'hara's an irishman to start with, which makes a difference." there is usually one house in every school of the black sheep sort, and, if you go to the root of the matter, you will generally find that the fault is with the master of that house. a house-master who enters into the life of his house, coaches them in games--if an athlete--or, if not an athlete, watches the games, umpiring at cricket and refereeing at football, never finds much difficulty in keeping order. it may be accepted as fact that the juniors of a house will never be orderly of their own free will, but disturbances in the junior day-room do not make the house undisciplined. the prefects are the criterion. if you find them joining in the general "rags", and even starting private ones on their own account, then you may safely say that it is time the master of that house retired from the business, and took to chicken-farming. and that was the state of things in dexter's. it was the most lawless of the houses. mr dexter belonged to a type of master almost unknown at a public school--the usher type. in a private school he might have passed. at wrykyn he was out of place. to him the whole duty of a house-master appeared to be to wage war against his house. when dexter's won the final for the cricket cup in the summer term of two years back, the match lasted four afternoons--four solid afternoons of glorious, up-and-down cricket. mr dexter did not see a single ball of that match bowled. he was prowling in sequestered lanes and broken-down barns out of bounds on the off-chance that he might catch some member of his house smoking there. as if the whole of the house, from the head to the smallest fag, were not on the field watching day's best bats collapse before henderson's bowling, and moriarty hit up that marvellous and unexpected fifty-three at the end of the second innings! that sort of thing definitely stamps a master. "what do you want to see o'hara about?" asked clowes. "he's got my little gold bat. i lent it him in the holidays." a remark which needs a footnote. the bat referred to was made of gold, and was about an inch long by an eighth broad. it had come into existence some ten years previously, in the following manner. the inter-house cricket cup at wrykyn had originally been a rather tarnished and unimpressive vessel, whose only merit consisted in the fact that it was of silver. ten years ago an old wrykinian, suddenly reflecting that it would not be a bad idea to do something for the school in a small way, hied him to the nearest jeweller's and purchased another silver cup, vast withal and cunningly decorated with filigree work, and standing on a massive ebony plinth, round which were little silver lozenges just big enough to hold the name of the winning house and the year of grace. this he presented with his blessing to be competed for by the dozen houses that made up the school of wrykyn, and it was formally established as the house cricket cup. the question now arose: what was to be done with the other cup? the school house, who happened to be the holders at the time, suggested disinterestedly that it should become the property of the house which had won it last. "not so," replied the field sports committee, "but far otherwise. we will have it melted down in a fiery furnace, and thereafter fashioned into eleven little silver bats. and these little silver bats shall be the guerdon of the eleven members of the winning team, to have and to hold for the space of one year, unless, by winning the cup twice in succession, they gain the right of keeping the bat for yet another year. how is that, umpire?" and the authorities replied, "o men of infinite resource and sagacity, verily is it a cold day when _you_ get left behind. forge ahead." but, when they had forged ahead, behold! it would not run to eleven little silver bats, but only to ten little silver bats. thereupon the headmaster, a man liberal with his cash, caused an eleventh little bat to be fashioned--for the captain of the winning team to have and to hold in the manner aforesaid. and, to single it out from the others, it was wrought, not of silver, but of gold. and so it came to pass that at the time of our story trevor was in possession of the little gold bat, because donaldson's had won the cup in the previous summer, and he had captained them--and, incidentally, had scored seventy-five without a mistake. "well, i'm hanged if i would trust o'hara with my bat," said clowes, referring to the silver ornament on his own watch-chain; "he's probably pawned yours in the holidays. why did you lend it to him?" "his people wanted to see it. i know him at home, you know. they asked me to lunch the last day but one of the holidays, and we got talking about the bat, because, of course, if we hadn't beaten dexter's in the final, o'hara would have had it himself. so i sent it over next day with a note asking o'hara to bring it back with him here." "oh, well, there's a chance, then, seeing he's only had it so little time, that he hasn't pawned it yet. you'd better rush off and get it back as soon as possible. it's no good waiting for me. i shan't be ready for weeks." "where's paget?" "teaing with donaldson. at least, he said he was going to." "then i suppose i shall have to go alone. i hate walking alone." "if you hurry," said clowes, scanning the road from his post of vantage, "you'll be able to go with your fascinating pal ruthven. he's just gone out." trevor dashed downstairs in his energetic way, and overtook the youth referred to. clowes brooded over them from above like a sorrowful and rather disgusted providence. trevor's liking for ruthven, who was a donaldsonite like himself, was one of the few points on which the two had any real disagreement. clowes could not understand how any person in his senses could of his own free will make an intimate friend of ruthven. "hullo, trevor," said ruthven. "come over to the baths," said trevor, "i want to see o'hara about something. or were you going somewhere else." "i wasn't going anywhere in particular. i never know what to do in term-time. it's deadly dull." trevor could never understand how any one could find term-time dull. for his own part, there always seemed too much to do in the time. "you aren't allowed to play games?" he said, remembering something about a doctor's certificate in the past. "no," said ruthven. "thank goodness," he added. which remark silenced trevor. to a person who thanked goodness that he was not allowed to play games he could find nothing to say. but he ceased to wonder how it was that ruthven was dull. they proceeded to the baths together in silence. o'hara, they were informed by a dexter's fag who met them outside the door, was not about. "when he comes back," said trevor, "tell him i want him to come to tea tomorrow directly after school, and bring my bat. don't forget." the fag promised to make a point of it. iii the mayor's statue one of the rules that governed the life of donough o'hara, the light-hearted descendant of the o'haras of castle taterfields, co. clare, ireland, was "never refuse the offer of a free tea". so, on receipt--per the dexter's fag referred to--of trevor's invitation, he scratched one engagement (with his mathematical master--not wholly unconnected with the working-out of examples to in hall and knight's algebra), postponed another (with his friend and ally moriarty, of dexter's, who wished to box with him in the gymnasium), and made his way at a leisurely pace towards donaldson's. he was feeling particularly pleased with himself today, for several reasons. he had begun the day well by scoring brilliantly off mr dexter across the matutinal rasher and coffee. in morning school he had been put on to translate the one passage which he happened to have prepared--the first ten lines, in fact, of the hundred which formed the morning's lesson. and in the final hour of afternoon school, which was devoted to french, he had discovered and exploited with great success an entirely new and original form of ragging. this, he felt, was the strenuous life; this was living one's life as one's life should be lived. he met trevor at the gate. as they were going in, a carriage and pair dashed past. its cargo consisted of two people, the headmaster, looking bored, and a small, dapper man, with a very red face, who looked excited, and was talking volubly. trevor and o'hara raised their caps as the chariot swept by, but the salute passed unnoticed. the head appeared to be wrapped in thought. "what's the old man doing in a carriage, i wonder," said trevor, looking after them. "who's that with him?" "that," said o'hara, "is sir eustace briggs." "who's sir eustace briggs?" o'hara explained, in a rich brogue, that sir eustace was mayor of wrykyn, a keen politician, and a hater of the irish nation, judging by his letters and speeches. they went into trevor's study. clowes was occupying the window in his usual manner. "hullo, o'hara," he said, "there is an air of quiet satisfaction about you that seems to show that you've been ragging dexter. have you?" "oh, that was only this morning at breakfast. the best rag was in french," replied o'hara, who then proceeded to explain in detail the methods he had employed to embitter the existence of the hapless gallic exile with whom he had come in contact. it was that gentleman's custom to sit on a certain desk while conducting the lesson. this desk chanced to be o'hara's. on the principle that a man may do what he likes with his own, he had entered the room privily in the dinner-hour, and removed the screws from his desk, with the result that for the first half-hour of the lesson the class had been occupied in excavating m. gandinois from the ruins. that gentleman's first act on regaining his equilibrium had been to send o'hara out of the room, and o'hara, who had foreseen this emergency, had spent a very pleasant half-hour in the passage with some mixed chocolates and a copy of mr hornung's _amateur cracksman_. it was his notion of a cheerful and instructive french lesson. "what were you talking about when you came in?" asked clowes. "who's been slanging ireland, o'hara?" "the man briggs." "what are you going to do about it? aren't you going to take any steps?" "is it steps?" said o'hara, warmly, "and haven't we----" he stopped. "well?" "ye know," he said, seriously, "ye mustn't let it go any further. i shall get sacked if it's found out. an' so will moriarty, too." "why?" asked trevor, looking up from the tea-pot he was filling, "what on earth have you been doing?" "wouldn't it be rather a cheery idea," suggested clowes, "if you began at the beginning." "well, ye see," o'hara began, "it was this way. the first i heard of it was from dexter. he was trying to score off me as usual, an' he said, 'have ye seen the paper this morning, o'hara?' i said, no, i had not. then he said, 'ah,' he said, 'ye should look at it. there's something there that ye'll find interesting.' i said, 'yes, sir?' in me respectful way. 'yes,' said he, 'the irish members have been making their customary disturbances in the house. why is it, o'hara,' he said, 'that irishmen are always thrusting themselves forward and making disturbances for purposes of self-advertisement?' 'why, indeed, sir?' said i, not knowing what else to say, and after that the conversation ceased." "go on," said clowes. "after breakfast moriarty came to me with a paper, and showed me what they had been saying about the irish. there was a letter from the man briggs on the subject. 'a very sensible and temperate letter from sir eustace briggs', they called it, but bedad! if that was a temperate letter, i should like to know what an intemperate one is. well, we read it through, and moriarty said to me, 'can we let this stay as it is?' and i said, 'no. we can't.' 'well,' said moriarty to me, 'what are we to do about it? i should like to tar and feather the man,' he said. 'we can't do that,' i said, 'but why not tar and feather his statue?' i said. so we thought we would. ye know where the statue is, i suppose? it's in the recreation ground just across the river." "i know the place," said clowes. "go on. this is ripping. i always knew you were pretty mad, but this sounds as if it were going to beat all previous records." "have ye seen the baths this term," continued o'hara, "since they shifted dexter's house into them? the beds are in two long rows along each wall. moriarty's and mine are the last two at the end farthest from the door." "just under the gallery," said trevor. "i see." "that's it. well, at half-past ten sharp every night dexter sees that we're all in, locks the door, and goes off to sleep at the old man's, and we don't see him again till breakfast. he turns the gas off from outside. at half-past seven the next morning, smith"--smith was one of the school porters--"unlocks the door and calls us, and we go over to the hall to breakfast." "well?" "well, directly everybody was asleep last night--it wasn't till after one, as there was a rag on--moriarty and i got up, dressed, and climbed up into the gallery. ye know the gallery windows? they open at the top, an' it's rather hard to get out of them. but we managed it, and dropped on to the gravel outside." "long drop," said clowes. "yes. i hurt myself rather. but it was in a good cause. i dropped first, and while i was on the ground, moriarty came on top of me. that's how i got hurt. but it wasn't much, and we cut across the grounds, and over the fence, and down to the river. it was a fine night, and not very dark, and everything smelt ripping down by the river." "don't get poetical," said clowes. "stick to the point." "we got into the boat-house--" "how?" asked the practical trevor, for the boat-house was wont to be locked at one in the morning. "moriarty had a key that fitted," explained o'hara, briefly. "we got in, and launched a boat--a big tub--put in the tar and a couple of brushes--there's always tar in the boat-house--and rowed across." "wait a bit," interrupted trevor, "you said tar and feathers. where did you get the feathers?" "we used leaves. they do just as well, and there were heaps on the bank. well, when we landed, we tied up the boat, and bucked across to the recreation ground. we got over the railings--beastly, spiky railings--and went over to the statue. ye know where the statue stands? it's right in the middle of the place, where everybody can see it. moriarty got up first, and i handed him the tar and a brush. then i went up with the other brush, and we began. we did his face first. it was too dark to see really well, but i think we made a good job of it. when we had put about as much tar on as we thought would do, we took out the leaves--which we were carrying in our pockets--and spread them on. then we did the rest of him, and after about half an hour, when we thought we'd done about enough, we got into our boat again, and came back." "and what did you do till half-past seven?" "we couldn't get back the way we'd come, so we slept in the boat-house." "well--i'm--hanged," was trevor's comment on the story. clowes roared with laughter. o'hara was a perpetual joy to him. as o'hara was going, trevor asked him for his gold bat. "you haven't lost it, i hope?" he said. o'hara felt in his pocket, but brought his hand out at once and transferred it to another pocket. a look of anxiety came over his face, and was reflected in trevor's. "i could have sworn it was in that pocket," he said. "you _haven't_ lost it?" queried trevor again. "he has," said clowes, confidently. "if you want to know where that bat is, i should say you'd find it somewhere between the baths and the statue. at the foot of the statue, for choice. it seems to me--correct me if i am wrong--that you have been and gone and done it, me broth av a bhoy." o'hara gave up the search. "it's gone," he said. "man, i'm most awfully sorry. i'd sooner have lost a ten-pound note." "i don't see why you should lose either," snapped trevor. "why the blazes can't you be more careful." o'hara was too penitent for words. clowes took it on himself to point out the bright side. "there's nothing to get sick about, really," he said. "if the thing doesn't turn up, though it probably will, you'll simply have to tell the old man that it's lost. he'll have another made. you won't be asked for it till just before sports day either, so you will have plenty of time to find it." the challenge cups, and also the bats, had to be given to the authorities before the sports, to be formally presented on sports day. "oh, i suppose it'll be all right," said trevor, "but i hope it won't be found anywhere near the statue." o'hara said he hoped so too. iv the league's warning the team to play in any match was always put upon the notice-board at the foot of the stairs in the senior block a day before the date of the fixture. both first and second fifteens had matches on the thursday of this week. the second were playing a team brought down by an old wrykinian. the first had a scratch game. when barry, accompanied by m'todd, who shared his study at seymour's and rarely left him for two minutes on end, passed by the notice-board at the quarter to eleven interval, it was to the second fifteen list that he turned his attention. now that bryce had left, he thought he might have a chance of getting into the second. his only real rival, he considered, was crawford, of the school house, who was the other wing three-quarter of the third fifteen. the first name he saw on the list was crawford's. it seemed to be written twice as large as any of the others, and his own was nowhere to be seen. the fact that he had half expected the calamity made things no better. he had set his heart on playing for the second this term. then suddenly he noticed a remarkable phenomenon. the other wing three-quarter was rand-brown. if rand-brown was playing for the second, who was playing for the first? he looked at the list. "_come_ on," he said hastily to m'todd. he wanted to get away somewhere where his agitated condition would not be noticed. he felt quite faint at the shock of seeing his name on the list of the first fifteen. there it was, however, as large as life. "m. barry." separated from the rest by a thin red line, but still there. in his most optimistic moments he had never dreamed of this. m'todd was reading slowly through the list of the second. he did everything slowly, except eating. "come on," said barry again. m'todd had, after much deliberation, arrived at a profound truth. he turned to barry, and imparted his discovery to him in the weighty manner of one who realises the importance of his words. "look here," he said, "your name's not down here." "i know. _come_ on." "but that means you're not playing for the second." "of course it does. well, if you aren't coming, i'm off." "but, look here----" barry disappeared through the door. after a moment's pause, m'todd followed him. he came up with him on the senior gravel. "what's up?" he inquired. "nothing," said barry. "are you sick about not playing for the second?" "no." "you are, really. come and have a bun." in the philosophy of m'todd it was indeed a deep-rooted sorrow that could not be cured by the internal application of a new, hot bun. it had never failed in his own case. "bun!" barry was quite shocked at the suggestion. "i can't afford to get myself out of condition with beastly buns." "but if you aren't playing----" "you ass. i'm playing for the first. now, do you see?" m'todd gaped. his mind never worked very rapidly. "what about rand-brown, then?" he said. "rand-brown's been chucked out. can't you understand? you _are_ an idiot. rand-brown's playing for the second, and i'm playing for the first." "but you're----" he stopped. he had been going to point out that barry's tender years--he was only sixteen--and smallness would make it impossible for him to play with success for the first fifteen. he refrained owing to a conviction that the remark would not be wholly judicious. barry was touchy on the subject of his size, and m'todd had suffered before now for commenting on it in a disparaging spirit. "i tell you what we'll do after school," said barry, "we'll have some running and passing. it'll do you a lot of good, and i want to practise taking passes at full speed. you can trot along at your ordinary pace, and i'll sprint up from behind." m'todd saw no objection to that. trotting along at his ordinary pace--five miles an hour--would just suit him. "then after that," continued barry, with a look of enthusiasm, "i want to practise passing back to my centre. paget used to do it awfully well last term, and i know trevor expects his wing to. so i'll buck along, and you race up to take my pass. see?" this was not in m'todd's line at all. he proposed a slight alteration in the scheme. "hadn't you better get somebody else--?" he began. "don't be a slack beast," said barry. "you want exercise awfully badly." and, as m'todd always did exactly as barry wished, he gave in, and spent from four-thirty to five that afternoon in the prescribed manner. a suggestion on his part at five sharp that it wouldn't be a bad idea to go and have some tea was not favourably received by the enthusiastic three-quarter, who proposed to devote what time remained before lock-up to practising drop-kicking. it was a painful alternative that faced m'todd. his allegiance to barry demanded that he should consent to the scheme. on the other hand, his allegiance to afternoon tea--equally strong--called him back to the house, where there was cake, and also muffins. in the end the question was solved by the appearance of drummond, of seymour's, garbed in football things, and also anxious to practise drop-kicking. so m'todd was dismissed to his tea with opprobrious epithets, and barry and drummond settled down to a little serious and scientific work. making allowances for the inevitable attack of nerves that attends a first appearance in higher football circles than one is accustomed to, barry did well against the scratch team--certainly far better than rand-brown had done. his smallness was, of course, against him, and, on the only occasion on which he really got away, paget overtook him and brought him down. but then paget was exceptionally fast. in the two most important branches of the game, the taking of passes and tackling, barry did well. as far as pluck went he had enough for two, and when the whistle blew for no-side he had not let paget through once, and trevor felt that his inclusion in the team had been justified. there was another scratch game on the saturday. barry played in it, and did much better. paget had gone away by an early train, and the man he had to mark now was one of the masters, who had been good in his time, but was getting a trifle old for football. barry scored twice, and on one occasion, by passing back to trevor after the manner of paget, enabled the captain to run in. and trevor, like the captain in _billy taylor_, "werry much approved of what he'd done." barry began to be regarded in the school as a regular member of the fifteen. the first of the fixture-card matches, versus the town, was due on the following saturday, and it was generally expected that he would play. m'todd's devotion increased every day. he even went to the length of taking long runs with him. and if there was one thing in the world that m'todd loathed, it was a long run. on the thursday before the match against the town, clowes came chuckling to trevor's study after preparation, and asked him if he had heard the latest. "have you ever heard of the league?" he said. trevor pondered. "i don't think so," he replied. "how long have you been at the school?" "let's see. it'll be five years at the end of the summer term." "ah, then you wouldn't remember. i've been here a couple of terms longer than you, and the row about the league was in my first term." "what was the row?" "oh, only some chaps formed a sort of secret society in the place. kind of vehmgericht, you know. if they got their knife into any one, he usually got beans, and could never find out where they came from. at first, as a matter of fact, the thing was quite a philanthropical concern. there used to be a good deal of bullying in the place then--at least, in some of the houses--and, as the prefects couldn't or wouldn't stop it, some fellows started this league." "did it work?" "work! by jove, i should think it did. chaps who previously couldn't get through the day without making some wretched kid's life not worth living used to go about as nervous as cats, looking over their shoulders every other second. there was one man in particular, a chap called leigh. he was hauled out of bed one night, blindfolded, and ducked in a cold bath. he was in the school house." "why did the league bust up?" "well, partly because the fellows left, but chiefly because they didn't stick to the philanthropist idea. if anybody did anything they didn't like, they used to go for him. at last they put their foot into it badly. a chap called robinson--in this house by the way--offended them in some way, and one morning he was found tied up in the bath, up to his neck in cold water. apparently he'd been there about an hour. he got pneumonia, and almost died, and then the authorities began to get going. robinson thought he had recognised the voice of one of the chaps--i forget his name. the chap was had up by the old man, and gave the show away entirely. about a dozen fellows were sacked, clean off the reel. since then the thing has been dropped." "but what about it? what were you going to say when you came in?" "why, it's been revived!" "rot!" "it's a fact. do you know mill, a prefect, in seymour's?" "only by sight." "i met him just now. he's in a raving condition. his study's been wrecked. you never saw such a sight. everything upside down or smashed. he has been showing me the ruins." "i believe mill is awfully barred in seymour's," said trevor. "anybody might have ragged his study." "that's just what i thought. he's just the sort of man the league used to go for." "that doesn't prove that it's been revived, all the same," objected trevor. "no, friend; but this does. mill found it tied to a chair." it was a small card. it looked like an ordinary visiting card. on it, in neat print, were the words, "_with the compliments of the league_". "that's exactly the same sort of card as they used to use," said clowes. "i've seen some of them. what do you think of that?" "i think whoever has started the thing is a pretty average-sized idiot. he's bound to get caught some time or other, and then out he goes. the old man wouldn't think twice about sacking a chap of that sort." "a chap of that sort," said clowes, "will take jolly good care he isn't caught. but it's rather sport, isn't it?" and he went off to his study. next day there was further evidence that the league was an actual going concern. when trevor came down to breakfast, he found a letter by his plate. it was printed, as the card had been. it was signed "the president of the league." and the purport of it was that the league did not wish barry to continue to play for the first fifteen. v mill receives visitors trevor's first idea was that somebody had sent the letter for a joke,--clowes for choice. he sounded him on the subject after breakfast. "did you send me that letter?" he inquired, when clowes came into his study to borrow a _sportsman_. "what letter? did you send the team for tomorrow up to the sporter? i wonder what sort of a lot the town are bringing." "about not giving barry his footer colours?" clowes was reading the paper. "giving whom?" he asked. "barry. can't you listen?" "giving him what?" "footer colours." "what about them?" trevor sprang at the paper, and tore it away from him. after which he sat on the fragments. "did you send me a letter about not giving barry his footer colours?" clowes surveyed him with the air of a nurse to whom the family baby has just said some more than usually good thing. "don't stop," he said, "i could listen all day." trevor felt in his pocket for the note, and flung it at him. clowes picked it up, and read it gravely. "what _are_ footer colours?" he asked. "well," said trevor, "it's a pretty rotten sort of joke, whoever sent it. you haven't said yet whether you did or not." "what earthly reason should i have for sending it? and i think you're making a mistake if you think this is meant as a joke." "you don't really believe this league rot?" "you didn't see mill's study 'after treatment'. i did. anyhow, how do you account for the card i showed you?" "but that sort of thing doesn't happen at school." "well, it _has_ happened, you see." "who do you think did send the letter, then?" "the president of the league." "and who the dickens is the president of the league when he's at home?" "if i knew that, i should tell mill, and earn his blessing. not that i want it." "then, i suppose," snorted trevor, "you'd suggest that on the strength of this letter i'd better leave barry out of the team?" "satirically in brackets," commented clowes. "it's no good your jumping on _me_," he added. "i've done nothing. all i suggest is that you'd better keep more or less of a look-out. if this league's anything like the old one, you'll find they've all sorts of ways of getting at people they don't love. i shouldn't like to come down for a bath some morning, and find you already in possession, tied up like robinson. when they found robinson, he was quite blue both as to the face and speech. he didn't speak very clearly, but what one could catch was well worth hearing. i should advise you to sleep with a loaded revolver under your pillow." "the first thing i shall do is find out who wrote this letter." "i should," said clowes, encouragingly. "keep moving." in seymour's house the mill's study incident formed the only theme of conversation that morning. previously the sudden elevation to the first fifteen of barry, who was popular in the house, at the expense of rand-brown, who was unpopular, had given seymour's something to talk about. but the ragging of the study put this topic entirely in the shade. the study was still on view in almost its original condition of disorder, and all day comparative strangers flocked to see mill in his den, in order to inspect things. mill was a youth with few friends, and it is probable that more of his fellow-seymourites crossed the threshold of his study on the day after the occurrence than had visited him in the entire course of his school career. brown would come in to borrow a knife, would sweep the room with one comprehensive glance, and depart, to be followed at brief intervals by smith, robinson, and jones, who came respectively to learn the right time, to borrow a book, and to ask him if he had seen a pencil anywhere. towards the end of the day, mill would seem to have wearied somewhat of the proceedings, as was proved when master thomas renford, aged fourteen (who fagged for milton, the head of the house), burst in on the thin pretence that he had mistaken the study for that of his rightful master, and gave vent to a prolonged whistle of surprise and satisfaction at the sight of the ruins. on that occasion, the incensed owner of the dismantled study, taking a mean advantage of the fact that he was a prefect, and so entitled to wield the rod, produced a handy swagger-stick from an adjacent corner, and, inviting master renford to bend over, gave him six of the best to remember him by. which ceremony being concluded, he kicked him out into the passage, and renford went down to the junior day-room to tell his friend harvey about it. "gave me six, the cad," said he, "just because i had a look at his beastly study. why shouldn't i look at his study if i like? i've a jolly good mind to go up and have another squint." harvey warmly approved the scheme. "no, i don't think i will," said renford with a yawn. "it's such a fag going upstairs." "yes, isn't it?" said harvey. "and he's such a beast, too." "yes, isn't he?" said harvey. "i'm jolly glad his study _has_ been ragged," continued the vindictive renford. "it's jolly exciting, isn't it?" added harvey. "and i thought this term was going to be slow. the easter term generally is." this remark seemed to suggest a train of thought to renford, who made the following cryptic observation. "have you seen them today?" to the ordinary person the words would have conveyed little meaning. to harvey they appeared to teem with import. "yes," he said, "i saw them early this morning." "were they all right?" "yes. splendid." "good," said renford. barry's friend drummond was one of those who had visited the scene of the disaster early, before mill's energetic hand had repaired the damage done, and his narrative was consequently in some demand. "the place was in a frightful muck," he said. "everything smashed except the table; and ink all over the place. whoever did it must have been fairly sick with him, or he'd never have taken the trouble to do it so thoroughly. made a fair old hash of things, didn't he, bertie?" "bertie" was the form in which the school elected to serve up the name of de bertini. raoul de bertini was a french boy who had come to wrykyn in the previous term. drummond's father had met his father in paris, and drummond was supposed to be looking after bertie. they shared a study together. bertie could not speak much english, and what he did speak was, like mill's furniture, badly broken. "pardon?" he said. "doesn't matter," said drummond, "it wasn't anything important. i was only appealing to you for corroborative detail to give artistic verisimilitude to a bald and unconvincing narrative." bertie grinned politely. he always grinned when he was not quite equal to the intellectual pressure of the conversation. as a consequence of which, he was generally, like mrs fezziwig, one vast, substantial smile. "i never liked mill much," said barry, "but i think it's rather bad luck on the man." "once," announced m'todd, solemnly, "he kicked me--for making a row in the passage." it was plain that the recollection rankled. barry would probably have pointed out what an excellent and praiseworthy act on mill's part that had been, when rand-brown came in. "prefects' meeting?" he inquired. "or haven't they made you a prefect yet, m'todd?" m'todd said they had not. nobody present liked rand-brown, and they looked at him rather inquiringly, as if to ask what he had come for. a friend may drop in for a chat. an acquaintance must justify his intrusion. rand-brown ignored the silent inquiry. he seated himself on the table, and dragged up a chair to rest his legs on. "talking about mill, of course?" he said. "yes," said drummond. "have you seen his study since it happened?" "yes." rand-brown smiled, as if the recollection amused him. he was one of those people who do not look their best when they smile. "playing for the first tomorrow, barry?" "i don't know," said barry, shortly. "i haven't seen the list." he objected to the introduction of the topic. it is never pleasant to have to discuss games with the very man one has ousted from the team. drummond, too, seemed to feel that the situation was an embarrassing one, for a few minutes later he got up to go over to the gymnasium. "any of you chaps coming?" he asked. barry and m'todd thought they would, and the three left the room. "nothing like showing a man you don't want him, eh, bertie? what do you think?" said rand-brown. bertie grinned politely. vi trevor remains firm the most immediate effect of telling anybody not to do a thing is to make him do it, in order to assert his independence. trevor's first act on receipt of the letter was to include barry in the team against the town. it was what he would have done in any case, but, under the circumstances, he felt a peculiar pleasure in doing it. the incident also had the effect of recalling to his mind the fact that he had tried barry in the first instance on his own responsibility, without consulting the committee. the committee of the first fifteen consisted of the two old colours who came immediately after the captain on the list. the powers of a committee varied according to the determination and truculence of the members of it. on any definite and important step, affecting the welfare of the fifteen, the captain theoretically could not move without their approval. but if the captain happened to be strong-minded and the committee weak, they were apt to be slightly out of it, and the captain would develop a habit of consulting them a day or so after he had done a thing. he would give a man his colours, and inform the committee of it on the following afternoon, when the thing was done and could not be repealed. trevor was accustomed to ask the advice of his lieutenants fairly frequently. he never gave colours, for instance, off his own bat. it seemed to him that it might be as well to learn what views milton and allardyce had on the subject of barry, and, after the town team had gone back across the river, defeated by a goal and a try to nil, he changed and went over to seymour's to interview milton. milton was in an arm-chair, watching renford brew tea. his was one of the few studies in the school in which there was an arm-chair. with the majority of his contemporaries, it would only run to the portable kind that fold up. "come and have some tea, trevor," said milton. "thanks. if there's any going." "heaps. is there anything to eat, renford?" the fag, appealed to on this important point, pondered darkly for a moment. "there _was_ some cake," he said. "that's all right," interrupted milton, cheerfully. "scratch the cake. i ate it before the match. isn't there anything else?" milton had a healthy appetite. "then there used to be some biscuits." "biscuits are off. i finished 'em yesterday. look here, young renford, what you'd better do is cut across to the shop and get some more cake and some more biscuits, and tell 'em to put it down to me. and don't be long." "a miles better idea would be to send him over to donaldson's to fetch something from my study," suggested trevor. "it isn't nearly so far, and i've got heaps of stuff." "ripping. cut over to donaldson's, young renford. as a matter of fact," he added, confidentially, when the emissary had vanished, "i'm not half sure that the other dodge would have worked. they seem to think at the shop that i've had about enough things on tick lately. i haven't settled up for last term yet. i've spent all i've got on this study. what do you think of those photographs?" trevor got up and inspected them. they filled the mantelpiece and most of the wall above it. they were exclusively theatrical photographs, and of a variety to suit all tastes. for the earnest student of the drama there was sir henry irving in _the bells_, and mr martin harvey in _the only way._ for the admirers of the merely beautiful there were messrs dan leno and herbert campbell. "not bad," said trevor. "beastly waste of money." "waste of money!" milton was surprised and pained at the criticism. "why, you must spend your money on _something."_ "rot, i call it," said trevor. "if you want to collect something, why don't you collect something worth having?" just then renford came back with the supplies. "thanks," said milton, "put 'em down. does the billy boil, young renford?" renford asked for explanatory notes. "you're a bit of an ass at times, aren't you?" said milton, kindly. "what i meant was, is the tea ready? if it is, you can scoot. if it isn't, buck up with it." a sound of bubbling and a rush of steam from the spout of the kettle proclaimed that the billy did boil. renford extinguished the etna, and left the room, while milton, murmuring vague formulae about "one spoonful for each person and one for the pot", got out of his chair with a groan--for the town match had been an energetic one--and began to prepare tea. "what i really came round about--" began trevor. "half a second. i can't find the milk." he went to the door, and shouted for renford. on that overworked youth's appearance, the following dialogue took place. "where's the milk?" "what milk?" "my milk." "there isn't any." this in a tone not untinged with triumph, as if the speaker realised that here was a distinct score to him. "no milk?" "no." "why not?" "you never had any." "well, just cut across--no, half a second. what are you doing downstairs?" "having tea." "then you've got milk." "only a little." this apprehensively. "bring it up. you can have what we leave." disgusted retirement of master renford. "what i really came about," said trevor again, "was business." "colours?" inquired milton, rummaging in the tin for biscuits with sugar on them. "good brand of biscuit you keep, trevor." "yes. i think we might give alexander and parker their third." "all right. any others?" "barry his second, do you think?" "rather. he played a good game today. he's an improvement on rand-brown." "glad you think so. i was wondering whether it was the right thing to do, chucking rand-brown out after one trial like that. but still, if you think barry's better--" "streets better. i've had heaps of chances of watching them and comparing them, when they've been playing for the house. it isn't only that rand-brown can't tackle, and barry can. barry takes his passes much better, and doesn't lose his head when he's pressed." "just what i thought," said trevor. "then you'd go on playing him for the first?" "rather. he'll get better every game, you'll see, as he gets more used to playing in the first three-quarter line. and he's as keen as anything on getting into the team. practises taking passes and that sort of thing every day." "well, he'll get his colours if we lick ripton." "we ought to lick them. they've lost one of their forwards, clifford, a red-haired chap, who was good out of touch. i don't know if you remember him." "i suppose i ought to go and see allardyce about these colours, now. good-bye." there was running and passing on the monday for every one in the three teams. trevor and clowes met mr seymour as they were returning. mr seymour was the football master at wrykyn. "i see you've given barry his second, trevor." "yes, sir." "i think you're wise to play him for the first. he knows the game, which is the great thing, and he will improve with practice," said mr seymour, thus corroborating milton's words of the previous saturday. "i'm glad seymour thinks barry good," said trevor, as they walked on. "i shall go on playing him now." "found out who wrote that letter yet?" trevor laughed. "not yet," he said. "probably rand-brown," suggested clowes. "he's the man who would gain most by barry's not playing. i hear he had a row with mill just before his study was ragged." "everybody in seymour's has had rows with mill some time or other," said trevor. clowes stopped at the door of the junior day-room to find his fag. trevor went on upstairs. in the passage he met ruthven. ruthven seemed excited. "i say. trevor," he exclaimed, "have you seen your study?" "why, what's the matter with it?" "you'd better go and look." vii "with the compliments of the league" trevor went and looked. it was rather an interesting sight. an earthquake or a cyclone might have made it a little more picturesque, but not much more. the general effect was not unlike that of an american saloon, after a visit from mrs carrie nation (with hatchet). as in the case of mill's study, the only thing that did not seem to have suffered any great damage was the table. everything else looked rather off colour. the mantelpiece had been swept as bare as a bone, and its contents littered the floor. trevor dived among the debris and retrieved the latest addition to his art gallery, the photograph of this year's first fifteen. it was a wreck. the glass was broken and the photograph itself slashed with a knife till most of the faces were unrecognisable. he picked up another treasure, last year's first eleven. smashed glass again. faces cut about with knife as before. his collection of snapshots was torn into a thousand fragments, though, as mr jerome said of the papier-mache trout, there may only have been nine hundred. he did not count them. his bookshelf was empty. the books had gone to swell the contents of the floor. there was a shakespeare with its cover off. pages twenty-two to thirty-one of _vice versa_ had parted from the parent establishment, and were lying by themselves near the door. _the rogues' march_ lay just beyond them, and the look of the cover suggested that somebody had either been biting it or jumping on it with heavy boots. there was other damage. over the mantelpiece in happier days had hung a dozen sea gulls' eggs, threaded on a string. the string was still there, as good as new, but of the eggs nothing was to be seen, save a fine parti-coloured powder--on the floor, like everything else in the study. and a good deal of ink had been upset in one place and another. trevor had been staring at the ruins for some time, when he looked up to see clowes standing in the doorway. "hullo," said clowes, "been tidying up?" trevor made a few hasty comments on the situation. clowes listened approvingly. "don't you think," he went on, eyeing the study with a critical air, "that you've got too many things on the floor, and too few anywhere else? and i should move some of those books on to the shelf, if i were you." trevor breathed very hard. "i should like to find the chap who did this," he said softly. clowes advanced into the room and proceeded to pick up various misplaced articles of furniture in a helpful way. "i thought so," he said presently, "come and look here." tied to a chair, exactly as it had been in the case of mill, was a neat white card, and on it were the words, _"with the compliments of the league"._ "what are you going to do about this?" asked clowes. "come into my room and talk it over." "i'll tidy this place up first," said trevor. he felt that the work would be a relief. "i don't want people to see this. it mustn't get about. i'm not going to have my study turned into a sort of side-show, like mill's. you go and change. i shan't be long." "i will never desert mr micawber," said clowes. "friend, my place is by your side. shut the door and let's get to work." ten minutes later the room had resumed a more or less--though principally less--normal appearance. the books and chairs were back in their places. the ink was sopped up. the broken photographs were stacked in a neat pile in one corner, with a rug over them. the mantelpiece was still empty, but, as clowes pointed out, it now merely looked as if trevor had been pawning some of his household gods. there was no sign that a devastating secret society had raged through the study. then they adjourned to clowes' study, where trevor sank into clowes' second-best chair--clowes, by an adroit movement, having appropriated the best one--with a sigh of enjoyment. running and passing, followed by the toil of furniture-shifting, had made him feel quite tired. "it doesn't look so bad now," he said, thinking of the room they had left. "by the way, what did you do with that card?" "here it is. want it?" "you can keep it. i don't want it." "thanks. if this sort of things goes on, i shall get quite a nice collection of these cards. start an album some day." "you know," said trevor, "this is getting serious." "it always does get serious when anything bad happens to one's self. it always strikes one as rather funny when things happen to other people. when mill's study was wrecked, i bet you regarded it as an amusing and original 'turn'. what do you think of the present effort?" "who on earth can have done it?" "the pres--" "oh, dry up. of course it was. but who the blazes is he?" "nay, children, you have me there," quoted clowes. "i'll tell you one thing, though. you remember what i said about it's probably being rand-brown. he can't have done this, that's certain, because he was out in the fields the whole time. though i don't see who else could have anything to gain by barry not getting his colours." "there's no reason to suspect him at all, as far as i can see. i don't know much about him, bar the fact that he can't play footer for nuts, but i've never heard anything against him. have you?" "i scarcely know him myself. he isn't liked in seymour's, i believe." "well, anyhow, this can't be his work." "that's what i said." "for all we know, the league may have got their knife into barry for some reason. you said they used to get their knife into fellows in that way. anyhow, i mean to find out who ragged my room." "it wouldn't be a bad idea," said clowes. * * * * * o'hara came round to donaldson's before morning school next day to tell trevor that he had not yet succeeded in finding the lost bat. he found trevor and clowes in the former's den, trying to put a few finishing touches to the same. "hullo, an' what's up with your study?" he inquired. he was quick at noticing things. trevor looked annoyed. clowes asked the visitor if he did not think the study presented a neat and gentlemanly appearance. "where are all your photographs, trevor?" persisted the descendant of irish kings. "it's no good trying to conceal anything from the bhoy," said clowes. "sit down, o'hara--mind that chair; it's rather wobbly--and i will tell ye the story." "can you keep a thing dark?" inquired trevor. o'hara protested that tombs were not in it. "well, then, do you remember what happened to mill's study? that's what's been going on here." o'hara nearly fell off his chair with surprise. that some philanthropist should rag mill's study was only to be expected. mill was one of the worst. a worm without a saving grace. but trevor! captain of football! in the first eleven! the thing was unthinkable. "but who--?" he began. "that's just what i want to know," said trevor, shortly. he did not enjoy discussing the affair. "how long have you been at wrykyn, o'hara?" said clowes. o'hara made a rapid calculation. his fingers twiddled in the air as he worked out the problem. "six years," he said at last, leaning back exhausted with brain work. "then you must remember the league?" "remember the league? rather." "well, it's been revived." o'hara whistled. "this'll liven the old place up," he said. "i've often thought of reviving it meself. an' so has moriarty. if it's anything like the old league, there's going to be a sort of donnybrook before it's done with. i wonder who's running it this time." "we should like to know that. if you find out, you might tell us." "i will." "and don't tell anybody else," said trevor. "this business has got to be kept quiet. keep it dark about my study having been ragged." "i won't tell a soul." "not even moriarty." "oh, hang it, man," put in clowes, "you don't want to kill the poor bhoy, surely? you must let him tell one person." "all right," said trevor, "you can tell moriarty. but nobody else, mind." o'hara promised that moriarty should receive the news exclusively. "but why did the league go for ye?" "they happen to be down on me. it doesn't matter why. they are." "i see," said o'hara. "oh," he added, "about that bat. the search is being 'vigorously prosecuted'--that's a newspaper quotation--" "times?" inquired clowes. "_wrykyn patriot_," said o'hara, pulling out a bundle of letters. he inspected each envelope in turn, and from the fifth extracted a newspaper cutting. "read that," he said. it was from the local paper, and ran as follows:-- "_hooligan outrage_--a painful sensation has been caused in the town by a deplorable ebullition of local hooliganism, which has resulted in the wanton disfigurement of the splendid statue of sir eustace briggs which stands in the new recreation grounds. our readers will recollect that the statue was erected to commemorate the return of sir eustace as member for the borough of wrykyn, by an overwhelming majority, at the last election. last tuesday some youths of the town, passing through the recreation grounds early in the morning, noticed that the face and body of the statue were completely covered with leaves and some black substance, which on examination proved to be tar. they speedily lodged information at the police station. everything seems to point to party spite as the motive for the outrage. in view of the forth-coming election, such an act is highly significant, and will serve sufficiently to indicate the tactics employed by our opponents. the search for the perpetrator (or perpetrators) of the dastardly act is being vigorously prosecuted, and we learn with satisfaction that the police have already several clues." "clues!" said clowes, handing back the paper, "that means _the bat_. that gas about 'our opponents' is all a blind to put you off your guard. you wait. there'll be more painful sensations before you've finished with this business." "they can't have found the bat, or why did they not say so?" observed o'hara. "guile," said clowes, "pure guile. if i were you, i should escape while i could. try callao. there's no extradition there. 'on no petition is extradition allowed in callao.' either of you chaps coming over to school?" viii o'hara on the track tuesday mornings at wrykyn were devoted--up to the quarter to eleven interval--to the study of mathematics. that is to say, instead of going to their form-rooms, the various forms visited the out-of-the-way nooks and dens at the top of the buildings where the mathematical masters were wont to lurk, and spent a pleasant two hours there playing round games or reading fiction under the desk. mathematics being one of the few branches of school learning which are of any use in after life, nobody ever dreamed of doing any work in that direction, least of all o'hara. it was a theory of o'hara's that he came to school to enjoy himself. to have done any work during a mathematics lesson would have struck him as a positive waste of time, especially as he was in mr banks' class. mr banks was a master who simply cried out to be ragged. everything he did and said seemed to invite the members of his class to amuse themselves, and they amused themselves accordingly. one of the advantages of being under him was that it was possible to predict to a nicety the moment when one would be sent out of the room. this was found very convenient. o'hara's ally, moriarty, was accustomed to take his mathematics with mr morgan, whose room was directly opposite mr banks'. with mr morgan it was not quite so easy to date one's expulsion from the room under ordinary circumstances, and in the normal wear and tear of the morning's work, but there was one particular action which could always be relied upon to produce the desired result. in one corner of the room stood a gigantic globe. the problem--how did it get into the room?--was one that had exercised the minds of many generations of wrykinians. it was much too big to have come through the door. some thought that the block had been built round it, others that it had been placed in the room in infancy, and had since grown. to refer the question to mr morgan would, in six cases out of ten, mean instant departure from the room. but to make the event certain, it was necessary to grasp the globe firmly and spin it round on its axis. that always proved successful. mr morgan would dash down from his dais, address the offender in spirited terms, and give him his marching orders at once and without further trouble. moriarty had arranged with o'hara to set the globe rolling at ten sharp on this particular morning. o'hara would then so arrange matters with mr banks that they could meet in the passage at that hour, when o'hara wished to impart to his friend his information concerning the league. o'hara promised to be at the trysting-place at the hour mentioned. he did not think there would be any difficulty about it. the news that the league had been revived meant that there would be trouble in the very near future, and the prospect of trouble was meat and drink to the irishman in o'hara. consequently he felt in particularly good form for mathematics (as he interpreted the word). he thought that he would have no difficulty whatever in keeping mr banks bright and amused. the first step had to be to arouse in him an interest in life, to bring him into a frame of mind which would induce him to look severely rather than leniently on the next offender. this was effected as follows:-- it was mr banks' practice to set his class sums to work out, and, after some three-quarters of an hour had elapsed, to pass round the form what he called "solutions". these were large sheets of paper, on which he had worked out each sum in his neat handwriting to a happy ending. when the head of the form, to whom they were passed first, had finished with them, he would make a slight tear in one corner, and, having done so, hand them on to his neighbour. the neighbour, before giving them to _his_ neighbour, would also tear them slightly. in time they would return to their patentee and proprietor, and it was then that things became exciting. "who tore these solutions like this?" asked mr banks, in the repressed voice of one who is determined that he _will_ be calm. no answer. the tattered solutions waved in the air. he turned to harringay, the head of the form. "harringay, did you tear these solutions like this?" indignant negative from harringay. what he had done had been to make the small tear in the top left-hand corner. if mr banks had asked, "did you make this small tear in the top left-hand corner of these solutions?" harringay would have scorned to deny the impeachment. but to claim the credit for the whole work would, he felt, be an act of flat dishonesty, and an injustice to his gifted _collaborateurs._ "no, sir," said harringay. "browne!" "yes, sir?" "did you tear these solutions in this manner?" "no, sir." and so on through the form. then harringay rose after the manner of the debater who is conscious that he is going to say the popular thing. "sir--" he began. "sit down, harringay." harringay gracefully waved aside the absurd command. "sir," he said, "i think i am expressing the general consensus of opinion among my--ahem--fellow-students, when i say that this class sincerely regrets the unfortunate state the solutions have managed to get themselves into." "hear, hear!" from a back bench. "it is with--" "sit _down_, harringay." "it is with heartfelt--" "harringay, if you do not sit down--" "as your ludship pleases." this _sotto voce_. and harringay resumed his seat amidst applause. o'hara got up. "as me frind who has just sat down was about to observe--" "sit down, o'hara. the whole form will remain after the class." "--the unfortunate state the solutions have managed to get thimsilves into is sincerely regretted by this class. sir, i think i am ixprissing the general consensus of opinion among my fellow-students whin i say that it is with heart-felt sorrow--" "o'hara!" "yes, sir?" "leave the room instantly." "yes, sir." from the tower across the gravel came the melodious sound of chimes. the college clock was beginning to strike ten. he had scarcely got into the passage, and closed the door after him, when a roar as of a bereaved spirit rang through the room opposite, followed by a string of words, the only intelligible one being the noun-substantive "globe", and the next moment the door opened and moriarty came out. the last stroke of ten was just booming from the clock. there was a large cupboard in the passage, the top of which made a very comfortable seat. they climbed on to this, and began to talk business. "an' what was it ye wanted to tell me?" inquired moriarty. o'hara related what he had learned from trevor that morning. "an' do ye know," said moriarty, when he had finished, "i half suspected, when i heard that mill's study had been ragged, that it might be the league that had done it. if ye remember, it was what they enjoyed doing, breaking up a man's happy home. they did it frequently." "but i can't understand them doing it to trevor at all." "they'll do it to anybody they choose till they're caught at it." "if they are caught, there'll be a row." "we must catch 'em," said moriarty. like o'hara, he revelled in the prospect of a disturbance. o'hara and he were going up to aldershot at the end of the term, to try and bring back the light and middle-weight medals respectively. moriarty had won the light-weight in the previous year, but, by reason of putting on a stone since the competition, was now no longer eligible for that class. o'hara had not been up before, but the wrykyn instructor, a good judge of pugilistic form, was of opinion that he ought to stand an excellent chance. as the prize-fighter in _rodney stone_ says, "when you get a good irishman, you can't better 'em, but they're dreadful 'asty." o'hara was attending the gymnasium every night, in order to learn to curb his "dreadful 'astiness", and acquire skill in its place. "i wonder if trevor would be any good in a row," said moriarty. "he can't box," said o'hara, "but he'd go on till he was killed entirely. i say, i'm getting rather tired of sitting here, aren't you? let's go to the other end of the passage and have some cricket." so, having unearthed a piece of wood from the debris at the top of the cupboard, and rolled a handkerchief into a ball, they adjourned. recalling the stirring events of six years back, when the league had first been started, o'hara remembered that the members of that enterprising society had been wont to hold meetings in a secluded spot, where it was unlikely that they would be disturbed. it seemed to him that the first thing he ought to do, if he wanted to make their nearer acquaintance now, was to find their present rendezvous. they must have one. they would never run the risk involved in holding mass-meetings in one another's studies. on the last occasion, it had been an old quarry away out on the downs. this had been proved by the not-to-be-shaken testimony of three school-house fags, who had wandered out one half-holiday with the unconcealed intention of finding the league's place of meeting. unfortunately for them, they _had_ found it. they were going down the path that led to the quarry before-mentioned, when they were unexpectedly seized, blindfolded, and carried off. an impromptu court-martial was held--in whispers--and the three explorers forthwith received the most spirited "touching-up" they had ever experienced. afterwards they were released, and returned to their house with their zeal for detection quite quenched. the episode had created a good deal of excitement in the school at the time. on three successive afternoons, o'hara and moriarty scoured the downs, and on each occasion they drew blank. on the fourth day, just before lock-up, o'hara, who had been to tea with gregson, of day's, was going over to the gymnasium to keep a pugilistic appointment with moriarty, when somebody ran swiftly past him in the direction of the boarding-houses. it was almost dark, for the days were still short, and he did not recognise the runner. but it puzzled him a little to think where he had sprung from. o'hara was walking quite close to the wall of the college buildings, and the runner had passed between it and him. and he had not heard his footsteps. then he understood, and his pulse quickened as he felt that he was on the track. beneath the block was a large sort of cellar-basement. it was used as a store-room for chairs, and was never opened except when prize-day or some similar event occurred, when the chairs were needed. it was supposed to be locked at other times, but never was. the door was just by the spot where he was standing. as he stood there, half-a-dozen other vague forms dashed past him in a knot. one of them almost brushed against him. for a moment he thought of stopping him, but decided not to. he could wait. on the following afternoon he slipped down into the basement soon after school. it was as black as pitch in the cellar. he took up a position near the door. it seemed hours before anything happened. he was, indeed, almost giving up the thing as a bad job, when a ray of light cut through the blackness in front of him, and somebody slipped through the door. the next moment, a second form appeared dimly, and then the light was shut off again. o'hara could hear them groping their way past him. he waited no longer. it is difficult to tell where sound comes from in the dark. he plunged forward at a venture. his hand, swinging round in a semicircle, met something which felt like a shoulder. he slipped his grasp down to the arm, and clutched it with all the force at his disposal. ix mainly about ferrets "ow!" exclaimed the captive, with no uncertain voice. "let go, you ass, you're hurting." the voice was a treble voice. this surprised o'hara. it looked very much as if he had put up the wrong bird. from the dimensions of the arm which he was holding, his prisoner seemed to be of tender years. "let go, harvey, you idiot. i shall kick." before the threat could be put into execution, o'hara, who had been fumbling all this while in his pocket for a match, found one loose, and struck a light. the features of the owner of the arm--he was still holding it--were lit up for a moment. "why, it's young renford!" he exclaimed. "what are you doing down here?" renford, however, continued to pursue the topic of his arm, and the effect that the vice-like grip of the irishman had had upon it. "you've nearly broken it," he said, complainingly. "i'm sorry. i mistook you for somebody else. who's that with you?" "it's me," said an ungrammatical voice. "who's me?" "harvey." at this point a soft yellow light lit up the more immediate neighbourhood. harvey had brought a bicycle lamp into action. "that's more like it," said renford. "look here, o'hara, you won't split, will you?" "i'm not an informer by profession, thanks," said o'hara. "oh, i know it's all right, really, but you can't be too careful, because one isn't allowed down here, and there'd be a beastly row if it got out about our being down here." "and _they_ would be cobbed," put in harvey. "who are they?" asked o'hara. "ferrets. like to have a look at them?" "_ferrets!_" "yes. harvey brought back a couple at the beginning of term. ripping little beasts. we couldn't keep them in the house, as they'd have got dropped on in a second, so we had to think of somewhere else, and thought why not keep them down here?" "why, indeed?" said o'hara. "do ye find they like it?" "oh, _they_ don't mind," said harvey. "we feed 'em twice a day. once before breakfast--we take it in turns to get up early--and once directly after school. and on half-holidays and sundays we take them out on to the downs." "what for?" "why, rabbits, of course. renford brought back a saloon-pistol with him. we keep it locked up in a box--don't tell any one." "and what do ye do with the rabbits?" "we pot at them as they come out of the holes." "yes, but when ye hit 'em?" "oh," said renford, with some reluctance, "we haven't exactly hit any yet." "we've got jolly near, though, lots of times," said harvey. "last saturday i swear i wasn't more than a quarter of an inch off one of them. if it had been a decent-sized rabbit, i should have plugged it middle stump; only it was a small one, so i missed. but come and see them. we keep 'em right at the other end of the place, in case anybody comes in." "have you ever seen anybody down here?" asked o'hara. "once," said renford. "half-a-dozen chaps came down here once while we were feeding the ferrets. we waited till they'd got well in, then we nipped out quietly. they didn't see us." "did you see who they were?" "no. it was too dark. here they are. rummy old crib this, isn't it? look out for your shins on the chairs. switch on the light, harvey. there, aren't they rippers? quite tame, too. they know us quite well. they know they're going to be fed, too. hullo, sir nigel! this is sir nigel. out of the 'white company', you know. don't let him nip your fingers. this other one's sherlock holmes." "cats-s-s--s!!" said o'hara. he had a sort of idea that that was the right thing to say to any animal that could chase and bite. renford was delighted to be able to show his ferrets off to so distinguished a visitor. "what were you down here about?" inquired harvey, when the little animals had had their meal, and had retired once more into private life. o'hara had expected this question, but he did not quite know what answer to give. perhaps, on the whole, he thought, it would be best to tell them the real reason. if he refused to explain, their curiosity would be roused, which would be fatal. and to give any reason except the true one called for a display of impromptu invention of which he was not capable. besides, they would not be likely to give away his secret while he held this one of theirs connected with the ferrets. he explained the situation briefly, and swore them to silence on the subject. renford's comment was brief. "by jove!" he observed. harvey went more deeply into the question. "what makes you think they meet down here?" he asked. "i saw some fellows cutting out of here last night. and you say ye've seen them here, too. i don't see what object they could have down here if they weren't the league holding a meeting. i don't see what else a chap would be after." "he might be keeping ferrets," hazarded renford. "the whole school doesn't keep ferrets," said o'hara. "you're unique in that way. no, it must be the league, an' i mean to wait here till they come." "not all night?" asked harvey. he had a great respect for o'hara, whose reputation in the school for out-of-the-way doings was considerable. in the bright lexicon of o'hara he believed there to be no such word as "impossible." "no," said o'hara, "but till lock-up. you two had better cut now." "yes, i think we'd better," said harvey. "and don't ye breathe a word about this to a soul"--a warning which extracted fervent promises of silence from both youths. "this," said harvey, as they emerged on to the gravel, "is something like. i'm jolly glad we're in it." "rather. do you think o'hara will catch them?" "he must if he waits down there long enough. they're certain to come again. don't you wish you'd been here when the league was on before?" "i should think i did. race you over to the shop. i want to get something before it shuts." "right ho!" and they disappeared. o'hara waited where he was till six struck from the clock-tower, followed by the sound of the bell as it rang for lock-up. then he picked his way carefully through the groves of chairs, barking his shins now and then on their out-turned legs, and, pushing open the door, went out into the open air. it felt very fresh and pleasant after the brand of atmosphere supplied in the vault. he then ran over to the gymnasium to meet moriarty, feeling a little disgusted at the lack of success that had attended his detective efforts up to the present. so far he had nothing to show for his trouble except a good deal of dust on his clothes, and a dirty collar, but he was full of determination. he could play a waiting game. it was a pity, as it happened, that o'hara left the vault when he did. five minutes after he had gone, six shadowy forms made their way silently and in single file through the doorway of the vault, which they closed carefully behind them. the fact that it was after lock-up was of small consequence. a good deal of latitude in that way was allowed at wrykyn. it was the custom to go out, after the bell had sounded, to visit the gymnasium. in the winter and easter terms, the gymnasium became a sort of social club. people went there with a very small intention of doing gymnastics. they went to lounge about, talking to cronies, in front of the two huge stoves which warmed the place. occasionally, as a concession to the look of the thing, they would do an easy exercise or two on the horse or parallels, but, for the most part, they preferred the _role_ of spectator. there was plenty to see. in one corner o'hara and moriarty would be sparring their nightly six rounds (in two batches of three rounds each). in another, drummond, who was going up to aldershot as a feather-weight, would be putting in a little practice with the instructor. on the apparatus, the members of the gymnastic six, including the two experts who were to carry the school colours to aldershot in the spring, would be performing their usual marvels. it was worth dropping into the gymnasium of an evening. in no other place in the school were so many sights to be seen. when you were surfeited with sightseeing, you went off to your house. and this was where the peculiar beauty of the gymnasium system came in. you went up to any master who happened to be there--there was always one at least--and observed in suave accents, "please, sir, can i have a paper?" whereupon, he, taking a scrap of paper, would write upon it, "j. o. jones (or a. b. smith or c. d. robinson) left gymnasium at such-and-such a time". and, by presenting this to the menial who opened the door to you at your house, you went in rejoicing, and all was peace. now, there was no mention on the paper of the hour at which you came to the gymnasium--only of the hour at which you left. consequently, certain lawless spirits would range the neighbourhood after lock-up, and, by putting in a quarter of an hour at the gymnasium before returning to their houses, escape comment. to this class belonged the shadowy forms previously mentioned. o'hara had forgotten this custom, with the result that he was not at the vault when they arrived. moriarty, to whom he confided between the rounds the substance of his evening's discoveries, reminded him of it. "it's no good watching before lock-up," he said. "after six is the time they'll come, if they come at all." "bedad, ye're right," said o'hara. "one of these nights we'll take a night off from boxing, and go and watch." "right," said moriarty. "are ye ready to go on?" "yes. i'm going to practise that left swing at the body this round. the one fitzsimmons does." and they "put 'em up" once more. x being a chapter of accidents on the evening following o'hara's adventure in the vaults, barry and m'todd were in their study, getting out the tea-things. most wrykinians brewed in the winter and easter terms, when the days were short and lock-up early. in the summer term there were other things to do--nets, which lasted till a quarter to seven (when lock-up was), and the baths--and brewing practically ceased. but just now it was at its height, and every evening, at a quarter past five, there might be heard in the houses the sizzling of the succulent sausage and other rare delicacies. as a rule, one or two studies would club together to brew, instead of preparing solitary banquets. this was found both more convivial and more economical. at seymour's, studies numbers five, six, and seven had always combined from time immemorial, and barry, on obtaining study six, had carried on the tradition. in study five were drummond and his friend de bertini. in study seven, which was a smaller room and only capable of holding one person with any comfort, one james rupert leather-twigg (that was his singular name, as mr gilbert has it) had taken up his abode. the name of leather-twigg having proved, at an early date in his career, too great a mouthful for wrykyn, he was known to his friends and acquaintances by the euphonious title of shoeblossom. the charm about the genial shoeblossom was that you could never tell what he was going to do next. all that you could rely on with any certainty was that it would be something which would have been better left undone. it was just five o'clock when barry and m'todd started to get things ready. they were not high enough up in the school to have fags, so that they had to do this for themselves. barry was still in football clothes. he had been out running and passing with the first fifteen. m'todd, whose idea of exercise was winding up a watch, had been spending his time since school ceased in the study with a book. he was in his ordinary clothes. it was therefore fortunate that, when he upset the kettle (he nearly always did at some period of the evening's business), the contents spread themselves over barry, and not over himself. football clothes will stand any amount of water, whereas m'todd's "youth's winter suiting at forty-two shillings and sixpence" might have been injured. barry, however, did not look upon the episode in this philosophical light. he spoke to him eloquently for a while, and then sent him downstairs to fetch more water. while he was away, drummond and de bertini came in. "hullo," said drummond, "tea ready?" "not much," replied barry, bitterly, "not likely to be, either, at this rate. we'd just got the kettle going when that ass m'todd plunged against the table and upset the lot over my bags. lucky the beastly stuff wasn't boiling. i'm soaked." "while we wait--the sausages--yes?--a good idea--m'todd, he is downstairs--but to wait? no, no. let us. shall we? is it not so? yes?" observed bertie, lucidly. "now construe," said barry, looking at the linguist with a bewildered expression. it was a source of no little inconvenience to his friends that de bertini was so very fixed in his determination to speak english. he was a trier all the way, was de bertini. you rarely caught him helping out his remarks with the language of his native land. it was english or nothing with him. to most of his circle it might as well have been zulu. drummond, either through natural genius or because he spent more time with him, was generally able to act as interpreter. occasionally there would come a linguistic effort by which even he freely confessed himself baffled, and then they would pass on unsatisfied. but, as a rule, he was equal to the emergency. he was so now. "what bertie means," he explained, "is that it's no good us waiting for m'todd to come back. he never could fill a kettle in less than ten minutes, and even then he's certain to spill it coming upstairs and have to go back again. let's get on with the sausages." the pan had just been placed on the fire when m'todd returned with the water. he tripped over the mat as he entered, and spilt about half a pint into one of his football boots, which stood inside the door, but the accident was comparatively trivial, and excited no remark. "i wonder where that slacker shoeblossom has got to," said barry. "he never turns up in time to do any work. he seems to regard himself as a beastly guest. i wish we could finish the sausages before he comes. it would be a sell for him." "not much chance of that," said drummond, who was kneeling before the fire and keeping an excited eye on the spluttering pan, "_you_ see. he'll come just as we've finished cooking them. i believe the man waits outside with his ear to the keyhole. hullo! stand by with the plate. they'll be done in half a jiffy." just as the last sausage was deposited in safety on the plate, the door opened, and shoeblossom, looking as if he had not brushed his hair since early childhood, sidled in with an attempt at an easy nonchalance which was rendered quite impossible by the hopeless state of his conscience. "ah," he said, "brewing, i see. can i be of any use?" "we've finished years ago," said barry. "ages ago," said m'todd. a look of intense alarm appeared on shoeblossom's classical features. "you've not finished, really?" "we've finished cooking everything," said drummond. "we haven't begun tea yet. now, are you happy?" shoeblossom was. so happy that he felt he must do something to celebrate the occasion. he felt like a successful general. there must be _something_ he could do to show that he regarded the situation with approval. he looked round the study. ha! happy thought--the frying-pan. that useful culinary instrument was lying in the fender, still bearing its cargo of fat, and beside it--a sight to stir the blood and make the heart beat faster--were the sausages, piled up on their plate. shoeblossom stooped. he seized the frying-pan. he gave it one twirl in the air. then, before any one could stop him, he had turned it upside down over the fire. as has been already remarked, you could never predict exactly what james rupert leather-twigg would be up to next. when anything goes out of the frying-pan into the fire, it is usually productive of interesting by-products. the maxim applies to fat. the fat was in the fire with a vengeance. a great sheet of flame rushed out and up. shoeblossom leaped back with a readiness highly creditable in one who was not a professional acrobat. the covering of the mantelpiece caught fire. the flames went roaring up the chimney. drummond, cool while everything else was so hot, without a word moved to the mantelpiece to beat out the fire with a football shirt. bertie was talking rapidly to himself in french. nobody could understand what he was saying, which was possibly fortunate. by the time drummond had extinguished the mantelpiece, barry had also done good work by knocking the fire into the grate with the poker. m'todd, who had been standing up till now in the far corner of the room, gaping vaguely at things in general, now came into action. probably it was force of habit that suggested to him that the time had come to upset the kettle. at any rate, upset it he did--most of it over the glowing, blazing mass in the grate, the rest over barry. one of the largest and most detestable smells the study had ever had to endure instantly assailed their nostrils. the fire in the study was out now, but in the chimney it still blazed merrily. "go up on to the roof and heave water down," said drummond, the strategist. "you can get out from milton's dormitory window. and take care not to chuck it down the wrong chimney." barry was starting for the door to carry out these excellent instructions, when it flew open. "pah! what have you boys been doing? what an abominable smell. pah!" said a muffled voice. it was mr seymour. most of his face was concealed in a large handkerchief, but by the look of his eyes, which appeared above, he did not seem pleased. he took in the situation at a glance. fires in the house were not rarities. one facetious sportsman had once made a rule of setting the senior day-room chimney on fire every term. he had since left (by request), but fires still occurred. "is the chimney on fire?" "yes, sir," said drummond. "go and find herbert, and tell him to take some water on to the roof and throw it down." herbert was the boot and knife cleaner at seymour's. barry went. soon afterwards a splash of water in the grate announced that the intrepid herbert was hard at it. another followed, and another. then there was a pause. mr seymour thought he would look up to see if the fire was out. he stooped and peered into the darkness, and, even as he gazed, splash came the contents of the fourth pail, together with some soot with which they had formed a travelling acquaintance on the way down. mr seymour staggered back, grimy and dripping. there was dead silence in the study. shoeblossom's face might have been seen working convulsively. the silence was broken by a hollow, sepulchral voice with a strong cockney accent. "did yer see any water come down then, sir?" said the voice. shoeblossom collapsed into a chair, and began to sob feebly. * * * * * "--disgraceful ... scandalous ... get _up_, leather-twigg ... not to be trusted ... _babies_ ... three hundred lines, leather-twigg ... abominable ... surprised ... ought to be ashamed of yourselves ... _double_, leather-twigg ... not fit to have studies ... atrocious ...--" such were the main heads of mr seymour's speech on the situation as he dabbed desperately at the soot on his face with his handkerchief. shoeblossom stood and gurgled throughout. not even the thought of six hundred lines could quench that dauntless spirit. "finally," perorated mr seymour, as he was leaving the room, "as you are evidently not to be trusted with rooms of your own, i forbid you to enter them till further notice. it is disgraceful that such a thing should happen. do you hear, barry? and you, drummond? you are not to enter your studies again till i give you leave. move your books down to the senior day-room tonight." and mr seymour stalked off to clean himself. "anyhow," said shoeblossom, as his footsteps died away, "we saved the sausages." it is this indomitable gift of looking on the bright side that makes us englishmen what we are. xi the house-matches it was something of a consolation to barry and his friends--at any rate, to barry and drummond--that directly after they had been evicted from their study, the house-matches began. except for the ripton match, the house-matches were the most important event of the easter term. even the sports at the beginning of april were productive of less excitement. there were twelve houses at wrykyn, and they played on the "knocking-out" system. to be beaten once meant that a house was no longer eligible for the competition. it could play "friendlies" as much as it liked, but, play it never so wisely, it could not lift the cup. thus it often happened that a weak house, by fluking a victory over a strong rival, found itself, much to its surprise, in the semi-final, or sometimes even in the final. this was rarer at football than at cricket, for at football the better team generally wins. the favourites this year were donaldson's, though some fancied seymour's. donaldson's had trevor, whose leadership was worth almost more than his play. in no other house was training so rigid. you could tell a donaldson's man, if he was in his house-team, at a glance. if you saw a man eating oatmeal biscuits in the shop, and eyeing wistfully the while the stacks of buns and pastry, you could put him down as a donaldsonite without further evidence. the captains of the other houses used to prescribe a certain amount of self-abnegation in the matter of food, but trevor left his men barely enough to support life--enough, that is, of the things that are really worth eating. the consequence was that donaldson's would turn out for an important match all muscle and bone, and on such occasions it was bad for those of their opponents who had been taking life more easily. besides trevor they had clowes, and had had bad luck in not having paget. had paget stopped, no other house could have looked at them. but by his departure, the strength of the team had become more nearly on a level with that of seymour's. some even thought that seymour's were the stronger. milton was as good a forward as the school possessed. besides him there were barry and rand-brown on the wings. drummond was a useful half, and five of the pack had either first or second fifteen colours. it was a team that would take some beating. trevor came to that conclusion early. "if we can beat seymour's, we'll lift the cup," he said to clowes. "we'll have to do all we know," was clowes' reply. they were watching seymour's pile up an immense score against a scratch team got up by one of the masters. the first round of the competition was over. donaldson's had beaten templar's, seymour's the school house. templar's were rather stronger than the school house, and donaldson's had beaten them by a rather larger score than that which seymour's had run up in their match. but neither trevor nor clowes was inclined to draw any augury from this. seymour's had taken things easily after half-time; donaldson's had kept going hard all through. "that makes rand-brown's fourth try," said clowes, as the wing three-quarter of the second fifteen raced round and scored in the corner. "yes. this is the sort of game he's all right in. the man who's marking him is no good. barry's scored twice, and both good tries, too." "oh, there's no doubt which is the best man," said clowes. "i only mentioned that it was rand-brown's fourth as an item of interest." the game continued. barry scored a third try. "we're drawn against appleby's next round," said trevor. "we can manage them all right." "when is it?" "next thursday. nomads' match on saturday. then ripton, saturday week." "who've seymour's drawn?" "day's. it'll be a good game, too. seymour's ought to win, but they'll have to play their best. day's have got some good men." "fine scrum," said clowes. "yes. quick in the open, too, which is always good business. i wish they'd beat seymour's." "oh, we ought to be all right, whichever wins." appleby's did not offer any very serious resistance to the donaldson attack. they were outplayed at every point of the game, and, before half-time, donaldson's had scored their thirty points. it was a rule in all in-school matches--and a good rule, too--that, when one side led by thirty points, the match stopped. this prevented those massacres which do so much towards crushing all the football out of the members of the beaten team; and it kept the winning team from getting slack, by urging them on to score their thirty points before half-time. there were some houses--notoriously slack--which would go for a couple of seasons without ever playing the second half of a match. having polished off the men of appleby, the donaldson team trooped off to the other game to see how seymour's were getting on with day's. it was evidently an exciting match. the first half had been played to the accompaniment of much shouting from the ropes. though coming so early in the competition, it was really the semi-final, for whichever team won would be almost certain to get into the final. the school had turned up in large numbers to watch. "seymour's looking tired of life," said clowes. "that would seem as if his fellows weren't doing well." "what's been happening here?" asked trevor of an enthusiast in a seymour's house cap whose face was crimson with yelling. "one goal all," replied the enthusiast huskily. "did you beat appleby's?" "yes. thirty points before half-time. who's been doing the scoring here?" "milton got in for us. he barged through out of touch. we've been pressing the whole time. barry got over once, but he was held up. hullo, they're beginning again. buck up, sey-_mour's_." his voice cracking on the high note, he took an immense slab of vanilla chocolate as a remedy for hoarseness. "who scored for day's?" asked clowes. "strachan. rand-brown let him through from their twenty-five. you never saw anything so rotten as rand-brown. he doesn't take his passes, and strachan gets past him every time." "is strachan playing on the wing?" strachan was the first fifteen full-back. "yes. they've put young bassett back instead of him. sey-_mour's_. buck up, seymour's. we-ell played! there, did you ever see anything like it?" he broke off disgustedly. the seymourite playing centre next to rand-brown had run through to the back and passed out to his wing, as a good centre should. it was a perfect pass, except that it came at his head instead of his chest. nobody with any pretensions to decent play should have missed it. rand-brown, however, achieved that feat. the ball struck his hands and bounded forward. the referee blew his whistle for a scrum, and a certain try was lost. from the scrum the seymour's forwards broke away to the goal-line, where they were pulled up by bassett. the next minute the defence had been pierced, and drummond was lying on the ball a yard across the line. the enthusiast standing by clowes expended the last relics of his voice in commemorating the fact that his side had the lead. "drummond'll be good next year," said trevor. and he made a mental note to tell allardyce, who would succeed him in the command of the school football, to keep an eye on the player in question. the triumph of the seymourites was not long lived. milton failed to convert drummond's try. from the drop-out from the twenty-five line barry got the ball, and punted into touch. the throw-out was not straight, and a scrum was formed. the ball came out to the day's halves, and went across to strachan. rand-brown hesitated, and then made a futile spring at the first fifteen man's neck. strachan handed him off easily, and ran. the seymour's full-back, who was a poor player, failed to get across in time. strachan ran round behind the posts, the kick succeeded, and day's now led by two points. after this the game continued in day's half. five minutes before time was up, drummond got the ball from a scrum nearly on the line, passed it to barry on the wing instead of opening up the game by passing to his centres, and barry slipped through in the corner. this put seymour's just one point ahead, and there they stayed till the whistle blew for no-side. milton walked over to the boarding-houses with clowes and trevor. he was full of the match, particularly of the iniquity of rand-brown. "i slanged him on the field," he said. "it's a thing i don't often do, but what else _can_ you do when a man plays like that? he lost us three certain tries." "when did you administer your rebuke?" inquired clowes. "when he had let strachan through that second time, in the second half. i asked him why on earth he tried to play footer at all. i told him a good kiss-in-the-ring club was about his form. it was rather cheap, but i felt so frightfully sick about it. it's sickening to be let down like that when you've been pressing the whole time, and ought to be scoring every other minute." "what had he to say on the subject?" asked clowes. "oh, he gassed a bit until i told him i'd kick him if he said another word. that shut him up." "you ought to have kicked him. you want all the kicking practice you can get. i never saw anything feebler than that shot of yours after drummond's try." "i'd like to see _you_ take a kick like that. it was nearly on the touch-line. still, when we play you, we shan't need to convert any of our tries. we'll get our thirty points without that. perhaps you'd like to scratch?" "as a matter of fact," said clowes confidentially, "i am going to score seven tries against you off my own bat. you'll be sorry you ever turned out when we've finished with you." xii news of the gold bat shoeblossom sat disconsolately on the table in the senior day-room. he was not happy in exile. brewing in the senior day-room was a mere vulgar brawl, lacking all the refining influences of the study. you had to fight for a place at the fire, and when you had got it 'twas not always easy to keep it, and there was no privacy, and the fellows were always bear-fighting, so that it was impossible to read a book quietly for ten consecutive minutes without some ass heaving a cushion at you or turning out the gas. altogether shoeblossom yearned for the peace of his study, and wished earnestly that mr seymour would withdraw the order of banishment. it was the not being able to read that he objected to chiefly. in place of brewing, the ex-proprietors of studies five, six, and seven now made a practice of going to the school shop. it was more expensive and not nearly so comfortable--there is a romance about a study brew which you can never get anywhere else--but it served, and it was not on this score that he grumbled most. what he hated was having to live in a bear-garden. for shoeblossom was a man of moods. give him two or three congenial spirits to back him up, and he would lead the revels with the _abandon_ of a mr bultitude (after his return to his original form). but he liked to choose his accomplices, and the gay sparks of the senior day-room did not appeal to him. they were not intellectual enough. in his lucid intervals, he was accustomed to be almost abnormally solemn and respectable. when not promoting some unholy rag, shoeblossom resembled an elderly gentleman of studious habits. he liked to sit in a comfortable chair and read a book. it was the impossibility of doing this in the senior day-room that led him to try and think of some other haven where he might rest. had it been summer, he would have taken some literature out on to the cricket-field or the downs, and put in a little steady reading there, with the aid of a bag of cherries. but with the thermometer low, that was impossible. he felt very lonely and dismal. he was not a man with many friends. in fact, barry and the other three were almost the only members of the house with whom he was on speaking-terms. and of these four he saw very little. drummond and barry were always out of doors or over at the gymnasium, and as for m'todd and de bertini, it was not worth while talking to the one, and impossible to talk to the other. no wonder shoeblossom felt dull. once barry and drummond had taken him over to the gymnasium with them, but this had bored him worse than ever. they had been hard at it all the time--for, unlike a good many of the school, they went to the gymnasium for business, not to lounge--and he had had to sit about watching them. and watching gymnastics was one of the things he most loathed. since then he had refused to go. that night matters came to a head. just as he had settled down to read, somebody, in flinging a cushion across the room, brought down the gas apparatus with a run, and before light was once more restored it was tea-time. after that there was preparation, which lasted for two hours, and by the time he had to go to bed he had not been able to read a single page of the enthralling work with which he was at present occupied. he had just got into bed when he was struck with a brilliant idea. why waste the precious hours in sleep? what was that saying of somebody's, "five hours for a wise man, six for somebody else--he forgot whom--eight for a fool, nine for an idiot," or words to that effect? five hours sleep would mean that he need not go to bed till half past two. in the meanwhile he could be finding out exactly what the hero _did_ do when he found out (to his horror) that it was his cousin jasper who had really killed the old gentleman in the wood. the only question was--how was he to do his reading? prefects were allowed to work on after lights out in their dormitories by the aid of a candle, but to the ordinary mortal this was forbidden. then he was struck with another brilliant idea. it is a curious thing about ideas. you do not get one for over a month, and then there comes a rush of them, all brilliant. why, he thought, should he not go and read in his study with a dark lantern? he had a dark lantern. it was one of the things he had found lying about at home on the last day of the holidays, and had brought with him to school. it was his custom to go about the house just before the holidays ended, snapping up unconsidered trifles, which might or might not come in useful. this term he had brought back a curious metal vase (which looked indian, but which had probably been made in birmingham the year before last), two old coins (of no mortal use to anybody in the world, including himself), and the dark lantern. it was reposing now in the cupboard in his study nearest the window. he had brought his book up with him on coming to bed, on the chance that he might have time to read a page or two if he woke up early. (he had always been doubtful about that man jasper. for one thing, he had been seen pawning the old gentleman's watch on the afternoon of the murder, which was a suspicious circumstance, and then he was not a nice character at all, and just the sort of man who would be likely to murder old gentlemen in woods.) he waited till mr seymour had paid his nightly visit--he went the round of the dormitories at about eleven--and then he chuckled gently. if mill, the dormitory prefect, was awake, the chuckle would make him speak, for mill was of a suspicious nature, and believed that it was only his unintermitted vigilance which prevented the dormitory ragging all night. mill _was_ awake. "be quiet, there," he growled. "shut up that noise." shoeblossom felt that the time was not yet ripe for his departure. half an hour later he tried again. there was no rebuke. to make certain he emitted a second chuckle, replete with sinister meaning. a slight snore came from the direction of mill's bed. shoeblossom crept out of the room, and hurried to his study. the door was not locked, for mr seymour had relied on his commands being sufficient to keep the owner out of it. he slipped in, found and lit the dark lantern, and settled down to read. he read with feverish excitement. the thing was, you see, that though claud trevelyan (that was the hero) knew jolly well that it was jasper who had done the murder, the police didn't, and, as he (claud) was too noble to tell them, he had himself been arrested on suspicion. shoeblossom was skimming through the pages with starting eyes, when suddenly his attention was taken from his book by a sound. it was a footstep. somebody was coming down the passage, and under the door filtered a thin stream of light. to snap the dark slide over the lantern and dart to the door, so that if it opened he would be behind it, was with him, as mr claud trevelyan might have remarked, the work of a moment. he heard the door of study number five flung open, and then the footsteps passed on, and stopped opposite his own den. the handle turned, and the light of a candle flashed into the room, to be extinguished instantly as the draught of the moving door caught it. shoeblossom heard his visitor utter an exclamation of annoyance, and fumble in his pocket for matches. he recognised the voice. it was mr seymour's. the fact was that mr seymour had had the same experience as general stanley in _the pirates of penzance_: the man who finds his conscience ache, no peace at all enjoys; and, as i lay in bed awake, i thought i heard a noise. whether mr seymour's conscience ached or not, cannot, of course, be discovered. but he had certainly thought he heard a noise, and he had come to investigate. the search for matches had so far proved fruitless. shoeblossom stood and quaked behind the door. the reek of hot tin from the dark lantern grew worse momentarily. mr seymour sniffed several times, until shoeblossom thought that he must be discovered. then, to his immense relief, the master walked away. shoeblossom's chance had come. mr seymour had probably gone to get some matches to relight his candle. it was far from likely that the episode was closed. he would be back again presently. if shoeblossom was going to escape, he must do it now, so he waited till the footsteps had passed away, and then darted out in the direction of his dormitory. as he was passing milton's study, a white figure glided out of it. all that he had ever read or heard of spectres rushed into shoeblossom's petrified brain. he wished he was safely in bed. he wished he had never come out of it. he wished he had led a better and nobler life. he wished he had never been born. the figure passed quite close to him as he stood glued against the wall, and he saw it disappear into the dormitory opposite his own, of which rigby was prefect. he blushed hotly at the thought of the fright he had been in. it was only somebody playing the same game as himself. he jumped into bed and lay down, having first plunged the lantern bodily into his jug to extinguish it. its indignant hiss had scarcely died away when mr seymour appeared at the door. it had occurred to mr seymour that he had smelt something very much out of the ordinary in shoeblossom's study, a smell uncommonly like that of hot tin. and a suspicion dawned on him that shoeblossom had been in there with a dark lantern. he had come to the dormitory to confirm his suspicions. but a glance showed him how unjust they had been. there was shoeblossom fast asleep. mr seymour therefore followed the excellent example of my lord tomnoddy on a celebrated occasion, and went off to bed. * * * * * it was the custom for the captain of football at wrykyn to select and publish the team for the ripton match a week before the day on which it was to be played. on the evening after the nomads' match, trevor was sitting in his study writing out the names, when there came a knock at the door, and his fag entered with a letter. "this has just come, trevor," he said. "all right. put it down." the fag left the room. trevor picked up the letter. the handwriting was strange to him. the words had been printed. then it flashed upon him that he had received a letter once before addressed in the same way--the letter from the league about barry. was this, too, from that address? he opened it. it was. he read it, and gasped. the worst had happened. the gold bat was in the hands of the enemy. xiii victim number three "with reference to our last communication," ran the letter--the writer evidently believed in the commercial style--"it may interest you to know that the bat you lost by the statue on the night of the th of january has come into our possession. _we observe that barry is still playing for the first fifteen._" "and will jolly well continue to," muttered trevor, crumpling the paper viciously into a ball. he went on writing the names for the ripton match. the last name on the list was barry's. then he sat back in his chair, and began to wrestle with this new development. barry must play. that was certain. all the bluff in the world was not going to keep him from playing the best man at his disposal in the ripton match. he himself did not count. it was the school he had to think of. this being so, what was likely to happen? though nothing was said on the point, he felt certain that if he persisted in ignoring the league, that bat would find its way somehow--by devious routes, possibly--to the headmaster or some one else in authority. and then there would be questions--awkward questions--and things would begin to come out. then a fresh point struck him, which was, that whatever might happen would affect, not himself, but o'hara. this made it rather more of a problem how to act. personally, he was one of those dogged characters who can put up with almost anything themselves. if this had been his affair, he would have gone on his way without hesitating. evidently the writer of the letter was under the impression that he had been the hero (or villain) of the statue escapade. if everything came out it did not require any great effort of prophecy to predict what the result would be. o'hara would go. promptly. he would receive his marching orders within ten minutes of the discovery of what he had done. he would be expelled twice over, so to speak, once for breaking out at night--one of the most heinous offences in the school code--and once for tarring the statue. anything that gave the school a bad name in the town was a crime in the eyes of the powers, and this was such a particularly flagrant case. yes, there was no doubt of that. o'hara would take the first train home without waiting to pack up. trevor knew his people well, and he could imagine their feelings when the prodigal strolled into their midst--an old wrykinian _malgre lui_. as the philosopher said of falling off a ladder, it is not the falling that matters: it is the sudden stopping at the other end. it is not the being expelled that is so peculiarly objectionable: it is the sudden homecoming. with this gloomy vision before him, trevor almost wavered. but the thought that the selection of the team had nothing whatever to do with his personal feelings strengthened him. he was simply a machine, devised to select the fifteen best men in the school to meet ripton. in his official capacity of football captain he was not supposed to have any feelings. however, he yielded in so far that he went to clowes to ask his opinion. clowes, having heard everything and seen the letter, unhesitatingly voted for the right course. if fifty mad irishmen were to be expelled, barry must play against ripton. he was the best man, and in he must go. "that's what i thought," said trevor. "it's bad for o'hara, though." clowes remarked somewhat tritely that business was business. "besides," he went on, "you're assuming that the thing this letter hints at will really come off. i don't think it will. a man would have to be such an awful blackguard to go as low as that. the least grain of decency in him would stop him. i can imagine a man threatening to do it as a piece of bluff--by the way, the letter doesn't actually say anything of the sort, though i suppose it hints at it--but i can't imagine anybody out of a melodrama doing it." "you can never tell," said trevor. he felt that this was but an outside chance. the forbearance of one's antagonist is but a poor thing to trust to at the best of times. "are you going to tell o'hara?" asked clowes. "i don't see the good. would you?" "no. he can't do anything, and it would only give him a bad time. there are pleasanter things, i should think, than going on from day to day not knowing whether you're going to be sacked or not within the next twelve hours. don't tell him." "i won't. and barry plays against ripton." "certainly. he's the best man." "i'm going over to seymour's now," said trevor, after a pause, "to see milton. we've drawn seymour's in the next round of the house-matches. i suppose you knew. i want to get it over before the ripton match, for several reasons. about half the fifteen are playing on one side or the other, and it'll give them a good chance of getting fit. running and passing is all right, but a good, hard game's the thing for putting you into form. and then i was thinking that, as the side that loses, whichever it is--" "seymour's, of course." "hope so. well, they're bound to be a bit sick at losing, so they'll play up all the harder on saturday to console themselves for losing the cup." "my word, what strategy!" said clowes. "you think of everything. when do you think of playing it, then?" "wednesday struck me as a good day. don't you think so?" "it would do splendidly. it'll be a good match. for all practical purposes, of course, it's the final. if we beat seymour's, i don't think the others will trouble us much." there was just time to see milton before lock-up. trevor ran across to seymour's, and went up to his study. "come in," said milton, in answer to his knock. trevor went in, and stood surprised at the difference in the look of the place since the last time he had visited it. the walls, once covered with photographs, were bare. milton, seated before the fire, was ruefully contemplating what looked like a heap of waste cardboard. trevor recognised the symptoms. he had had experience. "you don't mean to say they've been at you, too!" he cried. milton's normally cheerful face was thunderous and gloomy. "yes. i was thinking what i'd like to do to the man who ragged it." "it's the league again, i suppose?" milton looked surprised. "_again?_" he said, "where did _you_ hear of the league? this is the first time i've heard of its existence, whatever it is. what is the confounded thing, and why on earth have they played the fool here? what's the meaning of this bally rot?" he exhibited one of the variety of cards of which trevor had already seen two specimens. trevor explained briefly the style and nature of the league, and mentioned that his study also had been wrecked. "your study? why, what have they got against you?" "i don't know," said trevor. nothing was to be gained by speaking of the letters he had received. "did they cut up your photographs?" "every one." "i tell you what it is, trevor, old chap," said milton, with great solemnity, "there's a lunatic in the school. that's what i make of it. a lunatic whose form of madness is wrecking studies." "but the same chap couldn't have done yours and mine. it must have been a donaldson's fellow who did mine, and one of your chaps who did yours and mill's." "mill's? by jove, of course. i never thought of that. that was the league, too, i suppose?" "yes. one of those cards was tied to a chair, but clowes took it away before anybody saw it." milton returned to the details of the disaster. "was there any ink spilt in your room?" "pints," said trevor, shortly. the subject was painful. "so there was here," said milton, mournfully. "gallons." there was silence for a while, each pondering over his wrongs. "gallons," said milton again. "i was ass enough to keep a large pot full of it here, and they used it all, every drop. you never saw such a sight." trevor said he had seen one similar spectacle. "and my photographs! you remember those photographs i showed you? all ruined. slit across with a knife. some torn in half. i wish i knew who did that." trevor said he wished so, too. "there was one of mrs patrick campbell," milton continued in heartrending tones, "which was torn into sixteen pieces. i counted them. there they are on the mantelpiece. and there was one of little tich" (here he almost broke down), "which was so covered with ink that for half an hour i couldn't recognise it. fact." trevor nodded sympathetically. "yes," said milton. "soaked." there was another silence. trevor felt it would be almost an outrage to discuss so prosaic a topic as the date of a house-match with one so broken up. yet time was flying, and lock-up was drawing near. "are you willing to play--" he began. "i feel as if i could never play again," interrupted milton. "you'd hardly believe the amount of blotting-paper i've used today. it must have been a lunatic, dick, old man." when milton called trevor "dick", it was a sign that he was moved. when he called him "dick, old man", it gave evidence of an internal upheaval without parallel. "why, who else but a lunatic would get up in the night to wreck another chap's study? all this was done between eleven last night and seven this morning. i turned in at eleven, and when i came down here again at seven the place was a wreck. it must have been a lunatic." "how do you account for the printed card from the league?" milton murmured something about madmen's cunning and diverting suspicion, and relapsed into silence. trevor seized the opportunity to make the proposal he had come to make, that donaldson's _v._ seymour's should be played on the following wednesday. milton agreed listlessly. "just where you're standing," he said, "i found a photograph of sir henry irving so slashed about that i thought at first it was huntley wright in _san toy_." "start at two-thirty sharp," said trevor. "i had seventeen of edna may," continued the stricken seymourite, monotonously. "in various attitudes. all destroyed." "on the first fifteen ground, of course," said trevor. "i'll get aldridge to referee. that'll suit you, i suppose?" "all right. anything you like. just by the fireplace i found the remains of arthur roberts in _h.m.s. irresponsible_. and part of seymour hicks. under the table--" trevor departed. xiv the white figure "suppose," said shoeblossom to barry, as they were walking over to school on the morning following the day on which milton's study had passed through the hands of the league, "suppose you thought somebody had done something, but you weren't quite certain who, but you knew it was some one, what would you do?" "what on _earth_ do you mean?" inquired barry. "i was trying to make an a.b. case of it," explained shoeblossom. "what's an a.b. case?" "i don't know," admitted shoeblossom, frankly. "but it comes in a book of stevenson's. i think it must mean a sort of case where you call everyone a. and b. and don't tell their names." "well, go ahead." "it's about milton's study." "what! what about it?" "well, you see, the night it was ragged i was sitting in my study with a dark lantern--" "what!" shoeblossom proceeded to relate the moving narrative of his night-walking adventure. he dwelt movingly on his state of mind when standing behind the door, waiting for mr seymour to come in and find him. he related with appropriate force the hair-raising episode of the weird white figure. and then he came to the conclusions he had since drawn (in calmer moments) from that apparition's movements. "you see," he said, "i saw it coming out of milton's study, and that must have been about the time the study was ragged. and it went into rigby's dorm. so it must have been a chap in that dorm, who did it." shoeblossom was quite clever at rare intervals. even barry, whose belief in his sanity was of the smallest, was compelled to admit that here, at any rate, he was talking sense. "what would you do?" asked shoeblossom. "tell milton, of course," said barry. "but he'd give me beans for being out of the dorm, after lights-out." this was a distinct point to be considered. the attitude of barry towards milton was different from that of shoeblossom. barry regarded him--through having played with him in important matches--as a good sort of fellow who had always behaved decently to him. leather-twigg, on the other hand, looked on him with undisguised apprehension, as one in authority who would give him lines the first time he came into contact with him, and cane him if he ever did it again. he had a decided disinclination to see milton on any pretext whatever. "suppose i tell him?" suggested barry. "you'll keep my name dark?" said shoeblossom, alarmed. barry said he would make an a.b. case of it. after school he went to milton's study, and found him still brooding over its departed glories. "i say, milton, can i speak to you for a second?" "hullo, barry. come in." barry came in. "i had forty-three photographs," began milton, without preamble. "all destroyed. and i've no money to buy any more. i had seventeen of edna may." barry, feeling that he was expected to say something, said, "by jove! really?" "in various positions," continued milton. "all ruined." "not really?" said barry. "there was one of little tich--" but barry felt unequal to playing the part of chorus any longer. it was all very thrilling, but, if milton was going to run through the entire list of his destroyed photographs, life would be too short for conversation on any other topic. "i say, milton," he said, "it was about that that i came. i'm sorry--" milton sat up. "it wasn't you who did this, was it?" "no, no," said barry, hastily. "oh, i thought from your saying you were sorry--" "i was going to say i thought i could put you on the track of the chap who did do it--" for the second time since the interview began milton sat up. "go on," he said. "--but i'm sorry i can't give you the name of the fellow who told me about it." "that doesn't matter," said milton. "tell me the name of the fellow who did it. that'll satisfy me." "i'm afraid i can't do that, either." "have you any idea what you _can_ do?" asked milton, satirically. "i can tell you something which may put you on the right track." "that'll do for a start. well?" "well, the chap who told me--i'll call him a.; i'm going to make an a.b. case of it--was coming out of his study at about one o'clock in the morning--" "what the deuce was he doing that for?" "because he wanted to go back to bed," said barry. "about time, too. well?" "as he was going past your study, a white figure emerged--" "i should strongly advise you, young barry," said milton, gravely, "not to try and rot me in any way. you're a jolly good wing three-quarters, but you shouldn't presume on it. i'd slay the old man himself if he rotted me about this business." barry was quite pained at this sceptical attitude in one whom he was going out of his way to assist. "i'm not rotting," he protested. "this is all quite true." "well, go on. you were saying something about white figures emerging." "not white figures. a white figure," corrected barry. "it came out of your study--" "--and vanished through the wall?" "it went into rigby's dorm.," said barry, sulkily. it was maddening to have an exclusive bit of news treated in this way. "did it, by jove!" said milton, interested at last. "are you sure the chap who told you wasn't pulling your leg? who was it told you?" "i promised him not to say." "out with it, young barry." "i won't," said barry. "you aren't going to tell me?" "no." milton gave up the point with much cheerfulness. he liked barry, and he realised that he had no right to try and make him break his promise. "that's all right," he said. "thanks very much, barry. this may be useful." "i'd tell you his name if i hadn't promised, you know, milton." "it doesn't matter," said milton. "it's not important." "oh, there was one thing i forgot. it was a biggish chap the fellow saw." "how big! my size?" "not quite so tall, i should think. he said he was about seymour's size." "thanks. that's worth knowing. thanks very much, barry." when his visitor had gone, milton proceeded to unearth one of the printed lists of the house which were used for purposes of roll-call. he meant to find out who were in rigby's dormitory. he put a tick against the names. there were eighteen of them. the next thing was to find out which of them was about the same height as mr seymour. it was a somewhat vague description, for the house-master stood about five feet nine or eight, and a good many of the dormitory were that height, or near it. at last, after much brain-work, he reduced the number of "possibles" to seven. these seven were rigby himself, linton, rand-brown, griffith, hunt, kershaw, and chapple. rigby might be scratched off the list at once. he was one of milton's greatest friends. exeunt also griffith, hunt, and kershaw. they were mild youths, quite incapable of any deed of devilry. there remained, therefore, chapple, linton, and rand-brown. chapple was a boy who was invariably late for breakfast. the inference was that he was not likely to forego his sleep for the purpose of wrecking studies. chapple might disappear from the list. now there were only linton and rand-brown to be considered. his suspicions fell on rand-brown. linton was the last person, he thought, to do such a low thing. he was a cheerful, rollicking individual, who was popular with everyone and seemed to like everyone. he was not an orderly member of the house, certainly, and on several occasions milton had found it necessary to drop on him heavily for creating disturbances. but he was not the sort that bears malice. he took it all in the way of business, and came up smiling after it was over. no, everything pointed to rand-brown. he and milton had never got on well together, and quite recently they had quarrelled openly over the former's play in the day's match. rand-brown must be the man. but milton was sensible enough to feel that so far he had no real evidence whatever. he must wait. on the following afternoon seymour's turned out to play donaldson's. the game, like most house-matches, was played with the utmost keenness. both teams had good three-quarters, and they attacked in turn. seymour's had the best of it forward, where milton was playing a great game, but trevor in the centre was the best outside on the field, and pulled up rush after rush. by half-time neither side had scored. after half-time seymour's, playing downhill, came away with a rush to the donaldsonites' half, and rand-brown, with one of the few decent runs he had made in good class football that term, ran in on the left. milton took the kick, but failed, and seymour's led by three points. for the next twenty minutes nothing more was scored. then, when five minutes more of play remained, trevor gave clowes an easy opening, and clowes sprinted between the posts. the kick was an easy one, and what sporting reporters term "the major points" were easily added. when there are five more minutes to play in an important house-match, and one side has scored a goal and the other a try, play is apt to become spirited. both teams were doing all they knew. the ball came out to barry on the right. barry's abilities as a three-quarter rested chiefly on the fact that he could dodge well. this eel-like attribute compensated for a certain lack of pace. he was past the donaldson's three-quarters in an instant, and running for the line, with only the back to pass, and with clowes in hot pursuit. another wriggle took him past the back, but it also gave clowes time to catch him up. clowes was a far faster runner, and he got to him just as he reached the twenty-five line. they came down together with a crash, clowes on top, and as they fell the whistle blew. "no-side," said mr. aldridge, the master who was refereeing. clowes got up. "all over," he said. "jolly good game. hullo, what's up?" for barry seemed to be in trouble. "you might give us a hand up," said the latter. "i believe i've twisted my beastly ankle or something." xv a sprain and a vacant place "i say," said clowes, helping him up, "i'm awfully sorry. did i do it? how did it happen?" barry was engaged in making various attempts at standing on the injured leg. the process seemed to be painful. "shall i get a stretcher or anything? can you walk?" "if you'd help me over to the house, i could manage all right. what a beastly nuisance! it wasn't your fault a bit. only you tackled me when i was just trying to swerve, and my ankle was all twisted." drummond came up, carrying barry's blazer and sweater. "hullo, barry," he said, "what's up? you aren't crocked?" "something gone wrong with my ankle. that my blazer? thanks. coming over to the house? clowes was just going to help me over." clowes asked a donaldson's junior, who was lurking near at hand, to fetch his blazer and carry it over to the house, and then made his way with drummond and the disabled barry to seymour's. having arrived at the senior day-room, they deposited the injured three-quarter in a chair, and sent m'todd, who came in at the moment, to fetch the doctor. dr oakes was a big man with a breezy manner, the sort of doctor who hits you with the force of a sledge-hammer in the small ribs, and asks you if you felt anything _then_. it was on this principle that he acted with regard to barry's ankle. he seized it in both hands and gave it a wrench. "did that hurt?" he inquired anxiously. barry turned white, and replied that it did. dr oakes nodded wisely. "ah! h'm! just so. 'myes. ah." "is it bad?" asked drummond, awed by these mystic utterances. "my dear boy," replied the doctor, breezily, "it is always bad when one twists one's ankle." "how long will it do me out of footer?" asked barry. "how long? how long? how long? why, fortnight. fortnight," said the doctor. "then i shan't be able to play next saturday?" "next saturday? next saturday? my dear boy, if you can put your foot to the ground by next saturday, you may take it as evidence that the age of miracles is not past. next saturday, indeed! ha, ha." it was not altogether his fault that he treated the matter with such brutal levity. it was a long time since he had been at school, and he could not quite realise what it meant to barry not to be able to play against ripton. as for barry, he felt that he had never loathed and detested any one so thoroughly as he loathed and detested dr oakes at that moment. "i don't see where the joke comes in," said clowes, when he had gone. "i bar that man." "he's a beast," said drummond. "i can't understand why they let a tout like that be the school doctor." barry said nothing. he was too sore for words. what dr oakes said to his wife that evening was: "over at the school, my dear, this afternoon. this afternoon. boy with a twisted ankle. nice young fellow. very much put out when i told him he could not play football for a fortnight. but i chaffed him, and cheered him up in no time. i cheered him up in no time, my dear." "i'm sure you did, dear," said mrs oakes. which shows how differently the same thing may strike different people. barry certainly did not look as if he had been cheered up when clowes left the study and went over to tell trevor that he would have to find a substitute for his right wing three-quarter against ripton. trevor had left the field without noticing barry's accident, and he was tremendously pleased at the result of the game. "good man," he said, when clowes came in, "you saved the match." "and lost the ripton match probably," said clowes, gloomily. "what do you mean?" "that last time i brought down barry i crocked him. he's in his study now with a sprained ankle. i've just come from there. oakes has seen him, and says he mustn't play for a fortnight." "great scott!" said trevor, blankly. "what on earth shall we do?" "why not move strachan up to the wing, and put somebody else back instead of him? strachan is a good wing." trevor shook his head. "no. there's nobody good enough to play back for the first. we mustn't risk it." "then i suppose it must be rand-brown?" "i suppose so." "he may do better than we think. he played quite a decent game today. that try he got wasn't half a bad one." "he'd be all right if he didn't funk. but perhaps he wouldn't funk against ripton. in a match like that anybody would play up. i'll ask milton and allardyce about it." "i shouldn't go to milton today," said clowes. "i fancy he'll want a night's rest before he's fit to talk to. he must be a bit sick about this match. i know he expected seymour's to win." he went out, but came back almost immediately. "i say," he said, "there's one thing that's just occurred to me. this'll please the league. i mean, this ankle business of barry's." the same idea had struck trevor. it was certainly a respite. but he regretted it for all that. what he wanted was to beat ripton, and barry's absence would weaken the team. however, it was good in its way, and cleared the atmosphere for the time. the league would hardly do anything with regard to the carrying out of their threat while barry was on the sick-list. next day, having given him time to get over the bitterness of defeat in accordance with clowes' thoughtful suggestion, trevor called on milton, and asked him what his opinion was on the subject of the inclusion of rand-brown in the first fifteen in place of barry. "he's the next best man," he added, in defence of the proposal. "i suppose so," said milton. "he'd better play, i suppose. there's no one else." "clowes thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to shove strachan on the wing, and put somebody else back." "who is there to put?" "jervis?" "not good enough. no, it's better to be weakish on the wing than at back. besides, rand-brown may do all right. he played well against you." "yes," said trevor. "study looks a bit better now," he added, as he was going, having looked round the room. "still a bit bare, though." milton sighed. "it will never be what it was." "forty-three theatrical photographs want some replacing, of course," said trevor. "but it isn't bad, considering." "how's yours?" "oh, mine's all right, except for the absence of photographs." "i say, trevor." "yes?" said trevor, stopping at the door. milton's voice had taken on the tone of one who is about to disclose dreadful secrets. "would you like to know what i think?" "what?" "why, i'm pretty nearly sure who it was that ragged my study?" "by jove! what have you done to him?" "nothing as yet. i'm not quite sure of my man." "who is the man?" "rand-brown." "by jove! clowes once said he thought rand-brown must be the president of the league. but then, i don't see how you can account for _my_ study being wrecked. he was out on the field when it was done." "why, the league, of course. you don't suppose he's the only man in it? there must be a lot of them." "but what makes you think it was rand-brown?" milton told him the story of shoeblossom, as barry had told it to him. the only difference was that trevor listened without any of the scepticism which milton had displayed on hearing it. he was getting excited. it all fitted in so neatly. if ever there was circumstantial evidence against a man, here it was against rand-brown. take the two cases. milton had quarrelled with him. milton's study was wrecked "with the compliments of the league". trevor had turned him out of the first fifteen. trevor's study was wrecked "with the compliments of the league". as clowes had pointed out, the man with the most obvious motive for not wishing barry to play for the school was rand-brown. it seemed a true bill. "i shouldn't wonder if you're right," he said, "but of course one can't do anything yet. you want a lot more evidence. anyhow, we must play him against ripton, i suppose. which is his study? i'll go and tell him now." "ten." trevor knocked at the door of study ten. rand-brown was sitting over the fire, reading. he jumped up when he saw that it was trevor who had come in, and to his visitor it seemed that his face wore a guilty look. "what do you want?" said rand-brown. it was not the politest way of welcoming a visitor. it increased trevor's suspicions. the man was afraid. a great idea darted into his mind. why not go straight to the point and have it out with him here and now? he had the league's letter about the bat in his pocket. he would confront him with it and insist on searching the study there and then. if rand-brown were really, as he suspected, the writer of the letter, the bat must be in this room somewhere. search it now, and he would have no time to hide it. he pulled out the letter. "i believe you wrote that," he said. trevor was always direct. rand-brown seemed to turn a little pale, but his voice when he replied was quite steady. "that's a lie," he said. "then, perhaps," said trevor, "you wouldn't object to proving it." "how?" "by letting me search your study?" "you don't believe my word?" "why should i? you don't believe mine." rand-brown made no comment on this remark. "was that what you came here for?" he asked. "no," said trevor; "as a matter of fact, i came to tell you to turn out for running and passing with the first tomorrow afternoon. you're playing against ripton on saturday." rand-brown's attitude underwent a complete transformation at the news. he became friendliness itself. "all right," he said. "i say, i'm sorry i said what i did about lying. i was rather sick that you should think i wrote that rot you showed me. i hope you don't mind." "not a bit. do you mind my searching your study?" for a moment rand-brown looked vicious. then he sat down with a laugh. "go on," he said; "i see you don't believe me. here are the keys if you want them." trevor thanked him, and took the keys. he opened every drawer and examined the writing-desk. the bat was in none of these places. he looked in the cupboards. no bat there. "like to take up the carpet?" inquired rand-brown. "no, thanks." "search me if you like. shall i turn out my pockets?" "yes, please," said trevor, to his surprise. he had not expected to be taken literally. rand-brown emptied them, but the bat was not there. trevor turned to go. "you've not looked inside the legs of the chairs yet," said rand-brown. "they may be hollow. there's no knowing." "it doesn't matter, thanks," said trevor. "sorry for troubling you. don't forget tomorrow afternoon." and he went, with the very unpleasant feeling that he had been badly scored off. xvi the ripton match it was a curious thing in connection with the matches between ripton and wrykyn, that ripton always seemed to be the bigger team. they always had a gigantic pack of forwards, who looked capable of shoving a hole through one of the pyramids. possibly they looked bigger to the wrykinians than they really were. strangers always look big on the football field. when you have grown accustomed to a person's appearance, he does not look nearly so large. milton, for instance, never struck anybody at wrykyn as being particularly big for a school forward, and yet today he was the heaviest man on the field by a quarter of a stone. but, taken in the mass, the ripton pack were far heavier than their rivals. there was a legend current among the lower forms at wrykyn that fellows were allowed to stop on at ripton till they were twenty-five, simply to play football. this is scarcely likely to have been based on fact. few lower form legends are. jevons, the ripton captain, through having played opposite trevor for three seasons--he was the ripton left centre-three-quarter--had come to be quite an intimate of his. trevor had gone down with milton and allardyce to meet the team at the station, and conduct them up to the school. "how have you been getting on since christmas?" asked jevons. "pretty well. we've lost paget, i suppose you know?" "that was the fast man on the wing, wasn't it?" "yes." "well, we've lost a man, too." "oh, yes, that red-haired forward. i remember him." "it ought to make us pretty even. what's the ground like?" "bit greasy, i should think. we had some rain late last night." the ground _was_ a bit greasy. so was the ball. when milton kicked off up the hill with what wind there was in his favour, the outsides of both teams found it difficult to hold the ball. jevons caught it on his twenty-five line, and promptly handed it forward. the first scrum was formed in the heart of the enemy's country. a deep, swelling roar from either touch-line greeted the school's advantage. a feature of a big match was always the shouting. it rarely ceased throughout the whole course of the game, the monotonous but impressive sound of five hundred voices all shouting the same word. it was worth hearing. sometimes the evenness of the noise would change to an excited _crescendo_ as a school three-quarter got off, or the school back pulled up the attack with a fine piece of defence. sometimes the shouting would give place to clapping when the school was being pressed and somebody had found touch with a long kick. but mostly the man on the ropes roared steadily and without cessation, and with the full force of his lungs, the word "_wrykyn!_" the scrum was a long one. for two minutes the forwards heaved and strained, now one side, now the other, gaining a few inches. the wrykyn pack were doing all they knew to heel, but their opponents' superior weight was telling. ripton had got the ball, and were keeping it. their game was to break through with it and rush. then suddenly one of their forwards kicked it on, and just at that moment the opposition of the wrykyn pack gave way, and the scrum broke up. the ball came out on the wrykyn side, and allardyce whipped it out to deacon, who was playing half with him. "ball's out," cried the ripton half who was taking the scrum. "break up. it's out." and his colleague on the left darted across to stop trevor, who had taken deacon's pass, and was running through on the right. trevor ran splendidly. he was a three-quarter who took a lot of stopping when he once got away. jevons and the ripton half met him almost simultaneously, and each slackened his pace for the fraction of a second, to allow the other to tackle. as they hesitated, trevor passed them. he had long ago learned that to go hard when you have once started is the thing that pays. he could see that rand-brown was racing up for the pass, and, as he reached the back, he sent the ball to him, waist-high. then the back got to him, and he came down with a thud, with a vision, seen from the corner of his eye, of the ball bounding forward out of the wing three-quarter's hands into touch. rand-brown had bungled the pass in the old familiar way, and lost a certain try. the touch-judge ran up with his flag waving in the air, but the referee had other views. "knocked on inside," he said; "scrum here." "here" was, trevor saw with unspeakable disgust, some three yards from the goal-line. rand-brown had only had to take the pass, and he must have scored. the ripton forwards were beginning to find their feet better now, and they carried the scrum. a truculent-looking warrior in one of those ear-guards which are tied on by strings underneath the chin, and which add fifty per cent to the ferocity of a forward's appearance, broke away with the ball at his feet, and swept down the field with the rest of the pack at his heels. trevor arrived too late to pull up the rush, which had gone straight down the right touch-line, and it was not till strachan fell on the ball on the wrykyn twenty-five line that the danger ceased to threaten. even now the school were in a bad way. the enemy were pressing keenly, and a real piece of combination among their three-quarters would only too probably end in a try. fortunately for them, allardyce and deacon were a better pair of halves than the couple they were marking. also, the ripton forwards heeled slowly, and allardyce had generally got his man safely buried in the mud before he could pass. he was just getting round for the tenth time to bottle his opponent as before, when he slipped. when the ball came out he was on all fours, and the ripton exponent, finding to his great satisfaction that he had not been tackled, whipped the ball out on the left, where a wing three-quarter hovered. this was the man rand-brown was supposed to be marking, and once again did barry's substitute prove of what stuff his tackling powers were made. after his customary moment of hesitation, he had at the riptonian's neck. the riptonian handed him off in a manner that recalled the palmy days of the old prize ring--handing off was always slightly vigorous in the ripton _v._ wrykyn match--and dashed over the line in the extreme corner. there was anguish on the two touch-lines. trevor looked savage, but made no comment. the team lined up in silence. it takes a very good kick to convert a try from the touch-line. jevons' kick was a long one, but it fell short. ripton led by a try to nothing. a few more scrums near the halfway line, and a fine attempt at a dropped goal by the ripton back, and it was half-time, with the score unaltered. during the interval there were lemons. an excellent thing is your lemon at half-time. it cools the mouth, quenches the thirst, stimulates the desire to be at them again, and improves the play. possibly the wrykyn team had been happier in their choice of lemons on this occasion, for no sooner had the game been restarted than clowes ran the whole length of the field, dodged through the three-quarters, punted over the back's head, and scored a really brilliant try, of the sort that paget had been fond of scoring in the previous term. the man on the touch-line brightened up wonderfully, and began to try and calculate the probable score by the end of the game, on the assumption that, as a try had been scored in the first two minutes, ten would be scored in the first twenty, and so on. but the calculations were based on false premises. after strachan had failed to convert, and the game had been resumed with the score at one try all, play settled down in the centre, and neither side could pierce the other's defence. once jevons got off for ripton, but trevor brought him down safely, and once rand-brown let his man through, as before, but strachan was there to meet him, and the effort came to nothing. for wrykyn, no one did much except tackle. the forwards were beaten by the heavier pack, and seldom let the ball out. allardyce intercepted a pass when about ten minutes of play remained, and ran through to the back. but the back, who was a capable man and in his third season in the team, laid him low scientifically before he could reach the line. altogether it looked as if the match were going to end in a draw. the wrykyn defence, with the exception of rand-brown, was too good to be penetrated, while the ripton forwards, by always getting the ball in the scrums, kept them from attacking. it was about five minutes from the end of the game when the ripton right centre-three-quarter, in trying to punt across to the wing, miskicked and sent the ball straight into the hands of trevor's colleague in the centre. before his man could get round to him he had slipped through, with trevor backing him up. the back, as a good back should, seeing two men coming at him, went for the man with the ball. but by the time he had brought him down, the ball was no longer where it had originally been. trevor had got it, and was running in between the posts. this time strachan put on the extra two points without difficulty. ripton played their hardest for the remaining minutes, but without result. the game ended with wrykyn a goal ahead--a goal and a try to a try. for the second time in one season the ripton match had ended in a victory--a thing it was very rarely in the habit of doing. * * * * * the senior day-room at seymour's rejoiced considerably that night. the air was dark with flying cushions, and darker still, occasionally, when the usual humorist turned the gas out. milton was out, for he had gone to the dinner which followed the ripton match, and the man in command of the house in his absence was mill. and the senior day-room had no respect whatever for mill. barry joined in the revels as well as his ankle would let him, but he was not feeling happy. the disappointment of being out of the first still weighed on him. at about eight, when things were beginning to grow really lively, and the noise seemed likely to crack the window at any moment, the door was flung open and milton stalked in. "what's all this row?" he inquired. "stop it at once." as a matter of fact, the row _had_ stopped--directly he came in. "is barry here?" he asked. "yes," said that youth. "congratulate you on your first, barry. we've just had a meeting and given you your colours. trevor told me to tell you." xvii the watchers in the vault for the next three seconds you could have heard a cannonball drop. and that was equivalent, in the senior day-room at seymour's, to a dead silence. barry stood in the middle of the room leaning on the stick on which he supported life, now that his ankle had been injured, and turned red and white in regular rotation, as the magnificence of the news came home to him. then the small voice of linton was heard. "that'll be six d. i'll trouble you for, young sammy," said linton. for he had betted an even sixpence with master samuel menzies that barry would get his first fifteen cap this term, and barry had got it. a great shout went up from every corner of the room. barry was one of the most popular members of the house, and every one had been sorry for him when his sprained ankle had apparently put him out of the running for the last cap. "good old barry," said drummond, delightedly. barry thanked him in a dazed way. every one crowded in to shake his hand. barry thanked then all in a dazed way. and then the senior day-room, in spite of the fact that milton had returned, gave itself up to celebrating the occasion with one of the most deafening uproars that had ever been heard even in that factory of noise. a babel of voices discussed the match of the afternoon, each trying to outshout the other. in one corner linton was beating wildly on a biscuit-tin with part of a broken chair. shoeblossom was busy in the opposite corner executing an intricate step-dance on somebody else's box. m'todd had got hold of the red-hot poker, and was burning his initials in huge letters on the seat of a chair. every one, in short, was enjoying himself, and it was not until an advanced hour that comparative quiet was restored. it was a great evening for barry, the best he had ever experienced. clowes did not learn the news till he saw it on the notice-board, on the following monday. when he saw it he whistled softly. "i see you've given barry his first," he said to trevor, when they met. "rather sensational." "milton and allardyce both thought he deserved it. if he'd been playing instead of rand-brown, they wouldn't have scored at all probably, and we should have got one more try." "that's all right," said clowes. "he deserves it right enough, and i'm jolly glad you've given it him. but things will begin to move now, don't you think? the league ought to have a word to say about the business. it'll be a facer for them." "do you remember," asked trevor, "saying that you thought it must be rand-brown who wrote those letters?" "yes. well?" "well, milton had an idea that it was rand-brown who ragged his study." "what made him think that?" trevor related the shoeblossom incident. clowes became quite excited. "then rand-brown must be the man," he said. "why don't you go and tackle him? probably he's got the bat in his study." "it's not in his study," said trevor, "because i looked everywhere for it, and got him to turn out his pockets, too. and yet i'll swear he knows something about it. one thing struck me as a bit suspicious. i went straight into his study and showed him that last letter--about the bat, you know, and accused him of writing it. now, if he hadn't been in the business somehow, he wouldn't have understood what was meant by their saying 'the bat you lost'. it might have been an ordinary cricket-bat for all he knew. but he offered to let me search the study. it didn't strike me as rum till afterwards. then it seemed fishy. what do you think?" clowes thought so too, but admitted that he did not see of what use the suspicion was going to be. whether rand-brown knew anything about the affair or not, it was quite certain that the bat was not with him. o'hara, meanwhile, had decided that the time had come for him to resume his detective duties. moriarty agreed with him, and they resolved that that night they would patronise the vault instead of the gymnasium, and take a holiday as far as their boxing was concerned. there was plenty of time before the aldershot competition. lock-up was still at six, so at a quarter to that hour they slipped down into the vault, and took up their position. a quarter of an hour passed. the lock-up bell sounded faintly. moriarty began to grow tired. "is it worth it?" he said, "an' wouldn't they have come before, if they meant to come?" "we'll give them another quarter of an hour," said o'hara. "after that--" "sh!" whispered moriarty. the door had opened. they could see a figure dimly outlined in the semi-darkness. footsteps passed down into the vault, and there came a sound as if the unknown had cannoned into a chair, followed by a sharp intake of breath, expressive of pain. a scraping sound, and a flash of light, and part of the vault was lit by a candle. o'hara caught a glimpse of the unknown's face as he rose from lighting the candle, but it was not enough to enable him to recognise him. the candle was standing on a chair, and the light it gave was too feeble to reach the face of any one not on a level with it. the unknown began to drag chairs out into the neighbourhood of the light. o'hara counted six. the sixth chair had scarcely been placed in position when the door opened again. six other figures appeared in the opening one after the other, and bolted into the vault like rabbits into a burrow. the last of them closed the door after them. o'hara nudged moriarty, and moriarty nudged o'hara; but neither made a sound. they were not likely to be seen--the blackness of the vault was too egyptian for that--but they were so near to the chairs that the least whisper must have been heard. not a word had proceeded from the occupants of the chairs so far. if o'hara's suspicion was correct, and this was really the league holding a meeting, their methods were more secret than those of any other secret society in existence. even the nihilists probably exchanged a few remarks from time to time, when they met together to plot. but these men of mystery never opened their lips. it puzzled o'hara. the light of the candle was obscured for a moment, and a sound of puffing came from the darkness. o'hara nudged moriarty again. "smoking!" said the nudge. moriarty nudged o'hara. "smoking it is!" was the meaning of the movement. a strong smell of tobacco showed that the diagnosis had been a true one. each of the figures in turn lit his pipe at the candle, and sat back, still in silence. it could not have been very pleasant, smoking in almost pitch darkness, but it was breaking rules, which was probably the main consideration that swayed the smokers. they puffed away steadily, till the two irishmen were wrapped about in invisible clouds. then a strange thing happened. i know that i am infringing copyright in making that statement, but it so exactly suits the occurrence, that perhaps mr rider haggard will not object. it _was_ a strange thing that happened. a rasping voice shattered the silence. "you boys down there," said the voice, "come here immediately. come here, i say." it was the well-known voice of mr robert dexter, o'hara and moriarty's beloved house-master. the two irishmen simultaneously clutched one another, each afraid that the other would think--from force of long habit--that the house-master was speaking to him. both stood where they were. it was the men of mystery and tobacco that dexter was after, they thought. but they were wrong. what had brought dexter to the vault was the fact that he had seen two boys, who looked uncommonly like o'hara and moriarty, go down the steps of the vault at a quarter to six. he had been doing his usual after-lock-up prowl on the junior gravel, to intercept stragglers, and he had been a witness--from a distance of fifty yards, in a very bad light--of the descent into the vault. he had remained on the gravel ever since, in the hope of catching them as they came up; but as they had not come up, he had determined to make the first move himself. he had not seen the six unknowns go down, for, the evening being chilly, he had paced up and down, and they had by a lucky accident chosen a moment when his back was turned. "come up immediately," he repeated. here a blast of tobacco-smoke rushed at him from the darkness. the candle had been extinguished at the first alarm, and he had not realised--though he had suspected it--that smoking had been going on. a hurried whispering was in progress among the unknowns. apparently they saw that the game was up, for they picked their way towards the door. as each came up the steps and passed him, mr dexter observed "ha!" and appeared to make a note of his name. the last of the six was just leaving him after this process had been completed, when mr dexter called him back. "that is not all," he said, suspiciously. "yes, sir," said the last of the unknowns. neither of the irishmen recognised the voice. its owner was a stranger to them. "i tell you it is not," snapped mr dexter. "you are concealing the truth from me. o'hara and moriarty are down there--two boys in my own house. i saw them go down there." "they had nothing to do with us, sir. we saw nothing of them." "i have no doubt," said the house-master, "that you imagine that you are doing a very chivalrous thing by trying to hide them, but you will gain nothing by it. you may go." he came to the top of the steps, and it seemed as if he intended to plunge into the darkness in search of the suspects. but, probably realising the futility of such a course, he changed his mind, and delivered an ultimatum from the top step. "o'hara and moriarty." no reply. "o'hara and moriarty, i know perfectly well that you are down there. come up immediately." dignified silence from the vault. "well, i shall wait here till you do choose to come up. you would be well advised to do so immediately. i warn you you will not tire me out." he turned, and the door slammed behind him. "what'll we do?" whispered moriarty. it was at last safe to whisper. "wait," said o'hara, "i'm thinking." o'hara thought. for many minutes he thought in vain. at last there came flooding back into his mind a memory of the days of his faghood. it was after that that he had been groping all the time. he remembered now. once in those days there had been an unexpected function in the middle of term. there were needed for that function certain chairs. he could recall even now his furious disgust when he and a select body of fellow fags had been pounced upon by their form-master, and coerced into forming a line from the junior block to the cloisters, for the purpose of handing chairs. true, his form-master had stood ginger-beer after the event, with princely liberality, but the labour was of the sort that gallons of ginger-beer will not make pleasant. but he ceased to regret the episode now. he had been at the extreme end of the chair-handling chain. he had stood in a passage in the junior block, just by the door that led to the masters' garden, and which--he remembered--was never locked till late at night. and while he stood there, a pair of hands--apparently without a body--had heaved up chair after chair through a black opening in the floor. in other words, a trap-door connected with the vault in which he now was. he imparted these reminiscences of childhood to moriarty. they set off to search for the missing door, and, after wanderings and barkings of shins too painful to relate, they found it. moriarty lit a match. the light fell on the trap-door, and their last doubts were at an end. the thing opened inwards. the bolt was on their side, not in the passage above them. to shoot the bolt took them one second, to climb into the passage one minute. they stood at the side of the opening, and dusted their clothes. "bedad!" said moriarty, suddenly. "what?" "why, how are we to shut it?" this was a problem that wanted some solving. eventually they managed it, o'hara leaning over and fishing for it, while moriarty held his legs. as luck would have it--and luck had stood by them well all through--there was a bolt on top of the trap-door, as well as beneath it. "supposing that had been shot!" said o'hara, as they fastened the door in its place. moriarty did not care to suppose anything so unpleasant. mr dexter was still prowling about on the junior gravel, when the two irishmen ran round and across the senior gravel to the gymnasium. here they put in a few minutes' gentle sparring, and then marched boldly up to mr day (who happened to have looked in five minutes after their arrival) and got their paper. "what time did o'hara and moriarty arrive at the gymnasium?" asked mr dexter of mr day next morning. "o'hara and moriarty? really, i can't remember. i know they _left_ at about a quarter to seven." that profound thinker, mr tony weller, was never so correct as in his views respecting the value of an _alibi_. there are few better things in an emergency. xviii o'hara excels himself it was renford's turn next morning to get up and feed the ferrets. harvey had done it the day before. renford was not a youth who enjoyed early rising, but in the cause of the ferrets he would have endured anything, so at six punctually he slid out of bed, dressed quietly, so as not to disturb the rest of the dormitory, and ran over to the vault. to his utter amazement he found it locked. such a thing had never been done before in the whole course of his experience. he tugged at the handle, but not an inch or a fraction of an inch would the door yield. the policy of the open door had ceased to find favour in the eyes of the authorities. a feeling of blank despair seized upon him. he thought of the dismay of the ferrets when they woke up and realised that there was no chance of breakfast for them. and then they would gradually waste away, and some day somebody would go down to the vault to fetch chairs, and would come upon two mouldering skeletons, and wonder what they had once been. he almost wept at the vision so conjured up. there was nobody about. perhaps he might break in somehow. but then there was nothing to get to work with. he could not kick the door down. no, he must give it up, and the ferrets' breakfast-hour must be postponed. possibly harvey might be able to think of something. "fed 'em?" inquired harvey, when they met at breakfast. "no, i couldn't." "why on earth not? you didn't oversleep yourself?" renford poured his tale into his friend's shocked ears. "my hat!" said harvey, when he had finished, "what on earth are we to do? they'll starve." renford nodded mournfully. "whatever made them go and lock the door?" he said. he seemed to think the authorities should have given him due notice of such an action. "you're sure they have locked it? it isn't only stuck or something?" "i lugged at the handle for hours. but you can go and see for yourself if you like." harvey went, and, waiting till the coast was clear, attached himself to the handle with a prehensile grasp, and put his back into one strenuous tug. it was even as renford had said. the door was locked beyond possibility of doubt. renford and he went over to school that morning with long faces and a general air of acute depression. it was perhaps fortunate for their purpose that they did, for had their appearance been normal it might not have attracted o'hara's attention. as it was, the irishman, meeting them on the junior gravel, stopped and asked them what was wrong. since the adventure in the vault, he had felt an interest in renford and harvey. the two told their story in alternate sentences like the strophe and antistrophe of a greek chorus. ("steichomuthics," your greek scholar calls it, i fancy. ha, yes! just so.) "so ye can't get in because they've locked the door, an' ye don't know what to do about it?" said o'hara, at the conclusion of the narrative. renford and harvey informed him in chorus that that _was_ the state of the game up to present date. "an' ye want me to get them out for you?" neither had dared to hope that he would go so far as this. what they had looked for had been at the most a few thoughtful words of advice. that such a master-strategist as o'hara should take up their cause was an unexampled piece of good luck. "if you only would," said harvey. "we should be most awfully obliged," said renford. "very well," said o'hara. they thanked him profusely. o'hara replied that it would be a privilege. he should be sorry, he said, to have anything happen to the ferrets. renford and harvey went on into school feeling more cheerful. if the ferrets could be extracted from their present tight corner, o'hara was the man to do it. o'hara had not made his offer of assistance in any spirit of doubt. he was certain that he could do what he had promised. for it had not escaped his memory that this was a tuesday--in other words, a mathematics morning up to the quarter to eleven interval. that meant, as has been explained previously, that, while the rest of the school were in the form-rooms, he would be out in the passage, if he cared to be. there would be no witnesses to what he was going to do. but, by that curious perversity of fate which is so often noticeable, mr banks was in a peculiarly lamb-like and long-suffering mood this morning. actions for which o'hara would on other days have been expelled from the room without hope of return, today were greeted with a mild "don't do that, please, o'hara," or even the ridiculously inadequate "o'hara!" it was perfectly disheartening. o'hara began to ask himself bitterly what was the use of ragging at all if this was how it was received. and the moments were flying, and his promise to renford and harvey still remained unfulfilled. he prepared for fresh efforts. so desperate was he, that he even resorted to crude methods like the throwing of paper balls and the dropping of books. and when your really scientific ragger sinks to this, he is nearing the end of his tether. o'hara hated to be rude, but there seemed no help for it. the striking of a quarter past ten improved his chances. it had been privily agreed upon beforehand amongst the members of the class that at a quarter past ten every one was to sneeze simultaneously. the noise startled mr banks considerably. the angelic mood began to wear off. a man may be long-suffering, but he likes to draw the line somewhere. "another exhibition like that," he said, sharply, "and the class stays in after school, o'hara!" "sir?" "silence." "i said nothing, sir, really." "boy, you made a cat-like noise with your mouth." "what _sort_ of noise, sir?" the form waited breathlessly. this peculiarly insidious question had been invented for mathematical use by one sandys, who had left at the end of the previous summer. it was but rarely that the master increased the gaiety of nations by answering the question in the manner desired. mr banks, off his guard, fell into the trap. "a noise like this," he said curtly, and to the delighted audience came the melodious sound of a "mi-aou", which put o'hara's effort completely in the shade, and would have challenged comparison with the war-cry of the stoutest mouser that ever trod a tile. a storm of imitations arose from all parts of the room. mr banks turned pink, and, going straight to the root of the disturbance, forthwith evicted o'hara. o'hara left with the satisfying feeling that his duty had been done. mr banks' room was at the top of the middle block. he ran softly down the stairs at his best pace. it was not likely that the master would come out into the passage to see if he was still there, but it might happen, and it would be best to run as few risks as possible. he sprinted over to the junior block, raised the trap-door, and jumped down. he knew where the ferrets had been placed, and had no difficulty in finding them. in another minute he was in the passage again, with the trap-door bolted behind him. he now asked himself--what should he do with them? he must find a safe place, or his labours would have been in vain. behind the fives-court, he thought, would be the spot. nobody ever went there. it meant a run of three hundred yards there and the same distance back, and there was more than a chance that he might be seen by one of the powers. in which case he might find it rather hard to explain what he was doing in the middle of the grounds with a couple of ferrets in his possession when the hands of the clock pointed to twenty minutes to eleven. but the odds were against his being seen. he risked it. when the bell rang for the quarter to eleven interval the ferrets were in their new home, happily discussing a piece of meat--renford's contribution, held over from the morning's meal,--and o'hara, looking as if he had never left the passage for an instant, was making his way through the departing mathematical class to apologise handsomely to mr banks--as was his invariable custom--for his disgraceful behaviour during the morning's lesson. xix the mayor's visit school prefects at wrykyn did weekly essays for the headmaster. those who had got their scholarships at the 'varsity, or who were going up in the following year, used to take their essays to him after school and read them to him--an unpopular and nerve-destroying practice, akin to suicide. trevor had got his scholarship in the previous november. he was due at the headmaster's private house at six o'clock on the present tuesday. he was looking forward to the ordeal not without apprehension. the essay subject this week had been "one man's meat is another man's poison", and clowes, whose idea of english essay was that it should be a medium for intempestive frivolity, had insisted on his beginning with, "while i cannot conscientiously go so far as to say that one man's meat is another man's poison, yet i am certainly of opinion that what is highly beneficial to one man may, on the other hand, to another man, differently constituted, be extremely deleterious, and, indeed, absolutely fatal." trevor was not at all sure how the headmaster would take it. but clowes had seemed so cut up at his suggestion that it had better be omitted, that he had allowed it to stand. he was putting the final polish on this gem of english literature at half-past five, when milton came in. "busy?" said milton. trevor said he would be through in a minute. milton took a chair, and waited. trevor scratched out two words and substituted two others, made a couple of picturesque blots, and, laying down his pen, announced that he had finished. "what's up?" he said. "it's about the league," said milton. "found out anything?" "not anything much. but i've been making inquiries. you remember i asked you to let me look at those letters of yours?" trevor nodded. this had happened on the sunday of that week. "well, i wanted to look at the post-marks." "by jove, i never thought of that." milton continued with the business-like air of the detective who explains in the last chapter of the book how he did it. "i found, as i thought, that both letters came from the same place." trevor pulled out the letters in question. "so they do," he said, "chesterton." "do you know chesterton?" asked milton. "only by name." "it's a small hamlet about two miles from here across the downs. there's only one shop in the place, which acts as post-office and tobacconist and everything else. i thought that if i went there and asked about those letters, they might remember who it was that sent them, if i showed them a photograph." "by jove," said trevor, "of course! did you? what happened?" "i went there yesterday afternoon. i took about half-a-dozen photographs of various chaps, including rand-brown." "but wait a bit. if chesterton's two miles off, rand-brown couldn't have sent the letters. he wouldn't have the time after school. he was on the grounds both the afternoons before i got the letters." "i know," said milton; "i didn't think of that at the time." "well?" "one of the points about the chesterton post-office is that there's no letter-box outside. you have to go into the shop and hand anything you want to post across the counter. i thought this was a tremendous score for me. i thought they would be bound to remember who handed in the letters. there can't be many at a place like that." "did they remember?" "they remembered the letters being given in distinctly, but as for knowing anything beyond that, they were simply futile. there was an old woman in the shop, aged about three hundred and ten, i should think. i shouldn't say she had ever been very intelligent, but now she simply gibbered. i started off by laying out a shilling on some poisonous-looking sweets. i gave the lot to a village kid when i got out. i hope they didn't kill him. then, having scattered ground-bait in that way, i lugged out the photographs, mentioned the letters and the date they had been sent, and asked her to weigh in and identify the sender." "did she?" "my dear chap, she identified them all, one after the other. the first was one of clowes. she was prepared to swear on oath that that was the chap who had sent the letters. then i shot a photograph of you across the counter, and doubts began to creep in. she said she was certain it was one of those two 'la-ads', but couldn't quite say which. to keep her amused i fired in photograph number three--allardyce's. she identified that, too. at the end of ten minutes she was pretty sure that it was one of the six--the other three were paget, clephane, and rand-brown--but she was not going to bind herself down to any particular one. as i had come to the end of my stock of photographs, and was getting a bit sick of the game, i got up to go, when in came another ornament of chesterton from a room at the back of the shop. he was quite a kid, not more than a hundred and fifty at the outside, so, as a last chance, i tackled him on the subject. he looked at the photographs for about half an hour, mumbling something about it not being 'thiccy 'un' or 'that 'un', or 'that 'ere tother 'un', until i began to feel i'd had enough of it. then it came out that the real chap who had sent the letters was a 'la-ad' with light hair, not so big as me--" "that doesn't help us much," said trevor. "--and a 'prarper little gennlemun'. so all we've got to do is to look for some young duke of polished manners and exterior, with a thatch of light hair." "there are three hundred and sixty-seven fellows with light hair in the school," said trevor, calmly. "thought it was three hundred and sixty-eight myself," said milton, "but i may be wrong. anyhow, there you have the results of my investigations. if you can make anything out of them, you're welcome to it. good-bye." "half a second," said trevor, as he got up; "had the fellow a cap of any sort?" "no. bareheaded. you wouldn't expect him to give himself away by wearing a house-cap?" trevor went over to the headmaster's revolving this discovery in his mind. it was not much of a clue, but the smallest clue is better than nothing. to find out that the sender of the league letters had fair hair narrowed the search down a little. it cleared the more raven-locked members of the school, at any rate. besides, by combining his information with milton's, the search might be still further narrowed down. he knew that the polite letter-writer must be either in seymour's or in donaldson's. the number of fair-haired youths in the two houses was not excessive. indeed, at the moment he could not recall any; which rather complicated matters. he arrived at the headmaster's door, and knocked. he was shown into a room at the side of the hall, near the door. the butler informed him that the headmaster was engaged at present. trevor, who knew the butler slightly through having constantly been to see the headmaster on business _via_ the front door, asked who was there. "sir eustace briggs," said the butler, and disappeared in the direction of his lair beyond the green baize partition at the end of the hall. trevor went into the room, which was a sort of spare study, and sat down, wondering what had brought the mayor of wrykyn to see the headmaster at this advanced hour. a quarter of an hour later the sound of voices broke in upon his peace. the headmaster was coming down the hall with the intention of showing his visitor out. the door of trevor's room was ajar, and he could hear distinctly what was being said. he had no particular desire to play the eavesdropper, but the part was forced upon him. sir eustace seemed excited. "it is far from being my habit," he was saying, "to make unnecessary complaints respecting the conduct of the lads under your care." (sir eustace briggs had a distaste for the shorter and more colloquial forms of speech. he would have perished sooner than have substituted "complain of your boys" for the majestic formula he had used. he spoke as if he enjoyed choosing his words. he seemed to pause and think before each word. unkind people--who were jealous of his distinguished career--used to say that he did this because he was afraid of dropping an aitch if he relaxed his vigilance.) "but," continued he, "i am reluctantly forced to the unpleasant conclusion that the dastardly outrage to which both i and the press of the town have called your attention is to be attributed to one of the lads to whom i 'ave--_have_ (this with a jerk) referred." "i will make a thorough inquiry, sir eustace," said the bass voice of the headmaster. "i thank you," said the mayor. "it would, under the circumstances, be nothing more, i think, than what is distinctly advisable. the man samuel wapshott, of whose narrative i have recently afforded you a brief synopsis, stated in no uncertain terms that he found at the foot of the statue on which the dastardly outrage was perpetrated a diminutive ornament, in shape like the bats that are used in the game of cricket. this ornament, he avers (with what truth i know not), was handed by him to a youth of an age coeval with that of the lads in the upper division of this school. the youth claimed it as his property, i was given to understand." "a thorough inquiry shall be made, sir eustace." "i thank you." and then the door shut, and the conversation ceased. xx the finding of the bat trevor waited till the headmaster had gone back to his library, gave him five minutes to settle down, and then went in. the headmaster looked up inquiringly. "my essay, sir," said trevor. "ah, yes. i had forgotten." trevor opened the notebook and began to read what he had written. he finished the paragraph which owed its insertion to clowes, and raced hurriedly on to the next. to his surprise the flippancy passed unnoticed, at any rate, verbally. as a rule the headmaster preferred that quotations from back numbers of _punch_ should be kept out of the prefects' english essays. and he generally said as much. but today he seemed strangely preoccupied. a split infinitive in paragraph five, which at other times would have made him sit up in his chair stiff with horror, elicited no remark. the same immunity was accorded to the insertion (inspired by clowes, as usual) of a popular catch phrase in the last few lines. trevor finished with the feeling that luck had favoured him nobly. "yes," said the headmaster, seemingly roused by the silence following on the conclusion of the essay. "yes." then, after a long pause, "yes," again. trevor said nothing, but waited for further comment. "yes," said the headmaster once more, "i think that is a very fair essay. very fair. it wants a little more--er--not quite so much--um--yes." trevor made a note in his mind to effect these improvements in future essays, and was getting up, when the headmaster stopped him. "don't go, trevor. i wish to speak to you." trevor's first thought was, perhaps naturally, that the bat was going to be brought into discussion. he was wondering helplessly how he was going to keep o'hara and his midnight exploit out of the conversation, when the headmaster resumed. "an unpleasant thing has happened, trevor--" "now we're coming to it," thought trevor. "it appears, trevor, that a considerable amount of smoking has been going on in the school." trevor breathed freely once more. it was only going to be a mere conventional smoking row after all. he listened with more enjoyment as the headmaster, having stopped to turn down the wick of the reading-lamp which stood on the table at his side, and which had begun, appropriately enough, to smoke, resumed his discourse. "mr dexter--" of course, thought trevor. if there ever was a row in the school, dexter was bound to be at the bottom of it. "mr dexter has just been in to see me. he reported six boys. he discovered them in the vault beneath the junior block. two of them were boys in your house." trevor murmured something wordless, to show that the story interested him. "you knew nothing of this, of course--" "no, sir." "no. of course not. it is difficult for the head of a house to know all that goes on in that house." was this his beastly sarcasm? trevor asked himself. but he came to the conclusion that it was not. after all, the head of a house is only human. he cannot be expected to keep an eye on the private life of every member of his house. "this must be stopped, trevor. there is no saying how widespread the practice has become or may become. what i want you to do is to go straight back to your house and begin a complete search of the studies." "tonight, sir?" it seemed too late for such amusement. "tonight. but before you go to your house, call at mr seymour's, and tell milton i should like to see him. and, trevor." "yes, sir?" "you will understand that i am leaving this matter to you to be dealt with by you. i shall not require you to make any report to me. but if you should find tobacco in any boy's room, you must punish him well, trevor. punish him well." this meant that the culprit must be "touched up" before the house assembled in the dining-room. such an event did not often occur. the last occasion had been in paget's first term as head of donaldson's, when two of the senior day-room had been discovered attempting to revive the ancient and dishonourable custom of bullying. this time, trevor foresaw, would set up a record in all probability. there might be any number of devotees of the weed, and he meant to carry out his instructions to the full, and make the criminals more unhappy than they had been since the day of their first cigar. trevor hated the habit of smoking at school. he was so intensely keen on the success of the house and the school at games, that anything which tended to damage the wind and eye filled him with loathing. that anybody should dare to smoke in a house which was going to play in the final for the house football cup made him rage internally, and he proposed to make things bad and unrestful for such. to smoke at school is to insult the divine weed. when you are obliged to smoke in odd corners, fearing every moment that you will be discovered, the whole meaning, poetry, romance of a pipe vanishes, and you become like those lost beings who smoke when they are running to catch trains. the boy who smokes at school is bound to come to a bad end. he will degenerate gradually into a person that plays dominoes in the smoking-rooms of a.b.c. shops with friends who wear bowler hats and frock coats. much of this philosophy trevor expounded to clowes in energetic language when he returned to donaldson's after calling at seymour's to deliver the message for milton. clowes became quite animated at the prospect of a real row. "we shall be able to see the skeletons in their cupboards," he observed. "every man has a skeleton in his cupboard, which follows him about wherever he goes. which study shall we go to first?" "we?" said trevor. "we," repeated clowes firmly. "i am not going to be left out of this jaunt. i need bracing up--i'm not strong, you know--and this is just the thing to do it. besides, you'll want a bodyguard of some sort, in case the infuriated occupant turns and rends you." "i don't see what there is to enjoy in the business," said trevor, gloomily. "personally, i bar this kind of thing. by the time we've finished, there won't be a chap in the house i'm on speaking terms with." "except me, dearest," said clowes. "i will never desert you. it's of no use asking me, for i will never do it. mr micawber has his faults, but i will _never_ desert mr micawber." "you can come if you like," said trevor; "we'll take the studies in order. i suppose we needn't look up the prefects?" "a prefect is above suspicion. scratch the prefects." "that brings us to dixon." dixon was a stout youth with spectacles, who was popularly supposed to do twenty-two hours' work a day. it was believed that he put in two hours sleep from eleven to one, and then got up and worked in his study till breakfast. he was working when clowes and trevor came in. he dived head foremost into a huge liddell and scott as the door opened. on hearing trevor's voice he slowly emerged, and a pair of round and spectacled eyes gazed blankly at the visitors. trevor briefly explained his errand, but the interview lost in solemnity owing to the fact that the bare notion of dixon storing tobacco in his room made clowes roar with laughter. also, dixon stolidly refused to understand what trevor was talking about, and at the end of ten minutes, finding it hopeless to try and explain, the two went. dixon, with a hazy impression that he had been asked to join in some sort of round game, and had refused the offer, returned again to his liddell and scott, and continued to wrestle with the somewhat obscure utterances of the chorus in aeschylus' _agamemnon_. the results of this fiasco on trevor and clowes were widely different. trevor it depressed horribly. it made him feel savage. clowes, on the other hand, regarded the whole affair in a spirit of rollicking farce, and refused to see that this was a serious matter, in which the honour of the house was involved. the next study was ruthven's. this fact somewhat toned down the exuberances of clowes's demeanour. when one particularly dislikes a person, one has a curious objection to seeming in good spirits in his presence. one feels that he may take it as a sort of compliment to himself, or, at any rate, contribute grins of his own, which would be hateful. clowes was as grave as trevor when they entered the study. ruthven's study was like himself, overdressed and rather futile. it ran to little china ornaments in a good deal of profusion. it was more like a drawing-room than a school study. "sorry to disturb you, ruthven," said trevor. "oh, come in," said ruthven, in a tired voice. "please shut the door; there is a draught. do you want anything?" "we've got to have a look round," said clowes. "can't you see everything there is?" ruthven hated clowes as much as clowes hated him. trevor cut into the conversation again. "it's like this, ruthven," he said. "i'm awfully sorry, but the old man's just told me to search the studies in case any of the fellows have got baccy." ruthven jumped up, pale with consternation. "you can't. i won't have you disturbing my study." "this is rot," said trevor, shortly, "i've got to. it's no good making it more unpleasant for me than it is." "but i've no tobacco. i swear i haven't." "then why mind us searching?" said clowes affably. "come on, ruthven," said trevor, "chuck us over the keys. you might as well." "i won't." "don't be an ass, man." "we have here," observed clowes, in his sad, solemn way, "a stout and serviceable poker." he stooped, as he spoke, to pick it up. "leave that poker alone," cried ruthven. clowes straightened himself. "i'll swop it for your keys," he said. "don't be a fool." "very well, then. we will now crack our first crib." ruthven sprang forward, but clowes, handing him off in football fashion with his left hand, with his right dashed the poker against the lock of the drawer of the table by which he stood. the lock broke with a sharp crack. it was not built with an eye to such onslaught. "neat for a first shot," said clowes, complacently. "now for the umustaphas and shag." but as he looked into the drawer he uttered a sudden cry of excitement. he drew something out, and tossed it over to trevor. "catch, trevor," he said quietly. "something that'll interest you." trevor caught it neatly in one hand, and stood staring at it as if he had never seen anything like it before. and yet he had--often. for what he had caught was a little golden bat, about an inch long by an eighth of an inch wide. xxi the league revealed "what do you think of that?" said clowes. trevor said nothing. he could not quite grasp the situation. it was not only that he had got the idea so firmly into his head that it was rand-brown who had sent the letters and appropriated the bat. even supposing he had not suspected rand-brown, he would never have dreamed of suspecting ruthven. they had been friends. not very close friends--trevor's keenness for games and ruthven's dislike of them prevented that--but a good deal more than acquaintances. he was so constituted that he could not grasp the frame of mind required for such an action as ruthven's. it was something absolutely abnormal. clowes was equally surprised, but for a different reason. it was not so much the enormity of ruthven's proceedings that took him aback. he believed him, with that cheerful intolerance which a certain type of mind affects, capable of anything. what surprised him was the fact that ruthven had had the ingenuity and even the daring to conduct a campaign of this description. cribbing in examinations he would have thought the limit of his crimes. something backboneless and underhand of that kind would not have surprised him in the least. he would have said that it was just about what he had expected all along. but that ruthven should blossom out suddenly as quite an ingenious and capable criminal in this way, was a complete surprise. "well, perhaps _you_'ll make a remark?" he said, turning to ruthven. ruthven, looking very much like a passenger on a channel steamer who has just discovered that the motion of the vessel is affecting him unpleasantly, had fallen into a chair when clowes handed him off. he sat there with a look on his pasty face which was not good to see, as silent as trevor. it seemed that whatever conversation there was going to be would have to take the form of a soliloquy from clowes. clowes took a seat on the corner of the table. "it seems to me, ruthven," he said, "that you'd better say _something_. at present there's a lot that wants explaining. as this bat has been found lying in your drawer, i suppose we may take it that you're the impolite letter-writer?" ruthven found his voice at last. "i'm not," he cried; "i never wrote a line." "now we're getting at it," said clowes. "i thought you couldn't have had it in you to carry this business through on your own. apparently you've only been the sleeping partner in this show, though i suppose it was you who ragged trevor's study? not much sleeping about that. you took over the acting branch of the concern for that day only, i expect. was it you who ragged the study?" ruthven stared into the fire, but said nothing. "must be polite, you know, ruthven, and answer when you're spoken to. was it you who ragged trevor's study?" "yes," said ruthven. "thought so." "why, of course, i met you just outside," said trevor, speaking for the first time. "you were the chap who told me what had happened." ruthven said nothing. "the ragging of the study seems to have been all the active work he did," remarked clowes. "no," said trevor, "he posted the letters, whether he wrote them or not. milton was telling me--you remember? i told you. no, i didn't. milton found out that the letters were posted by a small, light-haired fellow." "that's him," said clowes, as regardless of grammar as the monks of rheims, pointing with the poker at ruthven's immaculate locks. "well, you ragged the study and posted the letters. that was all your share. am i right in thinking rand-brown was the other partner?" silence from ruthven. "am i?" persisted clowes. "you may think what you like. i don't care." "now we're getting rude again," complained clowes. "_was_ rand-brown in this?" "yes," said ruthven. "thought so. and who else?" "no one." "try again." "i tell you there was no one else. can't you believe a word a chap says?" "a word here and there, perhaps," said clowes, as one making a concession, "but not many, and this isn't one of them. have another shot." ruthven relapsed into silence. "all right, then," said clowes, "we'll accept that statement. there's just a chance that it may be true. and that's about all, i think. this isn't my affair at all, really. it's yours, trevor. i'm only a spectator and camp-follower. it's your business. you'll find me in my study." and putting the poker carefully in its place, clowes left the room. he went into his study, and tried to begin some work. but the beauties of the second book of thucydides failed to appeal to him. his mind was elsewhere. he felt too excited with what had just happened to translate greek. he pulled up a chair in front of the fire, and gave himself up to speculating how trevor was getting on in the neighbouring study. he was glad he had left him to finish the business. if he had been in trevor's place, there was nothing he would so greatly have disliked as to have some one--however familiar a friend--interfering in his wars and settling them for him. left to himself, clowes would probably have ended the interview by kicking ruthven into the nearest approach to pulp compatible with the laws relating to manslaughter. he had an uneasy suspicion that trevor would let him down far too easily. the handle turned. trevor came in, and pulled up another chair in silence. his face wore a look of disgust. but there were no signs of combat upon him. the toe of his boot was not worn and battered, as clowes would have liked to have seen it. evidently he had not chosen to adopt active and physical measures for the improvement of ruthven's moral well-being. "well?" said clowes. "my word, what a hound!" breathed trevor, half to himself. "my sentiments to a hair," said clowes, approvingly. "but what have you done?" "i didn't do anything." "i was afraid you wouldn't. did he give any explanation? what made him go in for the thing at all? what earthly motive could he have for not wanting barry to get his colours, bar the fact that rand-brown didn't want him to? and why should he do what rand-brown told him? i never even knew they were pals, before today." "he told me a good deal," said trevor. "it's one of the beastliest things i ever heard. they neither of them come particularly well out of the business, but rand-brown comes worse out of it even than ruthven. my word, that man wants killing." "that'll keep," said clowes, nodding. "what's the yarn?" "do you remember about a year ago a chap named patterson getting sacked?" clowes nodded again. he remembered the case well. patterson had had gambling transactions with a wrykyn tradesman, had been found out, and had gone. "you remember what a surprise it was to everybody. it wasn't one of those cases where half the school suspects what's going on. those cases always come out sooner or later. but patterson nobody knew about." "yes. well?" "nobody," said trevor, "except ruthven, that is. ruthven got to know somehow. i believe he was a bit of a pal of patterson's at the time. anyhow,--they had a row, and ruthven went to dexter--patterson was in dexter's--and sneaked. dexter promised to keep his name out of the business, and went straight to the old man, and patterson got turfed out on the spot. then somehow or other rand-brown got to know about it--i believe ruthven must have told him by accident some time or other. after that he simply had to do everything rand-brown wanted him to. otherwise he said that he would tell the chaps about the patterson affair. that put ruthven in a dead funk." "of course," said clowes; "i should imagine friend ruthven would have got rather a bad time of it. but what made them think of starting the league? it was a jolly smart idea. rand-brown's, of course?" "yes. i suppose he'd heard about it, and thought something might be made out of it if it were revived." "and were ruthven and he the only two in it?" "ruthven swears they were, and i shouldn't wonder if he wasn't telling the truth, for once in his life. you see, everything the league's done so far could have been done by him and rand-brown, without anybody else's help. the only other studies that were ragged were mill's and milton's--both in seymour's. "yes," said clowes. there was a pause. clowes put another shovelful of coal on the fire. "what are you going to do to ruthven?" "nothing." "nothing? hang it, he doesn't deserve to get off like that. he isn't as bad as rand-brown--quite--but he's pretty nearly as finished a little beast as you could find." "finished is just the word," said trevor. "he's going at the end of the week." "going? what! sacked?" "yes. the old man's been finding out things about him, apparently, and this smoking row has just added the finishing-touch to his discoveries. he's particularly keen against smoking just now for some reason." "but was ruthven in it?" "yes. didn't i tell you? he was one of the fellows dexter caught in the vault. there were two in this house, you remember?" "who was the other?" "that man dashwood. has the study next to paget's old one. he's going, too." "scarcely knew him. what sort of a chap was he?" "outsider. no good to the house in any way. he won't be missed." "and what are you going to do about rand-brown?" "fight him, of course. what else could i do?" "but you're no match for him." "we'll see." "but you _aren't_," persisted clowes. "he can give you a stone easily, and he's not a bad boxer either. moriarty didn't beat him so very cheaply in the middle-weight this year. you wouldn't have a chance." trevor flared up. "heavens, man," he cried, "do you think i don't know all that myself? but what on earth would you have me do? besides, he may be a good boxer, but he's got no pluck at all. i might outstay him." "hope so," said clowes. but his tone was not hopeful. xxii a dress rehearsal some people in trevor's place might have taken the earliest opportunity of confronting rand-brown, so as to settle the matter in hand without delay. trevor thought of doing this, but finally decided to let the matter rest for a day, until he should have found out with some accuracy what chance he stood. after four o'clock, therefore, on the next day, having had tea in his study, he went across to the baths, in search of o'hara. he intended that before the evening was over the irishman should have imparted to him some of his skill with the hands. he did not know that for a man absolutely unscientific with his fists there is nothing so fatal as to take a boxing lesson on the eve of battle. a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. he is apt to lose his recklessness--which might have stood by him well--in exchange for a little quite useless science. he is neither one thing nor the other, neither a natural fighter nor a skilful boxer. this point o'hara endeavoured to press upon him as soon as he had explained why it was that he wanted coaching on this particular afternoon. the irishman was in the gymnasium, punching the ball, when trevor found him. he generally put in a quarter of an hour with the punching-ball every evening, before moriarty turned up for the customary six rounds. "want me to teach ye a few tricks?" he said. "what's that for?" "i've got a mill coming on soon," explained trevor, trying to make the statement as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world for a school prefect, who was also captain of football, head of a house, and in the cricket eleven, to be engaged for a fight in the near future. "mill!" exclaimed o'hara. "you! an' why?" "never mind why," said trevor. "i'll tell you afterwards, perhaps. shall i put on the gloves now?" "wait," said o'hara, "i must do my quarter of an hour with the ball before i begin teaching other people how to box. have ye a watch?" "yes." "then time me. i'll do four rounds of three minutes each, with a minute's rest in between. that's more than i'll do at aldershot, but it'll get me fit. ready?" "time," said trevor. he watched o'hara assailing the swinging ball with considerable envy. why, he wondered, had he not gone in for boxing? everybody ought to learn to box. it was bound to come in useful some time or other. take his own case. he was very much afraid--no, afraid was not the right word, for he was not that. he was very much of opinion that rand-brown was going to have a most enjoyable time when they met. and the final house-match was to be played next monday. if events turned out as he could not help feeling they were likely to turn out, he would be too battered to play in that match. donaldson's would probably win whether he played or not, but it would be bitter to be laid up on such an occasion. on the other hand, he must go through with it. he did not believe in letting other people take a hand in settling his private quarrels. but he wished he had learned to box. if only he could hit that dancing, jumping ball with a fifth of the skill that o'hara was displaying, his wiriness and pluck might see him through. o'hara finished his fourth round with his leathern opponent, and sat down, panting. "pretty useful, that," commented trevor, admiringly. "ye should see moriarty," gasped o'hara. "now, will ye tell me why it is you're going to fight, and with whom you're going to fight?" "very well. it's with rand-brown." "rand-brown!" exclaimed o'hara. "but, me dearr man, he'll ate you." trevor gave a rather annoyed laugh. "i must say i've got a nice, cheery, comforting lot of friends," he said. "that's just what clowes has been trying to explain to me." "clowes is quite right," said o'hara, seriously. "has the thing gone too far for ye to back out? without climbing down, of course," he added. "yes," said trevor, "there's no question of my getting out of it. i daresay i could. in fact, i know i could. but i'm not going to." "but, me dearr man, ye haven't an earthly chance. i assure ye ye haven't. i've seen rand-brown with the gloves on. that was last term. he's not put them on since moriarty bate him in the middles, so he may be out of practice. but even then he'd be a bad man to tackle. he's big an' he's strong, an' if he'd only had the heart in him he'd have been going up to aldershot instead of moriarty. that's what he'd be doing. an' you can't box at all. never even had the gloves on." "never. i used to scrap when i was a kid, though." "that's no use," said o'hara, decidedly. "but you haven't said what it is that ye've got against rand-brown. what is it?" "i don't see why i shouldn't tell you. you're in it as well. in fact, if it hadn't been for the bat turning up, you'd have been considerably more in it than i am." "what!" cried o'hara. "where did you find it? was it in the grounds? when was it you found it?" whereupon trevor gave him a very full and exact account of what had happened. he showed him the two letters from the league, touched on milton's connection with the affair, traced the gradual development of his suspicions, and described with some approach to excitement the scene in ruthven's study, and the explanations that had followed it. "now do you wonder," he concluded, "that i feel as if a few rounds with rand-brown would do me good." o'hara breathed hard. "my word!" he said, "i'd like to see ye kill him." "but," said trevor, "as you and clowes have been pointing out to me, if there's going to be a corpse, it'll be me. however, i mean to try. now perhaps you wouldn't mind showing me a few tricks." "take my advice," said o'hara, "and don't try any of that foolery." "why, i thought you were such a believer in science," said trevor in surprise. "so i am, if you've enough of it. but it's the worst thing ye can do to learn a trick or two just before a fight, if you don't know anything about the game already. a tough, rushing fighter is ten times as good as a man who's just begun to learn what he oughtn't to do." "well, what do you advise me to do, then?" asked trevor, impressed by the unwonted earnestness with which the irishman delivered this pugilistic homily, which was a paraphrase of the views dinned into the ears of every novice by the school instructor. "i must do something." "the best thing ye can do," said o'hara, thinking for a moment, "is to put on the gloves and have a round or two with me. here's moriarty at last. we'll get him to time us." as much explanation as was thought good for him having been given to the newcomer, to account for trevor's newly-acquired taste for things pugilistic, moriarty took the watch, with instructions to give them two minutes for the first round. "go as hard as you can," said o'hara to trevor, as they faced one another, "and hit as hard as you like. it won't be any practice if you don't. i sha'n't mind being hit. it'll do me good for aldershot. see?" trevor said he saw. "time," said moriarty. trevor went in with a will. he was a little shy at first of putting all his weight into his blows. it was hard to forget that he felt friendly towards o'hara. but he speedily awoke to the fact that the irishman took his boxing very seriously, and was quite a different person when he had the gloves on. when he was so equipped, the man opposite him ceased to be either friend or foe in a private way. he was simply an opponent, and every time he hit him was one point. and, when he entered the ring, his only object in life for the next three minutes was to score points. consequently trevor, sparring lightly and in rather a futile manner at first, was woken up by a stinging flush hit between the eyes. after that he, too, forgot that he liked the man before him, and rushed him in all directions. there was no doubt as to who would have won if it had been a competition. trevor's guard was of the most rudimentary order, and o'hara got through when and how he liked. but though he took a good deal, he also gave a good deal, and o'hara confessed himself not altogether sorry when moriarty called "time". "man," he said regretfully, "why ever did ye not take up boxing before? ye'd have made a splendid middle-weight." "well, have i a chance, do you think?" inquired trevor. "ye might do it with luck," said o'hara, very doubtfully. "but," he added, "i'm afraid ye've not much chance." and with this poor encouragement from his trainer and sparring-partner, trevor was forced to be content. xxiii what renford saw the health of master harvey of seymour's was so delicately constituted that it was an absolute necessity that he should consume one or more hot buns during the quarter of an hour's interval which split up morning school. he was tearing across the junior gravel towards the shop on the morning following trevor's sparring practice with o'hara, when a melodious treble voice called his name. it was renford. he stopped, to allow his friend to come up with him, and then made as if to resume his way to the shop. but renford proposed an amendment. "don't go to the shop," he said, "i want to talk." "well, can't you talk in the shop?" "not what i want to tell you. it's private. come for a stroll." harvey hesitated. there were few things he enjoyed so much as exclusive items of school gossip (scandal preferably), but hot new buns were among those few things. however, he decided on this occasion to feed the mind at the expense of the body. he accepted renford's invitation. "what is it?" he asked, as they made for the football field. "what's been happening?" "it's frightfully exciting," said renford. "what's up?" "you mustn't tell any one." "all right. of course not." "well, then, there's been a big fight, and i'm one of the only chaps who know about it so far." "a fight?" harvey became excited. "who between?" renford paused before delivering his news, to emphasise the importance of it. "it was between o'hara and rand-brown," he said at length. "_by jove!_" said harvey. then a suspicion crept into his mind. "look here, renford," he said, "if you're trying to green me--" "i'm not, you ass," replied renford indignantly. "it's perfectly true. i saw it myself." "by jove, did you really? where was it? when did it come off? was it a good one? who won?" "it was the best one i've ever seen." "did o'hara beat him? i hope he did. o'hara's a jolly good sort." "yes. they had six rounds. rand-brown got knocked out in the middle of the sixth." "what, do you mean really knocked out, or did he just chuck it?" "no. he was really knocked out. he was on the floor for quite a time. by jove, you should have seen it. o'hara was ripping in the sixth round. he was all over him." "tell us about it," said harvey, and renford told. "i'd got up early," he said, "to feed the ferrets, and i was just cutting over to the fives-courts with their grub, when, just as i got across the senior gravel, i saw o'hara and moriarty standing waiting near the second court. o'hara knows all about the ferrets, so i didn't try and cut or anything. i went up and began talking to him. i noticed he didn't look particularly keen on seeing me at first. i asked him if he was going to play fives. then he said no, and told me what he'd really come for. he said he and rand-brown had had a row, and they'd agreed to have it out that morning in one of the fives-courts. of course, when i heard that, i was all on to see it, so i said i'd wait, if he didn't mind. he said he didn't care, so long as i didn't tell everybody, so i said i wouldn't tell anybody except you, so he said all right, then, i could stop if i wanted to. so that was how i saw it. well, after we'd been waiting a few minutes, rand-brown came in sight, with that beast merrett in our house, who'd come to second him. it was just like one of those duels you read about, you know. then o'hara said that as i was the only one there with a watch--he and rand-brown were in footer clothes, and merrett and moriarty hadn't got their tickers on them--i'd better act as timekeeper. so i said all right, i would, and we went to the second fives-court. it's the biggest of them, you know. i stood outside on the bench, looking through the wire netting over the door, so as not to be in the way when they started scrapping. o'hara and rand-brown took off their blazers and sweaters, and chucked them to moriarty and merrett, and then moriarty and merrett went and stood in two corners, and o'hara and rand-brown walked into the middle and stood up to one another. rand-brown was miles the heaviest--by a stone, i should think--and he was taller and had a longer reach. but o'hara looked much fitter. rand-brown looked rather flabby. "i sang out 'time' through the wire netting, and they started off at once. o'hara offered to shake hands, but rand-brown wouldn't. so they began without it. "the first round was awfully fast. they kept having long rallies all over the place. o'hara was a jolly sight quicker, and rand-brown didn't seem able to guard his hits at all. but he hit frightfully hard himself, great, heavy slogs, and o'hara kept getting them in the face. at last he got one bang in the mouth which knocked him down flat. he was up again in a second, and was starting to rush, when i looked at the watch, and found that i'd given them nearly half a minute too much already. so i shouted 'time', and made up my mind i'd keep more of an eye on the watch next round. i'd got so jolly excited, watching them, that i'd forgot i was supposed to be keeping time for them. they had only asked for a minute between the rounds, but as i'd given them half a minute too long in the first round, i chucked in a bit extra in the rest, so that they were both pretty fit by the time i started them again. "the second round was just like the first, and so was the third. o'hara kept getting the worst of it. he was knocked down three or four times more, and once, when he'd rushed rand-brown against one of the walls, he hit out and missed, and barked his knuckles jolly badly against the wall. that was in the middle of the third round, and rand-brown had it all his own way for the rest of the round--for about two minutes, that is to say. he hit o'hara about all over the shop. i was so jolly keen on o'hara's winning, that i had half a mind to call time early, so as to give him time to recover. but i thought it would be a low thing to do, so i gave them their full three minutes. "directly they began the fourth round, i noticed that things were going to change a bit. o'hara had given up his rushing game, and was waiting for his man, and when he came at him he'd put in a hot counter, nearly always at the body. after a bit rand-brown began to get cautious, and wouldn't rush, so the fourth round was the quietest there had been. in the last minute they didn't hit each other at all. they simply sparred for openings. it was in the fifth round that o'hara began to forge ahead. about half way through he got in a ripper, right in the wind, which almost doubled rand-brown up, and then he started rushing again. rand-brown looked awfully bad at the end of the round. round six was ripping. i never saw two chaps go for each other so. it was one long rally. then--how it happened i couldn't see, they were so quick--just as they had been at it a minute and a half, there was a crack, and the next thing i saw was rand-brown on the ground, looking beastly. he went down absolutely flat; his heels and head touched the ground at the same time. "i counted ten out loud in the professional way like they do at the national sporting club, you know, and then said 'o'hara wins'. i felt an awful swell. after about another half-minute, rand-brown was all right again, and he got up and went back to the house with merrett, and o'hara and moriarty went off to dexter's, and i gave the ferrets their grub, and cut back to breakfast." "rand-brown wasn't at breakfast," said harvey. "no. he went to bed. i wonder what'll happen. think there'll be a row about it?" "shouldn't think so," said harvey. "they never do make rows about fights, and neither of them is a prefect, so i don't see what it matters if they _do_ fight. but, i say--" "what's up?" "i wish," said harvey, his voice full of acute regret, "that it had been my turn to feed those ferrets." "i don't," said renford cheerfully. "i wouldn't have missed that mill for something. hullo, there's the bell. we'd better run." when trevor called at seymour's that afternoon to see rand-brown, with a view to challenging him to deadly combat, and found that o'hara had been before him, he ought to have felt relieved. his actual feeling was one of acute annoyance. it seemed to him that o'hara had exceeded the limits of friendship. it was all very well for him to take over the rand-brown contract, and settle it himself, in order to save trevor from a very bad quarter of an hour, but trevor was one of those people who object strongly to the interference of other people in their private business. he sought out o'hara and complained. within two minutes o'hara's golden eloquence had soothed him and made him view the matter in quite a different light. what o'hara pointed out was that it was not trevor's affair at all, but his own. who, he asked, had been likely to be damaged most by rand-brown's manoeuvres in connection with the lost bat? trevor was bound to admit that o'hara was that person. very well, then, said o'hara, then who had a better right to fight rand-brown? and trevor confessed that no one else had a better. "then i suppose," he said, "that i shall have to do nothing about it?" "that's it," said o'hara. "it'll be rather beastly meeting the man after this," said trevor, presently. "do you think he might possibly leave at the end of term?" "he's leaving at the end of the week," said o'hara. "he was one of the fellows dexter caught in the vault that evening. you won't see much more of rand-brown." "i'll try and put up with that," said trevor. "and so will i," replied o'hara. "and i shouldn't think milton would be so very grieved." "no," said trevor. "i tell you what will make him sick, though, and that is your having milled with rand-brown. it's a job he'd have liked to have taken on himself." xxiv conclusion into the story at this point comes the narrative of charles mereweather cook, aged fourteen, a day-boy. cook arrived at the school on the tenth of march, at precisely nine o'clock, in a state of excitement. he said there was a row on in the town. cross-examined, he said there was no end of a row on in the town. during morning school he explained further, whispering his tale into the attentive ear of knight of the school house, who sat next to him. what sort of a row, knight wanted to know. cook deposed that he had been riding on his bicycle past the entrance to the recreation grounds on his way to school, when his eye was attracted by the movements of a mass of men just inside the gate. they appeared to be fighting. witness did not stop to watch, much as he would have liked to do so. why not? why, because he was late already, and would have had to scorch anyhow, in order to get to school in time. and he had been late the day before, and was afraid that old appleby (the master of the form) would give him beans if he were late again. wherefore he had no notion of what the men were fighting about, but he betted that more would be heard about it. why? because, from what he saw of it, it seemed a jolly big thing. there must have been quite three hundred men fighting. (knight, satirically, "_pile_ it on!") well, quite a hundred, anyhow. fifty a side. and fighting like anything. he betted there would be something about it in the _wrykyn_ _patriot_ tomorrow. he shouldn't wonder if somebody had been killed. what were they scrapping about? how should _he_ know! here mr appleby, who had been trying for the last five minutes to find out where the whispering noise came from, at length traced it to its source, and forthwith requested messrs cook and knight to do him two hundred lines, adding that, if he heard them talking again, he would put them into the extra lesson. silence reigned from that moment. next day, while the form was wrestling with the moderately exciting account of caesar's doings in gaul, master cook produced from his pocket a newspaper cutting. this, having previously planted a forcible blow in his friend's ribs with an elbow to attract the latter's attention, he handed to knight, and in dumb show requested him to peruse the same. which knight, feeling no interest whatever in caesar's doings in gaul, and having, in consequence, a good deal of time on his hands, proceeded to do. the cutting was headed "disgraceful fracas", and was written in the elegant style that was always so marked a feature of the _wrykyn patriot_. "we are sorry to have to report," it ran, "another of those deplorable ebullitions of local hooliganism, to which it has before now been our painful duty to refer. yesterday the recreation grounds were made the scene of as brutal an exhibition of savagery as has ever marred the fair fame of this town. our readers will remember how on a previous occasion, when the fine statue of sir eustace briggs was found covered with tar, we attributed the act to the malevolence of the radical section of the community. events have proved that we were right. yesterday a body of youths, belonging to the rival party, was discovered in the very act of repeating the offence. a thick coating of tar had already been administered, when several members of the rival faction appeared. a free fight of a peculiarly violent nature immediately ensued, with the result that, before the police could interfere, several of the combatants had received severe bruises. fortunately the police then arrived on the scene, and with great difficulty succeeded in putting a stop to the _fracas_. several arrests were made. "we have no desire to discourage legitimate party rivalry, but we feel justified in strongly protesting against such dastardly tricks as those to which we have referred. we can assure our opponents that they can gain nothing by such conduct." there was a good deal more to the effect that now was the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party, and that the constituents of sir eustace briggs must look to it that they failed not in the hour of need, and so on. that was what the _wrykyn patriot_ had to say on the subject. o'hara managed to get hold of a copy of the paper, and showed it to clowes and trevor. "so now," he said, "it's all right, ye see. they'll never suspect it wasn't the same people that tarred the statue both times. an' ye've got the bat back, so it's all right, ye see." "the only thing that'll trouble you now," said clowes, "will be your conscience." o'hara intimated that he would try and put up with that. "but isn't it a stroke of luck," he said, "that they should have gone and tarred sir eustace again so soon after moriarty and i did it?" clowes said gravely that it only showed the force of good example. "yes. they wouldn't have thought of it, if it hadn't been for us," chortled o'hara. "i wonder, now, if there's anything else we could do to that statue!" he added, meditatively. "my good lunatic," said clowes, "don't you think you've done almost enough for one term?" "well, 'myes," replied o'hara thoughtfully, "perhaps we have, i suppose." * * * * * the term wore on. donaldson's won the final house-match by a matter of twenty-six points. it was, as they had expected, one of the easiest games they had had to play in the competition. bryant's, who were their opponents, were not strong, and had only managed to get into the final owing to their luck in drawing weak opponents for the trial heats. the real final, that had decided the ownership of the cup, had been donaldson's _v._ seymour's. aldershot arrived, and the sports. drummond and o'hara covered themselves with glory, and brought home silver medals. but moriarty, to the disappointment of the school, which had counted on his pulling off the middles, met a strenuous gentleman from st paul's in the final, and was prematurely outed in the first minute of the third round. to him, therefore, there fell but a medal of bronze. it was on the sunday after the sports that trevor's connection with the bat ceased--as far, that is to say, as concerned its unpleasant character (as a piece of evidence that might be used to his disadvantage). he had gone to supper with the headmaster, accompanied by clowes and milton. the headmaster nearly always invited a few of the house prefects to sunday supper during the term. sir eustace briggs happened to be there. he had withdrawn his insinuations concerning the part supposedly played by a member of the school in the matter of the tarred statue, and the headmaster had sealed the _entente cordiale_ by asking him to supper. an ordinary man might have considered it best to keep off the delicate subject. not so sir eustace briggs. he was on to it like glue. he talked of little else throughout the whole course of the meal. "my suspicions," he boomed, towards the conclusion of the feast, "which have, i am rejoiced to say, proved so entirely void of foundation and significance, were aroused in the first instance, as i mentioned before, by the narrative of the man samuel wapshott." nobody present showed the slightest desire to learn what the man samuel wapshott had had to say for himself, but sir eustace, undismayed, continued as if the whole table were hanging on his words. "the man samuel wapshott," he said, "distinctly asserted that a small gold ornament, shaped like a bat, was handed by him to a lad of age coeval with these lads here." the headmaster interposed. he had evidently heard more than enough of the man samuel wapshott. "he must have been mistaken," he said briefly. "the bat which trevor is wearing on his watch-chain at this moment is the only one of its kind that i know of. you have never lost it, trevor?" trevor thought for a moment. _he_ had never lost it. he replied diplomatically, "it has been in a drawer nearly all the term, sir," he said. "a drawer, hey?" remarked sir eustace briggs. "ah! a very sensible place to keep it in, my boy. you could have no better place, in my opinion." and trevor agreed with him, with the mental reservation that it rather depended on whom the drawer belonged to. three hundred things a bright boy can do by many hands fully illustrated london sampson low, marston & co., ltd. contents chapter page i. in training ii. how to become a gymnast iii. walking, running, and jumping iv. hockey and indian clubs v. swimming, rowing, and water polo vi. paperchasing, football, golf, and boxing vii. on the ice viii. angling ix. canoes and yachts x. cooking in camp xi. butterflies and moths xii. hints on aquariums xiii. in the playing fields xiv. the garden xv. the boy as artist xvi. ventriloquism and polyphony xvii. the boy as magician xviii. pets xix. things boys can make xx. fireside amusements xxi. work and play at the bench xxii. science for the play-hour xxiii. home-made toys xxiv. concerning many things preface the editor hopes that this volume will be the means of inspiring boys to adopt some hobby and to follow it diligently. at any rate he has arranged that they shall be able to have a wide choice of occupations, and shall begin with expert assistance. too many youths fall into mere aimless dawdling, and waste the golden years of their life loafing about smoking cigarettes, watching others play, chattering endlessly about games, but never engaging in them. though this book is written for the boy's play hour, it will not be without value in aiding him upon the sterner side of his career, if it shows him how to train hand and eye, how to strengthen his will and muscles, and if it inculcates patience, exactitude, and perseverance. three hundred things a bright boy can do chapter i in training there are few things about which so many mistaken notions exist as about training. there are several reasons for this, but most of the erroneous ideas may be traced back to the days when professional pugilists and runners were the only men who ever entered on any athletic exercise with any sort of organised preparation. for them a severe course of training was possibly a necessity. they were for the most part men well advanced in years and naturally fleshy; and to achieve the feats which they accomplished they no doubt found it necessary to reduce their weight, and for this purpose to take a great deal of exercise and to avoid all food tending to the formation of flesh; but for the average school-boy who plays football or fives, or goes paper-chasing, or, in fact, takes the ordinary amount of boy's exercise, training, as it is generally misunderstood, is quite unnecessary, even if not harmful. he has no superfluous fat of which to rid himself, so any sweating which he may do only weakens him and renders him liable to cold. his lungs are in proper order and therefore his wind is good, and so there is no need for him to deprive himself of vegetables or his favourite pies or puddings. all he wants is to lead a healthy active life, and to do a fair amount of practice in the particular branch of athletics in which he hopes to excel. if a boy be accustomed to walk to and from school, or even a part of the way, or to take his place regularly in the school games, he will already be in proper condition of wind and limb. he will now only require to develop the muscles which, in his contests, he will find it most necessary to use. these vary in nearly every branch of athletics; so his practice must be specially directed to the races or events in which he intends to take part. now this practice is often as much overdone as in the old days the dieting and sweating used to be. i remember that when i was at school and training for a mile race, i was seldom content unless i had run two or three miles each day. since then i have found out the error of my ways. the result of my long practice run was that when the day came for the sports i was much over-trained, and in the state usually described as "stale." i could have pounded along for miles, but i was as slow as the proverbial cart-horse, and when it came to hard racing i was beaten by boys who had practised less persistently than i had, and whose limbs and muscles were therefore lissom and pliant. the exact amount of practice required depends a good deal on the stamina and build of each particular boy. big, muscular boys can undergo far more work than lightly-strung ones of less robust constitution; but it may be taken for granted as a general rule that it is better to do too little than too much. practice should never be continued after one begins to feel tired; and if one is still feeling the effects of the previous day's practice, it is always a good thing to rest for a day from active work, and instead to take a good sharp walk of four or five miles. when your muscles are stiff, as they are bound to be at the beginning, never force them. get them gradually into working order, and never hesitate to rest entirely if you feel disinclined for exercise. rest, in moderation, is always good, and for this reason i advise boys of all ages who may be training, to make a point of going to bed early. to get up early is another aid to leading a healthy life, but i would especially warn my readers against taking any violent exercise before breakfast. have your bath, followed by a brisk rub down with a rough towel; dress quickly, and then, if you like and can manage it, go out into the open air for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes. put on plenty of clothes, and eat either a biscuit or a piece of bread and walk quietly about, breathing freely. in the same way never do any practising immediately after a heavy meal. an interval of at least two hours should elapse to allow of the digestion of food. remember that your one object in training is not to force your powers, but to so increase and nurse them, that when the day for the sports comes you will be able to do your very best without fear of hurting or over-straining yourself. before entering for his school sports a boy must realise the important fact that it is given only to a few to excel at everything. the majority must be content to discover the branch of sport for which, by their natural abilities, they are most suited, and then to practise quietly and persistently so as to gain the best possible results. school games and odd trials of skill will probably give the aspiring athlete some idea of the direction in which he is better than, or as good as, his fellows. in running races it is generally found that the heavily and powerfully-built boy is best suited by short-distance races, that is from a hundred yards to a quarter of a mile; but a long, loosely-knit lad usually excels at distances from half a mile to a mile. a short, sturdy boy, as a rule, develops into a long-distance runner, but as events above a mile are generally excluded, and very wisely too from the programmes of school sports, he has very little chance of distinguishing himself until later years, when his frame is set, and his heart and lungs are in a fit condition to withstand the strain caused by prolonged contests. the prime object of the boy who desires to train for short-distance running should be to improve his speed. with this purpose in view, he should practise running from thirty to fifty yards at a time--running hard from the very beginning, and going at his fastest possible pace the whole of the way. he should do this three or four times each day, occasionally--that is, once or twice a week--running the full hundred yards. races of two hundred yards and a quarter of a mile in length may be prepared for in just the same way, except that for the latter, a practice-run should seldom exceed three hundred and fifty yards. a quarter of a mile is a very fatiguing distance, and although it may be run in practice at a moderate speed, it should not be taken at racing pace, except in an actual race. in the intervals of training it is a good plan to obtain the assistance of a friend, and practise starting. in a short race so much depends on the start, that one who is able to go right away directly the signal is given possesses a great advantage. [illustration: "he should jump cleanly."] the boy who intends to take part in the half-mile and mile races must pursue a somewhat different method, but he also must make a point of practising for speed. most of his work must consist of running a quarter of a mile, or six hundred yards, with an occasional spin of half or three-quarters of a mile. the former distances must be accomplished at almost top speed, but without quite exhausting oneself; the latter must be taken at a regular, steady gait, bringing the legs out well to the front, but not carrying the knees too high. one run a day is quite sufficient, and perhaps once before the sports the full mile may be run, but this should not be done within a week of the eventful day. walking races are sometimes included in the sports' programme, the distance usually being one mile. the best training for this is to walk half a mile, or sometimes three-quarters, at one's best pace, taking great care to be perfectly fair, to keep the head erect, and to avoid all semblance of wriggle or shuffle. for the hurdle race and steeplechase the beginner should practise persistently over obstacles similar to the ones which are to be used on the day, but never going the full distance, and occasionally running fifty yards or so on the level with a view to an improvement in speed. of jumping competitions there are usually two kinds--the high jump and the long jump, and much the same kind of advice applies to both. in each instance practice should be daily, with an occasional rest for a day, and taking great care to leave off always at the first symptom of fatigue, coupled with the feeling that what has already been done cannot be improved upon. in the high jump a beginning should be made at a height well within reach, the jumper going gently and lightly over so as to gradually extend the muscles. then as he approaches the summit of his powers, he should pull himself together so as to put full force into each effort. he should jump cleanly, and start facing the bar. he should avoid all contortions and straining of the body, and above all things, refrain from the somewhat enticing-looking practice of jumping from one side--a practice which i once heard described as "putting one leg over the bar, and then going round and fetching the other." it may pay up to a certain point, but after that point is reached it is absolutely useless. the best and most successful jumpers have been those who have depended entirely on the spring from the hips. it is thence that all the power is obtained. byrd page, the famous american jumper, who often cleared ft., and once reached ft. - / ins., was a thorough believer in the straightforward method. to show what persistent practice will do, i may mention that when he was very young, his legs were so weak that he was compelled to wear irons to support them. one day the doctor told him to attend a gymnasium and practise jumping in order to strengthen his limbs. he did so, with the result that his weakness was entirely cured, and that he became, as well as an expert bicyclist, the most famous jumper the world has ever seen. to long jumping many of my previous remarks apply. in preparing for the jump, too long a run should not be taken, and in making the spring, the feet should be placed firmly together. the whole of one's force should be put into each effort, and care should be taken to avoid making false attempts. when once he has started, the jumper should make up his mind to go right through. both the jumper and the short-distance runner will find that a few minutes' daily practice with a skipping rope will greatly strengthen the legs and the fore part of the feet, on which much of the strain is placed. to all aspiring young athletes i would say: be moderate, and take care not to overdo it; lead healthy, active lives; and avoid stuffing yourselves between meals with pastry and sweets. chapter ii how to become a gymnast much benefit can be derived from gymnastic appliances if they are used understandingly. no advantage is to be gained by exercise that is carried on in a careless manner. neither too much nor too violent exercise is beneficial, though constant and regular work is necessary. it is better to work for a certain length of time every other day than to devote all of one week to exercise, and not go near the gymnasium the next. to use any apparatus carelessly is to use it dangerously. the writer has had many of his worst falls in doing some of the simplest tricks, because he was careless, and did not put his entire mind upon what he was doing. there is something besides and beyond the mere pleasure of being able to perform tricks in a gymnasium; there is a lasting benefit to be obtained in careful gymnastic exercise. in beginning your exercises there are two points that you must bear in mind always. stand erect, and before beginning any work draw a long deep breath. breathe from the abdomen, so that the lower parts of the lungs are expanded. you will find by following this simple advice that anything you attempt will be much easier for you than if you go about your exercises in a careless or slouchy way. there should be no round-shouldered gymnasts. there is no one who has achieved distinction as a gymnast who is not as straight as an arrow, and across whose shoulder-blades a yardstick could not be placed without touching his back. in your exercises avoid devoting too much time to one kind of work. do not spend all your time, for instance, on the horizontal bar, or on the parallel bars. what all would-be gymnasts should strive for is a symmetrical development of their muscles. you do not want to have legs like a piano, hard and knotted with muscles, and arms like pipe stems. nor do you want to have the arms and chest of a blacksmith, and legs like those of a crane. you want to have all your muscles developed alike, not one at the expense of another. to avoid this lop-sided kind of growth is the reason that gymnasiums have such a variety of appliances. now for the apparatus, and how it should be used. what boy, especially if he has lived in the country, has not tried to climb a rope, or go up a ladder hand over hand, and then, for the first time in his life, realised how heavy he is? perhaps no form of exercise develops so quickly the upper arm and the chest as work on the rope and ladder in a gymnasium. in practising on the ladder, first try to pull yourself up until your chin is even with the rung. keep at this exercise until you can repeat it three or four times without tiring yourself; then try to reach the rung above. do not go up too far at first, for you may find yourself many feet from the floor without strength enough to come back as you went up. that, it is almost needless for me to remind you, means a fall--and a hard one too it may be. the same advice applies to the rope. almost as quick results may be obtained by practice with the dumb-bells, with which it is possible to exercise almost every muscle in the body. the dumb-bells should be light. too heavy dumb-bells are apt to make a boy slow and sluggish in his movements. the proper weight for a beginner is half a pound, and under no circumstances should a boy use for regular exercise bells that weigh more than two pounds. indian clubs are valuable, chiefly in strengthening the muscles of the arms and wrists. exercises on the rings are divided into two classes--stationary and swinging. in the former the rings are not swung. in the latter the tricks are performed while swinging. there are two ways of grasping the rings with the hands. in "single grip," the rings are clasped as a boy grips his base-ball bat when he is ready to strike. it is used chiefly in swinging tricks. in the "double-grip," the thumbs are kept close to the palms, and the hands rest on and over the rings. the first trick on the rings, and the one that must be mastered before anything else is attempted, is the "breast-up." this consists in taking a double-grip, and raising the body so that the chin is even with the hands. the hands and wrists should be over the rings, and the elbows straight out from the shoulder. now, by leaning forward you necessarily bring your hands under your armpits, and you find yourself in such a position that you can push down on the rings and raise your body erect by simply straightening your arms. you must not expect to be able to do this the first time. it will take many efforts before you can accomplish it. the best way to learn it is to hold your weight with one hand, after you have raised your chin even with the rings, while you practise pulling the other in and under your armpit. when a boy can do this trick easily he will find that he has strength and skill enough to learn the other feats, of which this is the foundation. in horizontal bar exercises the "breast-up" is executed in the same way, but it is seldom used in getting up on the bar. a much prettier way is the trick called the "circle." this is done by clasping the bar with the double-grip--which, by-the-way, is the only one used on the bar--and raising your body as high as you can. if you can raise your chin above the bar, all the better. now raise your legs in front of you as high as possible, and lift them over the bar, letting your head drop back. this will bring your legs and body down on the other side. if a boy can do this with a fortnight's hard practice, he is doing remarkably well. in learning this trick lower the bar to the height of the shoulder and start the "circle" with a jump, which materially assists your progress during the revolution. all boys who practise on the horizontal bar probably have in mind the "giant swing," the hardest and most daring feat on the bar; but that is a long way in the future, and many other tricks must be mastered before it should even be attempted. perhaps the best of these intermediate exercises is the "hook swing." this is a very neat trick. you sit on the bar, apparently fall backward, catching the bar in the knee joints, and swing around, until you come up in your original position without touching your hands to the bar. it is not so hard as it looks if you go about it in the right way, and this is the proper way: first practise by hanging head downward from the bar by the knees. any boy can do this; but to learn the rest of the trick you need two assistants, who take hold of your hands and swing you gently at first, gradually increasing the swing as you gain confidence. when you can swing easily and safely without losing your grip and falling to the mattress as you swing backward, straighten your knees, and you will leave the bar and alight upon your feet. your assistants will save you from falling on your head should you happen to let go with your knees too soon, which you would certainly do more times than once should you attempt the trick alone. practise this until you can do it without help. the next step is to sit on the bar, which should be lowered to within four feet of the ground, and fall backward. when you come to the end of the swing, let go with your knees and alight on your feet. at first you will need help in this, as in the early part of the practice. when this is learned you can go half-way around. the object now is to come back to the position you originally had on the top of the bar. the mistake that nine boys out of ten make at this point is in thinking that all that is needed to complete the revolution is to give the body a harder swing. when you dropped from the bar in the way i have just described it was because you straightened your knees. if you bent your knees more at this point in the swing, and at the same time threw your head back, you would have found yourself on the bar instead of on the mattress. to prevent accident at first, you should have an assistant stand in front of you, so that in case you should pitch forward the moment you reach the top of the bar, you will fall into his arms. in case you should swing so hard that you cannot stop when your body becomes erect, you will simply make another half-revolution backward, when you can straighten your legs and come down on your feet in the way described already. the most important exercises on the parallel bars are called the "dip" and the "grasshopper." to do a "dip," stand between the bars, placing your hands upon them, and raise your body to arm's length. then lower the body and raise it again by bending and straightening the arms. to do a "grasshopper," begin in the same manner, but as the arms are almost straight make a little forward jump, lifting your hands from the bars, and bringing them down a few inches in advance of their original position. in this way you can travel from one end of the bar to the other, as this trick can be done equally well forward and backward. the jump may be combined with a swing in an exercise called the "pump." these tricks are easily learned; they are very safe and make muscle fast. the chief danger in their use lies in their over-indulgence. in this, as in all other gymnastic exercises, enough is as good as a feast. the flying trapeze is the most difficult of all the apparatus, and feats on the double trapeze are dangerous even to the trained gymnast. after you have mastered the exercises already described, it will be time enough for you to think about the trapeze. do not practise just before your meal hour, nor directly after it. the best time is from an hour and a half to two hours after eating. do not practise for over an hour a day at first; that is sufficient for any boy provided he does not waste his time. it should be remembered that gymnastic feats are not necessary for health. it is quite possible to exercise all the muscles without an indulgence in dangerous displays; but many boys have the courage, the desire, and the skill to pass from exercises to gymnastics. we may supplement our remarks by adding some observations upon how he became a gymnast by a writer who chooses to be known as "an ex-little fellow." he says: i have no doubt at least one of the readers of this book is a little fellow. he has just as much pluck as his bigger brother, his eye is as true and his mind as quick, but he does not weigh enough to be a success at athletics. his arms are too weak to knock out home-runs; his legs are not strong enough to carry a football through a rush line; and as for his back, the muscles are not hard enough, and the other fellow always turns him over when they are wrestling on the grass. this little fellow doubtless thinks he is made that way, and cannot help himself. no matter how much he dislikes it, he feels that he will have to go through life watching bigger and stronger fellows playing all the games and having most of the fun. now this is all a mistake, that is, if the little fellow has as much pluck and perseverance as little fellows generally have. the writer of this sketch was a little fellow himself not many years ago. he remembers how he used to look with complete and absolute disgust on his bony little arms and thin pipe-stem legs. he used to look at the big muscles of one or two companions with hopeless envy. in fact, it got so bad that this particular little fellow determined to get strong, if it took years to do it. the first thing was to get a bar. i selected a nice spot in the garden, planted deep in the ground two heavy timber uprights, and fastened firmly across the top, with mortised ends, a long heavy pitchfork handle, which was purchased at a village store, at a cost, i believe, of tenpence. when the turning-pole was finished, the next thing was to learn to do something. the first thing i learned was to hang on the pole. this may not seem like a very exciting trick, but the fact is my muscles were so weak that it took all my strength to hang there. after hanging awhile i learned to swing a little back and forth, working up higher and higher, and it was a proud day when i was able to swing my body up over the bar, and rest my stomach on the top of it. then i had to learn to "chin myself." this came more slowly; but daily practice at dumb-bells and constant tugging at the bar gradually hardened the biceps and back, until on one happy day my arms bent to the strain, my head went up, and my chin projected triumphantly over the bar. by this time the other boys became interested. they began to put bars in their own yards, and the little fellow had to superintend the operation and give instructions. the uprights should be about three by three, and planted with side braces. the post-holes should be at least three feet deep, and after the posts are set, filled in with stones and earth firmly stamped down. the bar must be just a couple of inches out of one's reach standing under it flat footed. half a dozen private bars resulted in a gymnasium in an empty stable loft, equipped with a bar, a ladder, and two trapezes. the little fellow watched his arms and legs with great concern, and could not for the life of him see that they were getting any bigger. [illustration: "other boys became interested."] it did not take many months for the breeze to blow over with the other boys, but the little fellow kept on. when the weather got too cold for the out-door bar, he read blaikie's _how to get strong_, and went through the prescribed dumb-bell exercises every night before going to bed. then two pairs of cleats were put in the door-frame, as mr blaikie directs, and a short bar cut to fit them. it did not improve the looks of the bedroom door, but the little fellow was determined to have muscle at any cost, and swung on the high bar, and pushed on the low one every night for the whole winter. the next spring he was happy. his chest was beginning to stand out in front of his shoulders, and his biceps were swelling a little. he and his chum purchased a boat that summer, and rowed on the river every day, until they were brown as indians, and could beat most of the light craft on the river. the following year the little fellow went to the city, and joined a y.m.c.a. gymnasium. there was plenty of good apparatus here, and he watched the other fellows and tried their tricks. a year or two in this gymnasium, with daily rowing in the summer, began to tell. the little fellow stripped at pounds now; his arms were brown and sinewy; he could hold a good steady stroke for ten or fifteen miles in a working boat; could run several miles at a dog-trot; and had learned to "handle his body" on the bar. then he went to college, and in the gymnasium his arms, brown to the shoulders from rowing in the sun, won him among his classmates the sobriquet of "athlete." this was very agreeable to the little fellow. four years of work and practice in a college gymnasium could have only one result. at the end of that time the little fellow was no longer a little fellow. he weighed in his clothes pounds, and every muscle in his body was hard and well trained. the friends who came down to college to see him get his diploma were greatly surprised to see him on the programme as captain of the gymnastic team, and still more astonished to see him no longer a little fellow, but a stout gymnast circling the bar, swinging gaily on the trapezes, and building pyramids with his nimble _confreres_. that is not very long ago, and now the little fellow is surprised to find himself spoken of as about the best gymnast in one of the largest amateur athletic clubs in the country. so much for our "ex-little fellow"; and now we may recount how mr. e. lawrence levy became the amateur champion weight lifter of the world. although when a boy at school he was proficient in nearly every branch of athletics, and an adept at all games, it was not until later years that he turned his attention to gymnastics. it came about in this way. when twenty-five years old, mr. levy, having passed from school-boy to tutor, started a school of his own, and with a genuine love of athletics and a knowledge of the benefit which boys may gain from them by following them within reason, he had fitted up in his school-room a trapeze on which he was wont to practise with his pupils. finding that it was scarcely safe to do this without skilled tuition, he sent for professor hubbard, the instructor of the birmingham athletic club. the result was that the trapeze was removed from the school-room to the playground, where other appliances such as horizontal and parallel bars were also fixed. here mr. levy again joined his pupils, and then, after three or four lessons, he, to the instructor's surprise, accomplished several feats which are, as a rule, only achieved by practised gymnasts. finding that he was outstripping his boys, he determined to join the birmingham athletic club. here he was able to measure himself against men of his own age and strength. it was at the club gymnasium that he one night saw the heavy dumb-bells belonging to two professional "strong men." he tried to lift the bells, but failed. this seems to have shaped his future course. instead of being discouraged by failure, he determined to overcome all obstacles and go in for heavy dumb-bell exercise. he began with comparatively light bells, and with these he practised in the solitude of his school-room for hours at a time. then he bought two new bells weighing lbs. each, using them assiduously until he could do almost anything with them--holding them out at arms' length, bringing them down to the sides of his legs and up again. when he had thoroughly mastered the "twenty-eights," he tried two "fifty-sixes." these he retained for months, being determined not to attempt the heavier bells until he was quite perfect with the lighter ones. at length mr. levy was able to put up the lb. dumb-bell. this was more than any member of the birmingham gymnasium had ever done, and it then became necessary to add two lb. dumb-bells to the collection. with these mr. levy began quietly practising, one at a time. then he took to using them together, and gradually overcoming the difficulties of the harder work, succeeded one evening in putting them up simultaneously. from that point he never went back. having done as much with the dumb-bells as at the time seemed possible, he decided to add the lifting of bar-bells to his exercises. he bought three, weighing lbs., lbs. and lbs. he practised assiduously with these, but all the time he was yearning to do still bigger feats with dumb-bells. at last his opportunity came. one friday evening, on visiting the gymnasium, he found a dumb-bell weighing lbs. it had been sent there for exhibition by some professionals who were visiting the city. he tried to put it up, and failed; but the dogged perseverance which marked his whole career came once again to his aid. finding that the huge plaything was to be left at the gymnasium till the following tuesday, he began practising indefatigably, and on the tuesday evening, in the presence of his club fellows, he achieved his self-imposed task. the next week a dumb-bell of the same weight ( lbs.) was added to his private collection, and he used it regularly. this private collection now consisted of two lbs., two lbs., two lbs., two lbs., one lbs., and one lbs. in dumb-bells, the three bar-bells already mentioned, and two iron bars, one lbs. and one lbs.--all these, together with two ring weights of lbs. each, representing a total weight of nearly sixteen hundred pounds. mr. levy appeared constantly in public. in he won the contest, held then for the first time, for the amateur weight-lifting championship, and afterwards he succeeded, at northampton, in establishing a new record by putting up above his head no fewer than ten times a bar-bell weighing in all lbs. of the recognised records for weight-lifting he held as many as nine; but mr. levy did not confine himself to one branch of gymnastics, nor made gymnastics his only athletic exercise. each year at the grand "display" of the birmingham athletic club he figured as a leader in exercises on the horizontal and parallel bars and on the rings. he was also an enthusiastic and expert cyclist, and took an intelligent interest in nearly every form of manly sport. he was, too, a busy brain worker. his height was feet - / inches; his chest measurement inches; he weighed st. lbs., and had biceps measuring inches and a forearm of - / inches. at twenty-five years of age, before he took to gymnastics, his chest measurement was inches, and the circumference of his biceps was twelve inches. [illustration: "achieved his self-imposed task."] to my readers i commend mr. levy as an example of what pluck and perseverance will do when used to a rational end. for the benefit of those who may wish to follow in his footsteps, i will quote some advice from his own pen:-- "in gymnastics it is never too late to begin. there may be some who may want, like i did, to emulate the deeds of the strong men whom every age supplies; to them i would say, give yourself up to your favourite exercise as you would to music if you would excel in it. athleticism is as jealous an accomplishment as any art you would acquire. excel in it and you will find your reward in that rough physical vigour which the world has not ceased to admire. in order to gain it you will go through a course of training which will lay the impress of health on all you do. instead of defying nature you will learn more readily to obey her, and your obedience will be gratefully, cheerfully accorded, for you will realise how magnificent it is to be strong yourself, and by your example and your deeds inspire others to dignify their physical powers." it would be difficult to say which ranks the higher in the estimation of modern boys--brain or muscle. certain it is that in these days boys of "grit" feel a contemptuous pity for the youth who is "all head and no muscle." possibly most readers will admit that muscular and mental development should go together, and that modern athletics are the necessary adjunct of school life for the building up of a "sound mind in a sound body" (_mens sana in corpore sano_). of the ancients it may be said that their faith was in "muscle." even old homer, philosopher and poet, goes so far as to say, "there is no greater honour for a man during his life than that he should be accomplished in the use of his hands and feet." it was the "man of muscle" who in ancient greece received the highest honours and rewards; it was for him that breaches were made in the city walls that he might pass through in his triumphal march. it was he who was relieved from the payment of taxes, whose statue was erected at the public cost, and whose praise was sung by the poets. in ancient days leaders and rulers were selected simply on account of their development of "muscle." hence we read of caius maximinus, who from the lowly position of herdsman, was raised to the dignity of a roman emperor on account of his physical strength. this maximinus, it is said, could squeeze to powder the hardest stone with his fingers, and history tells us that on one occasion he "knocked down six men without drawing breath!" those fingers of his must surely have been moved by muscles of iron, and his "biceps" must have appeared a veritable mountain! a consideration of the fact that maximinus was upwards of eight feet in height renders these feats less surprising, but to most beef-eating british boys it will perhaps be a "staggerer" to learn that the mighty deeds of maximinus were performed on a vegetable diet. [illustration: milo of crotona.] the history of another muscular leader, milo of crotona, may possibly have some elements of truth in it, and we can quite imagine his marching with his countrymen against an army of sybarites, clothed in a lion's skin and brandishing a tremendous club; but it will take more than the proverbial "grain of salt" to enable us to swallow the story of his running a mile with a four-year-old ox on his shoulders, killing the animal, and _eating the carcase, every inch, in one day_! it is not the way of modern athletes to show their strength by killing four-year-old oxen, or knocking men down like ninepins. they let us see their development of muscle at the wrestling match, at the oar and the wicket, at swimming and cycling, at their walking, running, and leaping performances, and one great advantage of this is that the ladies, who were excluded from the ancient "gymnasia" on pain of death, can in these days, by their presence, not only secure enjoyment to themselves, but give pleasure and encouragement to many an aspirant for athletic fame, who, if for no other reason, would endure the hardest training to "win the plaudits of the fair." in the matter of training and developing the muscles, the old italian proverb will, as in so many other cases, apply, "_chi va piano va sano e lontano_," or, as we should say, "he that goes gently and steadily goes safely and far." there must be moderation in the commencement, or there will be a "breakdown" in the end. no youth who doubts the soundness of his heart and lungs should go in for muscular training--for heavy work with the dumb-bells, for instance--without medical advice. to weakly constitutions training may be injurious--even fatal. in developing the voluntary muscles, as of the arm and leg, the growth of which we can measure, we must be careful of the involuntary muscles--those regulating the heart and lungs, and which are naturally and unconsciously brought into use. of course, those muscles most brought into play by special exercise will be most developed--of the legs and thighs, for instance, in _walking_, and those of the arms, legs, and loins in _rowing_. for the general development of muscle, it is, of course, well to "take on" those sets of muscles not used in one's ordinary occupation. thus a youth who is sitting the greater part of his time at study or work should walk, swim, and row; one who has a walking occupation would do well to take both to rowing and swimming; whilst a "waterman" would do best to go in for hard walking. every one knows that diet has a great deal to do with the development or deterioration of "muscle," and that meat, vegetables, and drink should be very judiciously combined. weston--whose great walk, in , of , miles in days, was spoken of by dr. andrew blyth as "the greatest recorded labour, if its continuity be considered, that a human being has ever taken without injury"--dieted himself as follows:-- breakfast ( . a.m.).--porridge, eggs or fish, bread and butter, toast or mutton, and coffee. lunch ( a.m.).--bread and butter, and coffee. dinner ( p.m.).--mutton broth, meat, potatoes, cabbage, bread pudding, and soda water or ginger ale. tea ( p.m.).--a little toast, and tea or coffee. supper ( . p.m.).--toast, figs, sponge cake, pudding, and milk or soda water. it will be thus seen that alcohol formed no part of weston's diet, and that his principal drinks were _tea_, _coffee_, and _milk_. this says much for the advantage of the practice of total abstinence, especially in view of the fact of the _continuity_ of muscular exertion. the number of steps taken in weston's great walk has been calculated at about , , , and the _daily_ work of the muscles equivalent to that of raising tons one foot. another testimony to the advantage of abstinence from stimulants in the development of "muscle" is given by louis cyr, the canadian athlete, who secured the title of, "strongest man in the world" at a paris exhibition. he weighed lbs., and mentioned, among his feats, that he could break with his bare fist a stone two inches thick, four inches wide, and six inches long. he took his wife (who weighed lbs.) and balanced her on the top of a -ft. ladder, resting on his chin. cyr said that the great secret of his strength was his total abstinence from all alcoholic drinks, and this bears out dr. b. w. richardson's statement that "the idea of alcohol giving force and activity to the muscles is entirely false." chapter iii walking, running, and jumping $walking.$--as a rule, the walking of long distances in a short time is a sad mistake. there is little or no pleasure in it, and the injury it may do you quite counter-balances the satisfaction you may feel in having accomplished it. i wouldn't give a pin to be able to do my three miles in min. secs. like webster, because i know perfectly well that my mind would gain nothing, or my body either from such an achievement. every day of the year, unless specially hindered, i walk between eight and ten miles, and i am always discontented if anything stands in the way of my walk. from my own experience, i feel sure that boys, whether training for football, or school examinations, cannot do better for themselves than walk whenever they have the chance. you never know what call may suddenly be put upon the muscles of your legs. a life may depend upon your ability to sprint seven or eight miles in the hour. and if you can walk as many miles straight off and enjoy every yard of it, you may rely on being able to walk and run the distance in the time. a few words may be said on style in walking. it is simply wonderful how people differ in this respect. hardly two persons walk alike. they either carry their heads, or bodies, or arms differently, or there is a distinct difference in the way they use their legs or feet. however, there is nothing very sad about this. variety is charming, even in pedestrianism, though in professional walkers this variety is apt to show itself in a walk that is almost twin brother to a trot. the following words of the once celebrated westhall are valuable for boys and men who walk for health and pleasure, as well as professionals who walk for pots or purses:--"to be a good and fair walker the attitude should be upright, or nearly so, with the shoulders well back, though not stiffly so, and the arms, when in motion, held well up in a bent position, and at every stride swinging with the movement of the legs well across the chest, which should be well thrown out. the loins should be slack, to give plenty of freedom to the hips, and the leg _perfectly straight_, thrown out from the hip bodily and directly in front of the body, and allowed to reach the ground with the heel being decidedly the first portion of the foot to meet it." some people insist on the toes being turned out in a most unmistakable way when walking. it is not at all a pretty sight, and much more suggestive of a duck waddling out of a pond than a well-trained human being. besides, it throws an undesirable and harmful amount of strain upon the smaller toes. better to point the toes downwards and forwards, _never_ outwards; spring sharply towards the tiptoe, straightening the knee. learn also to hold the ground with the great toe at the beginning and at the end of each step. we cannot grasp the ground; good foothold is only to be obtained by pressure of the toes against it. this may, at first reading, seem rather strange counsel; but if we have any physical relationship with monkeys, the strangeness of it is at once removed. mark how the monkey holds with his feet. perhaps a million years ago we also (or rather our prototypes) held the ground with our feet in like manner. one thing is certain, that bad walkers (bad in style, i mean) are very ugly to see, whereas there is something majestic about the carriage of a good walker. $sprinting.$--not many athletes can excel in all kinds of running, and the champion sprinter is not generally a winner of long-distance races. moreover, it is necessary for each runner to decide which he will be, for the training for each is different. train gradually. at first take sharp walks of three or four miles. this will make the muscles begin to harden. then run steadily for a quarter of a mile at a time, not troubling much about the speed. cultivate the use of the toes and stride straight forward. towards the end of the run the speed may be increased, for the muscles will then be in working order. even now, however, the young sprinter should not tire himself. a week should be employed in this way before the more severe training is undertaken. never begin to run violently at first, and this rule should be observed particularly in cold weather, for until the muscles have warmed to their work they are liable to strain, or even to suffer more severe injury. practise starting. if you have a friend ask him to act as starter, and start over and over again, going to the mark and putting yourself in position time after time. in a short race like this a good start often makes all the difference, for it means sometimes a gain of a yard. $middle distance races.$--speed wins short-distance races; endurance wins long-distance races, but a combination of each is needed in the medium distance contests. $long distances.$--the training for long-distance races needs patience and endurance, for the tax upon the runner is great. boys should not compete in long distances. no one under eighteen years of age should run a mile. the method of training is to run a quarter, or half a mile, according to the strength of the runner, and then each day to increase the distance or to run the same distance at a greater speed. gradually by this process the lungs, the heart, and the muscles are strengthened until feats hitherto impossible become easy. in a long-distance race judgment must be exercised whether to go the distance rapidly and trust to endurance or to run warily and win by a spurt at the end, when it may be that your opponent is exhausted. $the long jump.$--speed is an important element in this feat, more important indeed than the spring. experts take a run of from a hundred to two hundred feet as though they were running a sprint race and are going at their highest speed when they rise from the ground. when they are coming to the ground again they thrust their legs forward as far as they can, and so gain a foot or even more. this needs practice, however, for if the leaper loses his balance and falls backward his jump does not count. to start from the mark also needs practice, and one of the methods of mastering this feat is to run slowly to a point about nine paces short of the starting place. in training this point may be marked by a piece of paper. then sprint from the paper to the starting place. experts are able to jump twenty-four feet, and a leap of twenty-two is excellent, but not many can hope to reach these lengths. $the high jump.$--here the athlete begins his run to the centre of the bar slowly, then he increases his speed a little, finishing with a quick run and a bound. the spring is taken in something like a crouching position with the head drawn in, but in the air the shoulders are lifted and the arms and legs jerked upwards. as the jumper crosses the bar he shoots out his legs, raises his shoulders still higher, and twists his body until he faces downwards. in fact he is then nearly horizontal, and an amateur champion of the world has likened his position at this stage to that of an arrow crossing a bow. when he comes to the ground he faces the bar. some jumpers rise from the right foot, some from the left. the young athlete should find for himself which method suits him best. it is usual to take the leap as far in front of the bar as the bar is from the ground. thus, if the bar is four feet high the leap would begin four feet from a point on the ground directly under the bar. the run usually begins twelve good paces from the bar, and consists of one bound after another, concluding with three short energetic ones. then comes the spring from a crouching position. if the start is from the right foot, this foot should be almost parallel to the bar, and the heel of this foot should be the last to leave the ground. a run would carry you far, but in this feat it is the vigorous spring which carries you high. there are those who can jump more than six-feet high in this way, but they are among the champions. chapter iv hockey and indian clubs $hockey.$--hockey is a game which has become very popular in england during the past few years. it is generally believed to be a southern form of the highland game of shinty, the great game of the clansmen in years gone past, and still played in many of the northern glens, notably on the dumbartonshire side of loch lomond. the hockey of the north is not played according to any scale of points, the winning team being that which secures most goals; in the south, where it is frequently played on ice as well as on _terra firma_, certain marks of merit are awarded, after the style of rugby union football. the modern hockey stick is to some extent an artificial contrivance after the style of the driver or play club of golf. indeed, to golf it bears some little semblance, and strangers frequently confound the two pastimes. the scottish school-boy, when hockey comes on in its turn with other recreations of the playground, sets out for the woodlands with a strong, sharp pocket-knife. he examines carefully all the hedge-rows to see if there is any young plant which has a natural turn at the end. if he can find such with a three feet shaft and a four-inch crook at the end he sets to work there and then, and in due time his "shinty" or hockey stick is pruned and ready for the game. the full-grown highland player will possibly provide himself with a very heavy oak sapling, and with this he will strike powerful strokes, with his right hand, or both hands if required, when in a close contested maul or fray in front of the goal. these naturally-grown clubs have more spring in them than those of artificial make, but unless they are carefully bound with cord the head is apt to give after a little hard play. [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] a good deal of the art of the game consists in passing or nursing, as in association football. a novice would strike the knag or knob away from him as soon as he had obtained his opportunity. not so the adept, who would "dribble" it forward, to use a football phrase, a few yards at a time, work it on to his partner, back up, and keep following it, then, with one swinging blow, make a shot for goal. in hockey on the ice the dribbling game is seen to most advantage, as the skilful skater can take the knag a hundred yards or more by adroit nursing or passing; were he to strike it away with the first blow the chances are that it would be immediately returned with interest, and a goal scored to the opposite side. [illustration] [illustration] in the highlands it is a grand sight to see two opposing bodies of clansmen--met as of old they met with targe and claymore--to fight out a friendly game. everything is cast aside but shirt and kilt, and bare-headed and bare-legged the contestants seem to have walked out of the picture of some ancient highland foray. striking off in mid-ground the welkin soon rings with their shouts in gaelic, their cheers and expostulations. blows that were meant for the knag sometimes fall heavy upon an opponent's knees, and soon legs are to be seen streaming with blood. in the heat of the play they feel it not, though next day they will possibly not have a part of their under limbs without bruises between ankles and knees. with terrific swing donald or duncan, who stands six-feet two in his socks, will drive it like a cannon ball through the air; and arrested by malcolm's head in its flight the latter drops like a stone, only to recover his senses in a minute again and go off in wild pursuit. when the sun sinks, the game is proclaimed over, and both sides shake hands, dress, and depart homeward, well pleased with their sport, no matter whether they may have won or lost. [illustration] $indian clubs.$--club swinging, if carried out in the correct style, brings almost every muscle into play, develops the chest and arms, imparts an easy carriage to the figure, and, if persevered in, under proper conditions to be hereafter mentioned, will ultimately enable the most round-shouldered individual to assume that lissom and perpendicular attitude which is the characteristic of the finished athlete. first let me impress upon you the importance of avoiding heavy clubs when you commence the exercise, or even after becoming moderately proficient. difficult feats are not easy to accomplish with very heavy clubs, besides the latter, instead of strengthening the muscles, are more likely to produce the opposite effect. directly the club is heavy enough to sway you about on your feet, the exercise is doing you harm, and your attitude will appear ungraceful. should you be ambitious to swing very heavy clubs, be advised to proceed cautiously, and gradually increase the weight at long intervals. clubs recommended for ordinary use should weigh between - / and lbs. each, as that weight affords plenty of muscular exertion to strong and comparatively weak men alike, especially in difficult exercises. after becoming fairly proficient with the lighter weights, heavier clubs might be used with advantage, say three or four pounds each, but a practised athlete of great muscular power may safely swing clubs of twenty pounds or more. a club, say twenty-two inches in length, made of willow which should weigh about - / lbs., is the most suitable for young boys or ladies. the club should be well tapered towards the top and artistically shaped: an ill-shaped club is a very awkward and unsatisfactory instrument. in nearly all exercises the feet should be some distance apart in proportion to your height: for a man of five feet nine inches, about the proper distance between heels would be seventeen inches. for many exercises the shoulders should be kept square to the front, while in others it is necessary to turn more or less to the right or left. if the shoulders are turned through half a right angle, reckoning from the position with the shoulders square, the shoulders are said to be half-right or half-left; if the shoulders are turned through a complete right angle, the shoulders are considered full right or full left as the case may be. style is a most important item to be considered, not only for the sake of appearance, but also in order that the utmost physical benefit may be derived from the exercise. an eminent authority, in speaking of style, remarks: "if you swing clubs without regard to style, you will naturally contrive to cast almost all the labour upon your strongest muscles, so that the exercise, instead of searching out and strengthening your weak points, will merely tend to increase the muscles which are already disproportionately developed; whereas, if you attend carefully to style, you will be compelled to bring a great variety into play, so that your weakest muscles will be at first most severely taxed, and will gradually become developed in proportion to those which are naturally strong." it is necessary that the knees be kept straight and the muscles of the legs well braced, as there is a tendency at first, especially with heavy clubs, to let the knees bend in the course of certain movements; the head should be carried erect, and should turn with the shoulders, so that you always look in a direction at right angles to the line of the shoulders. the best way to keep the head steady and in its proper position is to fix the eyes on some point a trifle above their own level, in a direction at right angles to the line of the shoulders for the time being. should you allow your eyes to wander, you will find it impossible to keep the head steady. in summing up the chief points relating to style, the following should be kept in view, viz.:-- ( ) all unnecessary movement of the body should be avoided, the head should be carried erect, and the feet firmly placed at a distance apart in proportion to your height. ( ) in swings, keep the arm as nearly straight as possible; in twists, the hand should be kept almost in the same place throughout the movement. ( ) the movement of the club should be kept even, and avoid all abrupt or sudden changes of pace. ( ) the clubs should be kept in accurate turn with each other. in order to correct your own style, a good plan is to practise before a looking-glass. the proper position for holding the club before beginning an exercise is called "the carry." stand erect and grasp the club with the right hand, lift the club and hold it up vertically, with the hand just in a line, and not raised higher than the shoulder. club exercises are divided into four series. the first, called outward, are those in which the right club moves in the same direction as the hands of a clock facing you, whilst the left club moves against the hands of the clock. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] inward exercises are those in which these conditions are entirely reversed, and parallel exercises are those in which both clubs swing with or against the clock. windmill exercises are explained at fig. , the subject is made clear in fig. , where, for the sake of simplicity, both hands are holding the same club; the right hand, which is travelling in the same direction as a clock facing the athlete, is making an outward circle, as the left hand is working against the clock, the left hand is making an inward circle, and as both hands are swinging with the clock, a parallel exercise would be in progress, if there were two clubs instead of one as shown in the illustration. the outward front swing follows "the carry" as a natural consequence. straighten the arm completely till the hand is above and about three inches in front of the shoulder; the point of the club should then be allowed to move slightly forward, with the wrist turned in, then let the hand and club move to the right, the arm being kept straight, and the club being kept in a straight line with the arm throughout the movement. a circle can then be described and a return made to the initial position. to make this description more easily understood, i have a capital illustration in front of me, and i cannot do better than quote it. "if you were to stand with a wall about ten inches in front of you, the point of the club, would, in the preparatory position, just touch the wall at the highest point you could reach with the club; and as you did the swing, the point of the club would always touch the wall, and, if it were chalked, would draw a circle on the wall, of which the radius would be as nearly as possible equal to the length of your arm and the club together." this is one of those simple-looking movements which are by no means easy of accomplishment. the arm should be kept straight with the arm and the club in a line, and avoid stooping as the club passes in front of the legs. beginners should practise front swings, and follow them up until they are done with before attempting anything else. circles, swings, and twists.--it should be noted that circles are divided into "swings" and "twists". the club and forearm acting in a straight line during the movement would come under the heading of "swings," whilst circles swung from the wrist with the hand as a centre point are reckoned as "twists." some of the very advanced movements, however, unite the characteristics of both swings and twists, and it is difficult to say under which heading they should be classed. fig. illustrates the outward front swing with both clubs. the exercise shown is a cross windmill, the performer with both clubs straight above the shoulder swings the left club outwards; so soon as the left club points downwards he will swing the right club outwards, and it will arrive at the lowest point just as the left club has completed its circle. the outward back twist.--from "the carry," raise the hand a little above the shoulder, passing it slightly to the rear, so that the forefinger is level with and within two inches of the lobe of the ear, the elbow being raised to the right till it is nearly as high as the shoulder, allowing the club to slope a little backwards from the hand. from this preparatory position, let the point of the club move to the right, and, keeping the hand close to the ear throughout the movement, a circle can be described by the point of the club. in this twist get the point of the club sufficiently to the right and to the rear as the club descends, in order to avoid letting the point of the club pass too far to the rear as it ascends. care should be taken to keep the hand in the same place throughout the twist, and don't duck the head forward during the ascent of the club. this tendency is produced by the fear of a blow on the head while the club is travelling in its upward course. windmill exercises.--the exercises known as windmill are very interesting. as in parallel exercises, the one club does outward circles and the other inward circles, keeping exact pace with each other, the one being always half a circle ahead of the other; therefore, when one club points straight up, the other points straight down, so that when viewed from the front, the clubs appear always to point in exactly opposite directions. a windmill exercise is difficult to learn, but when grasped, you should at once tackle the corresponding form on the other side. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows the inward back twist being cross windmilled. the outward cross front twist.--in this twist the hand should be kept close to the left breast throughout the movement, and as the club descends, turn the wrist out and bend it over, the while turning the wrist out as the club ascends till it is horizontal on the left, again turning it sharply as the club finishes its ascent. twists similar to the cross front twist may be performed with the hand above or below the height of the shoulder, also a cross front twist may be done with the hand at the height of and in front of either the right or left hip. avoid letting the clubs go too far forward while they are below the horizontal, and too far back during the higher part of the movement. each front swing should be done in good style, and endeavour not to stoop as the clubs pass each other when they begin to ascend. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. a.] fig. shows the outward cross front twist with the right hand at arm's length, whilst the left club is simultaneously making an outward back twist at arm's length, it must be noted, that although the right club is moving towards the performer, yet as it is moving in the same direction as the hand of a clock, parallel, and in front of the twist made, it is called an outward twist. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an outward back twist at arm's length with the right club, the left club is making an outward front twist, the only difference being, that the circle is made with the left club entirely in front of the left arm, instead of in the rear of it. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an inward swing with the right club done simultaneously with an inward swing with the left club. this exercise can be made into a cross inside windmill in the same way that fig. can be made into a regular outside exercise, instead of being a cross outside windmill. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an inside back twist at arm's length above the head and an inward cross front twist at arm's length downwards, the connecting inward front swings being also shown. this is very difficult. parallel exercises.--these consist of an outward circle with one club and an inward circle with the other, in which the two circles are begun together, and in which the two clubs keep exact pace with each other throughout, consequently both clubs appear to be always parallel to each other. this is called a "parallel" combination. when the various parallel combinations have become familiar to the learner, he may continue such combinations in succession to each other and profit thereby. parallel exercises are considered the greatest test of proficiency with clubs, as the slightest error will cause a divergence of the clubs and be at once detected. endeavour to master a parallel combination thoroughly, and then the combination on the other side will come easy enough. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows a parallel exercise, an inward front swing with r. being done simultaneously with an outward front swing with l. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an outward back twist with r. and an inward cross twist with l. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an inward back twist with r. and an outward back twist with l., followed by an inward front swing with r. and an outward front swing with l. [illustration: fig. .] fig. shows an inward back twist with r. and an outward front swing with l. [illustration: fig. a.] fig. a shows an outward front swing with r. and an inward back twist with l. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] figs. , , show some of the movements of clubs as generally practised on the continent, but we consider dumb-bells more suitable for lunging movements. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] figs. , show some wrist exercises, which are sufficiently plain to need no explanation. fig. shows the outward cross front twist with the r. hand near left breast, while the left club is making an outward front swing; the corresponding movement would be an outward cross front with the l. whilst the r. made the outward front swing. miscellaneous circles.--circles which may be done with the arm passed behind the neck, and the hand brought forward over the left shoulder, require extraordinary length of arm and elasticity. circles are sometimes done in which the centre of gravity of the club is caused to remain stationary while the hand moves in a circle, which conveys the impression that the club is revolving about an axle through its centre of gravity. these are difficult movements, and very attractive. throwing the clubs.--these exercises require great dexterity before satisfactory results can be obtained. to let go the club and cause it to turn twice or more in the air and catch it again, is a feat that entails endless practice. dealing only with the right club, a few brief notes regarding some of the simpler movements must suffice. ( ) perform an outward front swing, and as the club approaches the horizontal in its ascent let it go, and after it has made one revolution in the air catch it again; this is the outward throw. ( ) the inward throw is an exact counterpart of the outward throw, but done by an inward swing. ( ) "the double outward throw" and "the double inward throw" are done by allowing the club to turn twice before catching it. there are endless varieties of other throws, all of which allow unlimited action, as the shoulder cannot be kept strictly in position, because the clubs have to be carefully watched while they are in the air. without doubt, indian club exercise is an attractive pastime, and entails no strain on the system, unless by the foolish practice of using too heavy clubs. chapter v swimming, rowing, and water polo $swimming.$--a glance at some books of instruction conveys the impression that swimming is difficult and complicated; but many boys learn in three or four days, and we know a timid boy who had much to overcome in fear of the water who learnt in fourteen without more aid than he obtained from reading directions in books. it is easier to learn in a tepid indoor bath, because the novice is not worried by having to keep himself warm, and he has the rail, a sure bottom, and the side of the bath to help him. a friendly companion who will support his chest with one hand at first, especially if he can instruct him too, will shorten the period of learning. there is no need to go into deep water, nor to run any risks in learning to swim. the action of the arms may be practised in or out of the water. draw the arms to the chest with the elbows touching the sides. close the fingers and thumb of each hand, and make the hands slightly hollow. the hands will be under the chin and the hollowed palms downwards. push them out in front of your nose, not vigorously, but quietly and steadily, for so far the action is one that retards the swimmer rather than advances him. once at their full extent, however, the hands should be turned almost back to back, and then each should be swept away from the other in a semi-circle, something like the action of the oars when a boat is being rowed. when the elbows touch the body the stroke ends, and the hands should go back to their position under the chin ready for another stroke. more important than the arms in swimming are the legs, but their movements are very simple and easy to learn. grasp the rail that runs round the bath with one hand and place the other hand flat upon the side of the bath about a foot below. draw the legs up to the body, with the heels touching each other, toes of each foot turned outwards, the toes of the right foot to the right, the toes of the left foot to the left. keep the knees wide apart and turned outwards. when the legs have been drawn up as far as possible the soles of the feet should be only just under the water. now shoot both legs out vigorously, not only as far as they will go, but as widely asunder as you can spread them. then bring the heels smartly together so that the legs return in a line with the body again. this last movement is very important, for it is in displacing the wedge of water between the widely opened legs that the body receives its forward impulse. writers upon swimming have likened this action to the flight of the slippery orange pip when it is squeezed in the fingers of the school-boy. when the use of arms and legs is practised together the legs are drawn up and the hands are placed under the chin at the same time, and the hands and legs are sent out from the body together. the head should be thrown back well, and it will help the learner to do this if he looks at the sky or at the ceiling of the bath when he is learning. it is easier to swim upon the back than upon the chest. the movement of the legs is the same, and the movement of the hands not very different. lie backwards upon the water and with the hands together stretch the arms behind the head, palms upwards, thumbs touching. then sweep the hands away from each other, using them like oars, and so bringing them back with a wide curve to the hips. upon the back it is possible to swim without the use of the arms at all. learning to swim makes one sadly out of breath, but with practice the art becomes easy, and we swim with almost as much ease as we walk. having learned plain swimming it is not difficult to add gradually the numerous other methods of propelling the body through the water. $rowing.$--to watch and imitate a good rower is the best way to acquire a good style, but a few hints will help. sit squarely upon the seat and stretch your legs straight before you, but with your toes turned out slightly. rowers are not agreed about the knees. some keep them together; others have them apart, and they will tell you that this arrangement permits the body to come further forward over the knees. your feet should be placed firmly against the stretcher, and this must be let out or shortened, to suit the length of the rower. one foot may be placed in the strap which is often attached to the stretcher. the outside hand is placed upon the handle of the oar, with the thumb as well as the fingers above it, while the other hand grasps it firmly lower down, keeping the nut towards you. the arms are now quickly thrust forward till they are quite straight at the elbows, after which the back follows the arms by bending forward at the hips. be careful, however, to avoid round shoulders. when your hands have reached their full stretch raise them, and the blade will drop quietly into the water. then with the water just covering the blade, the body is brought back with a strong but not clumsy movement, till it reaches a little beyond the perpendicular of the back of the seat, when the hands are brought back to the ribs, the elbows gliding near the hips; and at the last moment, as the hand touches the ribs, the wrist of the inside hand is lowered, the knuckles being at the same time brought against the chest, and the oar is made to revolve in the rowlock. this is called "feathering" the oar, a process by which it is brought neatly out of the water. now push the oar rapidly forward again, first, however, restoring it to its original position in the rowlock. this is done by raising the wrist, and then darting the arms forward till the elbows are quite straight. now the rower is at his starting point. to "back water" these actions are reversed. the oar is first reversed in the rowlock, and then it is pushed through the water with as much power as is needed, and pulled through the air. when the oars on one side are pulled, and those on the other are backed, the boat is made to turn round completely in a small space. expert rowers have arrived at the following maxims: straighten the arms before bending the body forward; drop the oar neatly into the water; draw the oar straight through at the same depth; feather the oar cleanly, and without bringing the oar out before doing so; use the back and shoulders freely, keeping the arms as straight as possible; keep your eyes fixed on the rower before you. by this means the body is almost sure to swing backwards and forwards regularly in a straight line. if you look out of the boat you will probably lose this rhythmic motion. $sculling.$--this process is different from that of rowing in that the sculler has a scull for each hand, whereas the rower uses both hands for one oar. the rower sits near the side of the boat, the sculler in the centre of the seat. the sculls are lighter than oars, the action quicker. there are from thirty to forty strokes a minute in sculling, but the average is about thirty-two. the boy who goes out sculling alone is often his own steerer, and so needs to keep a sharp look-out over his shoulder. having taken a seat in the centre, stretch out your legs to their fullest extent and adjust the stretcher. grasp the sculls, one in each hand, by the handles, and bend your body forward until your head is well over your knees. throw your arms well forward, and straight, so that the sculls will be thrown well backwards. then dip the sculls, try to keep the dip uniform, and pull hard. the stroke comes to an end when the elbows are brought to the top of the hips, and the hands to the chest, with the body well back as a result of the strong pull. the sculls are "feathered" as they leave the water by the depressing of the elbows and the bending upwards of the wrists, as the back of the hands are turned towards the forearms, an operation which offers the least resistance to the water when releasing the sculls to obtain the position known as the return, that is, the position to begin again. to turn a boat in the water the sculler must back water with one scull and pull with the other. to do this one scull is reversed, its rounded face being towards the rear as the sculler pushes it from him. at the same time pull sharply with the other scull until the boat's head has been turned round completely. boats without rudders are managed in the water, either by pulling both sides alike, in which case the boat moves in a straight line, or by reversing the action of the oars, equally on both sides, pushing them through the water instead of pulling them, and called backing water. in this case the boat recedes. by pulling one side only, the boat describes a part of a circle, which is made smaller by pulling one oar, and backing the other. by means of a rudder the boat may be made to take almost any direction without reference to the rowers. a few experiments with a rudder will soon demonstrate what its powers are. [illustration: water polo.] $water polo.$--boys who can swim will find this excellent sport. each player should provide himself with a sound cask. place it upon its side and weight it with lead or other material, making this ballast fast so that it cannot move about. now make the cask quite water-tight. upon one end fix a horse's head made of wood, upon the other a tail. these features may be made as extravagant and comic as the owner pleases. get a paddle like a canoe paddle, and astride of this horse take to the water. choose sides as at football and have for goals stakes driven into the bed of the river or floating objects moored into position. the ball should be a light hollow india-rubber one, or a bladder from the butcher. some players use the inner part of a football. the paddle both strikes the ball and propels the steed. this game should never be played unless the players are accompanied by a capable person in a boat who can go to the assistance of those who may be in difficulties. chapter vi paperchasing, football, golf, and boxing $paperchasing.$--this may be practised with more or less success all the year round, but it is in the winter time that it can best be enjoyed. it is then that the air is cool and invigorating, and that the fields, being unoccupied by crops, may be run over without any very great damage being done. for boys it is a grand game; it affords a welcome change from the scrimmages and knocks of football and fives; and if the distance run be not too far, nor the pace too fast, there are few who cannot take part in it with pleasure. an important point in its favour is that the expenses connected with it are small. the paperchaser wears jersey, knickerbockers and stockings as at football, with the addition, in very cold weather, of woollen mittens to keep the wrists warm, and the substitution of light leather or rubber and canvas shoes, for heavy boots. for each of the "hares" there must be provided a bag in which to carry the "scent." these bags should be of stout linen or canvas and shaped like a life-buoy, so that they go round the runner--under the left shoulder and over the right--with a hole in the under-side, by means of which they are filled and emptied. time was when the "scent" consisted of paper torn up very small, the preparation of which afforded almost as much fun as the chase itself; but nowadays we have grown luxurious, and fill the bags with the paper shavings which may be purchased for a very small sum from any bookbinder or printer. much of the success of a paperchase depends on the choosing of the hares. of these there are generally two or three--more often the former--and it is necessary that one of them should have a good knowledge of the surrounding country. the time of their departure having been noted, they start off and lay a trail as they go. sometimes one will lay for a while, and then the other will take a turn; occasionally one will lead and lay his trail, and the other following some little distance in the rear, will look out for gaps and fill them in. it is not necessary to lay a continuous trail, but care should be taken that it is quite easy to see from one patch of scent to the next. when the wind is high, it is always well in crossing from one field to another, to sprinkle some scent on the hedge itself. the laying of an occasional "false" scent adds to the troubles of the hounds, and gives the hares a chance of regaining some of the advantage which they naturally lose in choosing their course. a "false" is usually managed by the hares separating, and each laying a trail in different directions; then one ceases laying, and makes his way straight across country to join his companion, and they go on again together as before. in laying a false trail, much ingenuity may be shown. one way is to make the wrong one much the more distinct of the two; but this must not always be done, or naturally it will soon cease to have any effect. in selecting a course, it is well to choose a circular one, so that in case of accidents, the distance from home is not very far; and it is a very good plan, and one which is likely to be of advantage to all, to start out against the wind and to return with it. the reason for this is that it is easier to face the wind when starting out fresh than when returning home fatigued at the end of a run. the hounds, or pack, must be provided with a captain and a "whipper-in"--the former to set the pace and generally take command, and the latter to look after the stragglers and see that none are left behind. both should be good runners, and if possible should have had some experience of the game. after an interval--the length of which is arranged with the hares before they start, and depends chiefly on the distance it is proposed to travel--the pack set out on their journey. the pace should be a steady jog-trot, especially at the beginning; afterwards, if all goes well, it may be increased. it is a rule that so long as the hares are not in sight, all must follow the trail; but if once they are seen, it becomes a case of "catch who can," the scent is ignored, and all go off straightway in pursuit. if the hares are not seen and there appears to be no likelihood of their being caught, it is usual for the captain on getting within a mile or so of home, to give the word for a race and for the hounds to set off then to compete among themselves for the honour of being the first to reach the goal. carried out on these lines, paperchasing provides plenty of fun, and is as healthy a pastime as can be found. now and again there will be a ducking caused by a failure to clear a brook, or a stumble at a fence; but if the victims of these mishaps keep moving, and immediately they reach home, change their clothes, little harm will be done. two warnings may be given: do not go too far; and when feeling tired, do not strain yourself by trying to race. a six or seven miles spin is quite long enough for any one; and it is better to go all through at a jog-trot, and even to walk occasionally, than to sow the seeds of future ills by striving to outdo fleeter rivals. $hints on football.$--football is one of the games which cannot be learned from books. its best lessons are those taught by hard experience, and as much may be learned in an afternoon's play and in watching a match between two good teams, as by a diligent study of all the books on the game that have ever been written; but at the same time there are a number of unwritten rules which, although they often take years to learn, are of service to every player; and i have therefore deemed it wise to collect them and put them down here in black and white in the hope that they may be of use to many who, with some experience of the game, and eager to improve their play, have no opportunity for seeing big matches, and no one whom they can ask for advice. these rules are fourteen in number, and should be learned by heart by every player. they apply specially to the rugby game, but some of them are of use also to those who favour the association pastime:-- . never play immediately after a meal. it is best to have dinner two hours before the game begins. . in passing a ball to a comrade send it smartly and quickly straight into his hands. . never pass the ball when you are near your own goal line, and never pass straight back except when opposite your opponents' goal, and the player to whom you pass is well placed for dropping a goal. . never be too eager to pick up the ball and run with it. a neat dribble with the feet is often most effective, and it is generally very difficult to stop. . in collaring an opponent always keep your eyes open, and always go hard and low. . never "speculate" or take flying kicks at the ball. . when fairly held by an opponent, do not waste your strength by useless struggling, but at once cry "held," and put down the ball. . when you have the ball in your possession, and find it impossible to pass it to advantage or to proceed, always punt into touch. . in handing off an opponent, turn your thumb inside your hand and turn the palm outwards with the fingers held together. . when one of your own side is running with the ball, always follow up close behind, but a little on one side of him. when passed by an opponent who has it, try to get round again to meet him before he reaches your goal line. . in your spare time practise punting, drop-kicking, and place-kicking, with both feet. an otherwise good player is often left out of a team in order to make room for one who is not quite so good, but is able to kick. . study the laws of the game whenever you have an opportunity. . always keep your temper and do not talk. obey your captain at once, and unhesitatingly accept the decision of the referee. . change your clothes as soon as possible after playing, and in going home be careful to wrap up well. in conclusion, i would point out that if properly played rugby football is not dangerous. the great majority of accidents which occur are due to the neglect of one of the simple rules here laid down--through useless struggling, loose collaring, wild kicking, or blind rushing. the rules for the association and the rugby game may be obtained for one penny each, so we have refrained from reproducing them here. [illustration: driving] $golf.$--this is another of those games well learned on the field, by observation of the best players, and by hints from friends. we have, however, compiled a series of injunctions based upon long experience. driving.--lower your left shoulder. stand still and do not see-saw with your body. plant your feet squarely. grasp your club lightly yet firmly in the hollow of your fingers. slowly swing well back and complete your stroke well through, pushing to the very end with your right hand. it is a disadvantage to try to get under the ball. [illustration] the brassy.--in using this club swing as far back as you can, slowly. the mashie and iron.--swing back very slowly and have the forefinger of your right hand well down the club, which should be held lightly. go well through with the stroke and rise slightly off your left heel. putting.--grasp the club firmly, swing back very slowly, and go well through with the stroke. [illustration: out of the furze] [illustration: out of a bunker] [illustration: putting] general advice.--in all kinds of strokes swing back slowly with your left shoulder down and the forefinger of your right hand well down the club. ever have your eye upon the ball, and finish every stroke to the very end. in all your strokes let your arms go well out from your body. your hands should be close together on your club and the right hand well round to the left but not under the club. press the ground with your feet and stand well back upon your heels. $hints on boxing.$--it is true that boxing has become associated with all manner of ruffianism, but it is true also that it is one of the most effective forms of physical exercise, and that low life and brutality need no more enter into this pastime than into cricket. all the muscles are exercised, and dexterity, nimbleness, prompt decision, quickness of sight and many other admirable qualities are promoted. the right arm is held across the body so as to protect the pit of the stomach. the elbow of the left arm is held to the side. this position enables the boxer to hit from the shoulder, an important matter in boxing. the right leg bears most of the weight of the body, an arrangement which permits rapid movement backwards and forwards as occasion demands with a minimum of exposure. the left side should be towards your antagonist, the left hand has the principal part of hitting allotted to it, the right stops, parries, and at close quarters hits too. study all these things carefully before a mirror, noting what parts are exposed and the manner in which the exposure may be remedied. throw your head well back, and watch your opponent's eyes, for there you get the earliest indication of his intentions, and therefore you are able to make your arrangements for circumventing his plans. when you strike let it be from the shoulder and with all the weight of your body pressing the right foot upon the ground and making a kind of spring. do not draw back your hand to make a stroke, because that gives your adversary warning. come upon him unawares and then recover your position immediately. generally the time to strike is when your left toe is level with his heel, but if his reach is longer or shorter than yours this rule may need modification. remember that a curved blow is longer on its way than a straight one. if your adversary strikes at your face or the upper part of the chest, do not retreat from the blow, but fling your right arm sharply outwards and upwards, catching your opponent's arm by the wrist, and throwing it out of the direction in which it was aimed. this generally lays open your opponent's head, and gives opportunity for a smart return blow with the left hand; it is then near his head, and has only a short distance to go. this return blow is called the "counter," and is very effective, as it arrives when your opponent is expecting to give rather than receive a blow. this plan of campaign may be practised before a mirror. "stopping" comes in where this parry is impracticable. if your adversary strikes at your body you must either get away, stop, or suffer the blow in hopes of being able to hit him in return. in stopping you receive the blow on your arm, and break its force. chapter vii on the ice $figure skating.$--as soon as the skater has gained confidence and can skate in the ordinary way, he should begin to master the art of skating upon the outside edge. put upon the ice a small stone, piece of wood, or any other object to serve for a centre. from this stand three yards with your right side towards it. leaning a little in the direction of this centre and pressing your weight upon the outer edge of the blade of the skate, push yourself round and round the centre with your left foot. then practise going round on the outside edge of your left skate in a similar way. difficult as these movements will be at first, they become easy like other hard tasks by practice, and they open the way to graceful figure skating. when the two circles have been mastered it is quite easy to cut a figure $ $ upon the ice. begin on the outside edge of the right skate as though you meant to go in a circle, but allow your left foot to hang behind your right foot. there it will act as a kind of weight, your body will tend to swing round and you will cut the second part of the $ $ travelling backwards, and upon the inner edge of the skate. the impetus gained in cutting the first part of the figure will carry you to the end. going in the other direction cut another $[| ]$ with your left foot, and when you can do these you are on the high road to complete success as a skater. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $sailing on skates.$--boys who are so fortunate as to live where there is a large sheet of ice will find much fun in sailing. if you have the money the draper will supply you with calico, or sheeting, or other similar material, two yards wide, and a journey to the joiner will be necessary, as we shall see. a b in figure is the yard made of wood, one and a half inches thick in the middle, tapering to each end to five-eighths of an inch. at c and d holes are bored for the lashings of the sail. e f is the sprit, and we get its length by measuring the boy who is going to use the sail from his neck to his ankles. this gives the length of the sprit, and the yard should be made twice as long. we have given the longest that the sprit should be. it may be shorter, and then, of course, the yard would be shortened in proportion. the sprit is tapered towards f and a hole is bored at g for lashings. the sprit is connected with the yard by what sailors call a crotch. we have given a representation of it in fig. . the cord is used to lash the sprit to the yard. c d g in fig. shows the sail. it is cut to allow a broad hem, and may be sewn rapidly with a sewing machine. a strong loop of tape or cord should be sewed at each corner of the sail c d g, and at the head of the sail, that is from c to d, eyelets should be made six inches apart. at each of these the sail is tied to the yard and also at g. a reference to figures , and will show how the sail is used, but practice will be needed and much studying of the effect of wind upon the sail before the art of sailing on skates has been mastered. a wooden rod may be attached to f, fig. . this will aid in the management of the sail, as is shown in figures and . $curling.$--like most other pastimes, curling is best learned when you are young. your good golfer, who "swipes" clean and clever from the tee, picked up that draw and swing which the able golfer so much prides himself upon, in youth. it is quite true that laddies in scotland first learn to skate; yet many of the best hands at "the roaring game" have learned to throw a "stane" ere fifteen. you cannot learn young enough at anything, a true sportsman will tell you. that little, bare-legged herd laddie, who sits on the banks of the ettrick or yarrow, will laugh at the middle-aged tyro who vainly tries to fling a fly where there is no fish lying. the young yachtsman gets his tiller hand in his first matches in an open boat; the trigger finger of the crack shot is made over his early successes at rooks or rabbits; and the good seat in the saddle on the back of the shetland pony; but our boys are ready for their _bonspeil_, which means _a good spell_ or game. before giving a description of an actual game, the writer will endeavour to give some idea of what curling is like. in germany it has been successfully introduced by sir edward malet, the english ambassador, and there is every reason to believe that in a few years it will take as strong a hold of the english people, as already golf has done. pennant, in his tour of the north ( ), writes of it as follows:--"of all the sports of these parts, that of curling is the favourite, and one unknown in england. it is an amusement of the winter, and played on the ice, by sliding from one mark to another great stones of from forty to seventy pounds weight, of a hemispherical form, with an iron or wooden handle at the top. the object of the player is to lay his stone as near the mark as possible, to guard that of his partner, which had been well laid before, or to strike his antagonist's." [illustration: the roaring game] "the game is played on a carefully-chosen piece of ice called the rink, which should be forty-two yards long, unless special circumstances, such as thaw, and consequently dull ice, require it to be shortened. this piece of ice should be as level, smooth, and free from cracks as possible. there is usually a trifling bias, which however to the skilled curler rather adds interest to the game, as it calls forth additional science in the play." [illustration: bringing down the stones] "when the rink is chosen, a little mark is made at each end. this is called the 'tee,' and near that point stands, in his turn, each player, whose object is to hurl or slide his stones to the opposite end by a swinging motion of the arm. each opponent also endeavours to place his stones nearer the tee than those of his opponents." so far for pennant's description of curling in the olden time. the old style, thanks to the edinburgh men, who play on duddingston loch, has long gone out. seventy pound stones would no longer be tolerated by any body of sportsmen affiliated under the royal caledonian curling club. in the olden times it seems, in some parts of scotland, notably in the south-west, to have been a game of strength rather than of skill, and the man who threw his huge block the farthest, and struck his opponent's stone from the tee, or "cock," was considered to be the superior player. the stones are not now much more than half this weight, and so highly are the soles polished that they slip along keen ice so much faster with slight exertion on the part of the player, that they pass the tee or mark altogether, and go clean off the rink. the rinks or sides have been chosen--four players, one of whom acts as skip or director. he is generally the ablest and most experienced curler, and equal to the responsible duty of guarding the winning shot, if in his favour, or securing it if against him, with his last stone. the rink, which is also the name of the diagram of the game, is drawn off according to the rules of the royal caledonian curling club, and carefully swept clear of all snow or hoar frost. the skip takes up his station at the tee, which is the innermost of a set of circles, known as the "hoose," no stone outside of the outer one counting in the actual score. sweeping scores are drawn for the guidance of the players; one down the centre, which practically is a sort of hockey arrangement, as you must stick to your own side of the rink. [illustration: preparing for the game] sweeping commences half-down, that is, at the centre of the forty-two yards between tee and tee, and can be carried on by the players' side up to the tee, when, if it still has a little impetus, the opposing skip will sweep it out of the house altogether. when this happens after a stone has been brought on when apparently lagging, it is generally greeted with what in parliamentary phrase would be called "opposition cheers and laughter." in this a skip may show very superior judgment, and order his men to desist from sweeping. at his words "up hands," brooms must be raised immediately. in front of the house or counting circle is the hog score. if stones are not thrown with sufficient force to be taken over this with the assistance of the sweepers they are shoved off the ice as dead. this is sometimes galling to a young player who, when it happens, as it does repeatedly happen on soft ice, is practically put out of the game. but the "crampits" have been adjusted. these are foot-boards, grated so that they hold firmly to the ice. on these both feet must be placed when the stone is delivered. the skip gives his directions to his first player to place him a stone on the near edge of the outer ring. why not exactly at the tee? because if there it would form a rest for the stone of his opponent and be forced out. our young player, who is wielding a beautifully polished pair of ailsa craigs, with a sweep or two of the ice does exactly what is wanted. his opponent is asked to play to the face of this stone. this he does, hurling it out and laying his own almost in its place. the next stone of the leading player fails to catch it, and goes away to the rear, dead. the fourth stone played effectually covers or guards the winner. the next pair of players give up their brooms to the leaders, and take up their position at the crampits. a gentle draw past guard and winning stone is counselled; and this is well executed, the brooms taking the stone to the very edge of the tee or centre circle. the next player fails to remove this, and being slow guards his opponent's stone. [illustration: soop her up] this is a piece of good fortune for the other side, who now have a second shot drawn by a very skilful player. the third pair of players cannot well get home and try to wick, and _curl in_ (from the latter expression we have _curling_). this is done by putting with a turn of the wrist a certain bias or screw, by means of the handle when the stone is being delivered. the position of the game is not changed when the skips lay aside their brooms. there is a little more than half of the winning shot visible through a port or channel. through this the skip, against whom the shot counts, threads his stone gently and easily and rubs the winner out. his opponent has no chance now, unless he rattles out the nearest guards. this he tries to do, but his opponent guards again, this time just across the hog score. a gentle draw, with an inner twist, might succeed. it is bravely attempted, but it is short a foot, and the leading skip claims one shot--victory for a well contested end. and so the game will last for twenty more heads, the winning rink being that which has the majority of shots. it is a happy, healthy game, not so well-known in england as it ought to be. in germany some enthusiasts have introduced it, and from the military-like character in which it is carried out, guarding and storming and knocking out occupants of the fortress, it is likely there to come greatly into favour. it is to be hoped that we may oft see the pond where, in the language of an old scottish curling poet-- "drawn are the rinks where lines and curves combine, the tee, the house, hog score and central line; the cramps are laid, the champions ready stand, with eye intent and trusty broom in hand." those who decide to include this game in their activities should put themselves into touch with the royal caledonian curling club through its honorary secretary, a. davidson smith, esq., at the headquarters of the club, york place, edinburgh. they will then be able to obtain the rules for the proper playing of this delightful game. chapter viii angling $hints by an old hand.$--when fishing in ponds, lakes, meres, canals, or in waters where there is no stream, the depth should be carefully taken the night before, or when ground-baiting, and marked on the rod, or by measuring the distance from the plummet to the cap of the float with a piece of cotton or string. if the angler prefers the bait to be within touch of the bottom, the better plan is to use a self-cocking float, and always use the finest possible tackle in clear water; but if an ordinary float be employed, and the novice wishes the bait to lie six or eight inches on the bottom (a good plan), the lowest shot should be from in. to in. from the hook. this will neither interfere with the proper cocking of the float nor with the angler striking, for, from the moment the fish seizes the bait to the indication of a bite, the resistance of (at most) two or three small shots is infinitesimal. if the bottom be at all muddy, then the plummet should be as light as possible, or into the ooze it will sink, and when this is known to be the case, the depth may be obtained by the aid of a small pellet of bread and bran. should it drop off the hook before the depth is obtained, the pellet should be made a little stiffer. a piece of "tea lead" from a tea-chest, or lead wire, similar to that used on the gut in lea fishing (some use nothing else), may be carefully tied round the bottom of the float, to make it cock without using any shots on the tackle, and painted the same colour as the float, or, failing this, the usual self-cocking float sold at the tackle-shops may be used. gentles should be kept in plenty of damp sand for a few days in an earthenware pan, biscuit-tin, or tin pail, in a cellar, or any dark, cool place, when they will be ready for use. the sides of the pan or tin should not be allowed to get wet, or many of the gentles will make their escape. they should be kept in what is termed golden sand. this sand, which should be damp, is almost as fine to the touch as barley-meal, of a deep rich golden colour, and they will live in it for days without turning into the chrysalis state, which they do in a comparatively short time if exposed to the sun--a practice to which many anglers are addicted, and then wonder the gentles change colour. it is a great mistake to use silver sand, as it over-scours and makes them attenuated and hard. i have repeatedly seen them in this state. so much for sand. the finest gentles i ever saw were obtained from the best rump steak and a sheep's head, and kept in coarse bran; but for taking out the black steck or "saddle-back" near the head, and scouring them until perfectly white, give me the sand mentioned above and plenty of it. the weight floats required may be arranged and tested before they are wound on the winder for final use. this saves the beginner considerable time and trouble at the water-side. if he has a four-line winder, with lines already weighted or shotted for roach, perch, bream, tench, so much the better. a piece of cork about the size and shape of a tonquin bean attached to the line may sometimes be used with success for fishing-swims, within easy distance from the side, in smooth clear water, near patches of weeds, flags, or candocks, the angler taking great care to keep out of sight, and to be as still as possible. when the bean-like piece of cork goes under or runs, strike gently. never use long-shanked hooks (the well-known crystal roach hooks, for instance) for such baits as gentles, cockspur, or small worms, small pellets of paste, wheat and malt. a considerable portion of the shank is certain to become bare in a short time, and so prevent the fish from biting. i have repeatedly seen nearly the whole shank of a crystal hook bare, and the small worm, gentles, and more especially a grain of creed wheat, dangling from the bend as a kidney might from a butcher's hook; and i have an idea that no fish properly constituted would be stupid enough to be caught under such absurd conditions. i may just mention in passing, that when fishing with gentles, the last one put on the hook should have the point to come through the skin of the thick or tail end, and the twirling thin or head end to hang clear of the hook. one gentle on a no. or hook will often do the trick, when they won't look at a bunch of gentles. use as small hooks as possible. they will hook a fish, or for the matter of that, get fast into almost anything, much quicker than large hooks: they penetrate sooner, hold very fast, and pierce the lips of such fish as trout, perch, chub, barbel, carp, when a large hook would not. for instance, the other day i hooked a lb. barbel in the centre of the upper lip with a no. sneck-bend, and it was quite a job to extract it. i once saw four splendid chub, all caught with similar hooks; and on several occasions i have caught good perch with roach hooks. if the novice will only remember not to allow slack line when playing a good fish on a small hook, provided the tackle is good and strong, a fish should seldom escape. beginners often use hooks three times too big for the fish they are after, and it goes without saying, that the smaller the hook the finer the gut should be; for a small hook on thick, coarse gut is not to be thought of. on the other hand, never use a too small hook for too large a pellet of paste, with the hook embedded in the centre, instead of the point just protruding. i have seen an angler fishing under these conditions for chub with cheese paste miss five fish out of six, the damson-like pellet being pulled clean out of the mouth of the chub, without the slightest chance of hooking the fish. we will now supplement what our "old hand" has told us by other hints. $bait and other matters.$--we shall not occupy space discussing rods, and such things. each boy settles these questions for himself, in accordance with the money he can spare, after a talk with the dealer and a contemplation of his wares. such accessories as landing nets he leaves generally until he is grown up, and manages very well without them. he may, however, provide himself with a clearing ring and line, because he is likely to feel the need for these often. this useful clearing tackle consists of a number of yards of strong cord, to the end of which is fastened a heavy ring of lead or brass. if the hook should get fast in a weed or anything else, this ring is put over the butt of the rod, and allowed to slip down the line to the hook. the rod should be held in the right hand, the top pointing downwards, the clearing-line in the left; the ring falling on the hook from its weight usually clears the hook. if not, the angler should grasp the rod firmly, and draw the line sideways, and break away. in this case, he seldom loses more than a hook; but without the use of a clearing-line he frequently loses his float as well as his hook and line, and sometimes breaks his rod. the brass clearing-rings are best, because they are jointed, and can be used when the angler has a reel on his rod. an old angler advises that after the young fisherman has made choice of a place to fish, he should first plumb the depth truly, and with as little disturbance to the water as may be. if the water be still throw in small pieces of ground bait; if there is a strong current large pieces. keep as far from the water as you can, and go slily to work, for even the shaking of the bank will frighten some of these fish. the bait should be dropped into the water quietly. stand as far from the edge of the water as possible, and never let your shadow fall upon the water. when it is possible hide behind a bush or a tree. in baiting a hook insert the point of the hook near to the top of the worm's head, and carry it down to within a quarter of an inch of its tail. to do this you must work up the worm with your left thumb and finger, while with your right you are gradually pressing the hook downwards. if too much of the worm hangs loose the fish will seldom take the whole in their mouth, and will not be hooked. to bait a hook well with a worm is necessary to ensure catching a fish when you strike; and it consists in drawing the worm without injuring it quite over and up the shank of the hook, leaving only a small lively part of the tail below. if you bait with half a worm, choose the tail end, and insert the point of the hook into the top part, and bring it down nearly to the end of the tail, leaving only a very small piece of it free. if you bait with two worms on the same hook, draw the first up above the shank, and put the second on in the same manner as directed with one worm, but insert the hook near the tail of the second worm; then draw the first one down on the second over the shank of the hook. red worm.--found with the brandling but not so common. at their best in tan heaps, but are found also in the banks of ditches and sewers. marsh worms.--known also as blue heads. found in marshes at night, especially after rain. a good bait for gudgeon, trout, perch, bream, and grayling. tag tail.--tail has a yellow tint. found in fields in moist spring weather. often preferred when the water is muddy, especially for trout. water worms.--found in sedges and at the bottom of dock roots. turn up the long slimy moss on weirs for them. they are of a clear bluish white, occasionally very light purple, becoming red at the head. fish eat them voraciously. ash grub.--look for these in the bark of trees. they are good for grayling, dace, roach, or chub. cow dung bait.--from may to the end of september these may be found under cow dung. they are eaten by roach, chub, grayling, and dace. gentles.--the usual term, used in angling, for maggots. putrid meat, especially liver, will produce them. they may be obtained from butchers or fell-mongers. good for most fish. lob worm.--sometimes called the dew worm, or the wachel. it is the ordinary large garden worm. dig for them if they are needed at once. if wet straw is strewed upon the ground for a couple of days they will come to the surface. in the evenings they come out, and a quiet search with a lantern in gardens, or church-yards, or on lawns will discover them. they are useful for trout, eels, large perch, barbel, chub, and salmon. brandling.--search for these in chaff pits, old heaps of compost, rotten tan, sweepings, manure of all kinds and tanners' bark. good for trout, grayling, carp, bream, and indeed for almost every fish. miscellaneous baits.--cockchafer, black or evening beetle, grasshoppers, moths, may-flies, caddis worms, bees, caterpillars, wasp-grubs, baked for half an hour, paste made of bread or cheese. ground bait.--in addition to the bait upon the hook the angler usually strews what is known as ground bait, and so attracts the fish to where he is angling. it is chiefly by the judicious use of ground baits, and by fishing at a proper depth, that one angler is more successful than another, although fishing with the same baits and within a few yards of each other. if a place can be ground baited frequently fish begin to come there regularly for food. care must be taken not to glut the fish, and the bait upon the hook ought to be more attractive than the bait flung into the stream. the ground bait most in use includes bran mixed with clay, and made into balls of about the size of a pigeon's egg. if the current is strong a stone in the ball may be needed. another ground bait is made by cutting the crust from a loaf. then cut the loaf into slices each about two inches thick. put these slices into a deep vessel of water, and when the bread has been well soaked squeeze it until it is nearly dry. add bran and knead the whole until the mixture is as stiff as clay. this is well adapted for still waters. another ground bait is made of barley-meal one part, mashed potatoes three parts, stiff clay two parts, worked thoroughly well together, but better even than this is one composed of stiff clay with as much bran as it will hold without destroying its stickiness. at the water side separate pieces about the size of the egg of a goose, into which stick a few worms and gentles. as these drop from the dissolving clay they are seized on by the fish, who continue to wait in the expectation of more, and are thus ready to take the angler's bait, especially if it is more tempting than the ground bait. boiled malt, barley, wheat, and such things, mixed with coarse sand to sink them also answer the purpose. $trout-fishing.$--in the easter holidays boys are apt to find it difficult to decide just what to do. football is nearly over, cricket is hardly in. it is still somewhat early for bird-nesting, except for rooks, and perhaps blackbirds and thrushes. just at this juncture the obliging trout come into season, and best of all, are ravenously hungry. now is the time for the beginner to try his hand with the deceitful fly. do not be discouraged, even if you have made a dismal failure of it last august. in the summer holidays it requires a practised hand to take trout with fly; but in april on a moorland stream a boy may go out and actually have some success on his first attempt. it will be wiser, certainly, to practise a little first, in your own garden, with all the tackle except the fly. by "tackle" i don't mean necessarily a glittering rod, fresh from the shop, with a brilliant winch and gaudy fittings. it is well to get all these things if you can afford them, though they should be toned down before using; but want of money need not prevent a boy from trying his hand at trout-fishing. a long willow wand, or even a hazel stick will throw a fly if properly managed; and running tackle is not an absolute necessity, though in every respect advantageous. the only things that must be bought are the hooks, and these are very cheap, as most boys know. for this time of year your flies should be march browns and blue uprights, and need not be tied on very fine gut. the outfit that is required then need cost but a few shillings, but if you can spare more get a small fishing-basket, and a fly-book, with a stock of flies. thus equipped and with good boots you may fish for weeks without needing to visit a shop. in order to learn how to throw a fly you should persuade a friend to show you the way he does it. this need not be at the river, nor need you tax your friend's time to any great extent. after you have once learnt the knack practice only is required to enable you to throw a fly fairly, though it may be years before you can do so well. this preliminary trial (during which you will have wound the line round your neck a few times) being over, you can go with some confidence to the stream. arrived at the bank, don't peer over to see whether there are any trout, because if you do there won't be any--at least, not after you have shown yourself. if convenient, make for a point some distance down-stream, and work upwards. by this plan you will have a chance of circumventing the trout, even if the water be clear, and not rough. in rough or coloured water these tactics are not necessary, and, in fact, it is as well, because much easier, to fish down-stream under such circumstances. let us take first the case of clear water, not very rough. keep back from the edge and stoop a little, taking advantage of any cover, even the stump of a thistle. watch for a rise, and, if possible, throw your fly lightly a little above it, and let it float down over the fish. should the fish be extra silly he may take your fly, and then you must strike, as in bait-fishing, but with less force. if you are fishing a northern stream, or a devon or cornwall brook, you will find it worth while to go on casting even if you see no rises; but on hampshire, or other slow running rivers, the usual plan is to wait for a rise. but this style of fishing, though practised with some success by the lucky fellows who are in winchester school, is not altogether suited for the restless nature of a boy. to return to the fish which has taken your fly. being a little one (for nothing large would be so silly), he will give you little trouble to land. take care, though, to guide him down-stream; which, being below him, you can easily do. lift him out as quietly as you can, and lose no time in getting your flies on the water once more. i say flies, because you will find it best to use two in ordinary fly-fishing. the upper fly, or "bob," as it is called, should be two feet or more from the tail, and should only have about three inches of gut attached to it, so that it may stick out nearly at right angles with the line. it should be fastened to a knot in the gut, so that it may not slip up and down. there are several ways of fastening it on, but they cannot be fully explained without diagrams, and a boy of any ingenuity can easily find out for himself. the plan most commonly adopted, that of looping it on, though it is not so neat as a knot, has the advantage of permitting the fly to be changed easily--a great point when the trout are fickle. [illustration] having landed your first trout, do not try again in the same place, but work gradually upwards, trying every likely pool and eddy; but not casting more than two or three times in one place. if you succeed in getting two or three little trout on your first attempt in clear water you may think yourself lucky. in april 'tis likely enough you may find the water coloured and high. if it is in flood, or approaching to it, of course the worm or minnow should be used; but of these anon. we will suppose the stream to be but little above its usual level, and of that rich brownish colour so dear to the heart of the angler. doubtless a worm or a minnow might still succeed; but a fly will give abundant sport, and that without requiring a high degree of skill. your mode of procedure need not now be so cautious as before described; and, in fact, you will find down-stream fishing often best in a coloured water. throw, then, a long line right across the stream, near the edge of which you can safely show yourself, and work your flies across and towards you, striking smartly at any rise. you will often miss, for in down-stream fishing a strike tends to pull the fly out of the fish's mouth, besides which the trout, on touching the surface, having his head towards you, is apt to get a sight of your rod, and to rise "short." if the weather and water are both favourable for down-stream fishing, you will have lots of rises, and some of the fish at least will fasten, so that you have a chance of getting a dozen or so on a good day, even before you have acquired any great skill. the best fly for thick water i have found to be the soldier palmer, a red fly with gold twist, but it will not always succeed. a march brown, or a blue upright, or blue palmer with silver twist, may also be useful. remember that the thicker the water the larger and more gaudy the fly may be. we have to consider the chance of the water being too thick for fly. then either minnow or worm will answer, the former in moderately thick water, and the latter in an absolute flood, unless the water is like pea soup. the minnow is used on a short line, with a longish rod. it requires considerable skill, and cannot be practised with safety in strange water by the beginner, or the minnow will constantly be getting lost by fouling snags. as minnows are expensive, this is a bad sort of sport for a boy with limited pocket-money. it is a favourite, however, with the professional angler in the north, and _he_ doesn't lose his minnows. it is a treat to see one of these gentry spin a rough run with his minnow, and take two or three good trout where an amateur would do nothing but lose tackle. the best way to learn to spin a minnow is to watch an old hand do it; but if the stream you fish is free from snags you might find it worth while to try to learn without such teaching. if so, be careful to keep the tip of the rod near the water, and, using a short line, to spin your minnow near the surface. if you get a run don't snatch your minnow away, but keep it steadily on. very likely the trout may bite short, but there is always a good chance that one of the revolving hooks may catch his jaw. if you do hook a fish get him out quickly, for your tackle being stout (as it must be for minnow-fishing) will bear the strain of anything short of a snatch. to turn to worm-fishing. it is, of course, comparatively easy to get a few fish with a worm, but it takes a practised hand to take a basketful, even from thick water. a couple of shot will generally be enough, and they should be about a foot from the hook, which should be large, unless you use the stewart tackle, which consists of two or three small hooks. a small marsh worm is considered best, but a brandling or a red worm will answer; or in a flood the tail half of a lob worm. the worm should be kept rolling along the bottom of fairly swift water, where the soil is gravelly; and a little time should be given when you feel a bite. in this way not only are large trout often taken in a flood, but sea trout, grilse, and sometimes salmon. a delicate hand is the chief requisite; but much judgment is also required in deciding which pools to fish, and when to shift your ground, according to the rising or falling of the water. there is a sort of worm-fishing which is very different from the kind just described. the tackle used is much finer, and the method altogether different. for as it is practised in the clearest water and in the hottest weather, it is necessary to take great care not to be seen, and to avoid the slightest possible disturbance of the water. a very small red worm is used on one or two tiny hooks, and the boy who can take good trout in this way is as much a skilled angler as any fly-fisher can claim to be. $fishing for roach.$--most boys know what a roach is like, so it will be enough by way of description to say that it is a fish of the carp tribe, of a silvery colour, and covered with scales. its fins are of a pale, pinkish grey, and its mouth is small and soft, suited best for vegetable food. the roach grows sometimes to two pounds in weight, but in most rivers one pound is considered large, whilst in ponds the fish seems to deteriorate, and swarms of little roach are generally to be seen, but very few fish of over a quarter of a pound. in rivers roach should not be killed unless they are seven or eight inches long; but in ponds, where they are very numerous, it is best to keep all that are caught. more food is thus left for the remainder. the roach spawns in may, and is, therefore, out of condition from the end of april till june or july. it is fattest and most healthy in autumn and winter, and when caught from a clear river will be found fairly good eating. pond roach taste muddy; but before we bring our fish to table we must learn how to catch it. the rod should be long, light, and stiff. white cane is best, but is very dear; and the rods now to be had at many tackle-makers for three or four shillings will answer nearly as well. they are of japanese make, and have no metal on them, which makes them light and cheap, though less durable than the expensive english rods. for the line, if roach only are expected, nothing is better than good single horse-hair. if there are large carp about, fine gut will be better; but carp do not feed after october. in any case, it will be found convenient to have a few inches of fine plaited silk for that part of the line which is next the rod. the float should be as small as can conveniently be used, and if the fish are very shy, a little rough bit of stick is sometimes preferable. a porcupine quill is generally best, and just enough shot to sink it within a quarter of an inch, or less, of the surface should be put on the line. one of the shot should be placed within six inches of the hook, and the rest about a foot higher. the hook should be of fine wire and about no. . it is important to see that the hair or gut on which this is tied is perfectly round and clear. with regard to baits, the very best are wasp-grubs; but these are often unobtainable, and gentles (the maggots of the friendly bluebottle) answer fairly well. a cleaner and pleasanter bait to use is paste, made from bread one day old. this should be dipped in water, and then quickly squeezed dry with clean hands, or in a cloth. in some rivers--the ouse for instance--boiled wheat is a very good bait. in order to find the depth, use a little roll of lead, called a plummet. this should be attached to the line, close to the hook, by being partly unrolled, to admit the hook, and then fastened again; and the depth should be plumbed as soon as the tackle is ready, and before bait is prepared. the operation necessarily disturbs the fish, and time must elapse before they will feed. it is desirable to keep well away from the water while putting your rod together, and, if possible, even while fishing. many roach fishers carry a light square box, or basket, which serves for a seat. these anglers will sit still for hours, patiently waiting for the roach to come on; they are often very successful. when a roach is hooked, the angler retains his seat, and in order to bring the fish to the net, will remove the butt and second joint of the rod. this is also done when rebaiting. it is the great length of the rod and the shortness of the line that makes this necessary. but to return to the method of fishing: the depth being ascertained, the float should be so placed that the bait will just touch the bottom at the shallowest part of the swim, and only a foot of line should be used between the float and the top of the rod. calm weather is best for roach-fishing, as it is easier to see the bites; but if there is a gentle wind from south or west, sport is often good. in summer, evening is much the best, but at this time of year roach will often feed all day. let us suppose that you start fishing on a calm afternoon in february or march, and on reaching the river, which is free for fishing, wonder where to begin. it is lined with rushes, but here and there are gaps, and on the banks at some of these points you notice scraps of ground-bait on the ground, and you also see that the grass is trampled and worn. this shows that anglers have found the spot a good one. seat yourself, or stand quietly near one of these points, and put your rod together. then attach your line and plummet as described, and when all the rest is ready put in a little ground-bait, some yards above your swim. chewed bread will do if you have no bran to mix with it. if your tackle is in order, and the roach are there, you will have a nibble before many minutes; but at this stage of your education it is useless to strike at nibbles. keep on the alert, and you will find that if you can manage to strike as the float is sinking, when a bite occurs, you will hook your fish; not otherwise. a gentle jerk is enough, as your little hook is sharp, and the roach's mouth soft. violence risks breaking the line, and in any case disturbs the fish unduly. if the roach is of good size, remember that your tackle is weak, and play your fish carefully; and don't attempt to get it out, whether with net or otherwise, till quite exhausted. even if you have only a small fish it is well to land him gently, or you will scare others. when placing the line do not flop it in, but let it sink bait first, and be prepared for a bite the moment the float cocks, for the first few seconds are the best. there is also a good chance at the end of the swim. if there is a stream the top of your rod must follow the course of the float. the rule, as to only a foot of line above the float, may be relaxed if the swim is long, for to walk along is most undesirable; it scares the fish by shaking the banks. you should stand still, or better sit still while roach-fishing. even this rule has many exceptions. if, for instance, the stream is very rapid, the saving in time effected by following your float may more than compensate for the disturbance caused by your footsteps. in swift or flooded streams fish are less easily scared than when the water is quiet. under these circumstances a worm is often better bait than paste, or even than gentles. again, in clear water which is swift and not deep it may be desirable to let out line by using running tackle. in this way you may reach fish which are too shy to let you get within casting distance of them. the nottingham anglers are particularly expert at this sort of fishing, and use rods and reels which are specially adapted for it. they are very successful on their own river, the trent, and have introduced their style on the thames, and even the lea, and have sometimes taken fish when ordinary fishing was useless. they are very skilful in casting from the reel without unwinding any line first; but many different circumstances must be studied before the sort of fishing most effective can be chosen. rules are very necessary; but the young angler will soon find that the most important thing is to find out when the exceptions, which are so numerous and important, come in. this can best be learnt by careful study of the habits of the fish, carried on patiently, day after day, at the water-side. $the fishing season.$--on june th the "close" time comes to an end, and boys may fish in free water for any kind of fish, from bleak to barbel. if we have had a very genial spring, many fish will have finished spawning and be getting into condition, so that there will be no harm in taking advantage of legal permission, and beginning to fish as soon as opportunity occurs. it will be found that many fish, especially chub and dace, can be caught much better at this season by flies, either natural or artificial, than by the usual float and shot system. a common house fly, used either on the top of the water or sunk by a single shot, will be found very effective, both for these fish and for roach, rudd, and bleak. chub will take any large insect readily, if it is presented to them in an artistic manner--that is, in such a way that they can see little of either tackle or angler. on some parts of the lea the wooded banks and deep holes afford capital chances for dapping for chub--a kind of fishing in which a boy with some patience and ingenuity should be very successful. no cumbrous tackle is required, only a long, light, and stiff rod, and two or three yards of medium gut, ending in a foot or two of finer stuff, with a largish hook, about no. or . running tackle would seldom be of use, as the awkward places, overgrown by bushes, in which the best chub are usually hooked, make it very desirable to keep your line short. if the chub run large (two pounds or more), you will have to use stout tackle, or even carry a landing net. if you have a bamboo rod, which is hollow throughout (through the knots), it is a good plan to pass the line through the middle, instead of the rings. in this way one disadvantage of using running tackle is avoided--the rod can be pushed through bushes, etc., without entangling the line. another and more lively plan for chub catching is to whip for them with the artificial fly; and in this case running tackle is, of course, necessary. in the shallower parts of the rivers you will get more dace and bleak than chub in this way, and very pretty sport it is, only second to trout-fishing. when you are trying for roach only, it is best to use a sunk fly, and to move it up and down very gently. you can feel the roach bite if you have a delicate hand, but if you find this difficult put on a small gentle with the fly. this can be seen at a considerable depth, and will disappear, of course, when the roach takes the fly. it also forms an additional attraction, and at a pinch will do alone; but i have found the house fly generally more effective. single hair is best for your line, unless you see large chub cruising about, which is often the case. in this sort of fishing you can generally watch your quarry, and you have to be very careful that they do not see too much of you. it will be found far more interesting than regular bottom-fishing, and requires more thought and more resource for its successful prosecution. among the insects most useful for bait, the grasshopper stands (or jumps) pre-eminent, but is not often obtainable much before july. the cow-dung fly has a brilliant yellow colour, which is very fascinating to roach; and the green caterpillar (to be obtained by tapping the boughs of oaks) is almost irresistible, especially to trout. the oak-fly, called also "the up and down fly," from the position it always assumes on the oak trunk, is equally attractive, and no doubt would be appreciated also by other fish. the hottest and calmest weather is best for this sort of fishing, as it is usually worst for the other sorts. in case the day should be windy or otherwise unsuitable for dapping, and yet the season too early to fish the deeps, a good plan is to put on a very small quill float, and one shot; and, using a no. or hook and a single gentle, to fish the shallow gravelly runs from as great a distance as you can manage. the "nottingham" method is very useful for this purpose. this consists in using a free running wooden reel, and a light line, and throwing from the reel. it is difficult, but very useful on open rivers, where fishing fine and far off is essential. of course, you have to fish down-stream by this method, and will often miss your fish when striking; but that is better than getting no bites--the usual result of fishing under your nose at this time of year. occasionally you may get hold of a barbel in this way, when using gentles for bait; and, if so, it will not be easy to land him, though he is not so strong now as he would be later on. bream-fishing will be coming on before long, and the early boy will get the bream. before sunrise is the best time, and for this fish-tackle of a different sort is required. a strong rod with rings is useful, and the gut and reel line may be stout. if the water is deep, use a long float and fairly heavy lead, and fish on the bottom with a worm (a small lob by preference) on a large hook. put in ground-bait, over-night if possible, and lose no time when fishing. a three-pound bream can be got out in two minutes, and twenty or thirty may thus be had in an hour or two of early morning, and, perhaps, not another all day, though in the norfolk broads i've known the bites continue till mid-day. roach-fishing proper is not in season till august, and has been described in these pages. jack should be let alone for a month or two yet, and perch are scarcely in order. in conclusion, let me suggest that all fish found to be out of condition should be gently returned to the water. chapter ix canoes and yachts to speak of canoes is to recall the name of john macgregor, m.a., the author of those delightful books _a thousand miles in the rob roy canoe on rivers and lakes of europe_; _the rob roy on the baltic_; _the voyage alone in the yawl rob roy_, and other interesting works. when the first of these was issued other people built canoes, the canoe club was formed with the then prince of wales, afterwards king edward the seventh, as commodore. macgregor was enthusiastic about canoes. when he contemplated his voyage of a thousand miles he concluded that "no row-boat would serve on a land-water voyage of this sort, for in the wildest parts of the best rivers the channel is too narrow for oars, or, if wide enough, it is often too shallow; and the tortuous passages, the rocks and banks, the weeds and snags, the milldams, barriers, fallen trees, rapids, whirlpools, and waterfalls that constantly occur on a river winding among hills, make those very parts where the scenery is wildest and best to be quite unapproachable in such a boat, for it would be swamped by the sharp waves, or upset over the sunken rocks, which cannot be seen by a steersman. "now these very things which bother the 'pair oar,' become cheery excitements to the voyager in a canoe. for now, as he sits in his little bark, he looks forward, and not backward. he sees all his course, and the scenery besides. with one sweep of his paddle he can turn aside when only a foot from destruction. he can steer within an inch in a narrow place, and can easily pass through reeds and weeds or branches and grass; can work his sail without changing his seat; can shove with his paddle when aground, and can jump out in good time to prevent a bad smash. he can wade and haul his craft over shallows, or drag it on dry ground, through fields and hedges, over dykes, barriers, and walls; can carry it by hand up ladders and stairs, and can transport his canoe over high mountains and broad plains in a cart drawn by a man, a horse, or a cow. "besides all this, the covered canoe is far stronger than an open boat, and may be fearlessly dropped into a deep pool, a lock, or a millrace, and when the breakers are high in the open sea or in river rapids, they can only wash over the deck of a canoe, while it is always dry within. "the canoe is also safer than a rowing-boat, because you sit so low in it, and never require to shift your place or lose hold of the paddle; while for comfort during long hours, for days and weeks of hard work, the canoe is evidently the best, because you lean all the time against a swinging backboard, and when the paddle rests on your lap you are at ease as in an arm-chair; so that, while drifting along with the current or the wind, you can gaze around, and eat or read, or sketch, or chat with the starers on the bank, and yet, in a moment of sudden alarm, the hands are at once on the faithful paddle ready for action. "finally, you can lie at full length in the canoe, with a sail as an awning for the sun, or a shelter for rain, and you can sleep at night under its cover, or inside it when made for that purpose, with at least as much room for turning in your bed as sufficed for the great duke of wellington; or, if you are tired of the water for a time, you can leave your boat at an inn--where it will not be 'eating its head off,' like a horse; or you can send it home, or sell it, and take to the road yourself, or sink back again into the lazy cushions of a first-class carriage, and dream you are seeing the world. "but it may well be asked from one who thus praises the paddle, 'has he travelled in other ways, so as to know their several pleasures? has he climbed glaciers and volcanoes, dived into caves and catacombs, trotted in the norway carriole, ambled on an arab, and galloped on the russian steppes? does he know the charms of a nile boat, or a trinity eight, or a yankee steamer, or a sail in the Ã�gean, or a mule in spain? has he swung upon a camel, or glided in a sleigh, or sailed a yacht, or trundled in a rantoone?' "yes, he has thoroughly enjoyed these and other modes of locomotion, fast and slow. and now having used the canoe in europe, asia, africa, and america, he finds the pleasure of the paddle is the best of them all. "the rob roy canoe was built of oak, with a deck of cedar. she was made just short enough to go into the german railway waggons; that is to say, fifteen feet in length, twenty-eight inches broad, nine inches wide, and weighed eighty pounds. my baggage for three months was in a black bag one foot square and six inches deep. a paddle seven feet long, with a blade at each end, and a lug-sail and jib, were the means of propulsion; and a pretty blue silk union jack was the only ornament." after the cruise the author had a better canoe constructed, shorter, and narrower (but with the same name), and in her he voyaged through sweden, norway and denmark, holstein, and some german waters. the account of this voyage is given in _the rob roy on the baltic_, th edition (low and marston). the later improvements of the canoe are described in that book, with woodcuts. the full description of a third canoe for sleeping in during a six months' voyage is given in _the rob roy on the jordan, nile, red sea, and gennesareth, a canoe cruise in palestine and egypt and the waters of damascus_, th edition, with eighty illustrations and maps (murray). a fourth canoe was used in the zuyder zee and among the isles of holland and the friesland coast; and the latest rob roy (number ) ran through the shetland isles and the orkneys, and scotch lakes. $the building of the rob roy.$--john macgregor has told us that among the many who are building canoes, there may be some persons who have undue expectations as to what such boats can do. now, the three kinds of canoes, for racing, for sailing, and for travelling, are quite distinct in their forms and capabilities. a long, narrow, light racing-canoe, with a long, spooned paddle, will attain great speed. a sailing-canoe with flat bearing, and some keel, will sail off the wind admirably. the "travelling-canoe" has to sail, to paddle, and to bear portage and rough handling. the endeavour to combine these three qualities in suitable proportions, without sacrificing more of any of them than can be well dispensed with, has led to the building of the canoe now to be described; and the new rob roy has been a great success. the old rob roy canoe, which made a voyage through france, germany, &c., was specially built for the purpose; and it is described in the book which gives an account of that journey. a more detailed description was given in the transactions of the institute of naval architects, but the numerous improvements suggested during that voyage, and in careful experiments afterwards, were embodied in the new rob roy, so that this novel, inexpensive, and healthful mode of travelling might be facilitated. the rob roy was designed to sail steadily, to paddle easily, to float lightly, to turn readily, and to bear rough usage on stones and banks, and in carts, railways, and steamers; to be durable and dry, as well as comfortable and safe. to secure these objects every plank and timber was carefully considered beforehand, as to its size, shape, and material, and the result has been most successful. in the efforts to obtain a suitable canoe for this purpose ready made, it was soon found that boat-builders might be proficient at the cabinet-makers' work of their calling, without any knowledge of the principles required for a new design, especially when sailing, paddling, and carrying had to be provided for at once, and the requirements for each were not understood, except by those who had personally observed them, and had known how to work the paddle as well as the saw and the plane. a canoe ought to fit a man like a coat; and to secure this the measure of the man should be taken for his canoe. the first regulating standard is the length of the man's foot, which will determine the height of the canoe from keel to deck; next, the length of his leg, which governs the size of the "well;" and then the weight of the crew and luggage, which regulates the displacement to be provided for. the following description is for a canoe to be used by a man feet high, stone weight, and with boots foot long in the sole. the rob roy is built of the best oak, except the top streak of mahogany, and the deck of fine cedar. the weight, without fittings, is lb., and with all complete, lb. lightness is not of so much consequence in this case as good line, for a light boat if crank, will tire the canoeist far more in a week's cruise than would a heavier but stiff craft, which does not strain his body at every moment to keep her poised under the alternate strokes of the paddle or the sudden pressure of a squall on the sail. [illustration: fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. _scale of figs & . / of an inch to the foot._] the illustration on page represents, on a scale a quarter of an inch to the foot, fig. , a section, with masts and sails; fig. a bird's-eye view of the deck. the woodcuts at pages , represent, on a scale of an inch to the foot, figs. and , cross sections at the beam and at the stretcher; figs , , and , the backboard and the apron; the rest of the drawings showing particular portions more minutely. the principal dimensions are:--length over all, a s, feet; from stem to beam, b, feet inches; beam, outside ( inches abaft midships), inches; depth from top of deck at c, fore end of the well, to upper surface of keel, inches; keel, depth, outside, inch, with an iron band along its whole length, / inch wide; camber, inch; depth at gunwale, - / inches. the upper streak is of mahogany, and quite vertical at the beam, where its depth is inches. the garboard streaks, and the next on each side are strong, while the next two on each side are light, as it is found that they are less exposed than the others, particularly in a canoe where all these lower streaks are of oak. the stem and stern posts project over deck, the canoe, if turned over, will rest on the upper edge of the combing, round the well, / inch deep, projecting / inch, of steamed oak, curved at the corners, and adding, by its angular position, very much to the strength of the deck about the well. the well is inches from c to d, and inches from e to f, so placed that d m is feet, and thus the beam of the boat being aft of the midships the weight of the luggage g, and of the masts and sails stowed forward, brings the boat to nearly an even keel. the additional basket of cooking-things at i (fig. ) brings her a little by the stern. for a boat without luggage the beam should be foot abaft midships to secure an even keel. [illustration: fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. ] the deck is supported on four carlines forward and three aft, the latter portion being thus more strengthened, because, in some cases, it is required to support the weight of the canoeist sitting on the deck with his legs in the water. each carline has a piece cut out of its end (see fig. ), so that the water inside may run along to the beam when the canoe is canted to sponge it out. the after edge of the carline at c is bevelled off (fig. in section), so as not to catch the shins of your legs. all the carlines are narrow and deep, to economize strength, and the deck is screwed to them with brass screws, so that it might be removed for internal repairs. a flat piece is inserted under the deck at the mast-hole h, which is also furnished with a flanged brass ring. the deck is so arched as to enable the feet to rest comfortably on the broad stretcher j (fig. ), the centre of it being cut down in a curve in order that the mast and sails, rolled together, may rest there when there is no luggage, and be kept under the deck, but above any wet on the floor. when there is luggage (as in this voyage) i usually put the mast and sails under the after deck. the cedar deck round the well at e f is firmly secured by knee-pieces, and the boat may thus be lifted up _by any part_, and may be sat upon _in any position_, without injury. the luggage for three months, weighing - / lbs., is carried in a black leather-cloth bag, foot by foot by inches deep (g, figs. and ). a water-tight compartment may be made by an after bulkhead, with a lid to open, so as to allow the air to circulate when on shore. the floor-boards, about feet long, rest on the timbers until, at the part below c (fig. ), they end at p p (fig. ), in notched grooves, which fit into short oak pieces m n, / inch thick, sloping forwards on each side of the keel o. their ends rest on the garboard streaks, and so lower the heels nearly inch below the level of the floor-board on the top of the timbers. the canoeist sits on the floor-boards, i prefer this to any cushion or mat whatever; but if a mat or cushion be used, it should be firmly fixed, especially in rough water. the canoeist's knees touch the combing and the apron boards, while his heels touch the keel. thus the dotted lines in fig. , from the stretcher to the deck, show how the shin-bones are supported in comfort, enabling the paddler to sit for hours together without straining. but comfort is additionally secured by my new kind of backboard, shown in figs. and , in section and elevation. this consists of two strips of oak, inches long, - / inches wide, and united by a cross piece at y, and another at x, the latter being grooved (fig. ) so as to rest on the top of the combing, and to oscillate with the movement of the canoeist's back, which is thus supported on both sides along the muscles, while the spine is untouched between the strips. the dotted line u (fig. ) is a strong cord passed round all (through a hole in the deck or two eyes), and this serves to keep the backboard in general upright, while it is free to vibrate, or, when on shore, to be closed down flat on deck or to be removed entirely in a moment by unloosing the cord. the use of this backboard is a leading feature of the canoe, and adds very much indeed to the canoeist's comfort, and, therefore, to his efficiency. the length and width of the oaken strips, and the width of the interval between them, ought to be carefully adjusted to the size and "build" of the canoeist, just as a saddle ought to fit a horse and its rider too. the paddle is feet long, flat-bladed, with a breadth of inches in each palm, which is copper-banded, and made of the best spruce fir, the weight being little over lbs. the spoon-shaped blade is better for speed, and a longer paddle is suitable for a racing-boat, but for a travelling canoe, where long paddling, occasional sailing, and frequent "shoving," require the instrument to combine lightness, straight edge, handiness, and strength, it is found that a short paddle is best for the varied work of a protracted voyage. leather cups have been usually employed on the wrists of the paddle to catch the dripping water, but round india-rubber rings look much better and answer every purpose, if placed just above the points where the paddle dips into the water in an ordinary stroke. these rings may be had for twopence, and can be slipped on over the broad blade. if necessary, two are used on each side, and they bear rough usage well, while if they strike the cedar deck, no injury is done to it. [illustration: fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. , fig. ] after numerous experiments, the following very simple plan has been devised for a waterproof apron, and its application at once removes one of the chief objections to canoes in rough water, as heretofore constructed. it is necessary to have a covering for the well which shall effectually exclude the water, and yet be so attached as not to hamper the canoeist in case of an upset, or when he desires to get out of the boat in a more legitimate manner. these desiderata are completely secured by the new apron, which is not permanently attached in any manner to the boat, but is formed as follows:-a piece of light wood, of the form in fig. , feet long and inches deep at the deepest part, is placed along each side of the deck vertically, so as just to rest against the outside of each knee of the canoeist, and then a piece of macintosh cloth (drab colour is best) is tightly nailed along and over these, so as to form an apron, supported at each side on z (fig. ), and sloping from the highest part forwards down to the deck in front of the combing, over which its edge projects inch, and then lies flat. the other or after end is so cut and formed as to fit the body neatly, and the ends may be tucked in behind, or, when the waves are very rough, they should be secured _outside_ the backboard by a string with a knot. when this apron is so applied, and the knees are in position, their pressure keeps the whole apron steady, and the splash of small waves is not enough to move it. in rough water i place a string across the end and round two screw nails on the deck; or an india-rubber cord run through the hemmed end, but best of all is a strip of wood bent across the deck with its ends under two screws or chocks. a button-hole at the highest point of the apron allows it to be supported on the waistcoat. when you have to get out on shore, or when sailing, it is usually best to stow the apron away, so that the legs may be turned into any desired position of ease. the apron i used in this tour had been perfectly fitted by myself to me and the boat. several others, a little like it (very little!), roughly made for other canoes, have, as might be expected, failed to give satisfaction. one important advantage of a canoe is the capacity for sailing without altering the canoeist's seat; and we shall now describe the mast and sails found by experience to be most convenient, after three masts had been broken and eight sets of sails had more or less failed. the mast is - / inches thick (tapering), and feet inches long, of which the part above deck is feet inches. the lug-sail k (fig. ), has a yard and a boom, each feet inches long, so that when furled the end of the boom and mast come together. the fore-leach is feet long, and the after-leach feet inches, giving an area of about square feet. the yard and boom are of bamboo, and the yard passes into a broad hem on the sail-head, while the halyard is rove aloft through a small boxwood block / inch long, and with a brass sheave, and through another (a brass blind pulley) well fastened on the side of the mast near the deck, so that the sail can be lowered and hoisted readily. the lower joint of a fishing-rod, feet inches long, is a spare boom. the tack end of the boom is made fast to the mast by a flat piece of leather, lashed to its upper part and to the mast, and so as to be free to swing in every direction; after many other plans had failed this was quite successful, and lasted through the whole voyage. no hole is made in the mast, and no nail or screw driven into it, for these are causes of weakness. two cord loops, about inches apart, near the mast-head, support the flagstaff, of bamboo-cane feet long, and with a silk flag inches by inches. when the mast is not used this flagstaff is detached and placed in the mast-hole, which it fits by a button inches wide, permanently fixed on the staff, the lower end of which rests in the mast-step. the halyard and sheet should be of woven cord, which does not untwist, and is soft to handle in the wet. the sheet when not in hand may be belayed round a cleat on deck on either side of the apron, where it is highest, and thus these cleats are protected from the paddle. for the sake of convenience the mast is stepped so far forward as to allow the boom to swing past the canoeist's breast when the sail is jibbed or brought over. this also allows the luggage-bag to be between the stretcher and the mast. thus the mast-hole h is at feet inches distance from the stem. the mast-step is a simple wedge-like piece of oak (see r, fig. ), made fast to the keel, and abutting on the garboard streak on each side, with a square hole in it for the foot of the mast. it may be thought that the mast is thus stepped too far forward, but the importance of having the sail free to swing, without lying against the canoeist's body, or getting entangled with his paddle, which is used in steering, is so great, that some sacrifice must be made to secure this point. however, it is found that the boat sails very well on a wind with this sail, if the breeze is strong; and in light breezes it is only expedient to sail with the wind well aft, when the jib can also be used. a canoe must have a strong, light, flexible painter, suitable for constant use, because a great deal has to be done by its means in towing on dull water, guiding the boat while wading down shallows or beside falls, lowering into lochs, hauling her over hedges, walls, locks, banks, and even houses; and raising or lowering her (with luggage in) to and from steamboats. the "alpine club" rope, used in the new rob roy, was found to be hard and "kinky" when wet, and the softer rope used in the old rob roy was far better. another kind of brown-tanned rope has been recommended. the painter should not be longer than twice the length of the boat. each end is whipped with wax-end, which sort of fine twine is also invaluable for all the other fastenings, as it never slips. the painter passes through a hole in the stem, and another in the stern-post, and is drawn tight to lie on deck in the lines ay and sy, fig. ; the slack of about four feet is belayed round the windward cleat and coiled outside, so that it may be seized instantly when you go ashore, or have to jump out to save a smash or an overset in a dangerous place. this mode of fixing and belaying the painter i adopted after numerous trials of other plans, and it is found to be far the best. the jib is a triangle of feet hoist and feet foot, the fore-leach fast by a loop, passing under the painter and over the stem; the head is fixed by a loop over the mast-head, and under the flagstaff button. thus the jib can be struck while the canoeist remains in the boat, by pushing off these two loops with his paddle. to set the jib, it is best to land. this is much more generally convenient than to have jib-tackle on the mast. (i have now discarded the jib entirely.) the sails are of calico, without any seam. this lasts quite well enough, dries speedily, and sets well, too, provided that care is taken to have it cut out with the selvage along the after-leach, and not along any of the other sides. inattention to this last direction simply ruins sails; and it cannot be too often repeated that the success of the six rob roy voyages could not be expected if great care had not been devoted to all these details. a good travelling canoe costing £ ought to last a long time, for it is not racked and pulled in pieces at every stroke, as a rowing-boat is. the paddle.--it has been said that the use of a canoe paddle must contract the chest, but this is certainly a mistake. if indeed, you merely dapple each blade of the paddle in the water without taking the full length of the stroke the shoulders are not thrown back, and the effect will be injurious; but exactly the same is true if you scull or row with a short jerky stroke. in a proper use of the paddle the arms ought to be in turn fully extended, and then brought well back, so that the elbow grazes the side, and the chest is then well plied in both directions. in very shallow water the paddle should be clasped lightly (turning the thumbs upwards then), so that if it strikes the bottom or a rock the hand will yield and not the blade be broken. the distance between the hands should be that of the breadth of the chest. one can tell a _tyro_ in a moment by seeing him with his hands two feet apart, and therefore with a shortened stroke or too long a paddle. great caution should be used when placing the blade in advance to meet a rock, or even a gravel bank, otherwise it gets jammed in the rock or gravel, or the boat overrides it. it is better in such a case to retard the speed rather by dragging the paddle (tenderly), and always with its flat side downwards, so that the edge does not get nipped. for long cruises lightness is the first necessity. an ounce more or less makes a great difference when you have to carry it with outstretched arms all day. my paddle weighs two pounds. a swivel crutch on deck on the quarter is used sometimes. in my shetland cruise i used a single paddle blade and steered by my feet acting on a light rudder by two cords. this plan has many advantages for a sailing cruise and general work, but it is not good for rapids. rudder.--for long sailing this is useful, and foot-lines should be used, or a rod to the yoke. i used the rod for sailing in the dutch cruise always. leeboards.--these may be made of wooden triangles one foot each way, hung at each side by two corners. the lee one is thus pressed against the gunwale, and acts well. centre-board.--when the "rothion" sailed across the english channel, the late hon. james gordon used a centre-board at my suggestion, and his rob roy thus furnished held her wind admirably. the centre-board might come up through a slit one foot long in the garboard streak (not through the keel) into a closed mackintosh bag, so that when raised it would turn to one side, and lie flat on the bilge within. the apron.--the canoeist soon finds that this is the most difficult part of the boat to arrange with perfect satisfaction. i have had more experiments and trouble and thought about the apron than upon any other part of the canoe's arrangements. a full wooden hatch does well for common work, but not for rough cruising. now and then the legs need "play," and if the hatch is rigid at the height thus needed, it is much too high in ordinary times; and it curbs the freedom for the arms near the deck, being also unwieldy for instant debarking in rapids, and for stowing away. the detached apron of the baltic pattern is wet in use. side pieces on deck to clutch the wooden cheeks kept out by a cane across the knees, and a permanent flap on deck, covering the fore end of the mackintosh, are great improvements. the jordan rob roy had a sheet mackintosh apron, with only a cane fixed in the combing to keep the apron off the knees. for her cruise she had under this apron six inches of the after part of wood. the loose breast flap and side flaps rolled up (usually) form a curved edging near the body. by lifting this hatch, and laying it forward, the whole apron is folded forward of the knees, and in one foot of space fore and aft. this plan is a complete success; and at last my apron is all right. when a single bladed paddle is used the apron is needed only in rough water, that is, one day in four. stretcher.--the form described with a cut in the "rob roy on the jordan," is a very great improvement. each foot has a light board abutting on the carline above and the timber below, so that ample room is given for the luggage bag, and much strength is combined with extreme lightness. sail.--many forms have been tried, but the club sailing matches have often been won by a lug sail. this rig is also the safest of all, and the boom can be detached from a hook on the mast to stow away. portable canoes.--a wooden canoe in four pieces is easily made, although somewhat heavy. the additional expense is soon saved, if the canoe is taken often by railway as a box. colonel bradford's india-rubber canoe packs up into a parcel five feet long, and one foot across. in the eastern trip a canoe in two pieces might have been readily carried on a horse, but the rob roy, undivided, was thus carried easily. berthon's collapsible boat company presented to me a charming collapsible canoe, nine feet long, and which is very cheap, safe, light, and can easily be carried in one hand. the shortest canoe in the club was the wharbe, feet inches long. but i have paddled the little "dingy" only eight feet long, which was carried aboard the rob roy yawl. i think feet the best length for a cruising canoe. i have designed a cork canoe in three pieces, five feet, four feet, and three feet long; the last to pack in the next, and both in the large middle one; weight about lbs. sun.--when there is a brilliant glare of the sun, and it is low, and directly in front, and the eyes are dazzled by its reflection on the water, a good plan is to direct the bow to some point you are to steer for, and then observe the reflection of the sun on the cedar deck of the boat. having done this you may lower the peak of your hat so as to cut off the direct rays of the sun, and its reflected rays on the water, while you steer simply by the light on the deck. caution.--when a great current moves across a river to a point where it seems very unlikely to have an exit, you may be certain that some unusual conformation of the banks or of the river bed will be found there, and caution should be used in approaching the place. this, however, is less necessary when the river is deep. weeds.--the ripple and bubbles among weeds are so totally different from those on free water that their appearance at a distance as a criterion of the depth, current, and direction of the channel must be learned separately. in general, where weeds are under water, and can sway or wave about, there will be water enough to pass--the requisite three inches. backing up stream against long weeds is so troublesome, and so sure to sway the stern round athwart stream, that it is best to force the boat forward instead, even if you have to get out and pull her through. paddling through rushes, or flags, or other plants, so as to cut off a corner, is a mistake. much more "way" is lost then by the friction than might be supposed. stores on the rob roy.--paddle, painter ( feet at first, but cut down to feet), sponge, waterproof cover, feet by feet inches, silk blue union jack, inches by inches, on a staff two feet long. mast, boom, and yard. lug sail, jib, and spare jib (used as a sun shawl). stretcher, two back boards, floor-boards, basket holding a mackintosh coat. for repairs--iron and brass screws, sheet copper and copper nails, putty and whitelead, a gimlet, cord, string, and thread, one spare button, needle, pins, canvas wading shoes (wooden clogs would be better); all the above should be left with the boat. black bag for months' luggage, size, inches by inches, by inches deep (just right), closed by three buttons, and with shoulder-strap. flannel norfolk jacket (flaps not too long, else they dip in the water, or the pockets are inverted in getting out and in); wide flannel trousers, gathered by a broad back buckle belt, second trousers for shore should have braces, but in the boat the back buttons are in the way. flannel shirt on, and another for shore. before me while writing this there are various head covers used in different tours, but for boating the straw hat is best of all. thin alpaca black sunday coat, thick waistcoat, black leather light-soled shoes (should be strong for rocks and village pavements), cloth cap (only used as a bag), collars, pocket handkerchiefs, ribbon tie, pairs of cotton socks (easily got off for sudden wading, and drying quickly on deck). brush, comb, and tooth-brush. testament, passport (scarcely needed now), leather purse, large (and _full_), circular notes, small change in silver and copper for frequent use, blue spectacles in strong case, book for journal and sketches, black, blue, and red chalk, and steel pen. maps, cutting off a six inch square at a time for pocket reference. guide-books and pleasant evening reading book. cut off covers and useless pages, and every page as read; no needless weight should be carried hundreds of miles; even a fly settling on the boat must be refused a free passage. medicine (rhubarb and court plaster), small knife, and pencil. $rocks and currents.$--even if a set of rules could be laid down for the management of a boat in the difficult parts of a river, it would not be made easier until practice has given the boatman that quick judgment as to their application which has to be patiently acquired in all athletic exercises. but the canoeist, who passes many hours daily in the consideration of the river problems always set before him, will feel some interest in this attempt to classify those that occur most frequently. steering a boat in a current among rocks is like walking on a crowded pavement, where the other passengers are going in various directions, and at various speeds. a great deal of practice, and lessons enforced by collisions, are needed to make a pedestrian _au fait_ in a crowd. but years of walking produce a certain power, which insensibly directs a man in his course and his speed. after this capacity becomes, as it were, instinctive, a man can walk briskly along fleet-street at four p.m., and, without any distinct thought about other people, or about his own progress, he can get safe to the end. indeed, if he does begin to think of rules or how to apply them, he is almost sure to knock up against somebody. nay, if two men meet as they walk through a crowd, and each of them "catches the eye" of the other, they will probably cease to move instinctively, and, with uncertain data to reason from, a collision is often the result. the importance of this subject of "boating instinct" will be considered sufficient to justify these remarks when the canoeist has by much practice at last attained to that desirable proficiency which enables him to steer without thinking about it, and therefore to enjoy the conversation of other people on the bank, or the scenery, while he is rapidly speeding through rocks, eddies, and currents. as the descent of a current among rocks resembles a walk along the pavement through a crowd, so the passage _across_ a rapid is even more strictly in resemblance with the course of a man who has to cross a street where vehicles are passing at uncertain intervals and at various speeds, though all in the same direction. for it is plain that the thing to be done is nearly the same, whether the obstacles (as breakers) are fixed and the current carries you towards them, or the obstacles (as cabs and carts) are moving, while you have to walk through them on _terra firma_. to cross park-lane in the afternoon requires the very same sort of calculation as the passage across the stream in a rapid on the rhine. we may divide the rocks thus encountered in fast water into two classes--( ) those that are _sunk_, so that the boat may possibly float over them, and which do not deflect the direction of the surface current. ( ) those that are _breakers_, and so deflect the current, and do not allow the boat to float over them. the currents may be divided into--( ) those that are equable in force, and in the same direction through the course to be steered. ( ) those that alter their direction in a part of that course. in the problems before the canoeist will be found the combinations of every degree and variety of these rocks and currents, but the actual circumstances he has to deal with at any specified moment may be generally ranged under one or other of the six cases depicted in the accompanying woodcut. in each of the figures in the diagram the current is supposed to run towards the top of the page, and the general course of the canoe is supposed to be with the current. the particular direction of the current is indicated by the dotted lines. the rocks when shaded are supposed to be _sunk_, and when not shaded they are _breakers_. thus the current is uniform in figs. , , ; and it is otherwise in figs. , , . the rocks are all sunk in figs. , , , and ; whereas in figs. and there are breakers. the black line in all the figures shows the proper course of the centre of the boat, and it is well to habituate oneself to make the course such as that this line shall never be nearer to the rock than one-half of the boat's length. the simplest case that can occur is when the canoe is merely floating without "way" through a current, and the current bears it near a rock. if this be a breaker, the current, being deflected, will generally carry the boat to one side. the steering in such cases is so easy, and its frequent occurrence gives so much practice, that no more need be said about it. but if the rock be a sunk rock, and if it be not quite plain from the appearance of the water that there is depth enough over the rock to float the boat, then it is necessary to pass either above the rock, as in fig. , or below it, as in fig. . a few days' practice is not thrown away if the canoeist seizes every opportunity of performing under easy circumstances feats which may at other times have to be done under necessity, and which would not be so well done then if attempted for the first time. let him, therefore, as soon as possible, become adept in crossing above or below a single sunk rock with his _boat's bow pointed to any angle of the semi-circle before him_. [illustration] next we have to consider the cases in which more than one rock will have to be avoided. now, however great the number of the rocks may be, they can be divided into sets of three, and in each of the figures , , , it is supposed that (for reasons which may be different in each case, but always sufficient) the canoe has to pass between rocks a and b, and then between b and c, but must not pass otherwise between a and c. in fig. the course is below b, and above c, being a combination of the instance in fig. with that in fig. . the precise angle to the line of the course which the boat's longer axis ought to have will depend upon what is to be done next after passing between b and c, and hence the importance of being able to effect the passages in fig. and fig. , with the axis at any required angle. we may next suppose that one of the three rocks, say b, as in fig. , is a breaker which will deflect the current (as indicated by the dotted stream lines), and it will then be necessary to modify the angle of the boat's axis, though the boat's centre has to be kept in the same course as before. it will be seen at once that if a were a breaker the angle would be influenced in another manner, and that if c were a breaker the angle at which the boat should emerge from the group of rocks would be influenced by the stream from c also; but it is only necessary to remind the reader that all the combinations and permutations of breakers and sunk rocks need not be separately discussed,--they may be met by the experience obtained in one case of each class of circumstances. fig. represents a _circular current_ over the group of three rocks. this is a very deceptive case, for it looks so easy that at first it is likely to be treated carelessly. if the boat were supposed to be a substance floating, but without weight, it would have its direction of motion instantly altered by that of the current. but the boat has weight, and as it has velocity (that of the current even if the boat is not urged also by the paddle so as to have "way" through the water), therefore it will have _momentum_, and the tendency will be to continue the motion in a straight line, instead of a curve guided solely by the current. in all these cases, therefore, it will be found that the boat _insists_ upon passing between a and c, where it must not be allowed to go (on the hypothesis we have started with), and if it effects a compromise by running upon c, that will be by no means satisfactory. this class of cases includes all those in which the river makes a quick turn round a rock or a tongue b, where the boundary formed by the rock a on the outer bend of the stream is a solid bank, or a fringe of growing trees, or of faggots artificially built as a protection against the erosion of the water. this case occurs, therefore, very frequently in some fast rivers, say, at least, a hundred times in a day's work, and perhaps no test of a man's experience and capacity as a canoeist is more decisive than his manner of steering round a fast, sharp bend. the tendency of the canoeist in such cases is always to bring the boat round by paddling _forward_ with the outer hand, thereby adding to the "way," and making the force of the current in its circular turn less powerful relatively. whereas, the proper plan is to _back_ with the inner hand, and so to stop all way in the direction of the boat's length, and to give the current its full force on the boat. repeated lessons are needed before this is learned thoroughly. the case we have last remarked upon is made easier if either a or c is a breaker, but it is very much increased in difficulty if the rock b is a breaker or is a strong tongue of bank, and so deflects the current outwards at this critical point. the difficulty is often increased by the fact that the water inside of the curve of the stream may be shoal, and so the paddle on that side strikes the bottom or grinds along it in backing. when the curve is all in deep water, and there is a pool after b, the boat ought not to be turned too quickly in endeavouring to avoid the rock c, else it will sometimes then enter the eddy below b, which runs up stream sometimes for fifty yards. in such a case the absurd position you are thereby thrown into naturally causes you to struggle to resist or stem this current; but i have found, after repeated trials of every plan i could think of, that if once the back current has taken the canoe it is best to let the boat swing with the eddy so as to make an entire circuit, until the bow can come back towards b (and below it), when the nose of the boat may be again thrust into the main stream, which will now turn the boat round again to its proper course. much time and labour may be spent uselessly in a wrong and obstinate contest with an eddy. in fig. , where the three rocks are in a straight line, and the middle one is a breaker, an instance is given when the proper course must be kept by _backing_ during the first part of it. we must suppose that the canoeist has attained the power of backing with perfect ease, for this will be quite necessary if he intends to take his boat safely through several hundred combinations of sunk rocks and breakers. presuming this, the case in fig. will be easy enough, though a little reflection will show that it might be very difficult, or almost impossible, if the canoeist could give only a forward motion to the boat. to pass most artistically, then, through the group of rocks in fig. the stern should be turned towards a, as shown in the diagram, and the passage across the current, between a and b, is to be effected solely by backing (and chiefly in this case with the left hand) until the furthest point of the right of the curve is reached, with the boat's length still as before in the position represented in the figure. then the forward action of both hands will take the canoe speedily through the passage between b and c. cases of this sort are rendered more difficult by the distance of c from the point above a, where you are situated when the instant decision has to be made as to what to do, and it would usually be imprudent to rise in the boat in such a place to survey the rock c. if it is evident that the plan described above will not be applicable, because other and future circumstances will require the boat's bow to emerge in the opposite direction (pointing to the right), then you must enter forwards, and must back between b and c, so as to be ready, after passing c, to drive forward, and to the right. it is plain that this is very much more difficult than the former case, for your backing now has to be done against the full stream from the breaker b. in all these instances the action of the wind has been entirely omitted from consideration, but it must not be forgotten that a strong breeze materially complicates the problem before the canoeist. this is especially so when the wind is aft; when it is ahead you are not likely to forget its presence. a strong fair wind (that has scarcely been felt with your back to it) and the swift stream and the boat's speed from paddling being all in one direction, the breeze will suddenly become a new element in the case when you try to cross above a rock as in fig. , and find that the wind carries you broadside on against all your calculations. as for sailing among rocks in a current, if the rapid is long the canoe must be directed solely by the paddle, and in short groups of rocks the course to be steered by a boat sailing is the same as if it were paddled, though the action of the wind has to be carefully taken into consideration. in all these things free boldness and skill come best after lessons of experience, and the canoeist will find himself ready and able, at the end of his voyage, to sail down a rapid which he would have approached very timidly, at the beginning, even with the paddle. but perhaps enough has been said for the experienced paddler, while surely more than enough has been said to show the tyro aspirant what varied work he has to do, and how interesting are the circumstances that will occupy his attention on a delightful river cruise. $the boy as yacht owner.$--boys who live near a sheet of water may like to know how to make--or to have made for them by a carpenter--a homely rough-hewn yacht. they may not be able to win the american cup with it, but they may have much fun on board, and it will be difficult to wreck. indeed, it is said to be impossible to upset a yacht of this pattern. the natives of south america use yachts of this build, and even go to sea in this kind of craft. we do not advise our readers to round cape horn or to cross the bay of biscay in a yacht like this, but on a lake or river they are not likely to come to grief. all the same, skill in swimming should precede boating of all kinds. a, b, c, d represent six pine logs, each one fourteen feet long and eight inches in diameter. the six joined together make a deck four feet wide. both ends of each log are roughly trimmed with an adze and underneath each log is bevelled along three feet of its length at each end. the middle eight feet of each log is thus left in its natural state, round and still bearing its bark; but three feet at each end of each log is trimmed to slope and taper towards its termination. e is four feet seven inches from the bow and represents a hole down to the water two inches wide and eighteen inches long. it is formed by cutting an inch away from each of the two centre logs to make two inches, and making the length of the indentation eighteen inches on each of these two logs. the purpose of the hole is to hold a centre-board, which is passed through it to act instead of a keel. it is a piece of two-inch plank eighteen inches wide. next the bow ends of the logs are fastened together by what joiners call rabbeting and bolting. fig. represents a rabbet, and gives the dimensions. one of these rabbets is cut upon the upper side of each log, one foot six inches from the bow, so that when all the logs have been served exactly alike, and they have been placed in position side by side, these indentations form an unbroken channel across the boat. now a piece of the toughest dry wood--the bolt--shaped like fig. , should be made to fit this groove, and should then be placed therein. at h, i, in fig. bore with an auger holes three-quarters of an inch in diameter through the bolt, and right on through the log. into these holes fit pegs of hard, very dry wood. [illustration: fig. .] if these pegs and the bolt fit tightly when they are quite dry they will swell and fit very much tighter when they become wet. two and a half feet further back at j, k, the logs are rabbeted again in precisely the same way, and again at l m, n o, and p q. the mast should be as long as the boat, and at its base four and a half inches in diameter. generally it consists of a small tree, a spruce fir, or something of that kind. the boom, seen in the completed picture, is almost as long as the mast, though more slender, and it must have a fork at its thickest end. a lighter bough, with a fork, three feet six-inches long, is needed as a rest for the boom. [illustration] the mast is fixed at r in fig. , and is secured as in fig. . it stands in a hole four inches in diameter and four inches deep. a and b in fig. stand a foot away from the mast in holes three inches in diameter and three inches deep. a and b are each eighteen inches long, and c is a piece of two-inch plank eighteen inches wide, and it has a hole bored in it four inches in diameter to admit the mast. at s, t, u, v, in fig. holes are bored three inches in diameter exactly upon the middle of the next to the outermost log on each side of the boat. these are fitted with forked uprights, those at s and t are eight inches long; those at u and v are twelve inches long. at w, x, y and z in fig. bore holes three inches in diameter and three inches deep, w and x being one foot away from n, o. two feet from w and x should be y z. a and b are holes of the same size over the middle logs of the boat. in w, x, y and z should be forked uprights fourteen inches long. in a and b are uprights sixteen inches long with a cross piece upon which to rest the oar of the steersman. fig. shows what the arrangements are with regard to these uprights. a little before the mast, on each side of the boat, a pole runs through the forks of the uprights. the ends of these poles are joined aft by a piece of one-inch plank, upon which sits the man at the helm. a shelter may be made with a piece of sailcloth or other material as shown in fig. . [illustration] the helm consists of a pole four feet long, which is fixed at an angle of forty-five degrees to a piece of inch plank two feet long and eight inches wide, as shown in fig. . it will be found that the vessel easily answers this helm, which is used like an oar. along the mast the sail is nine feet long. it does not run on rings, but is nailed to the mast. the corner is tied securely to the end of the boom, whose length is ten feet. the boom rests with its fork upon the mast and is prevented from slipping away by a forked, upright support. it is an easy matter to unfurl the sail. take the fork of the boom from the mast, and the sail collapses instantaneously. much navigation can be learned in a vessel of this kind, and it may be that some future admiral will have his small beginnings in a craft of this homely character. chapter x cooking in camp in the last chapter we had much to say of the famous canoe traveller, the late john macgregor, and our readers will welcome an account of his portable cooking apparatus, because even if they do not go voyages in a boat they will find it useful for picnics and camping out. this apparatus, the voyager tells us, "has been designed after numerous experiments with various portable cooking-machines which i could procure for trial, and, as it succeeds better than any of them, and has been approved by trial in five of my own voyages, and in another to iceland, besides shorter trips, and in the abyssinian campaign, it may be of some use to describe the contrivance here." the object proposed was to provide a light but strong apparatus which could speedily boil water and heat or fry other materials even in wet and windy weather, and with fuel enough carried in itself for several days' use. fig. is a section of the rob roy cuisine as it is made up for carrying. there is first a strong waterproof bag about one foot high, and closed at the top by a running cord. at the bottom is the cuisine itself, _a_, which occupies a space of only six inches by three inches (when of smaller size), and has the various parts packed inside, except the drinking cup _b_. provisions, such as bread and cold meat or eggs, may be stowed in the bag above the cuisine, and if the string of it be then attached to a nail fixed in the boat, the whole will be kept steady. for use, when it is desired to boil water, the cuisine being opened, the lower part is a copper pan, _c_, fig. , with a handle, _e_, which can be fixed either into a socket in the side of the pan, or another socket in the side of the lid, as represented in figs. and . three iron legs also fix into sockets and support the pan over the spirit-lamp, _f_, by which the pan, two-thirds full of liquid, will be boiled in five minutes. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] the lamp is the main feature of the apparatus, and it is represented in section in fig. . it consists of two cylinders, one within the other. the space between these (shaded dark) is closed at top and bottom, and a tube _b_, fixed through the bottom, rises with one open end inside, and another (a small nozzle) curved upwards in the open internal cylinder. another tube, _h_, opens into the annular chamber between the cylinders, and it has a funnel-shaped mouth at the outer end, through which the chamber may be filled, while a screw in the inside allows a handle, fig. (in section), to have its end, _j_, screwed in. a small hole in the upper surface is closed by a little cork, which will be expelled if the pressure within is so high as to require escape by this safety-valve. the hole may be in any part of the annular cover (but is not shown in the sketch), and in such case the hole shown in the handle is omitted. the outer cylinder of the lamp, being larger than the inner one, has a bottom, _k_, fig. , which forms a circular tray of about two inches wide and half an inch deep. the original form of the lamp, which was first brought to notice by the cook of the royal canoe club, had a detached tray for the bottom, but now, instead of this plan for the admission of air into the lamp, two saw cuts are made, each about an inch long. one of them is shown below _f_, fig. , and thus the lamp and tray are united in one compact piece while there still is access for air. the late professor j. d. forbes, who used this lamp, says it was introduced into this country from russia by dr. samuel brown, and that "the jet of burning spirit has such force as to resist the blast of a hurricane." to put the lamp in operation, unscrew its handle from the position in fig. , so that it will be as in figs. and . then from a tin flask (which has been packed with the rest of the things in the pan) pour spirits of wine--or, if the odour is not objected to, methylated spirit, into the measure _m_, fig. , and from that into the interior of the lamp through the opening at _h_. next screw in the handle, and place the lamp level under the pan, and pour nearly another measure full into the interior tray. set fire to this, and shelter it for a few seconds if there be much wind. i used this always with complete success on the jordan, nile, danube, and many other rivers. in a short time the flame heats the spirits in the closed chamber, and the spirituous steam is forced by pressure down the tube, and inflames at the nozzle, from which it issues with much force and some noise in a lighted column, which is about one foot in height when unimpeded. this powerful flame operates on the whole of the bottom and lower edge of the pan, and it cannot be blown out by wind nor by a blast from the mouth, but may be instantly extinguished by sharply placing the flat bottom of the measure upon it. the cover may be put on so as to rest with the flat bottom downwards, and with or without the handle. if tea is to be made with the water when it boils, the requisite quantity is to be placed in the tea vessel, _n_, fig. , which has perforated sides, and, its lid being closed, this is placed in the water, where it will rest on the curved side, and can be agitated now and then for a minute, after which insert the handle in the socket of the pan and remove the lamp, allowing the tea to infuse for four minutes, when the tea vessel may be removed and the made tea may be poured out into the cup. the dry tea can be conveniently carried in a paper inside the tea vessel. salt is carried in the box _o_, and the matches are in the box _p_. coffee may be best carried in the state of essence in a bottle. an egg-spoon and a soup-spoon are supplied. a flat clasp knife and fork may be had extra. if bacon is to be fried, or eggs to be poached or cooked _sur le plat_, they may be put into the lid and held by hand over the lamp-flame, so as to warm all parts equally, or the slower heat of a simple flame may be employed by lighting the measure full of spirits and then placing it on the bottom of the upturned pan as shown at fig. , where it will be observed that the three legs are placed in their sockets with the convex curve of each turned outward, so that the lid, as a frying-pan, can rest upon their three points. the spirit-flask contains enough for six separate charges of the lamp, and the cost of using methylated spirits at s. d. a gallon is not one penny a meal. the lamp-flame lasts from ten to fifteen minutes, and the weight of the _cuisine_, exclusive of the bag and cup, is about two pounds. these cuisines, improved by the suggestions obtained in their use, should be carefully made with the best materials and workmanship, and the cost would be about two and a half guineas; or if with tin boiler instead of copper, and brass lamp, £ s. d. many of much larger size (to cook for twenty men) have been used in australia. the lamp above described was used daily in my yawl but the other fittings were on a more enlarged scale, as extreme lightness was not then required. the norwegian cooking apparatus of another kind entirely will be a valuable adjunct to the yachtsman's stores. by means of this, meat or pudding after being heated for only _five minutes_, and then enclosed in a box which retains the heat, will be found to be perfectly cooked after three hours, though no more heat has been applied to it. [illustration] since john macgegor used this stove there have been other wickless stoves invented, and sold at more moderate prices. for instance there are the primus and the optimus and the wickless oil stove of the wilson engineering company. several such stoves, of which two are illustrated here, are included in the lists of messrs. a. w. gamage, ltd., and they are useful indoors and in the open. chapter xi butterflies and moths for those boys who have the good fortune to live in britain, few hobbies are better or more enticing than collecting butterflies and moths. the following apparatus will be enough to start with: ( ) a butterfly net; ( ) a few dozens of one ounce and two ounce deep willow pill-boxes, which may be strengthened by a little liquid shellac glue run round the inside edges; ( ) a handbag which excludes the light; ( ) a two-pound biscuit-tin with tightly-fitting lid; ( ) a zinc pinning box, cork lined; ( ) some entomological pins in three sizes; ( ) some setting boards or blocks; and ( ) a store box for keeping the specimens when dry enough to remove from the setting boards. we will now consider these items in detail. the butterfly net can quite easily be home-made, though, where money is plentiful, it is best bought with the other things above named. to make the net-frame, obtain from a dealer what is called a y-piece, in brass tube. then obtain a piece of short walking-stick, not more than two feet long, which will fit into the lower section of the y, which has a broader tube than the two upper sections. a short stick is always best, because more handy and sure in manipulation when catching the butterflies. into the upper sections of the y place the ends of a piece of cane about three or four feet long, being careful that each end of the cane fits tightly into the brass sockets. then get a lady friend to make for you a green or white leno-muslin bag net, with a brown calico hem attached, into which the cane runs. this net should be made just deep enough to reach with the hand to the bottom, or an inch or so deeper only. mind the bottom is made round, and not jelly-bag shaped with a point, which will ruin nearly all your captures before they are secured. before using the net, have the muslin steeped in water for a whole night, so as to take all the stiffness out of the muslin. it will require several rinsings before the size is all removed, and it becomes quite soft. never mind the loss of colour if green--it will only look the more workman-like. in using the net to catch the specimens, like so many other things, it requires practice to make perfect; but when once the knack is obtained, it should be a rare thing to miss a specimen. don't race after them, but wait until the butterfly hovers over a flower, or flies steadily past, then, with a bold, steady stroke, catch it in the centre of the net opening, at the same moment giving the wrist a sharp half-turn, which will close the mouth of the net, and so secure the novelty. carry the empty pill-boxes in the right-hand side pocket of the coat, transferring them to the left-hand side as filled, so that the full and empty boxes never get mixed in the pockets. having safely netted the butterfly, place the net on the ground, and take a suitable sized pill-box in the right hand. remove the lid, which is to be placed in the ball of the hand loosely under the bottom of the pill-box. this leaves the left hand free. then insert the right hand into the net, and cover the butterfly with the pill-box, holding it with the left hand from the outside of the net, carefully keeping the gauze tightly over the box with the left forefinger. the right hand, which is now free, still contains the lid of the pill-box, which gently place over the butterfly, slowly drawing out the gauze remaining between the lid and the box. quickly transfer the filled box, which should contain _only one_ specimen, into the dark left-hand pocket. most butterflies will at once become quiet in the dark, if it is not too hot. as opportunity occurs, it is best to transfer them to the hand-bag, which should be left near, under the shade of a bush in a cool place. by this means every specimen should be so boxed without the apparent loss of a single scale from their wings. only take good specimens--don't be tempted to get a quantity, but rather go in for fine quality. especially avoid any which are chipped, rubbed, or otherwise unfit for cabinet specimens. it is a great mistake to take imperfect specimens, for they give just as much trouble as the finest, and are never of use either for the collection or for scientific purposes. if it is not convenient on arrival home to immediately set out our captures, they should not be killed, but placed in the biscuit-tin or left in the bag just as they are, in a cold, dark cellar, or like place, where they will be all right for a couple of days or more, remaining perfectly still. having brought home our captures we now produce the biscuit-tin. this is to be used for the "lethal-chamber," where the specimens are to be sent to sleep, but not to "awake refreshed." the processes of by-gone times for killing butterflies for collections have been many, the most primitive, perhaps, being pinching the under side of the thorax, or that part of the body to which the wings are attached. doubtless, there are in the various collections of butterflies, large numbers of fine specimens which have been so killed; but it is an objectionable plan, because even when skilfully executed, the specimens are more or less mutilated in the structure, and are consequently difficult to set out with accuracy. we are almost certain by this method to break off a leg or two, or otherwise render the specimen imperfect. chloroform is used by some people to kill their butterflies, but it is unsatisfactory, for it often renders them very rigid and too stiff to immediately set out, which is a great disadvantage. much the same may be said of the fumes of cyanide of potassium, which constitute the active properties of the "killing bottles" sold by the dealers. it is, however, always wise to keep one of these bottles in the hand-bag, in case something very special is to be immediately stupefied. it must, however, be a good large bottle, with wide mouth, for it is needed generally for the big butterflies, such as the larger fritillaries, purple emperors, and the like in size and strength. there is nothing, however, so good for obtaining perfect specimens as boxing the butterflies in the nets, conveying them home in a dark hand-bag, and then killing them in a biscuit-tin with the fumes of _strong_ liquid ammonia. it is best to buy a four-ounce tightly-stoppered squat-bottle for keeping the ammonia, which, when not in use, should be placed out of the light, in a drawer or cupboard, taking care the stopper is tightly fixed. in buying the ammonia ask the chemist for that with a specific gravity of . , which is commonly kept by them. some chemists will try to persuade the buyer that it is not safe, so as to supply a weaker article; in which case don't trade with him again, for anything weaker will not only not kill the butterflies, but simply irritate them into knocking themselves into small pieces. now to proceed. we place about a large teaspoonful of the liquid ammonia into a little cup, or better, in a small mustard-tin lid, taking care to keep our eyes and nose clear of the fumes. place this as quickly as possible at the bottom of the biscuit-tin, and over it loosely a piece of paper, so as to let out the fumes, but to stop the pill-boxes from falling into the fluid, and so doing damage to box and contents. then place the boxes containing the butterflies into the tin and tightly close the lid and leave them for not less than half an hour, or better still, a little longer. the boxes thus placed may be left overnight and opened next morning, if more convenient; but in that case it is best to put in with them a small piece of damp sponge about the size of a walnut, so as to keep the specimens from getting too dry. this damp atmosphere should also be there when the butterflies are stored away alive in the dark, for a day or two, as described already. on opening the lid of the biscuit-tin containing the ammonia and pill-boxes, be careful to keep your face well away, or the puff of vapour may be very painful. there is no danger whatever to be feared from the use of ammonia in this manner, but still it may lead to temporary discomfort, such as pain in the eyes and loss of breath for a moment. having removed the lid proceed in the following manner: first place on the table before you a sheet of white paper or a blotting-pad. by your side on the table have a small tea-tray, or other flat receptacle. take out of the tin one of the top pill-boxes, open the lid, and shake out the butterfly on the sheet of paper in front of you. then put the lid of the pill-box with its top turned downwards, on the tea-tray, and place the remainder of the pill-box, _sideways_ within the lid. the object is to let the air get to the inside of the boxes, so as to evaporate the ammonia still remaining about them, or the next butterfly to occupy the box will object to the stale fumes of "smelling salts," and probably knock itself about in consequence. the boxes may be thus all emptied and left to air, which will not require much more than an hour, or even less, if the tray be placed in the sunshine near an open window. by placing each box sideways in its lid, the boxes and lids all fit one another, and do not get tiresomely mixed. in shaking out the butterflies place them in rows neatly on the paper, so that you know which was the first to leave the boxes, for that row should be the first pinned, having been exposed longer to the fresh air, to permit the ammonia attached to them to evaporate. if pinned too soon, the ammonia is apt to affect the metal of the pin and make it brittle where it passes through the body of the insect. the action of this gas is most peculiar on the colours of some insects, especially on that of the small heath butterfly, marbled whites, or some of the blues. when seen for the first time one is horror-stricken, and apt to exclaim that the specimens are ruined with the nasty stuff. this, however, soon all passes away as the ammonia evaporates and the normal colours reappear in all their former beauty. some collectors rail against ammonia, using themselves some worse killing medium. there is no other such medium which will allow of one, after pinning the insect, to move it up and down quickly in the air with the effect that the wings are as flaccid as though the specimen were alive. it leaves not the slightest trace of rigidity, which is of the highest importance for quick and successful setting out. the next proceeding is one which requires delicate handling and touch, which can only come with practice. it is pinning the insects. to do this there is only one way which permits of the specimen being afterwards exactly set out, and that is, the "proper way." any deviation from it, simple as it is, leads to all sorts of trouble and vexation when we come to set the butterflies out on the blocks. take the butterfly--with the wings closed together over the back, so that the under side only can be seen--between the left hand first finger and thumb. touch it deftly, but firmly, holding no more than is necessary of the under side of the thorax, where the legs are fixed. be very careful not to break off any of the legs, or rub off any scales from the body or legs. a small pair of curved forceps are of great use in delicately placing the butterfly in position between the fingers. the proper position allows of the wings to more than half open, when gently blown upon with one's breath. then choose a pin of suitable size, rather a little large than otherwise, and pass it through the centre of the upper part of the thorax, just where the two front wings meet. mind it is exactly in the centre and so placed that the pin's head leans somewhat forward when the pin is fully in the body. pass the pin well through the body, so that at least one third of its length is clear of the underside of the butterfly, and all as nearly as possible the same distance through. when we have pinned the specimens, we proceed to set or spread them out on the blocks to dry. in selecting these, say they are for butterflies, do not get the slot groove down the centre too wide, as is needed for the fat-bodied moths. those blocks used in this country are generally somewhat rounded on each side where the wings are to rest. this is called "round-setting" in distinction to "flat-setting," which means that the wings, when quite dry, remain set out flatly at right angles from the body; while round-setting leaves them drooping at the tips in an unnatural manner. round-setting is considered, outside the british islands, an insular abomination. it was the style, unfortunately, adopted in this country with the dawn of the present activity among british entomologists, and everybody knows how difficult it is to change even such a simple fashion as the round-setting of butterflies. simple as the matter seems at first sight, it has contributed more than any other cause to the generally shameful ignorance which prevails among british entomologists of even the butterflies of the continent of europe outside our islands. because they can only be obtained from abroad "flat-set," most of our collectors would hardly look at a "foreign" butterfly; and so the study of the british species has been blocked for years, entirely from this cause, which fostered so largely the prejudice in favour of "british specimens." a "british" camberwell beauty is now worth a sovereign, if taken in britain, although it doubtless flew over from the opposite continent; but the same specimen, if taken in france or belgium, would not be worth sixpence to a british collector. now all this is wrong and should not be. of course, it is quite right to know what does occur in our country, but there is no need for these absurd differences in value of the specimens, whether taken in britain or on the mainland of europe. it leads to fraud, and it is sad to think that some professional dealers have actually made more than comfortable livings, chiefly by inducing young or inexperienced people to pay long prices for "british" specimens which were perhaps captured in germany, where they were set on rounded blocks, sent out for the purpose to deceive english people, because they were "round-set" and pinned with birmingham-made pins! another result of this insular prejudice is that some species of butterflies very closely allied to others have been overlooked for want of familiarity with another continental species. a case of this kind was the cause of our last addition to the british list being so long overlooked. there was this butterfly, quite common, year after year, within twenty miles of london, and flying over fifty miles of country, overlooked; all because of our want of knowledge of even the commonest european species. we therefore recommend the flat-setting, and if the new generation of students of butterflies will adopt it, the round-setting style will disappear in a very few years. the blocks should be covered with very fine cork, or may be of soft wood, if the steel pins can be obtained. then they would be cheaper, as the cork covering adds much to the expense, besides being always unsatisfactory, in consequence of the holes in the cork, which hold mites and such vermin. place the setting block on the table, with the top furthest away from you. proceed to select the various butterflies from your damp collecting-box which will best suit the size of the block, allowing about a quarter of an inch clear from the outer edge on each side. then, with the forceps, take hold of the upper part of the pin near to the body and firmly drive it in the same leaning position as it is fixed into the body, firmly into the _exact centre_ of the groove. if the pin will not go readily into the block, make a lead for it with a sharp-pointed penknife. do not be tempted to push down the body on the pin, or your specimens will, on removal from the blocks, be all sorts of heights on the pins, and quite unfit for cabinet purposes. next see that the shoulders of the wings just touch the edge of the block, so as to place the wings flat, without tilting up the tips. observe carefully that the bodies are straight and lifted by placing under them bits of paper or cotton wool so as to extend on an even plane with the thorax and wings. continue placing your specimens until exhausted in number, or until the block is quite full, after leaving a clear space between each butterfly sufficient to lift the wing tips slightly forward of the front part of the head. then with a sharp penknife, very neatly cut a thin nick in the under edge of the ends of the block directly below the shoulder piece of the centre groove. there should be four of these little nicks. next get a piece of _glazed_ cotton thread, and tie a knot at one end. insert this knot in the top left-hand nick, the knotted end being below the block. very gently, but firmly, bring the thread over the end of the block, close to the shoulder, down the left-hand side closely into the inner edge of the block, catching it in the bottom left-hand nick under the block. this will have had the effect of placing all the wings firmly on that side of the block. then carry the thread underneath the block into the top right-hand nick and over the end of the block, down the right-hand upper side, over the lower end, firmly fix in that nick and cut off the thread. great care must be taken to pull the thread over the wings not so tightly as to mark them. a good plan is to push under each upper end of the thread a thin pin which eases it, so as to avoid damaging the top and bottom specimens in the row while setting them into their respective places. these pins may afterwards be withdrawn. next proceed with a very fine pointed needle to gently lift all the wings into their proper places so as to get the effect of "a well-set butterfly." it may be found that the thread is too slack in places to hold down the wings in proper position. that may be obviated by neatly cross-pinning down the thread on either side at intervals between the butterflies. when all the specimens have been arranged with perfect uniformity, take two slips of tracing-paper, which have been previously cut to fit the length of the block, and each must be three-fourths the breadth of one side of the setting block. then lay one of these strips of paper on the left-hand side, being very careful to keep just clear of the thread. all the wings will be seen plainly through the transparent paper and can be readjusted if any slip out of position. next place with the forceps a no. entomological pin firmly through the top and at the bottom of the paper, near the edge next the cotton. place another between the first and second butterfly on the block, and so on down the row; also, _as you go along_, place another pin between the outer indentation where the upper and lower wings meet; also put a fourth pin by the tip of the upper wing. these pins should firmly secure the paper over the wings, which, when thus treated on both sides, will dry into the desired position for cabinet specimens. the greatest care must be taken not to allow any pin-point to enter the wing or fringe of a butterfly, or it will be quite spoiled. next very carefully and gently undo the fastened thread, first taking out any cross pins which secure it. after its removal gently stroke from the body towards the paper on each side with a soft camel's hair brush any disturbed scales. with practice there should not be the least damage done by the thread, which leaves no mark whatever if _moved at once_ when the papers are firmly fixed. if they should be left on carelessly, or by any mistake, the threads will be certain to mark every butterfly, to their complete disfigurement. keep the blocks which contain the set-out butterflies in a dry cupboard or other safe place. when thus drying they fall an easy prey to earwigs, wasps, ants, cockroaches, and such like "small beasts," which will strip off all the bodies on a block in a single night. they should not be exposed to too bright a light whilst drying on the blocks, or they often suffer in colour. when single specimens have to be set out it is easy to work the thread by putting a pin through the knot and holding down the other end with the left-hand forefinger until the paper is fixed, and then treating the other wings in like manner. it is advisable to leave the butterflies on the blocks for about a week, though the surest test is to touch the body gently with a pin, and if _quite hard_, it is safe to remove the insects to a store box without fear of the wings springing. after removing the butterflies, pass over the surface of the block some hard substance, such as the back of an ivory-handled knife, to rub down any little roughness made by the pins on the surface, where the wings are placed, when setting any fresh insects on the same block. most of the butterflies are easily reared through all their stages, from the eggs up to the perfect insect. this is by far the most interesting part of the study. until within the last few years, when the writer of these chapters pressed some of his friends to look more closely into the life histories of our common butterflies, it was the custom of some naturalists to sneer at "butterfly-catchers." since then a wonderful book has been published on the butterflies of the eastern portion of north america by mr. scudder, and all these scoffers must feel very small when they see such splendid science in the study of butterflies. now, many people, who never thought of rearing a butterfly, are giving careful attention to them in all their stages. several kinds of butterflies are readily induced to lay their eggs in captivity when carefully managed. various species differ much in this--some may be depended upon with certainty, such as the "green-veined white" (_pieris napi_), which will deposit its eggs at night upon a piece of watercress, under the influence of a warm room, and the bright light of a paraffin lamp. this species, however, is quite an exception, for, as a rule, every attention should be given to copying their natural surroundings as closely as possible. a good plan is to have ready planted in a large flower-pot a plant of the food of the particular species from which it is desired to have eggs, or, as they are called by the entomologists, the ova--that being, as you know, the plural of ovum, the latin for an egg. having got your plant nicely established in its flower-pot, buy a piece of wire-netting, about a foot wide, and bend it round so as to fit just _inside_ the flower-pot. by cutting the wire so as to overlap a little, it is easy to twist or hook the ends, so as to make a cylinder to just fit inside the pot. then cover this with very open muslin all round and over the top, neatly stretched, so as not to look untidy or to stop a single ray of sunshine which can get through. having had several of these cages prepared, they may be used at the moment when you bring home the freshly-caught females. the sooner the female butterflies are placed in the cage the better, for if they remain too long in the pill-box they are apt to get too dry, and so never recover enough to deposit their ova. after firmly tying the cage to the pot, do not disturb them when once in the cages, so long as they are alive; but leave them out of doors, where they get all the sunlight or rain. if the plant be watered, that is best done by soaking the flower-pot in water up to two-thirds the height of the soil, and not by removing the cage. still, in dry weather it is best to sprinkle the cage with water, so that the captive may drink, which they often require to do. another way, especially in the case of small butterflies, is to use large glass jam-pots, with a piece of muslin tied over the top. in these pots should be a little sprig of food-plant in a small bottle of water, and also a bit of damp sponge to keep up a moist atmosphere, without which there will rarely be any eggs. the pots may be placed in the sunlight in a room near an open window, but care should be taken that the glass does not get too hot, or both parent and eggs may be killed. when the eggs hatch, never, if possible, touch, except with a camel-hair brush, the young caterpillars--or larvæ as they are scientifically called, that being the plural for larva, a single caterpillar. pupa is the singular, and pupæ the plural, for the chrysalis; imago the singular, and imagines the plural, for the perfect insects or complete butterflies. these scientific terms are quite easy to learn, and are the best to use when referring to the various stages of insects generally. in selecting females for depositing ova, take those which are a little worn, and not too recently emerged from pupæ, as they are the more likely to produce fertile eggs. when the ova hatch, watch them very closely, at least three or four times a day. if they are on growing food, do not touch them at all, but if they require moving for any reason, a soft, sharp-pointed camel-hair pencil is the best tool to use. glass jam-pots are very nice for feeding young larvæ of any kind. the method is, to change the food daily, taking care to remove at the same time all dirt made by the larvæ, which is called "frass." cleanliness in rearing larvæ is the first consideration, and the next most important thing is to always gather their food from the same tree as that from which they began to feed when hatched. if they are fed on growing plants this does not, of course, apply. tie over the mouth of the pot with fine unglazed calico, and over this place a piece of glass so as to stop, as far as possible, the drying of the food plant in the jar. be very particular to supply the fresh food always quite dry, and never in a wet condition, which is apt to give the larvæ diarrh[oe]a, to which in captivity they are very subject. never give more food than the young larvæ are likely to eat, increasing the supply as they get older. when changing the larvæ always count them, or some will be lost and thrown out with the withered food. the best plan is to spread out a sheet of white paper on a table, and empty the contents of the jar on it. then examine the interior of the jar, seeing that every little one is out. having cleaned it out with a clean, dry duster, put in the fresh food. then lift in with the hair-pencil any active larvæ. those which are sulky-looking on the leaves clip off with part of the leaf, and drop into the jar. they may be changing their skin, and, if disturbed then, will probably not recover. the food should be changed at least once every day. while growing, larvæ of butterflies generally like plenty of light, but it is unsafe to leave the sunshine too long on the jars, in case the living contents get baked, as will the food certainly. some species while in the larval stage, feed only at night, hiding away in the daylight. these are matters which will soon be found out by experience. we have never heard of any one having reared all the british species through their stages, but we know one friend who reared no less than eighteen different kinds through, from ova to imagines, in a single season. $moth catching.$--students of natural history in search of moths which they may identify by a reference to such works upon the subject as those by the rev. j. g. wood, will find an interesting method of catching them in preparing "treacles." the fancy "golden syrups" of the kitchen should be avoided. ask the grocer to get common treacle--green treacle they call it in the trade. to a pound of this will be added a wineglassful of stale beer and about three-quarters of a wineglassful of the most inferior rum you can buy. a few drops of oil of aniseed will improve this dreadful concoction. do not add the rum, beer, and aniseed to the treacle at once, but keep them in a bottle apart until you are going to use the mixture. with a companion who carries a net, look out now for isolated trees that have a rough bark. do not waste attention on dead trees, fences, nor chestnut trees, willows, nor flowering ivy. in warm, damp weather when there is no moon, go out with a bottle of this mixture and a house-painter's brush, "a sash tool," as painters call it, will serve you well, and a lantern, some pill-boxes or similar small receptacles. having selected a tree daub it well with your mixture in a patch about a foot long and half a foot broad. so pass from tree to tree. come back at last to the first tree again. your companion should hold the net under the treacle patch for some of the moths that have come to enjoy the rum and treacle will fall when you turn the lantern light upon them. those that do not may be taken from the tree by an upward scoop of a pill-box, and then secured by the lid. try to avoid getting the sticky mixture upon the handle of the brush and upon your hands, for it will prevent your deft manipulation of your pill boxes. after the first night very little treacle will be needed to freshen the patches, but the mixture may be used freely on your first round. the treacling season begins about march and goes on until the end of april. may does not yield many moths, nor the first week in june, but after that you may go round again with your bottle until the end of september. you may find sometimes that toads and bats poach on your preserves. [illustration] another way to secure specimens of moths is to make a moth trap. our diagram gives a plan of it, that is a representation of it as seen from above if we look down at it with the lid off. a, b, c, d is a box. it may be made for the purpose, or a soap box or other case may be purchased from the grocer for a few coppers. e, f, and g are panes of glass, held in grooves. h is another pane of glass which comes up to the lid, and cuts the box into two unequal parts. j is the reflector of a lighted lamp placed in front of it. there will need to be a hole in the lid over the lamp, and a flower pot upside down may be put over this hole. it is best to have three doors into the larger compartment; one in the lid and one in each of the two sides, k and l, so that two hands may be used in putting the moths that come to the light into pill boxes. chapter xii hints on aquariums it is better to have several aquariums than one. often the mistake is made of gathering together all kinds of savage and voracious creatures that prey upon each other. pretty as they are, there is no need to buy the glass aquariums, and indeed better in every way for the inhabitants is a large tub put out of doors in a place where there is not too much sun. clean sand or gravel should be strewed upon the bottom and in this water-plants may be fixed. if you have any bivalves they will love to burrow in it, and some kinds of fish love to rest upon a bottom of this kind. large stones should be built to reach half-way up the tub, with spaces between so that the fish may dart out of the light whenever they wish. if you keep fish that need running water it will be necessary to put the tub under a tap, and to pierce a hole near the top of the tub for the superfluous water to flow away. in this case it will be as well to cover the tub with a net, or the fish may be found to have leapt over the edge. boys may make their own net from the instructions given in chapter xix., or may buy cheap gauze or other similar material. if the tub is for newts and such things as do not live wholly in the water, then the stones should be built until they come above the water and so form a little island. for these creatures the water should not be so deep, and there should be an abundance of weeds. freshwater shrimps and crayfish should have a shallow tub or trough, a sandy bottom, and places in which they can hide. here, too, there must be water running in and out always. by these means we imitate the natural surroundings of the shrimps and crayfish, for they delight in the running water of shallow streams that have a bottom of sand and stones. the outlet for the waste water should be protected with a grating and probably with gauze, or some of the inhabitants of the tub will escape. there are many objections to glass vessels, though some of their faults may be corrected. they trouble the fish with too much light, but if a brown paper case of the same size and shape as the aquarium be made it can be slipped over the vessel and removed occasionally when you wish to observe the movements of the fish. glass soon becomes foul, and needs frequent cleaning. in any case the aquarium should be kept out of the sun, and for this reason a northern window is best. whatever form of aquarium is selected there must be soil and sand at the bottom, weeds, and shelter for the fish. the bell glass is the least favourable form of aquarium, but even that may be made tolerable if the hints we have given are adopted. in the square or oblong form only one side need be glass and the remaining three sides wood, metal or slate. the sand that forms the bottom of an aquarium should be quite clean. if you have found it in the bottom of a swift stream it will not need much washing, but if from any other place it should be washed thoroughly. put a large bucket under a tap, and as the water runs into the bucket strew the sand gradually into the moving water with one hand, and stir the water as hard as you can with the other. keep this going until the water that runs out of the bucket is quite clean. even now, however, the sand may not be thoroughly cleansed. put a drop of the water upon a piece of clean glass, and when the water has been evaporated there should be no sediment. when the sand, plants, pebbles and stones have been arranged in an aquarium it is best to introduce the water gently by means of a syphon, a method explained in chapter xix. the aquarium may be emptied in the same way. there are a number of ways of supplying the fish with the amount of oxygen they need. one is to change the water frequently, another already mentioned is to have running water and a pipe for the surplus water; a third means is to have a fountain, an attractive element described in chapter xix. these methods, however, are mechanical and artificial. the natural way of providing the oxygen is to secure the aid of water plants. these absorb carbonic acid gas, and, having made use of the carbon in their growth, set free the oxygen, which is waste as far as they are concerned. thus in a well-balanced aquarium the fish provide the plants with carbonic acid gas, and receive back the oxygen which they need; the plants provide the fish with oxygen which they do not want, but which is the very life of the fish, and receive back the carbon without which they would die. water-beetles, newts and some other creatures come to the surface for their air, and take no oxygen, or very little, from the water. for many reasons the best aquarium is a pond in the garden, for here we may have greater variety of animal and vegetable life, and beautiful surroundings of plant life too. the pond should be about three feet deep, and the banks should slope, so that there will be a little spade work at first. the bottom may be of clay, but it is better for many reasons to have cement. the points mentioned with regard to the indoor aquarium apply here also, but many of the arrangements are more easily carried out in the pond than in the tank. $plants for the aquarium.$--the duckweeds float and need no planting. they spread rapidly. there are four kinds: the lesser duckweed (_lemna minor_); the ivy-leaved duckweed (_lemna trisulca_). then there is the american pondweed (_anacharis alsinastrum_), a weed that almost blocks slow moving rivers and canals. it will grow either attached to the bottom or floating. not only does it supply the fish with air but with food also. the hornwort (_ceratophyllum demersum_) needs no soil, and gives off much oxygen, though probably not so much as _vallisneria spiralis_, a great favourite in the aquarium. easier to obtain is the water crowfoot (_ranunculus aquatilis_), and we may mention also the broad-leaved pondweed (_potamogeton natans_), close-leaved pondweed (_potamogeton densus_), the perfoliate pondweed (_p. perfoliatus_), the curled pondweed (_p. crispus_), the starwort (_callitriche verna_), the grassy pondweed (_potamogeton gramineus_), and the enterprising boy will find many others for himself in ponds, streams, and canals. foreign plants are sold by dealers. for the garden pond the beautiful water lilies may be obtained. the weeds should be prevented from occupying too much space, and if the creatures in the aquarium do not keep them in check by eating them it will be necessary to remove some of the plants occasionally. $sanitation.$--if a fish dies remove it at once, or its dead body will pollute the water. to clean a glass aquarium let the water run away through a siphon until only a few inches remain, then clean the sides with a piece of rag tied upon a stick. now siphon the remaining water away, at the same time supplying fresh water. do not throw a lot of food to the fishes. what they do not eat decays and poisons the water. if there are molluscs in the aquarium this danger is lessened, for many of them act as scavengers, and they are assisted by freshwater shrimps, tadpoles, and beetles. the shrimps, however, may eat the living as well as the dead, and the tadpoles, instead of being allowed to eat, may themselves be eaten. $the food supply.$--fish eat the buds and tender shoots of pond weeds. they may have also a moderate supply of small worms, gentles, different kinds of larvæ, and what are called ants' eggs. frogs and toads eat insects, little beetles, worms, grubs, caterpillars, and newts need an occasional worm. $the fish.$--many of the fish that swarm in most ponds and streams are suitable for the aquarium. the carp is related to the goldfish, which is the golden carp. it is quiet and harmless, and will not interfere with other creatures in the aquarium. minnows are pretty, and should have running water, and the roach is another suitable fish for life in captivity. the gudgeon, loach, and bullhead serve for bottom fish. jack and sticklebacks are extremely interesting, but need a place for themselves, as they eat any other inhabitants of the same aquarium. $fishes as pets.$--perhaps, writes one of our contributors, the most interesting of freshwater fishes to watch is the stickleback, especially if a pair can be kept during the breeding season in a good-sized aquarium, so that they have the opportunity to collect materials and build their curious nest in the natural way. the male fish develops during this season a most beautiful vermilion-coloured breast, and is exceedingly pugnacious, so that it is useless to attempt to keep two males in the same aquarium. in fact, the stickleback is often so quarrelsome that it is not desirable to try to keep other fish with him, unless they are much larger than he is. the easiest fish to keep alive are the carp (to which tribe the goldfish belongs) and the minnow. these can be kept for years without much difficulty, and will not be likely to injure one another, or any other fish that may be placed in the same tank. small rudd are also very good pets, and are nearly as hardy and equally harmless. roach are easily obtained, and will not quarrel, but they are not quite so strong. perch, on the contrary, will live a long time if regularly fed, but it will not do to put any smaller fish, except sticklebacks, with them; yet they look so handsome that an aquarium containing two or three perch and a pair of sticklebacks is perhaps better worth looking at than one which can only boast of shoals of roach or other soft-mouthed fishes. dace and chub are pretty and harmless, but require more changes of water than is usually convenient, or they will soon die. tench are tenacious of life, but sluggish and fond of lying at the bottom. small bream are fairly lively, and i have found them moderately hardy. they do not require water of special purity. gudgeons live very well, and may be kept with minnows, being good friends together. the loach and the bullhead are fairly hardy, but have little other attraction. the grayling is very delicate, and it is not possible to keep her long, except under very favourable conditions. the ruffe or pope is hardy, like its relative the perch, and might, if obtainable (it is not a common fish), be placed in a perch tank, as a humble companion. the bleak is almost as delicate as the grayling; and the jack is too ravenous for any fish to live in his company except another jack _of his own size_. this about ends the list, excepting that i've left till the last the noblest of fish--trout and salmon. with regard to the latter i don't want to encourage a boy in the notion that he can keep a ten-pound salmon in a tank. nevertheless, i have for many successive seasons kept salmon for weeks or months in a small tank; but these were young ones, very young, about the size of tadpoles, in fact, and not unlike them in some respects. they are almost indistinguishable from the young trout with which i keep them. of course, they are but babies, and they have their feeding bottles attached, and do not want feeding till these are absorbed. to return to trout. these fish, when about a year old, are very interesting, and if a constant change of water can be secured may be kept alive for years. even without this advantage, i have kept them many months, and have found their little ways very curious. the trait i objected to the most was the habit of cannibalism which the larger fish developed. i found one fish of about one and a half ounces with another about half that size half way down its throat. this makes it desirable to keep only such trout as are about the same size together. they will gradually, though very slowly, get tame, and will come out from their shelter under a weed to eat a caddis as you drop it from your hand. this was only the case with some of the fish, others remaining as shy as ever in spite of petting. it is best to choose fish that have been taken by net, but trout taken by a fly, or roach taken by a small hook in the lip, will live very well. i have kept trout for months that i had caught with fly and carried home for miles. some of these were from a quarter to half-a-pound in weight; but i found smaller fish would thrive better. for food, caddis or other water insects are best; but gentles would perhaps do, if the former are not to be had. i found the freshwater shrimp capital food, as it keeps alive, of course, till the trout is inclined to eat. one of the chief causes of mortality in the aquarium is the fouling of water by the decomposition of surplus food. if you are obliged to use dead matter, such as chopped liver, or meat, be careful to remove any that may be left. flies may be put on the surface, and will be appreciated; but the trout will seldom take them while you are watching, though they will often eat the caddis as you put them in, and even chase the shrimps. on the whole, i think perch are the best fish to make pets of, as they can be taught even to take worms from your hand, and require much less water running in and out than do the trout. i've known a perch to live for years in a tin bath in my stable; whereas the trout would not be happy without a long tank, and continual change of water. if you have only a very small aquarium it may be better to be contented with a few minnows. these, with the water weeds and little fresh-water snails, which should be in every aquarium, will be quite enough to make it look pretty. chapter xiii in the playing fields $nickie, nickie, night.$--before the period when lucifer matches came into general usage and were manufactured at a moderate price, our grandparents relied on the flint, the steel, and the tinder-box to produce fire. these implements have been very completely dealt with by various writers and illustrators, who have given us some idea of the importance they were to every household. to the student, and to the curious who desire a more tangible acquaintance, we may remark that a very fine collection of tinder-boxes, flints, and steels can be seen both at the british museum and at the guildhall museum of the city of london. a very favourite boys' game, in the earlier part of the nineteenth century, which necessitated the possession of at least a flint and steel, the game being played in the after-dark of evening, was somewhat similar to the modern game of "touch." the game was called "nickie, nickie, night," and admitted any number of players. a boy was elected to the position of "nickie," and he could only retain this position by fleetness of foot and dexterity in avoiding his pursuers, the pursuers being formed by the remaining number of players. the game was played in any open locality, and "nickie" being allowed a start of perhaps thirty to forty seconds, disappeared into the darkness, shouts of "nickie! nickie! night! show your light! show your light!" resounding from the waiting boys, whereupon nickie struck a few sparks from his flint and steel, indicating to the others his position; these at once tore off in his direction; while he, as quickly and silently as possible, changed his locality to elude capture. having baffled his pursuers, nickie would, if a good player, again quickly chink flint and steel, drawing off the boys in a new direction; and so the game would continue amidst the greatest excitement, fun, and laughter; nickie, like a will-o'-the-wisp, darting here, there, and everywhere, greeted with shouts of "nickie! nickie! night! show your light!" until, being ultimately captured, he gave way to a new nickie, and took his place amongst the pursuers. [illustration] our illustrations of flint and tinder-box are selected from numerous patterns; in many cases--older readers will probably remember the immense variety of these--the tinder-box was round, and the steel consisted of an old file stuck in a wooden handle, the flint being frequently picked up from among the stones in the roadway. [illustration] $how to make a kite.$--take a lath, a, b, which should be three feet long and about an inch wide. one of the ordinary laths used by builders will be quite suitable if one of the lighter ones is selected, and if care is taken to choose a straight one. next take a cane or other piece of light flexible wood, and bind the centre of it tightly at the point g an inch below a. bend the cane into a semi-circle and connect c and d with string. if this has been done properly the distance from c to d will be two feet. now connect d b c with string and the frame will be ready. many years ago it was possible to cover a kite with ordinary newspaper, but the paper that is used now is not strong enough, and it is better to use calico. place the frame upon the calico and cut round the frame with scissors, not close to the frame, but leaving a margin of calico. turn this over string and cane and stitch it in position. this may be done with a sewing machine. at e midway between h g bore a hole with a pricker, and another at f, which is the same distance from h as e is. string a foot long should connect e and f, and this is kept in position by having knotted ends so that the ends cannot pass through the holes at e and f. this string will not be tight, but will hang loosely. at c and d tassels about eight inches long may be fixed. the tail is made by folding paper. take a number of pieces about five inches long and four broad, and fold them as though you were making spills for the lighting of candles. how long the tail should be is a matter for experiment. try it with forty and a tassel at the end, and you will see afterwards when you try to fly the kite if that is the right length and weight. attach your long flying line now to the string that connects e and f, about four and a half inches below e. choose a breezy day and ask someone to face the wind and hold the kite aloft. keeping the line tight, run a few yards in the face of the wind to give the kite a start upon its upward journey. now is the time to see if the tail is too heavy or too light. if the kite labours upwards and shows a tendency to come straight down, tail first, then it may be inferred that the tail is too heavy, and by reducing the number of "chickens" as they are called in some parts of the country, and by taking from the tassel the kite may be relieved of its too heavy burden. if, on the other hand, the tail is not heavy enough, the kite will plunge madly from side to side and will dive downwards head foremost, demanding more "chickens" or a heavier tassel. the kite may be flown in the dark with a chinese lantern where the tassel is. [illustration] $rackets.$--a racket ground is in the form of a parallelogram, not less than fifty yards long and twenty-five broad. sometimes a wall of a garden may be adapted by fixing boards and net-work along the top, if there is space enough below. the wall should be painted black, and the ground be divided into four equal divisions, distinctly marked. the flooring of the court should be paved. the divisions are, two close to the wall, a and b, and two in front of them, c and d. these divisions are occupied by those who play the game. the wall should be marked by a broad line of white paint e at forty-two inches from the ground, and above this line each ball should strike. the ball weighs one ounce, and should be white. when it becomes dirty its whiteness is renewed by dipping it into a bag of chalk, so that it may be seen against the black wall. the game may be played by two or more players. when it is played by four, one stands in each of the compartments, a, b, c, d; those near the wall being called in-hand, and those furthest from it out-hand players. when two play, each player has two of the divisions, and the one who takes the a and b is called in-hand player, and the other out-hand player. having decided who is to begin the game, the in-hand player nearest the wall strikes his ball against the wall; if it strikes under the line, goes over the wall, does not rebound into the out-hand spaces, or goes beyond the racket ground, the striker is out, and the out-hand player takes his place; but if the player is successful, and the ball rebounds into the out-hand spaces, and as it rises is sent back to the wall, to rebound into one of the in spaces, the game proceeds. in a close-court game the "server" who serves the ball properly above the line but not into his adversary's court is allowed three trials before his "hand" is out. the game is, that the in-player should send the ball in such a manner against the wall that, on its rebound, the opposite player, or players, shall be able to pick it up or strike it. when this happens, he who struck the ball counts one point, or an ace, and the play proceeds until one player or players scores eleven, or fifteen, as the players decide. this game may be played either in an open court, that is in a court with only one wall, against which the game is played, or in a closed court surrounded by four walls. sometimes there is an ordinary high front wall, and a smaller back wall, omitting the side walls. the close-court game is the best, but the expense compels many to adopt the open-court game. $fives$.--this game needs a high wall, free from abutments, and under it a smooth, dry, paved ground. a line is drawn on the wall, about three feet from the ground; another line is drawn upon the ground itself about feet from the wall, a; and two others are drawn on each side as boundaries, b, c. the player needs a ball of tightly-sewn leather and a fives-bat. this has a long handle, and an oval bowl of wood. the ball is hard, capable of bouncing, small and white. the game may be played by two or four people; in the last arrangement, two on each side. the game may be played either single-handed or with partners. when it is played with partners, the players toss up for first innings. the first player takes the ball, and strikes it against the wall with his bat above the line on the wall, and so that it may fall outside the line on the ground. the other then strikes it, and the players continue to hit it against the wall, either before it comes to the ground or at the first rebound, until one of them missing it, or driving it out of bounds, or beneath the wall-line, loses or goes out. the ball may fall anywhere within the side boundaries, after being once struck up by the player who is in. the game is usually fifteen, but is sometimes extended to twenty-five. this is bat-fives, and is not unlike rackets, except that it may be played in any open court, and that another kind of bat and a larger ball are used. fives was originally played with the hand, instead of a racket. $prisoners' base.$--appoint the two best players captains, and let them choose their men alternately. next mark the homes and prisons. two semicircles are drawn, large enough to hold the two sides, the distance between the semicircles being about twenty yards. these are the "homes," or "bounds." twenty yards in front of these, two other semicircles, of a rather larger size, are drawn. these are the prisons, and the prison of each party is in a line with the enemy's home. having settled which side shall commence the game the captain of that side orders out one of his own side who must run at least beyond the prisons before he returns. as soon as he has started, the captain of the other side sends out one of his men to try to touch him before he can regain his own home. if this is accomplished, the successful runner is permitted to return home while the boy who has been touched must go to the prison belonging to his enemies' side; from which he cannot move until someone from his own side releases him, by evading the enemy and touching him. this is not easy, because in order to reach the prison, the player must cross the enemy's headquarters. it is allowable for the prisoner to stretch his hand as far towards his rescuer as possible, but he must keep some part of his body within the prison; and if a number of prisoners are captured, it is sufficient for one to remain within the prison, while the rest, by joining hands make a line towards the boy who is trying to release them. when this is done, both the prisoner and his rescuer return home, no one being able to touch them until they have reached their home and started off again. the game, however, is not only confined to the two originally sent out. as soon as a captain sees his man in difficulty he sends out a third, who is in his turn pursued by another from the other side; each being able to touch any who have preceded, but none who have left their home after him. the captains direct, and hold themselves ready in case of an emergency, and the side wins which imprisons the whole of the boys upon the other side. $french and english.$--choose two sides in the usual way. one side takes hold of one end of a stout rope, and the other side of the other end. a line is made midway between the sides, each strives to pull the other over it, and those who are so pulled over, lose the game. two captains should be appointed, and each should have a code of signals to communicate with his own side, that he may direct them when to stop, when to slacken, or when to pull hard. in this game sometimes a good captain may win even when he has an inferior team. for instance, if he sees all the boys are pulling their hardest, the captain of the other side sees that his opponents are leaning back too much, that is they are trusting to their weight rather than to their strength. he gives the signal to slacken, when down go the enemy, and are then dragged over the line with the greatest ease. if the enemy begins to be tired a united and sudden tug will generally bring them upright, and once moved, the victory is easily gained. no knots are to be allowed on the rope, nor is the game won, unless the whole side has been dragged over the line. $fight for the flag.$--a game played from a mound, and any number may play. each party chooses a captain, and having done this, divide themselves into attackers and defenders. the defending party provide themselves with a small flag, which is fixed on a staff on the top of the mound, and then arrange themselves round it so as to defend it from the attacks of their opponents, who advance towards the hillock, and try to throw down those who oppose them. those who are so thrown on either side, are called "dead men," and must lie quiet till the game is finished. this happens either when all the attacking party are dead, or when the flag has been carried off by one of them. the player who carries off the flag is called the knight, and is chosen captain for the next game. $hop-scotch.$--a game played by hopping on one foot and kicking an oyster-shell or piece of tile or stone from one compartment to the other, without placing the lifted foot, except in one case, upon the ground, and without allowing the shell or tile to rest on any of the lines. a diagram is first drawn consisting of twelve compartments, each being numbered, and at its further end the picture of a plum pudding with knife and fork. in commencing the game, the players take their stand at the place marked by a, and throw for innings. he who can go nearest to the plum in the centre of the pudding, plays first. [illustration] the winner begins by throwing his shell into no. ; he then hops into the space, and kicks the tile out to a; he next throws the tile into no. , kicks it from no. to no. , and thence out. he then throws it into no. , kicks it from to , from to , and out. he next throws it into no. , kicks it from to , from to , from to , and out; and so he goes on till he has passed the cross and comes to no. , when he is allowed to rest, by standing with one foot in no. and the other in no. ; but he must go on hopping before he kicks the tile home. he then passes through the beds , , and , as he did those of , , , , , etc., and so on, till he gets to plum pudding, when he may rest, and placing his tile on the plum, he is required, while standing on one foot, to kick it with such force as to send it through all the other beds to a at one kick. if one player throws his tile into the wrong compartment, or when he is kicking it out, he loses his innings, as he does also if the tile or his foot at any time rests on a line, or if he kicks his tile out of the diagram. we give also diagrams for simpler forms of the game. $turnpike.$--although turnpike-keepers upon the roads have long since been abolished, there is no reason why the game of turnpike, played with hoops, should be played no longer. any number of boys may play, but we will suppose there are six. one should have a hoop and the others will then be turnpike-keepers. these take two stones or two bricks and place them about two inches apart upon the ground. we may call each pair of stones or bricks the toll-bar, and each toll-bar should be some distance from the others. it is the task of the boy with the hoop to pass between the stones without touching them, and if he goes through the five then he turns and comes through them again from the other side, and so on until he fails. if he touches a toll-bar then the keeper of the bar takes that hoop, and he who had hitherto been driving the hoop becomes the keeper of that particular toll-bar at which he failed. if the hoop driver touches his hoop with his hands, or allows it to fall he must give it to the nearest toll-bar keeper and take his place while the toll-bar keeper becomes a hoop driver. each keeper must stand upon that side of his toll-gate which is towards the right hand of the hoop driver, so that when the hoop driver returns he must cross to the other side of his toll-bar. if he is on the wrong side the hoop driver need not trouble to pass through his toll-bar at all. if the boys prefer it there may be more hoop drivers and fewer toll-bar keepers. $posting.$--places called posting-stations are formed at regular intervals in a large circle or oval, and at each place a player takes his stand. every player, except the hoop driver, has charge of one of these stations. suppose there are seven players--a, b, c, d, e, f, and g, and that g holds the hoop. the other six players having taken their places, g starts from the station belonging to f, and drives the hoop towards a, who waits, with hoop-stick in hand, ready to relieve g of his hoop. g stops at the posting-station, while a runs the hoop to b, who takes charge of it, and delivers it to c. c trundles the hoop to d; d takes it to e; e to f, and f conveys it to the first player, g. in this way the game continues, until all the players have worked round the circle five or six times. the game is rendered more boisterous by increasing the numbers of players, and having two or three hoop drivers. do not touch the hoop with your hands, and do not let the hoop fall. $fox.$--one player is called fox, and he has a den where none of the players may annoy him. the other players arm themselves with knotted handkerchiefs, and wait for reynard's appearance. he is also armed with a knotted handkerchief, and hops out of his den. when he is out, the other players attack him with their handkerchiefs, and he endeavours to strike one of them without putting down his other foot. if he puts down his foot he has to run back as fast as he can, without the right to strike the other players, who flog him the whole way. if, however, he succeeds in striking one without losing his balance, the one so struck becomes fox; and, as he has both feet down, is thrashed to his den. $drop ball.$--a line must be drawn three feet from the wall at which this game of ball is to be played. the player must kneel outside this line, and never cross it; if the ball falls inside the line it is reckoned a miss. each time the player throws up the ball and catches it it counts a point. there are many ways of playing this game. . throwing the ball and catching it before it touches the ground. . clapping the hands after throwing, before the ball touches the ground. . putting one knee to the ground before catching the ball. . putting one knee to the ground and clapping the hands before catching the ball. . circling round on one heel before catching the ball. . circling round on one heel and counting , , , or any number agreed upon, before catching the ball. . strike the player nearest you before catching the ball. there should not be too many players, for they would have to wait too long for a turn. $jingling.$--the game should be played on soft grass inside a large circle, enclosed with ropes. the players should not exceed ten. all except one of the nimblest, who is the jingler, have their eyes blindfolded with handkerchiefs. the jingler holds a bell in his hand, which he is obliged to keep ringing. the aim of the jingler is to elude the pursuit of his companions, who follow him by the sound of the bell within the boundaries of the rope, for he is forbidden to pass beyond it. if he be caught in the time allotted for the game, generally twenty minutes, the player who caught him wins the match; if they are not able to take him, he is proclaimed the victor. $the fugleman.$--the fugleman places himself in a prominent place, and arranges the other boys before him in a line. he then begins with grotesque gestures, which all the boys are compelled to copy. those who are seen to laugh are immediately ordered to stand out of the line, and when half the number of players are so put out, the others are allowed to ride them three times round the playground, while the fugleman with a knotted handkerchief beats the steeds from behind. chapter xiv the garden $how to dig.$--it is beyond the scope of this book to enter into all the intricacies of gardening. to do this we should need a volume larger than this devoted to that subject alone. whatever branch of gardening a boy may pursue, however, whether he grows gooseberries, sweet peas, or cabbages, he will need to know how to dig. one of the pleasures of life is to come to a garden that has been neglected or to a plot of land that hitherto has been a field and to see it gradually become a well kept garden without a weed, under the magic of good spade work. it is like subduing an enemy. the simplest way to dig is to take a spade full of earth, turn it over, and put it back where you found it. this, however, is only for lightening the soil when the garden has been cultivated already. you would not subdue an unruly garden in that way. $shallow trenching.$--if abcd is a plot of land and you are beginning at the ab end, dig out the earth abef and convey it to the dc end and put it near but off the plot you are digging. now dig efgh and throw the earth from that into the trench abef and so on for the rest of the plot. when you have come to the end of the plot there will be a trench, but this will be filled by the earth you took there at the beginning of your digging. [illustration: shallow trenching.] $deep trenching.$--the best basis for gardening, however, is a more drastic, deeper trenching than this. let abcd be the plot we are going to dig deeply. divide it into equal parts by the line ef. make the line gh - / feet from fc. dig out the earth from ghcf and carry it to x where it may be put in a heap. make the line ij feet from gh. dig out the earth one spade deep from ghij and throw it upon the heap at x. this earth at x taken from the top is known as top soil. now return to gfch and go another spade deeper, throwing the soil of this digging into a heap at y. still at gfch break up the soil there with a fork, and manure and refuse may be placed there. weeds put down here would have no chance to grow again. go now to gijh, dig out the subsoil there and put it into gfch. on the top of this subsoil so removed place the top soil from kijl. go on like this until you come to eb, when the top soil from aemn should go to noqr and the subsoil of aemn into noqr and the top soil from mnpq into ebon. when you get to df you will find the subsoil at y and the top soil at x ready for the filling of the last trench. it is important to keep the top soil on the top and the subsoil underneath. drive the spade into the earth in a perpendicular direction and the full depth of the blade. let the garden endure the winter with a rough surface so that the soil may present as many surfaces to the frost as possible. jack frost is one of the very best gardeners, and to see soil before he has bitten it and afterwards will be a revelation to the young gardener. $double digging.$--the deep trenching just described, in which the top soil was kept upon the top, and the subsoil underneath, is excellent where the subsoil is unfit for plant food, but there is a problem which it does not solve. suppose we come to a garden matted hard upon the surface with buttercups, convolvulus, grass, twitch, groundsel, thistles and other tiresome weeds, then the last thing we desire is that these should remain on top. you cannot pull up the weeds by hand because the ground is so hard that you do no more than break the weeds, leaving the roots embedded firmly in the earth. before there is any peace in the garden these weeds must be killed, and we will now describe how to do it. suppose abcd is the plot of ground. from ab measure four feet and draw the line ef. from abfe take out the soil one spade deep, that is the top soil, and put it in a heap at g outside the plot. now from abfe take out the soil another spade deep, the subsoil, and put it in a heap at h. now from ef measure two feet and draw the line ij. take the top soil, weeds and everything, from efji and throw it to abkl--kl is two feet from ab--leaving klfe empty for the present. now take the subsoil from efji and throw it into abkl, that is upon the top of the top soil you have just thrown there. now measure another two feet from ij and draw the line mn. the soil from ijnm will go into klfe, top soil first and the subsoil on the top of it. proceed in this way, two feet at a time, and when you come to cd throw the soil at g and h into the trench that will be left, top soil first and subsoil upon the top of it. the plot abcd will now be well dug, and all the weeds will be deep under the soil where they will speedily die and decay; and even supposing that the subsoil you had brought to the top is not good, you may double dig again next year and so recover the old top soil minus the weeds. any weeds that grow now may be eradicated easily from the loose soil, and even the weeds of twitch and convolvulus may be followed down and extracted. unless you have unlimited time and patience to look after them do not be tempted to leave grass paths, but dig the garden from side to side. grass paths are always spreading upon the garden and making the edges weedy and untidy. if you prefer it you may do this double digging with the plot divided as we divided it for deep trenching. [illustration: deep trenching.] $how to sow seed.$--it is not wise to sow old seed. even if they grow the plants are often without vigour. go to a seedsman who has a good character and do not buy seed because its price is low. the soil must be fine and firm, porous and moist. it must not be sticky nor dry. the seeds will not germinate until they can have both warmth and moisture. sow thinly because crowded plants do not grow well. it is best to sow small flower seeds in pans and boxes well drained, as explained in our article on window-boxes to follow. level the surface of the earth and make it firm. water it with a fine spray and then stand it in the shade for about five hours. now scatter the seed thinly and cover it very lightly with sifted earth. white-washed or paper shaded glass may be placed over the box or pan until the seeds appear. the glass will keep the air warm and moist. except in the case of the very small seeds, the depth at which they are sown should be about three times their size or thickness. in the garden do not sow broadcast, but in drills, as the ground can then be more easily weeded and kept loose when the seeds have grown. after sowing press the soil well down and then water gently so that the seeds are not washed out, and the water drains away quickly. the soil must not be allowed to get quite dry, and yet excessive moisture must be avoided. too much watering is a common cause of failure. if the soil becomes caked before the seedlings appear or patches be lifted by them, break it up with the point of a knife, and then water gently and just sufficiently to settle the soil round the plants. do not water seeds or seedlings with water that is colder than the soil, and in summer do not water until the evening. if the watering of very small seeds is necessary, stand the pans or boxes in a shallow vessel of water for an hour. for watering seedlings use a vaporiser, or dip a hair brush in water, shake off most of the fluid, and then, while holding the brush over the plants draw the hand along the bristles several times. when the seedlings are up, loosen the soil around them very gently. $a window box.$--there are not many forms of gardening that are so pleasant as that of having a window box. there need be no bearing of the heat and burden of the day, no laborious double digging, no tedious weeding, no back-aching hoeing, no hard days with the wheelbarrow. the window box, too, is not merely a fine weather friend. as you sit in your room upon a rainy day it is at the window beside you, and if your window is open the scent from the flowers comes in with every breeze. if you have a succession of window-boxes you can have a blaze of flowers upon your window sill at most seasons of the year. [illustration: double digging.] the box need not be made elaborately, and though some people do give themselves much trouble yet flowers look as well or even better in such a roughly made box painted green as most boys can make out of a packing case bought for a few coppers from the grocer. you may put plants already in pots in your box, but if you desire to grow flowers in the box itself it will be necessary to fill it with earth. before this is done holes about the size of a farthing should be bored in the bottom of the box with a brace and bit or with that more homely if unjoiner-like tool the red hot poker. these are to provide drainage. then there should come between one and two inches of broken stones and upon this the earth. as a rule this may be the ordinary earth from the garden, but it is better to add some coarse sand if you have it, and if in your walks into woods and along the hedges you can secure some leaf mould to put with the earth so much the better. well decayed manure, odds and ends of mortar and lime which the builders may have left about will all help to provide the flowers with food. there are so many flowers that look well in window-boxes that no complete list can be given. boys should be ever on the look out to find from the boxes of other people what thrives in these boxes. each end of the box should be left for climbers that will run up each side of the window, and no better plant for this position can be named than the delicate canary creeper with its pale green leaves and dainty yellow flowers. nasturtiums, too, look well in this position, and no better border for the front of the box can be imagined than the blue of the beautiful lobelia. another good climber is convolvulus major. these climbers live for one season only, but one that grows year after year is tropæolum pentaphyllum. in the winter the tubers of this plant are kept in sand and are placed in position each spring. plants that hang over the front of the box are graceful like single petunias and rock bindweed, and for the rest each boy can make a selection of his favourites for the remaining part of the box. if he likes he may have a number of boxes so that when one has had its day another may be ready. in the spring box he would have crocuses, snowdrops, squills, daffodils and such flowers; then a box with primroses, tulips and hyacinths; and after that a box of pinks, lilies of the valley, anemones, and next the real summer flowers and blooms of autumn. let the plants be watered regularly with water that is not too cold, and if it be possible use rain water. chapter xv the boy as artist it would be idle to pretend that it is possible in the chapter of a book, or indeed in a book itself, to give instruction that would make a boy an artist; but most people have the capacity to make sketches, and this is a pleasing and useful training of the eye and hand. the power to bring away a sketch of a scene that has charmed us is one well worth the cultivation, and in the making of the sketch we see many things that would otherwise escape our notice. if a boy finds he has special ability in this direction he should read the lives of artists, visit picture galleries, and join an art class, where he will be conducted through the severe discipline that leads him to drawing the living human form, amusing himself meanwhile by sketching in the lanes and woods, among the mountains, or wherever he happens to be, even if it is in the streets. $hints on sketching.$--the drawing of a cathedral with all its complexities and innumerable details is governed by the same rules as the drawing of a barn or even of a brick, and these rules are simple, and are easily stated. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] in sketching we have to draw things as they seem, not as we know them to be. the top of a bucket is a perfect circle; yet when we draw it, unless we look down upon it from a point exactly above its centre, we represent it by an oval. similarly, when we look along a stretch of railway line we know that the lines are exactly parallel, but they seem to draw nearer to each other. the rails of a fence are of equal height, and have been put at equal distances apart, but as we look along the fence it seems as though further away the workman had used shorter posts, and had put them nearer together. if we can see through a railway tunnel, it looks as though the way out at the other end were smaller than the way in at this; but we know they are of the same size. the rules under which lines seem to draw together and spaces become smaller have been called the rules of perspective, and it is important that we should learn these rules. luckily they are few and not difficult to understand, and we will learn them as we go along in drawing a few simple forms that shall include them. in fig. we have a box, its corner towards us. in the box itself the lines a b, c d, and e f would be the same distance from each other from end to end, and if they were made ever so long would never meet, but here in the drawing they meet at g. in the same way the lines a h, c e, and d f, which in the actual box are parallel or equi-distant and so draw no nearer to each other, meet in the drawing at i. in the drawing, as in reality, the lines e h, c a, and d b are parallel, and would never meet, however far we might lengthen them. the lines of the brass round the key-hole follow the same rules. let this box illustrate another matter. we move it into a slightly different position, so that we almost lose sight of the end e c a h. this end, in the language of artists, is now said to be "fore-shortened." the lines that draw nearer together are said to "vanish." the point where they meet is their vanishing point. [illustration: fig. .] we will give some further examples of the same rules of perspective applied to different forms. the young artist standing before a scene he is going to sketch should decide what point is opposite his eyes. it may be some place in a church wall or in a tree, or even in the sky. however, having fixed it, mark it also upon your paper, and then draw a horizontal line through it. (fig. .) [illustration: fig. . rigg's farm, near aysgarth, wensleydale.] in the scene we have selected we stand upon a hill and look at a farmhouse that stands upon another hill. the point opposite our eyes is the window a. it will be noticed that the lines above the eyes come down to the line of sight or horizontal line, b c. those below rise to it. lines that are parallel to each other, whether they are roof lines tiles, the tops or bottoms of windows, meet in the same point, so that if you get one of those lines right, it is easy to get all the others right by continuing them to the same point. from this sketch, and the foregoing examples, we arrive at the following rules:-- [illustration: sketch at norton.] parallel lines, as they recede, vanish to a point. horizontal, receding lines, if they are below the level of the eyes, appear to rise. horizontal, receding lines, if they are above the level of the eyes, appear to descend. spaces, as they recede, appear to become smaller. [illustration: saskia van ulenburgh, rembrandt's wife. _from a drawing by rembrandt in the berlin museum._] objects, as they recede, appear to become smaller. all horizontal receding lines have their vanishing point upon the line of sight. all parallel retiring lines have the same vanishing point as each other. all horizontal lines which are parallel with the picture plane are drawn parallel with each other, and with the line of sight. all horizontal retiring lines forming right angles with the picture plane, or with our position, have the point of sight for their vanishing point. we have here introduced a new term, the picture plane. the best way to understand this is to imagine you are looking at everything through a pane of glass. in this case the glass would be the picture plane, and if we could stand steadily enough in one place and trace upon the window pane the lines of the streets and houses, we should find the lines upon the pane following the rules we have given. many of the rules of perspective are to be seen in the sketch of rigg's farm, wensleydale, yorkshire, fig. . the receding lines of the road, the grass edges, and the walls; the front of the farmhouse is so much foreshortened that it is possible to see only a very small part of it, though the building is really a long one. we have given also a sketch by rembrandt, and a pen and ink landscape drawing made at norton in north derbyshire by charles ashmore. $stencilling.$--the use of stencils is familiar to most people in one form or other. ladies frequently use stencil plates in which their names or initials are cut out to mark linen. a commoner use is that of metal plates in which the letters of the alphabet are cut out in thin metal for use in labelling trunks, boxes in commerce, with the name and destination of the owner, merchant, or goods. it is possible that a very delicate form of stencilling is familiar to many of my readers, which is used to multiply copies of letters, circulars or notices to go through the post. the machine consists of a handle to which is attached a small wheel which has projecting from its rim a series of sharp points. the letters are formed by writing with this wheel. as the wheel passes over the paper the points pierce small round holes, sufficiently close to each other to indicate the letters, while the paper between the holes are bridges or ties holding the inside of the loops firmly to the rest of the sheet. this writing becomes the stencil. to obtain copies, the stencil is laid over a sheet of paper, and a brush charged with colour is rubbed across. the colour passes through the holes to the paper beneath, and the copy is secured. in making the metal stencil plates of letters, ties or bridges have to be left to prevent the inner parts of the letters becoming solid like a printer's. such letters as i, f, j, t, and some others, can be given in their complete form, though in the case of the f, it would be better, that is, the stencil plate would be firmer, if a tie were left where the top horizontal line joins the perpendicular stem. in cutting stencils this matter of tying or supporting all the interior or enclosed parts of the composition is very important, and should never be lost sight of. it is better to err in an excess of ties, than to risk the falling to pieces of the whole by insufficient support. the reader will perceive that if the white parts of the loops in the letter b are not connected with the outer surrounding whites, they would fall out, and the letter would stencil solid, while if only one tie is given, the loops would get out of position, as the paper swells with the moisture of the paint. instances of these ties will be found in nearly all the illustrations, particularly in the mooresque design, fig. . it is the aim of the designer to make these ties a part of the composition, and an assistance in the effect of the whole. but cases will occur where the composition must be ruthlessly cut across as in the greek design, fig. , where in one repeat the central portions are shown with ties, and in the other in its complete form. the restoration is made with the brush afterwards. the ties should be broad or narrow according to the strength of the material of which the stencil is made, and the number of repeats for which it will be used. [illustration: fig. . frieze or dado.] [illustration: fig. a. altered for vertical use.] [illustration: fig. . mooresque design for dado.] stencilling is employed as an easy method of repeating the same ornament, figures, or letters, with exactness and speed. if i desired to use the simple greek composition fig. , as a frieze in the study in which i am writing, not by any means a large room, being about feet by feet, it would be necessary to repeat it between and times. if i had to draw this in by hand, and laboriously paint it, probably the enthusiasm for art which projected the scheme would be frittered away long before i completed it, and i should throw it up in disgust and call in the paperhanger to put on the usual wall furnishing. but if the design were cut out in stencil, it would take but little if any longer to stencil the frieze than it would for the hanger to paper it, and the scheme being carried out in the other details, i should have the satisfaction and enjoyment of a room specially decorated to suit my own taste, and unique according to the originality of the design. [illustration: fig. . frieze: silverweed, frog.] [illustration: and toad.] in the article on the use of leaves which follows, it is suggested that the forms of leaves to be met with in the field, hedgerow or wood, are peculiarly adapted to ornamental purposes, stencilling in decoration of the home among others. but this use of natural forms in ornament requires taste and consideration. to stick a leaf here and another there, without a purpose or design in the composition, is not ornament. i propose, with the aid of the printer, to give an idea of the principles which govern the making of designs. the first one is _repetition_. to use a star thus * singly, is not ornament. place a number of stars side by side at regular distances between parallel lines thus:-- ================================ * * * * * * * * * * * ================================ and you have a design, elementary, it is true, but as far as it goes decorative. in place of the star put a clover leaf, a conventional flower such as is used in fig. , or a briar leaf laid slanting to the right or left, and you have a border which may be used for a light frieze or the top of a dado. arrange the stars in parallel rows thus:-- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * so that each star falls midway between the star above and below, and you have the elements of a design such as is very commonly used in wall-papers, prints, and nearly all forms of decoration under the name of diaper patterns. again, in place of the star put some other form, as an ivy leaf or a small spray. but in this class of design we shall not be much concerned in room decoration, as they are only used for large panels. another principle in ornament is _alternation_. it may be illustrated thus:-- ==================================================== || * || * || * || * || * ==================================================== in which parallel lines alternate with stars. this composition is not more crude than much of what passes for decoration at the present time. for our immediate purpose let a shapely leaf take the place of the upright lines and a flower the place of the star, and you have a more advanced border, and if the masses are well balanced and drawn, one agreeable to the eye. i think the printer can illustrate another principle of design for us in _symmetry_ thus:-- =========================================== * ! * ! * ! * ! * !=! !=! !=! !=! * - * - * - * - * =========================================== in which three exclamation marks are placed side by side at different levels, with parallel lines and a hyphen below, alternating with stars. or a simpler form still of the same principle may be given thus:-- ===================================================== + + + + + * | * | * | * | * | * + + + + + ===================================================== in which the double dagger alternates with a star. if you draw a perpendicular line up the central exclamation mark or the daggers, the right and left sides will be found to be alike or symmetrical. in place of the daggers or the exclamation marks, draw the leaves of the wild rose, one in the centre and one inclining to the right, another to the left; put a flower in place of the parallel lines, and you will have a symmetrical composition, the stalks being prolonged below. this principle of design is clearly shown in the two designs, figs. and a. a perpendicular line divides the designs into two equal parts. this is two-sided symmetry, what we are more particularly concerned with. another principle in ornament is _balance_ of _parts_. this is symmetry of another order, in which the two sides of the composition, although different in all the details, yet preserve the same weight or balance. the general effect is the same. this is illustrated in fig. , which is a design for a frieze. in no place could a line be drawn which would divide the composition into two similar parts, but by the disposition of the leaves of the silverweed there is an equal distribution of weight on either side of the design. this balance of parts is important to preserve when the design departs from the symmetrical in its arrangements. it makes all the difference between a pleasing and unsatisfactory composition, and is not to be acquired without considerable practice. the chrysanthemum design, fig. , is an illustration of this principle. it is designed for the panels of a door, or the sides of a grate, or to go round a door in the form of a vertical border, but in every case where it can be placed in pairs with the flowers away from the centre, to be done by reversing the stencil. [illustration: fig. . dado or frieze: oak and squirrels.] having thus cleared the ground for practical work, we can describe the way to make stencils. for our purpose the best material for the stencil is the oiled paper used in the letter-copying press. this will be found strong, hard, and non-absorbent. it is comparatively cheap and can be purchased at most stationers. in cases in which this paper would not be large enough, which may happen in some of the running patterns, cartridge paper, or better still, hot-pressed whatman's, if coated on both sides with knotting varnish (to be procured at any oilman's shop), would do very well. for smaller subjects, which are not required for more than a score repeats, ordinary note paper, the highly polished kind that crackles like sheet iron when bent is excellent, and has been largely used by the writer. the knife used is one with a blade that runs to a sharp point. this point must be kept with a keen edge, so that one cut will go through the paper, leaving a clear edge. hold the blade of the knife at right angles to the paper, which must rest upon a clean sheet of glass. if cut upon any yielding surface, the paper will bruise. a hone should be close at hand to keep a good edge to the knife. it is important to get a clean, square cut, with no ragged margins. to get the drawing on the paper, first make a rough sketch giving the size and general character of the design on ordinary sketching paper. if the design is symmetrical, _i.e._, both sides alike, rule a perpendicular line. draw as clearly and carefully as possible one-half the composition, that is all that will appear on the left-hand side of the line. when you are satisfied with this, place a piece of looking-glass exactly on the vertical line; you will see the image of your drawing in the glass, but in reverse, thus completing the design. if looking-glass is not available, a coat of brunswick black on one side of any piece of glass will give you a sufficiently good reflector. probably you will not be altogether satisfied with the drawing as shown complete in the glass. the lines are not agreeable ones, or pretty in curve, or the balance of the parts is not quite as you would like it. make the alterations you feel necessary, and apply the glass again. when satisfied, place tracing-paper over the drawing. this may be fastened down by drawing-pins, a touch of gum, or pieces of the free edge of postage-stamps. indicate carefully by clear marks the position of the vertical line, and proceed to draw a firm outline of the design, with, say, an f pencil or an hb. when done, remove the tracing-paper and fold it exactly down the vertical line, with the pencil drawing outside. double it, in fact. then placing it on a sheet of white paper, draw the other half, thus completing the design. put it, pencilled side downwards, on the oil paper or note-paper, and rub off with your thumb nail. go over the design, marking all the ties very distinctly. then cut out as before, taking care not to cut through the ties. in practice you will find it best to begin cutting at the ties; the paper will readily spin round on the glass so that you can follow the curves of the design with your knife. should you cut through a tie, it must be made good. cut off a slip of paper of the same size, put on some of the knotting, and when it is tacky, stick down the strengthening slip. the stencil may include more than one repeat of the pattern, the more repeats there are the quicker the work can be done. some decorators in making stencils do rather more than they intend to use when stencilling, so that parts overlap, which is done to get the repeat true. i find it better, more exact, to work from two lines on the stencil, one a horizontal line and another a vertical line. by using a needle point (a needle in a wood handle), i rule a horizontal line upon the wall in the position the horizontal line on the stencil should fall. this is altogether indistinguishable when the work is finished. then, vertically to this line, with the same point, i indicate where the repeats should fall, and then go ahead. it is a considerable help to get a friend to join in the work, as he can assist in holding the stencil on the surface to be decorated, giving you more freedom in the use of the right hand. if working alone the stencil is held with the left hand while the colour is applied with the free hand. the straight lines are not stencilled, they are run on by the help of a bevelled straight-edge. the position of these lines is indicated by ruling as above or by twanging a piece of string charged with charcoal dust in the position required. [illustration: fig. . running border.] in decorating your room, the first point to be decided is to what extent and where you will apply the work. if cost is not a great consideration, undoubtedly the best thing to do is to paint the wall over with a pleasing tone in oil colours. a frieze running round the room immediately under the moulding, the depth being according to the height of the room; a dado running round the bottom of the walls, high enough to clear the top of the chair-backs: and if the room is large enough, the division of the room into panels by ornamental columns at the corners, and appropriate divisions. a border may be run round the doors and the sides of the fireplace may receive separate attention if there are surfaces suitable for stencilling. but it is usual to apply this system of decoration to distempered walls, in which case the decoration to be applied would probably be above the dado (which would be papered in some richly decorated pattern), a frieze under the ceiling, and a border round the door. in mixing the distemper (whiting and size), powder colours are used to get the tone desired. this will vary with the taste of the reader, the use the room is put to, and the aspect, whether on the shady or sunny side of the house. do not let it be too dark, or muddy in tone: a cheerful terra-cotta, with a dash of amber in it, if on the shady side; or some tone of sage green, french grey, or peacock blue, if on the sunny side. perhaps the best way is to keep your eyes open when passing some decorator's establishment, or buying the paper for the dado, and fix upon the tone of colour you would like. then mix some harmonizing tints which will go well with the wall colour for your stencil work. you will find that if you decide upon stencilling in dark tones upon light, that it will be more pleasing to get these richer, that is more pure, than the ground colour. the three rich or primary colours are red, blue, and yellow. in mixing your stencil colours, approach these in purity, according to the tone used. these powder colours are obtained by ounces or pounds at colourmen's shops. the first thought to the beginner, if he wishes to darken a tone, is to put black (lamp-black) in. in practice this must be used sparingly. rather get your strength of tint by using pure colours. with distemper colours, you will find that they are much darker wet than dry. if you wish to employ more colours than one, each colour should have a separate stencil. [illustration: fig. . pilaster: chrysanthemums.] having made your stencils, fixed upon and mixed your colours, and indicated the position of the repeats, the next step is the direct application of the colour. this is usually done with flat-headed hog-hair brushes, about / of an inch across, specially made for the purpose. with your palette knife spread out a thin film of the colour on the palette, which may be the back of a plate, or a glazed tile, charge the flat end of the brush with it, and bring it down perpendicularly upon the stencil. don't overcharge the brush. if the pattern is irregular in its details, do every other one with one side of the stencil, and then having been round, wash off the colour from the stencil, and turn it round and do the intervening repeats. the lines are put on with a smaller brush, using the bevelled side of the straight-edge to guide the hand, using more pressure for a broad line, and charging the brush heavily with colour. brushes specially made for lining, known as fitch hair tools, cost, according to size, from - / d. to d. each. stencilling brushes cost only a few pence. the method of producing designs, stencils, and using the stencils is employed in the production of designs for paper-hangings, carpets, floor cloths, damasks and most flat manufactured materials, except that the white used is flake-white, and the colours are mixed with gum and water. the colours are known in the trade as tempera colours. the ground is laid evenly upon strained cartridge paper, and absolute flatness of tint in working out the design may be gained by using stencils. in making irregular designs, that is designs which are not symmetrical, the whole composition has to be drawn and traced. in decorating a room, there is a very considerable range of choice in the styles available, some idea of which is given in the accompanying designs, from the purely ornamental ones of figs. and to the natural treatment of figs. and . the design suitable for the top of a dado as fig. would, with a slight modification, equally suit the frieze of a room, as both are horizontal treatments; but for perpendicular applications, the designs should be redrawn. some idea of the fresh treatment required is given in fig. a, where the parts of the composition have been re-arranged to suit a vertical position. should it be desired to adopt two colours, the principle to be acted upon is to make the smaller masses darker tones, and more intense colours, the larger the mass, the lighter and more neutral the tone should be. fig. is equally adapted for a frieze or dado top. it is designed in squares, so that by a re-arrangement of the squares, _i.e._, by placing the squirrel squares under the oak-leaf squares, it can be made suitable for a vertical treatment, or for the body of the dado. in designing such patterns as fig. , where again two or more colours may well be used, care should be taken that the repeats fit well in with one another, so that no ugly spaces are left unfurnished, as decorators say, and also to prevent the recurrence of horizontal or diagonal lines. this is a failure with many commercial designs and is a fault very distressing to the eye. $how a portrait bust is made.$--the chief work of the sculptor consists in working in clay; therein lies the main portion of his art, and there are those at the head of their profession who rarely handle a chisel, and then only to give a final touch here and there after their carver has finished his work. moreover, there are many more busts made in bronze and in terra-cotta than in marble; but the initial procedure of building up is the same in all cases. the first thing a sculptor does in setting about a bust is to fix a square, upright peg, or support, about twenty inches in length, into a wooden platform eighteen inches square. the platform, in order to prevent warping, should be made of two pieces of board so joined as to have the grain of the one running transverse to the other. the peg is generally furnished with a bar, like a latin cross, and is provided at the top with what is called an armature, that is, two pieces of lead piping looped over the peg from side to side, so as to form, as it were, the outline of a head. the ends of one piece are nailed to either side of the top of the peg, and the ends of the other to the back and front of it; or the armature may consist (as some sculptors prefer that it should) of a "loop" of lead-piping, fixed to a large nail, with what is called a "butterfly" attached (see illustration). the transverse, or crosspiece, is fitted into a slot cut in the upright, and is intended to support the shoulders of the bust, the armature serving as the skeleton, so to speak, of the head. being made of lead, the armature can be bent this way and that, and twisted about, even after it has been covered with clay. this is a very important matter, as a portrait frequently consists as much in a characteristic pose of the head as in the exact representation of features, and the peculiarity or habit of the one whose bust is to be made cannot always be perceived at the first sitting, everybody attitudinising more or less at first when about to have a likeness taken. but after a while the sitter is sure to forget himself; then the natural pose comes, and the sculptor flexes his armature this way or that, and secures the right expression, in so far as the turn or "cant" of the head is concerned. [illustration: how a bust is made.] having thus prepared his skeleton, the sculptor is now ready to begin with the more important matter of modelling. but first of all he has to see that his clay is all right. the clay commonly used for this purpose is the china clay of the potter; but at a pinch any clay will do, and i know of more than one sculptor who, in his impecunious days, has been obliged to turn to the common clay of the brick-field. the essential thing is that it should not be rotten and friable, but rather elastic, spreading easily and cohering well. when the clay is too dry it is put in water over night. in the morning it is in such a state that it may be passed through a coarse sieve, and so the rough particles be got rid of. then, when it has dried until of the consistency of putty, it is ready for use. the sculptor now takes four or five largish lumps and rolls them with his hands into long strips, from half to three-quarters of a foot in length, and of the thickness of a good-sized ruler. he then takes portions of these strips and applies them bit by bit to the armature and the transverse bar, thus gradually building up the general shape of the head and shoulders. care has to be taken from the first to have an eye to the features and contour of the head that is being modelled. it is not necessary that the model should keep seated in the same attitude all the time. if required to do so, he or she, as the case may be, is apt to acquire a very stiff pose, with the result that the stiffness may be transferred to the bust. the best way is to let the sitter converse freely, and assume a natural position. by this means the habitual expression is seized, and a good likeness is more likely to be the result. when a general rough outline of the head has been secured, it is then time to begin to work for exactitude of feature and facial expression. this the artist does by putting on a bit here, and taking off a bit there. all this is done with the fingers and thumb. occasionally it may be necessary to use a tool, but rarely. the best sculptors work mainly with the instrument nature has provided them withal, the hands. with his fingers the artist has more freedom in handling his material, and in communicating to it that life-like expression which is the aim and object of his art. no tool yet invented by man enables him to enjoy such fineness of touch, or to give so much breadth or such delicacy of detail to his work, as that which he naturally commands in the use of his fingers. of course, a bust is not modelled in an hour, nor in a day. a good sculptor will finish one in four or five sittings of an hour or an hour and a half each; others will require a dozen or more. everything depends upon the facility of the artist in seizing upon expression. this will be the difficult point with the beginner. he may, after a while, get the general outline of the head and face of his sitter and feel utterly helpless to go further. but then is the time to exercise patience. michael angelo did not become a sculptor in a day, nor yet in a year. when the tyro feels that he cannot go further, it is generally because he does not see further. of course, he sees that his portrait is not like; but he has not yet learned to see in detail, in minutiae. that he must now begin to do by observing every little point, depression, curve, wrinkle, wart, hair, and so forth. and then, what his mind has learned to take note of, his hand will soon learn to imitate. all the time the work is in progress the clay must be kept moist, otherwise it will crack and fall to pieces. this is commonly done by spraying it with a garden syringe, and covering it over at night with wet cloths. when the bust is finished, if it has to be cast in bronze, or reproduced in marble, a cast of it is taken in plaster of paris; but if it is intended to fire it, and make a terra-cotta bust of it, the operation of hollowing it is necessary. this is effected by slicing off the crown of the head with a piece of thin wire or thread, and then scooping out the inside until a uniform thickness of about an inch and a half is left. when this is done the bust will be easily freed from its peg, and the armature attached to it. the next thing is to set it aside to dry. this takes some time, and only when it is quite free from all moisture is it ready to be taken to the kiln to bake or fire. the kiln in which it is fired is the ordinary one of the potter. this having been done, the work is complete. if the bust has to be reproduced in bronze, the plaster cast must be taken to the bronze casters, where the transformation will be effected. the process of making an exact reproduction in marble is generally done by the sculptor himself, or by his assistant, and is more or less a mere mechanical operation, the carvers working by points, as they are called, mathematically accurate, by means of which he is enabled to make an exact copy of the cast. when this is done the sculptor goes over it carefully with his chisel and gives some final touches by way of finish, and to add to the vividness and life-likeness, so to speak, of expression. $how to use leaves.$--there is one desirable quality in the hobby i am about to recommend boys, and that is its inexpensive character. a quarter of a yard of nainsook muslin, a tube or two of oil paint, a good-sized handful of lint or cotton wool, two or three sheets of foolscap, and as many of cartridge paper, and you are set up for any number of wet days or vacant half-holidays. the leaves can be obtained free of cost, anywhere and at any time, winter or summer, and in any number. ivy leaves do well, leaves of the black or red currant or gooseberry bushes are better, and the flowering currant better still. brambles, lime, and plane trees which grow everywhere, and most trees or bushes except holly, will give you excellent subjects. some boys know how to keep in the good graces of the housekeeper, and would "borrow" the muslin from her. (say you would like it fine.) probably one of your sisters paints a bit, and would lend you the burnt sienna tube (oil colour) upon the same terms; of course, the wool or lint you would get from the housekeeper with the muslin; while an application to the pater for some foolscap--you would prefer blue, it is more business-like--would be sure to be successful, for somehow fathers like to encourage boys when they mean to do something serious; and there is left only the cartridge paper to finish the outfit. perhaps somewhere in the establishment there is even a store of this; if not, there is nothing for it but a visit to the stationer and an attack upon the pocket-money. now to proceed. make the cotton wool into a nice round even ball, quite free from lumps, particularly at the bottom. fold the muslin to get a double thickness, place the wool inside, make it into a mass about the size of a cricket-ball, tie this tightly, leaving enough muslin free to take hold of easily. (see fig. .) [illustration: dabber. fig. .] [illustration: maple leaf centre. fig. .] next get your leaves. the front or back garden, or the greenhouse, will probably afford all you want, to begin with. choose in preference leaves which lie flat, with no bulgings or cockles; you will get much better results. put them in a dish or basin large enough to take them easily, and cover with a damp cloth. if you have to go farther afield for your leaves take with you, if possible, a tin box or botanist's vasculum, and sprinkle a little water upon them. if not able to obtain such a box, then a wooden or cardboard one must do, but pack the leaves in damp moss, if able to get any. when you reach home cover up as before. you are now ready to commence. squeeze out some colour upon the foolscap, spread this evenly with the muslin dabber, not by smearing but by dabbing, with a slight twisting motion of the wrist, taking care that the colour is evenly distributed on the paper and the dabber. then try it by bringing down the dabber upon a clean sheet of paper with a smart blow. if the colour comes away evenly you are ready to begin upon the leaves; if not, work away with the dabber on the foolscap till you get better results. patience will do it. take one of your flattest leaves, and remove all moisture from the surface. a piece of blotting-paper is good for this purpose. then, with a series of good hard raps with the dabber--don't be afraid of hurting the leaf--get the colour evenly upon the face, working as near to the veins as possible. cut a piece of cartridge paper twice the size of the leaf--and now comes the careful treatment--put the leaf down, handling it by the stalk, in the place you want it; don't shift it about or attempt any fresh arrangement. to do so would smear the paper. bring down the upper half of the paper upon the leaf, and hold steadily with the left hand. then, with the forefinger of the right hand inside your handkerchief or a cloth, rest upon the outside of the paper, taking care not to let the leaf inside slip about. you may use some amount of pressure; the colour will not yield itself up too readily. if the leaf is full of sap, less force must be used, or you will crush the tissue. now raise the paper and remove the leaf. probably you will not be satisfied with the first attempt. some parts will be faint, other parts loaded with colour. possibly also the leaf has shifted a little. if this has not occurred you will have got a portrait of the leaf, showing the cutting of the edges and the ramifications of the veins. now try again, either upon the same leaf or a fresh one. at each fresh attempt you will be getting more skilful in handling the leaf, in the use of the dabber, and the careful placing and rubbing to get the impression. and the dabber, too, will be getting into better condition. the colour will have penetrated the muslin and gone a little way into the wool. use as little colour as possible, getting the colour on rather by smart blows than any other way. it would be well to have the cartridge paper folded ready for use, in appropriate sizes, a little too large, to permit of after-trimming. [illustration: hawthorn border. fig. .] [illustration: plaque: w. veitch's creeper leaves. fig. .] you will find that leaves are not alike in the character of the surface. some are covered with hairs, like the mulleins; these will take almost any quantity of colour. perhaps you had better begin upon such leaves. others have a few stiff hairs, and others, again, are quite free from such appendages. these require least colour of all. you will find, too, that it is better to commence with the back of the leaf. the veins are usually more prominent, and the impression obtained is more interesting. there is greater difficulty in getting the colour on all parts of the leaf, close up to the principal veins, and the rubbing for the impression is harder. but by patience and perseverance, to quote the copybook, you will soon obtain pleasing results. i don't think i can tell you much more that will aid you in getting good impressions. i have recommended the use of burnt sienna, because it is a cheap and easily worked colour; but any oil colour can be used, either straight from the tube, or mixed to suit your judgment or taste. greens, olives, russets, browns, greys, yellows, or even reds, can be used. you can certainly get some startling effects with these, if removed some distance from nature; or by using two or more colours and dabbers you may graduate the tones or colours on the same leaf. suppose you want an autumn effect. mix or choose your yellow, and prepare also an orange-red colour. coat the leaf first of all with the yellow--don't use gamboge--then with the red dabber apply that colour to the end or margin of the leaf, and take off as before [illustration: leaves of the ginko tree. fig. .] you may say, what is the use of it all when the necessary skill is obtained? you will find it a very good and useful hobby even to so obtain a series of prints of the leaves of our forest trees. there are, perhaps, more of these than you are aware of. and there is another point--the leaves of any particular plant vary very much in shape. a collection of these variations, if at all complete, would be held even by botanists to be very valuable indeed. then, what a number of forest trees there are! the common and wych elms, the oak and maple, the two chestnuts, the spanish and horse--a full-grown leaf of the latter you will find a large order--the beech and hornbeam (note the difference in the margin), the wild cherry, crab, and sloe, the dogwood, the two buckthorns, the service tree, the wayfaring tree, the back of the leaf of which you will find good to begin with. a good instance of the variety in form in the leaves of one plant is the now common wall plant, veitch's virginian creeper, which i have used to decorate a plaque in fig. . the seedling leaves, too, are well worthy of collection--they vary very much from the more adult leaves. i have no need to write more upon this, as, if you make the collection of leaves a hobby, these details will come. but the use of leaves does not stop here. more than any other part of the plant, leaves are used by the designer for sculptural details, and for decoration in all its branches. but most boys are not designers or skilful draughtsmen, neither have they the time to make drawings or paintings which would give the results so easily obtained by this process. even excellent artists shrink from giving the amount of details which are secured in these transfers from the objects themselves. some applications of foliage which can be done from the leaves themselves are given as hints of what is possible. these vary in difficulty, until the results are to be described only as works of art. figs. and are applications of leaves to the decoration of occasional tables, which more frequently than not are ebonised. fig. is an arrangement of the leaves of the "ginko," or adiantum tree. when the table is ready for the varnish, apply the leaves in the positions marked out beforehand. in the illustration a band of colour is supposed to be previously painted to the shape indicated, and should be some rich olive or russet tone, upon which the leaves are printed in a lighter, say a sage green. a very good scale of colours, adapted for use on black, is used by the japanese on the trays to be found in almost any house. you may not be able to get "ginko" leaves, but several of the adiantums have fronds the pinnæ of which could be similarly used. an arrangement of maple leaves in fig. could be copied for the centre of the table, and similarly treated. by-the-by, should you in placing the leaf make any false marks, these can be easily removed while the colour is wet by wiping off with a cloth, using turpentine or spirit of wine if obstinate. [illustration: photo. mount decorated with bramble leaves. fig. .] fig. is an arrangement of bramble leaves. a very considerable variety of form is usually found on the same plant; this variety has been utilised. use pale tones of colour, and make out the stalks with a brush afterwards. it will be found useful to roughly indicate the position of the leaves by pencil or chalk after having placed them, and before applying their painted surfaces. it is intended as a decoration to a photographic mount. if the mount is of a dark tea-green colour a very considerable richness of effect can be obtained. the chief difficulty will be the careful adjustment and selection of the leaves. fig. is the application of veitch's ampelopsis to a terra-cotta plaque. you will find this more difficult, as the surfaces to which the leaves are applied are not flat, and the material is absorbent to a high degree. first give the plaque a coating of size; this will keep the colour on the surface. roughly sketch the position of the leaves in pencil; apply colour more copiously to the leaves, and transfer. when dry give a coating of quick-drying varnish. copal, dissolved in methylated spirits, will prove the most satisfactory. the end of the spray is done all at once. the stems, stalks, and tendrils are put in afterwards by brush work. fig. is the most difficult of all. it is an arrangement of hawthorn leaves in different tones of colour, and intended for a title-page or elaborate mount. the leaves can be easily obtained in considerable variety. roughly mark out the places the leaves should occupy. some are in front of others; do these first in a paler green. cut out paper shapes to cover them, and stick them down temporarily after they are dry. then, in darker and richer tones of colour, transfer the back leaves; when dry remove the covers, and touch up with a brush any deficiencies. add the stalks, stems, and thorns, and paint in the haws. there are many other applications to which these prints from leaves could be put. a branch of oak running across the panels of a door, a simple leaf upon the cover of a book, nicely done; in the making of stencil plates, for borders, friezes, and dados, or a conventional pattern for wall papers. studies for wood carving can easily be obtained from the store of prints from leaves, such as the strawberry, potentilla, goose-grass, buttercup, dandelion, and many wayside plants. when the stalk or principal vein is too succulent or thick, it would be well to pare it down, to permit of easier rubbing, not attempting to get an impression from more than one surface of the leaf. it may be useful to some readers to give the prices at which the materials may be obtained. the cheaper colours are in every respect quite as good for the purpose as the more expensive ones, and should cost about threepence a tube from an artists' colourman. a small camel-hair brush, from a penny upwards, would do; but it might be sable in preference, from sixpence upwards. you can get a good-sized sheet of cartridge paper for a penny. the nainsook muslin should be new, and of a fine quality. any holes in it would be fatal to good work. a penny or two would buy the foolscap paper. [illustration: the apparatus.] [illustration: the points.] $pyrography.$--the outfit consists of a platinum point, sometimes called the burner, an alcohol lamp, and a benzine bottle with rubber tubing terminating in a bulb as shown in the illustration. the points or burners may be obtained in many sizes for fine or broad lines. the work is done upon unvarnished wood, which should be seasoned and free from resin. sometimes designs are drawn too upon calf, cardboard, and even upon velvet, but upon these materials be careful the point is not too hot. to use the pyrography apparatus fill both the alcohol lamp and the benzine bottle half full. upon the benzine bottle put the rubber stopper that has the metal nozzle and join the bellows and the tubing. now light your alcohol lamp, and in its flame hold with your right hand the platinum point, and with your left hand work the bulb steadily and continuously. the platinum point will thus become red hot and it must be kept so. with this hot point draw upon the wood and you will find that all kinds of designs and effects are possible by using different points, and, indeed, by using the same in different ways and at different temperatures. the judicious use of sandpaper improves the general effect afterwards, and a wax finish may be obtained by the application of pure bees'-wax slowly melted in turpentine. when it is in a syrupy state apply it with a cloth, and a few days later brush away the superfluous wax and wipe tenderly with a soft cloth. the general effect may be heightened by the use of colour. the young pyrographist may practise upon some of the designs given in the other sections of this chapter, and he will be able to purchase his outfit with directions for its use. messrs. gamage, in holborn, and messrs. benetfink, in cheapside, have many kinds of apparatus and accessories. chapter xvi ventriloquism and polyphony $ventriloquism.$--ventriloquism is no more a gift than is the ability to talk or sing; it does not depend on any peculiar formation of the throat; it is, in fact, an art which can be acquired by almost any one possessing a voice of average compass (some twelve notes), together with an ordinarily good ear for music. if, in addition to these, the tyro show any aptitude for acting and mimicry, there is prospect of his becoming an expert performer. broadly speaking, ventriloquism consists in a close imitation of sound _as it falls upon the ear_, the ventriloquist effecting this by skilfully modifying the cavity of the mouth in such a way as to give his voice a deceptive character. the young ventriloquist must study all sorts and conditions of sounds and voices _as they fall on the ear_. he must become familiar with the models he seeks to imitate. he must, for example, note that a voice from the cellar, heard in a room above, has a subdued and muffled sound, many of the consonants being strangely altered, so that the words, "i'm down here in the cellar, sir!" would sound more like, "in'e down here in a zellar, zir!" again, in listening to the knife-grinder, he must observe, first the _bur-r-r_ of the wheel, and then a combination of the _bur-r-r_ with a prolonged _iss_ when the knife touches the grindstone. these little hints will, we trust, sufficiently impress the beginner with the necessity of learning _to listen with new ears_ whilst endeavouring to speak with a new voice. you will observe, too, that the character of the assumed voice is determined chiefly by the shape of the mouth. this is the more important, because misguided learners are so apt to strain the larynx. there should be no pressure on the throat, though some pressure must necessarily be exerted on the chest and the abdominal muscles by reason of the slow rate at which the air is allowed to leave the lungs; for, be it carefully noted, _the ventriloquial voice can only be spoken during a slow expiration of the breath_. consequently, the learner must exercise himself in controlling the breath, for which purpose let him practise filling the lungs with air and then reading aloud as long a passage as he can whilst the air is being slowly expelled. with regard to modifying the natural voice, every one knows how this can be done by extraneous means. a speaking-trumpet, for example, renders it loud and harsh, whilst a hand placed lightly over the mouth makes it low and muffled. at an evening party where we had been amusing some juvenile friends, a voice seemed to come from the chimney in obedience to one of the boys, who stood before the fireplace as a new fledged professor of ventriloquism, and we considered the imitation to be rather good until, upon lifting the table-cloth near us, we discovered a confederate on the floor, talking into an empty jug. this, of course, was mere jugglery, but genuine ventriloquism is to be attained by a careful management of the breath whilst _modifying the shape of the cavity of the mouth_ by a proper adjustment of lips, teeth, jaws, tongue and palate. and here let us point out that, although the best ventriloquial effects can only be produced by the mature voice, it is well to begin practising at an early age, in order to make the vocal organs strong and flexible. the present writer began experimenting at the age of twelve, only resting therefrom, as every boy should, during that beautiful period of "gruffiness" consequent on the breaking of the voice. after that we went on again, making slow headway, until one memorable night when we received undoubted assurance of our ability to deceive. it was at a party given by a bluff sea-captain in a northern town, and a young gentleman was singing a very sentimental ditty to a saddened audience, when we essayed between whiles to imitate the singer in a falsetto voice, muffled, as if coming through the closed shutters, towards which we took care to cast an occasional glance of annoyance. presently the captain rose and left the room on tiptoe, at the same time indicating by vigorous pantomime that the singer was to proceed with his song. before long a tremendous splash of water was heard on the pavement outside, and our host soon after re-entered, remarking that he had taught those young vagabonds not to mock people outside the shutters, for he'd given them "billows" from the top bed-room window. there are in reality only three well-defined ventriloquial voices: ( ) the _distant_ voice, as from the roof, the street, etc.; ( ) the _resonant_ voice, as from a chimney, cupboard, cellar, etc.; and ( ) the _falsetto_ voice. "but," exclaims the intelligent reader, "how can each voice be used for various imaginary places? will the _distant_ voice serve equally well for roof or street?" it will; and this brings us to a very important point, viz., that we judge of the _direction_ of sound partly by means of the sense of sight. a railway traveller, for instance, seated in a waiting-room, is often perplexed as to whether an approaching train is "up" or "down" until he notes the demeanour of those on the platform who can see the train coming in. it is always difficult to determine the direction from which distant sounds proceed, and frequently of sounds much nearer. but this uncertainty is of vital importance to the ventriloquist, as it enables him "to make the ears the fool of the other senses." when he uses the _distant_ voice, the audience will be unable to refer it to any particular quarter, unless the place be suggested to them by the performer. the moment he does this, however, by word or sign or mere glance even, the imagination of the audience does the rest, and the illusion is complete. it is plain, therefore, that the tyro should have some taste for acting, otherwise he can neither conceal the internal efforts he is making, nor invest his shadowy characters with any degree of naturalness. coming now to practical details, let the student attempt _the distant voice_ in the following manner. say the word "hallo!" just in your ordinary speaking voice, in order to fix the pitch. then open the mouth slightly, draw in the lower jaw a little, and firmly fix both jaws. next, stretch or arch the soft palate as in the act of yawning take a deep breath, and utter the word "hallo!" in the same pitch as before, but softly, and _without moving the lips_, endeavouring at the same time to direct the sound against the soft palate by turning the tongue well back so as to strike the roof of the mouth. at first your strange gurglings may alarm the household, and much fatigue may be felt in the jaws and tongue, but persevere and you will soon acquire a new voice of startling character. _the resonant voice_ is produced on the lower tones of the scale, the sound being forced into the nasal passages with a jerky explosive delivery of the breath. the parts against which the voice and the tongue should respectively strike may be felt by prolonging the sound of the letter _n_ on a low note with the mouth nearly closed and the lower jaw drawn back a little as before. in this way utter the sentence, "joe's down here in the cellar!" and the words will sound deep and muffled and be accompanied by a resonant hum. _remember always to keep the lips and jaws immovable_, even at the cost of mutilating your words. these will greatly improve by-and-by. the practised ventriloquist can, of course, judge the effect he is producing, but the learner, as soon as he makes any progress, had better get a companion to criticize his efforts. _the falsetto voice_ is feminine and must be familiar to all. if spoken with the lower jaw drawn in and the mouth all but closed it will strike against the hard palate and produce a thin, metallic voice like that of a child. it can also be used for "distant" effects, according to the method set forth for voice no. . the _falsetto_ voice is frequently used for "doll-talking"--a branch of the ventriloquial art concerning which, and polyphonism also, we shall have something to say presently. meanwhile, devote a few minutes daily to each of the following exercises:-- ( ) singing the common musical scale to the vowel sounds, as well as to the syllables _ha_ and _coo_. all good vocal exercises are an aid to ventriloquism. ( ) practising the management of the breath as already described. ( ) experimenting with the three ventriloquial voices. ( ) studying all the peculiarities of voices and other sounds _as they fall upon the ear_. the learner still finds it difficult, no doubt, to enunciate his words at all clearly without moving the lips and jaws, but this difficulty, though it will never quite vanish, may be greatly reduced. the vowels run smoothly enough, but the consonants give trouble, particularly the _labials_, _b_, _p_, _m_, and their first cousins, the _spirants_, _v_, _f_, _w_. as to the _spirants_, one may soon acquire the knack of sounding _f_ fairly well, so this must be used for _v_ also, unless one can hit upon that nearer substitute got by compounding _g_ and _f_. to catch this sound with lips and jaws immovable, pronounce the word _never_ as "_negfer_," quickly, with a light touch on the _g_. the sound of _w_ is well represented by that of _oo_. for the _labials_, however, demanding as they do a positive closing of the lips, we must substitute the letters _g_, _k_, _ng_. thus, the sentence, "jim broke seven of tom's pens this morning," would be rendered as "jing groke se(g)fen of tong's kens this ng-orning," and the query, "when am i to come up?" would become "oohen ang i to cung uk?" such sentences, though good for practice, are bad for exhibition, and must be carefully avoided in the preparation of dialogue. nevertheless, they look much more imperfect here than they would sound in the mouth of an able ventriloquist; besides, as nobody expects to hear perfect words from a distant source, the audience readily accepts the performer's mode of rendering them. in this connection it should be remarked that the performer may occasionally turn his face from view, and allow his lips free play, although, as a rule, either a side face, or a three-quarters face should be presented to the audience, and, pretty frequently, a front face also. we have next to deal with _ventriloquial perspective_, which appertains to the gradual increase or decrease in the _loudness_ of a sound as it approaches or recedes. attention to this will give our assumed voices just the magic touch. for the receding voice, speak more and more gently, whilst gradually closing the mouth, until the sound is shut off. for an approaching voice, reverse the process, but in either case take care to _maintain the original pitch_. this is just where beginners stumble; they mostly alter the pitch at every step, graduating it from a growl to a squeak, or _vice versa_; nor do they observe how the words spoken by a receding voice grow less and less _distinct_ until only the vowel sounds remain. the following presentment of these important matters may impress itself on the reader's mind:--good-night! good-night! goo'-nigh'! 'oo'-nigh'! 'igh'! we shall now give in outline a few sketches for the student to fill in with dialogue of his own. the "situations" will readily suggest some simple conversations well suited for effective treatment. for _the man in the chimney_, assume a voice of low pitch, strongly resonant throughout. express your belief that somebody is up the chimney, and stoop near the fireplace to question the intruder in a soft and rather high-pitched voice. then draw down the corner of the mouth turned from the audience, and deliver your answers with force, so that the sound may be deflected from the stone-work supporting the mantel-piece. your man in the chimney is a rough, cantankerous fellow, who accounts for his presence in the most absurd way, and answers with great warmth, especially when there is a fire in the grate. as soon as he begins to ascend the chimney, step back a pace, keeping your face in the same direction. to wind up, either leave him stuck in the chimney, or dismiss him by way of the roof. in speaking to _the man on the roof_, begin by taking a deliberate look at the ceiling, and then shout "hallo-o!" the answer, given in the _distant_ voice, should sound almost like an echo. before answering, turn your face to the audience, and, with the head in an easy, listening attitude, produce the reply softly on a note of _middle pitch_. the man on the roof rarely speaks more than a few sentences. the audience seem to understand how trying it is for him to converse at such a distance, so he is humanely dismissed very soon, and may then be heard faintly answering as he wanders on from roof to roof, or reaches the ground by a ladder. sometimes, however, the voice grows in strength and resonance as the man enters the chimney, and descends almost to the hearthrug; at other times, if the night is particularly cold, you may ask him to remain where he is in the silvery moonlight. [illustration: the man in the hall.] [illustration: the talking hand.] [illustration: the trap door.] [illustration: raising the trap door.] _the man in the hall_ is a capital voice to practise. with your hand on the handle of the door, parley with the rough fellow who is trying to push it open from the other side. at this stage use the _resonant_ voice, and explode your answers against the panel of the door. as the man is noisy, you may produce a striking effect by alternately opening and shutting the door rapidly, accompanying the action with a sudden swelling and sinking of the voice, remembering at the same time to maintain the original pitch. much amusement will arise if your visitor happens to be a sweep who has come to the wrong house, but insists on cleaning the drawing-room chimney. you may even put your head outside the door for a moment to remonstrate with him, and then step back suddenly with the mark of a grimy hand upon your face--self-inflicted, of course, with a burnt cork. as the voice moves away, its resonant quality should be moderated, and, in case the man talks himself out into the street, it should merge into the _distant voice_. sometimes, however, affairs take a novel turn, and the sweep, in seeking an exit, wanders into the cellar, where he may be heard making unkind remarks in accents faint and sooty. the voice of _the man in the cellar_ is a modified form of the _resonant_ voice, delivered with less force and less of the nasal quality. a fine effect may be introduced by making your man slowly ascend and descend the cellar steps, talking or singing all the time. moreover, this effect may be greatly heightened by using a trap-door made in the following manner. cover a sheet of stout cardboard (about - / ft. square) with grained wall-paper to imitate woodwork, and let it dry thoroughly under pressure, as warping would render it useless. on it paint two large hinges with black enamel, and near the front edge fix a large black ring by means of a loop of leather or black tape. the ring may be either a wooden curtain-ring or a coil of cane bound with "wax-end." to the under-side of the board glue two leather tabs, in line with the hinges, but projecting, so that the trap may thereby be fastened to the floor with drawing-pins. before the audience arrive, fix the trap-door in position, well to the right or left of the platform or other space, and take care to indicate the thickness of the woodwork on the edge which is to face the performer. under the trap a corresponding square of black tissue paper should be pinned to the floor, so that, when the trap is raised, a dark hole may appear beneath. during the performance, the trap must be lifted with considerable toil, else its flimsy nature will be discovered, and perhaps cause an untimely titter. if managed properly, however, it is most realistic, and may be employed in a startling way to convey the idea of a man raising it from below. this is done by fixing to the upper edge of the board a piece of strong black thread (invisible to the audience) at a few yards distance and attaching the other end to a strong finger-ring to be worn by the performer. the ring, if placed on a table or chair near the trap-door, may be slipped on the finger at the right moment, and will thus enable the performer, whenever he raises his arm with a gesture of alarm or of command, to raise the trap-door at the same time. doll-talking is a branch of our subject which finds great favour with boys, for it is often as funny as droll figures and smart witty dialogue can make it. the nature of the dialogue, indeed, is of much more importance here than in pure ventriloquism. the voices are easy to acquire, but not so easy to describe. draw back the lower jaw pretty well; press the tip of the tongue against the lower teeth; raise the rest of the tongue until it nearly touches (and it _will_ touch every now and then) the roof of the mouth, and then project the sound forcibly against the hard palate, just above the front teeth. the falsetto voice treated in this way, sometimes becomes almost perfect, enabling the ventriloquist to sound nearly every letter; whilst appearing to be absolutely mute. fix upon two well-contrasted characters: one speaking in a shrill falsetto, the other in a hard, metallic voice of middle pitch. figures for this purpose can be purchased at some of the london toy bazaars and conjurers' shops. a pair of large dolls, with practical mouths and eyes, would cost about two pounds, but heads may be purchased separately and fixed to home-made bodies. these heads, which represent a funny man, an old woman, a little girl and a negro, range in price from five shillings and sixpence to eighteen and sixpence, the latter kind being life-size. the pairs of dolls mostly used are styled "tommy and joey," "tommy and granny," etc. the performer places a doll on each knee and holds a lively conversation with them, often interrupted, however, by the crying, giggling, and singing of the dolls, whose unseasonable jokes and general naughtiness call down upon their wooden heads many a resounding blow. [illustration: betty bouncer.] there is a cheaper figure, however, called "the talking hand," which may be bought at almost any large toy shop for about half-a-crown. as great fun can be got from this figure, we shall now tell our boys how to make it at the cost of a few pence. get a quarter-yard of unbleached calico, fold it double and trace upon it an outline of the right hand and wrist. then cut round the outline, taking care to leave a broad margin and a long thumb. stitch round the glove, turn it inside out, and insert the hand. now close the hand, and, with a soft blacklead, mark in roughly the eyes, nose, etc. the projecting knuckles will form the nose and the thumb the lower jaw. to give the latter a better appearance fill out the tip with wadding and sew it to that part of the glove just above it. having withdrawn your hand, flatten the glove, and proceed to mark in the features more carefully with good writing-ink and a quill pen. the furrows in the face and the hair should also be marked with black ink, but the wide mouth and the tip of the nose with red ink. colour the face with powdered chalk (yellow ochre and red) rubbed in with pellets of blotting-paper. take care to make the eyes extra large and paint them with chinese white. to complete the figure, sew to the glove a cap-frill, a shawl of red flannel, and a large bow under the chin, and "betty bouncer" becomes one of the most comical creatures you ever saw, ready to talk, laugh, or cry to order, while as to singing--well, you should just see the old lady getting her top note! the chief subject of our next section will be _polyphonism_, or the imitation of various musical instruments, cries of animals, and other sounds. meanwhile the young ventriloquist will find quite enough to do in practising: (_a_) sentences containing labials and spirants; (_b_) voices saying "good-night," etc., in a monotone, whilst approaching or receding; (_c_) voices at the door, on the roof, up the chimney, in the cellar; (_d_) the "talking hand" or other figures. $polyphony.$--polyphony is the art of imitating sounds of various kinds, usually, without attempting to deceive the hearer as to their direction. it may therefore be studied independently of ventriloquism. already the art is much in vogue. we all know the boy who occasionally alarms the street with the yelp of an injured dog, or imitates the "cock's shrill clarion" cleverly enough to deceive half the roosters in the neighbourhood and make quiet people mutter of canes and constables. as in ventriloquism, so now the learner must first of all study closely the sounds he wishes to imitate. very often they may be roughly indicated in words or syllables, and this is very helpful. indeed, many words in our language, such as buzz, bang, tinkle, thud, crash, splash, and the like, originated in this very way. let us begin with a few easy examples. _knife-grinding_ sounds like the combination of a _bur-r-r_--made by fluttering the lips--with a prolonged _ss_. _sawing_ may be indicated by the syllables _shuh-szee_ uttered alternately with the difference of a semitone. _planing_ can be effectively rendered by strongly whispering _shee-yick_, _shee-ic-yick_, _ll-ll-luc_, and then _yu-yu-yook_ as a long shaving curls out of the plane. with regard to musical instruments, there is the _ta-ra-ra_ of the trumpet, the _pangka-bongka_ of the banjo, the _zhing-sching_ of the cymbals, the _pom-pome_ of the trombone, the _r-rhumbu-dhumba_ of the drum, the explosive _plim-blim_ of the harp, and the _floo-lu-loo_ of the flute, whilst the notes of a clarionet may be imitated by the player's running rapidly down the scale from a sharp nasal _pli-li-li-plan-plah_ into a deeper _glug-lu-lu-glah_. syllables like the foregoing give, as it were, an outline for the polyphonist to fill in with sound of the right colour or quality. thus, a tune on the cornet should be sung to a _ra-ra-ra_ forced through the tightly compressed lips, and the _flu-lu-loo_ of the flute, with its roundness of tone and breathiness, should be vocalised in the falsetto while the cheeks are distended with air. an amusing and realistic imitation of the _jew's-harp_ can be given in the following manner. stiffen the first and second fingers of the left hand and place them firmly over the lips, but lightly, so as to allow the lips perfectly free play. then give a strongly nasal rendering of some monotonous air whilst ringing the changes as rapidly as possible on the syllables _whanga-whonga whee-whaw whoodle-ongle eedle-ongle whow-zeedle oodle-ee whay-whonga whaw_, during which beat time upon the projecting fingers with the right forefinger as if twanging the tongue of the instrument. by following on the lines now laid down the apt learner may even become skilful enough to imitate an entire brass band, a feat which has been performed by at least one ventriloquist of our acquaintance. some sounds, of course, it is almost impossible to reduce to writing, as, for example, the hollow "skaw" and murmur produced by a multitude of skaters, or the roar of an excited crowd, but in listening to these sounds, it is useful to remember that we may often obtain a key tone to work upon by partly closing the ears--just as a painter can often find the prevailing tint of a confused mass of objects by partly closing the eyes. [illustration: phantom poodles.] [illustration: "i have to watch charlotte!"] when the young polyphonist has acquired some degree of skill, he need not be at a loss to entertain his friends, provided he is fairly resourceful as regards acting. but acting is of the greatest importance to the polyphonist. as a knife-grinder he must work an imaginary wheel, and deftly turn the blade of a table knife upon the stone; as a waiter about to "pop" a cork with a strong click of the tongue against the palate--he should first insert a shadowy cork-screw with a chirrupy squeak; and as a cook frizzling bacon, he may do a cardboard rasher to a turn on a battledore or fire-shovel. even the buzz of a bluebottle (made sometimes by a prolonged cornet note, sometimes by a stream of air forced through the compressed lips) will occasion much amusement if the performer acts the part of a languid mortal lolling behind his newspaper in the dog days, and murmuring,-- "oh! for the green of a lane, where one might lie and be lazy! buzz! goes a fly in the pane-- bluebottles drive me crazy!" then might follow a reckless chase after that fly, which should finally buzz itself crazy beneath the huntsman's handkerchief. again, the barking of dogs may not be much in itself, yet we have seen a performer cause roars of laughter by making his phantom poodles dance, tumble, and leap over chairs and through a hoop, to a lively tune on the piano. as a final step in polyphony, the learner should practise the _ventriloquial treatment of noises_. this adds greatly to the effectiveness of a ventriloquial sketch; as when the man in the cellar takes to sawing and planing; or goes home accompanied by a dog, whose barking, mingled with the shouts of the man, grows fainter and fainter in the distance; or, it may be, the moaning of the wind is heard without, while a last-century watchman proclaims the hour in a storm-tossed voice. to show how perfect such displays may become, we may instance the case of thomas ring, a conjurer who gave an entertainment before the entire english court in the seventeenth century. from behind a screen he imitated the voices of three butchers engaged in a conversation, which was presently interrupted by a barking dog. the dog having been whipped, a bleating calf was dragged in, a knife whetted, and the calf killed amid the talk and laughter of the men. all this is, no doubt, within the reach of some of our living ventriloquists. [illustration: "bluebottles drive me crazy!"] [illustration: good-bye.] and now a few necessary hints must be given in regard to the management of an audience. get your hearers seated in front of you, not around you, with the front row at a distance of at least ten or twelve feet. politely impose silence upon them, and take care to repeat your opening question two or three times before replying in the ventriloquial voice, because this straining the attention stimulates the imagination of your audience, and makes the illusion more complete. another important point--keep the assumed voice and the natural voice in contrast all the time, by means of a running fire of questions; finally, never use elaborate apparatus. besides, ordinary windows, doors, and fireplaces, an old chest, a folding screen, a trap-door, and perhaps one or two "practical" dolls, will amply suffice. ventriloquists who employ a whole family of ingeniously contrived figures--we have seen some of these dance a jig--should get them to talk by machinery as well. there is very little artistic merit in such performances. nor should the performer be suspiciously surrounded by scenery; it may cause misunderstanding, as the following instance will prove:-- a ventriloquist performing at a london theatre some years ago imitated a voice on the roof so successfully as to induce a man in the audience to ascend to the roof in search of a confederate. unfortunately, however, two other men, filled with the self-same idea, also found their way to the roof in company, and mistaking the first man for the guilty person, gave him a sound thrashing. in drawing our instructions to a close, let us point out that the proper end and aim of ventriloquism should be not to play the pranks of "valentine vox," but to afford our friends innocent amusement. of course, no manly boy would ever think of frightening little children; but he might be tempted to give older people a little surprise. it is therefore well he should know that persons altogether ignorant of ventriloquism may be wonderfully deceived. one morning, just after a new servant had come to the house, we noticed a doll in the kitchen, sitting bolt upright and staring as hard as her glass eyes would let her. so, going up to it, in presence of the girl, we shook hands gravely, and said, "good morning, dolly!" to which she sweetly replied, "good morning, sir! i have to watch charlotte!" the effect produced on the girl was so pronounced that for days after she would hardly touch the uncanny creature. on another occasion, at a house in kentish town, affairs took a more serious turn; for a young woman, upon hearing a gruff voice proceed from the chimney, astonished a company of six or eight persons by falling on her knees in broad daylight to implore the troubled spirit to unburden its mind. upon this we at once desisted, and explained, though not without difficulty, the nature of the deception. the ventriloquist should therefore use his strange power with caution, and mainly, as we have said, for the innocent amusement of every one concerned. at the same time he will reap from his studies certain advantages often lost sight of, viz., the training given to the ear as regards the nice discrimination of sound--musical and non-musical--and the command obtained over the vocal organs with respect to elocution. the whole of our instructions may be summarized thus: ( ) listen to sound intently; ( ) learn to analyze it; ( ) experiment patiently and regularly; ( ) cultivate acting. with these points in view, no reader possessing an average voice, together with some aptitude for mimicry, should fail to acquire the coveted art. some folks may fear that these practical lessons will produce ventriloquists by the score. to such we reply, rest easy, good people! ventriloquism, like every other art, requires patience and perseverance for its attainment. consequently, many a reader, sufficiently gifted by nature, will fail in its pursuit. it is the enthusiasts who will succeed, and they, after all, are the ones who deserve the reward. chapter xvii the boy as magician $cremated alive.$--the curtain rises and a young and beautiful girl, clothed in white, is introduced to the spectators as the victim who has been doomed to cremation, which will be instantaneously accomplished. the girl mounts upon a table placed at the back of a kind of alcove, consisting of a three-sided screen, and above her is suspended a big fire-proof sack, folded up as shown in fig. . the table upon which the victim stands ready for sacrifice appears to have four legs, and under this table burn, or appear to burn, four candles, the purpose being to indicate to the public that the space beneath the table is open, perfectly free, and beyond suspicion of any trickery. the sack, which forms a cylindrical screen under which the victim is to be burned, has been previously handed round to the spectators, so that they might assure themselves that it was entire, without any hole or split, lacing, or other artifice allowing of an escape from behind--a precaution invariably taken to allay the too ready suspicions of incredulous spectators. all these verifications being made, and the audience perfectly satisfied as to the _bona fides_ of the case, the sack is lowered upon the victim, a pistol is fired, and the cremation commences. flames and smoke (see fig. ) soon indicate to the terrified spectators that the fire is pursuing its destructive work. when the flames have ceased, the sack, composed as we have stated, of an incombustible material, is raised, and there is seen upon the table, in the midst of the still smoking _débris_, only a few bones and a skull (fig. .) [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. . fig. . cremated alive.] an examination of the conditions under which the disappearance has taken place does not in the least reveal the methods by which it has been so rapidly accomplished; but as it is clearly inadmissible that the sacrifice of a young and beautiful person should thus take place every evening for the simple gratification of the public, one is, of course, pushed to the conclusion that there must be some trick. and a trick there is of a most ingenious character, as will be seen by the following explanation, the comprehension of which will be aided by fig. . [illustration: fig. .] in this particular case the illusion is a happy combination of suitable appliances underneath the scene and of the well-known properties of plane mirrors placed on the incline. the table upon which our victim mounts for cremation has, as a matter of fact, only two legs, instead of four, and the two others are only seen by the spectators as a reflection of the two real legs in the two glasses inclined at an angle of degrees with each other, and at degrees with the two side panels of the three-fold screen which contains the scene of the disappearance. it is precisely the same with the two candles, which, in consequence of their reflection in the mirrors, appear to be four in number, whilst the central rod hides the edges of the mirrors. thanks to the combination of the glasses and panels, and to the adoption of a uniform surface for these panels, the reflection of the two sides in the two lower glasses appears to be but the continuation of the panel at the back. the triangular box, of which the two glasses comprise the two sides, and the floor the bottom, has its surface formed of two parts; the one made up of the top of the table itself, and the other of pieces of mirror which reflect the back panel, and pieces of material of the same colour as the panel itself. it is easy from this to understand the whole course of the operations, more or less fantastic, which the spectator watches with such breathless interest. as soon as the victim is hidden by the sack which comes down upon her, she at once escapes by a secret trap-door in the top of the table, as is shown in fig. ; she then rapidly puts into position the skull and bones, as well as some inflammable material, to which she sets fire when she hears the pistol shot. she then, closing the trap, tranquilly retires, and remains hidden in the triangular space arranged between the back panel and the two glasses until the fall of the curtain. $money dissolved in water.$--for this trick the young magician needs a glass, which may be either the ordinary tumbler or a wine-glass, as shown in our illustration (fig. ). it must be of such a size that if a half-crown be dropped into the glass, it shall, lying flat, nearly or quite fill the bottom space. the conjuror must be provided also with a glass disc, of the thickness of a half-crown, and in diameter exactly corresponding with the bottom space of the glass. this, when about to perform the trick, he holds concealed in his right hand, after the manner of _a_ in fig. . filling the glass about three-quarters full, as shown in fig. , he hands it to a spectator to hold. he then asks the loan of a half-crown, and a lady's pocket-handkerchief. taking the coin as _c_ in fig. , he accordingly throws the handkerchief over it, or, rather, makes believe to do so, for in reality, under cover of the handkerchief, he deftly substitutes the glass disc, and holds this between his fingers, while the coin takes its place in his palm. he now asks the person holding the glass to take charge of the coin also. he is instructed to hold it (the glass disc) just over the glass, the four corners of the handkerchief hanging down around it, and at the word "three," to drop it into the glass. the conjuror counts "one, two, _three_?" at the word three the supposed coin falls, and is heard to tinkle upon the glass. [illustration] touch the glass through the handkerchief with your magic wand, and state that by the time you have counted three the half-crown will have dissolved. count three very slowly, then the handkerchief is removed, the water is seen, but the supposed coin has vanished, for the disc, being of glass, lies quite invisible at the bottom; and if it fits the water may be poured away without the disc falling out, the thin layer of water remaining underneath it holding it by atmospheric pressure to the bottom of the tumbler. it is not worth while to do this unless some one challenges you to pour off the water, then the challenge should be accepted readily. the conjurer should now pay back the half-crown, but it will assist the illusion if he pays it back with two shillings and a sixpence, or in some other coins, instead of in the form in which it was borrowed. $the vanished half-crown.$--the trick of the dissolved half-crown may be varied. in this case the coin should be marked by the owner. upon finding it is not in the water when the handkerchief has been removed pretend to be anxious about its loss. say you will pay it back in instalments, and offer a shilling towards it. when the money-lender tries to take the proffered shilling it vanishes too. this is managed by boring a hole in the shilling, tying some elastic through the hole, and stitching the other end of the elastic up your sleeve. then as soon as you leave hold of the coin it darts back up your sleeve. "has that gone too!" you exclaim. "well, we must try to find that half-crown; perhaps it is in this ball of worsted," you say, as you pick one from the table. hand the ball of worsted to someone to examine and they declare that the coin is not in it. as you walk back to the table secretly exchange this ball for another. now this other ball of worsted has been prepared in this way. it has been wound round a tin tube about three inches long, a tube through which half-a-crown may be passed. when you have the marked coin at the beginning of the trick you should have the ball of worsted in your pocket, and putting your hand there, should put the coin through the tube into the ball of worsted. then take the tube away and press the ball into its proper shape. it is this ball that you now place in an empty glass, and giving the end of the worsted to some lady in the audience, ask her to unwind it. as she does so the half-crown will begin to rattle upon the glass. $magic florins.$--take four half sheets of note-paper from any table, and then borrow four florins; these florins you place upon a table about a foot apart, and gently lay the half sheets over each. you then take up one sheet and discover the florin underneath. placing the paper on one side you take up the coin, and without touching, in some extraordinary way, make it pass through the next paper. you lift it, and sure enough, there lie _two_ florins. you then lift the third paper, to find the florin you placed there. again, in the same mysterious manner you pass the coin through the paper. it makes no hole going through, but when the paper is lifted up there are the three of them. now you lift up the last piece of paper, thereby uncovering the last florin. repeating the same process, you then request one of the audience to lift the paper, so that he or she may see that there is no deception. this being done, there lie the four florins as cosy as little fledglings in a nest. the extreme simplicity of the trick is the most taking part of it. and now to explain this seeming mystery. one great golden rule of conjuring successfully is, as it were, to take your audience into partnership with you. when you borrowed the four florins of course they thought that was all you wanted. but you began the trick with one in your left hand cunningly concealed under the four sheets, all of which you hold in that hand. then placing the four borrowed coins on the table (which, by the by, must have a thick cloth on it to deaden the sound), twelve inches apart, with the right hand you take the three top sheets. this leaves you with the fourth sheet in the left hand, the coin below being held in position by gentle pressure from fingers below, and thumb above. then simultaneously with each hand you place a sheet of paper over two of the four coins on the table. doing it simultaneously distracts the audience's attention from what you are doing with your left hand; for it is at this particular moment that the trick is being performed. as you place the paper down, with a gentle and even motion of the thumb you leave the fifth coin there, too, taking great care that it does not clash with the one there already. now you have two coins under that sheet, though the audience only know of one. there is one under each of the other three sheets. you take one of these sheets up now and take the coin between the top of the thumb and fingers of the left hand, then with the fingers and thumb of the right hand you pretend to take it, but in reality you let it fall into the palm of the left hand, a feat that must be practised carefully before a mirror. you close the fingers of the right hand over the imaginary coin in them, and act as if it were there. one way of aiding the deception is to follow the right hand with your eyes as it goes away from the left, at the same time dropping the left hand in an easy unconstrained position to the side. now choosing the sheet which covers the two coins (though the audience only know of one), you place the right hand a few inches above it, and open the fingers, making some mysterious passes. of course, nothing passes in reality, but when you proceed to lift up the sheet and display the second coin, the audience will either think that they could not see it, or that you are a very mysterious person, which, indeed, you are. the remainder of the trick is only a repetition of what has been already explained; but it excites more and more astonishment as it proceeds. the bewilderment of the audience culminates in the last act, when, as before, you have pretended to take the coin in the right hand (really having left it in the left), and making the passes, request one of the audience to lift up the last sheet--there lie all the four florins. meanwhile, your left has dropped quietly to your side, the coin in it been slipped noiselessly into the pocket, and both hands are free to return to their astonished owners the four borrowed coins. this trick is a particularly effective one, requiring, as it does, no paraphernalia except what are always to be met with in almost every room. only let the beginner recollect this. he must never begin the trick without the fifth coin, or he will come to grief. nor must he accede to requests to "do it again," or he will be detected. $magic pens.$--take a small quantity of "aniline violet," obtainable at any chemist's, two pennyworth making about two dozen pens, and make it into a thick paste with water, taking care not to leave any lumps; then add a few drops of mucilage or good gum. do not add too much, or the paste will not set well. apply a small quantity of the paste thus made to the hollow part of a clean pen, within a quarter of an inch of the point, and leave it for a few hours to dry. when dry, tell your friends that you will write anything they like to tell you with the pen, but instead of using ink, you will use water. then dip the pen into the water, taking care not to show the side with the paste on, and write whatever they ask you to, the writing appearing the same as if you were using an ordinary pen. $the magic bottle.$--you will need two cardboard cases open at each end, and large enough to slip easily over the bottles; a specially constructed bottle, the upper part of which can contain a liquid, and the lower part containing an open space in which a glass can stand; an imitation bottle made of tin and large enough to just slide over the special bottle; and two glasses. with this apparatus before us we are ready to proceed with the performance. we introduce an empty glass and what appears to be an ordinary wine bottle, but which is really a special bottle, with its tin case over it, and containing a second wine-glass inside. by careful manipulation we pour the contents from the upper part of the bottle into the wine-glass, and then setting the bottle down in its position, pour back half the liquid, which now runs through a hole in the partition into the glass beneath. so that the audience sees one glass half full, two cardboard cases, and what appears to be the bottle (as in figure), but which really is our special bottle covered by its tin case, shaped and coloured like a bottle, and a second glass half full beneath it. now we show the cardboard cases to prove that they are empty, and then place one case over the glass and another over the bottle. at this stage everything depends on the talk of the performer, who, by his jokes and comicalities, somewhat diverts the attention of his audience. some excuse is now invented for changing the cases, and in doing this by nipping the one over the bottle the tin case is lifted off with it (as in fig. ), and placed over the glass, then on again raising the cases, the glass has disappeared, and there are now two bottles instead. again, the cases are put over the bottles, and again they are raised, but by nipping both the cases, the bottles are lifted with them, and now only the two glasses appear. again the cases are put on, and the bottle and glass restored as at first, and so a number of changes can be worked at will, the performer, of course, talking all the while and referring in the language of magicians to his power and skill in causing the bottle and the glasses to obey his will. fig. shows the construction of the special bottle with its two linings and the space for the glass to stand within it. [illustration] $the magic wand.$--by means of this wand (a piece of thin glass rod) we may produce fire at will. take a teaspoonful of castor sugar, and rather less than half a teaspoonful of ground chlorate of potash, thoroughly mix without friction, and place on a saucer standing on an old tray. secretly dip the point of the glass rod in sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol) and then touch the mass on the saucer. $another wand trick.$--leave the room under some pretext and bring in with you a wand that has been made hot. touch the wick of a candle, in which you have concealed previously a piece of phosphorus, and tell it to light and it will obey. it is better to use a candle that has already been lighted, because such a wick lights more readily. $the dancing egg.$--request someone to play the piano, and, touching an egg with your magic wand, call upon it to dance. it will do so if you observe the following directions. let the egg be boiled hard and brought into the room piping hot. make a small hole in the shell and through this push into the egg a quill that contains quicksilver, and has both ends firmly sealed. so long as the egg retains its heat, so long will it dance. $mystic thread.$--have suspended by a long thread an ordinary ring. let someone in the audience strike a match and set fire to the thread. it burns, but the ring does not fall because the thread has been thoroughly steeped in common salt and water. $eggs without hens.$--have a bag made of calico or similar material. have it made double and just inside the mouth of the part you keep towards you have six little pockets made. into each of these put an egg that has been blown or sucked until nothing remains in it. you may now shake the bag and turn it inside out to show it is empty, and yet you are able to produce one egg after another. one may be a full one, and if you break this the trick will seem more real. $feathers from a handkerchief.$--obtain some long feathers--the longer the better. take off your coat and lay the feathers in the left sleeve with the quills near the wrist. now put on your coat with the feathers still there. borrow a large handkerchief, and after flourishing it, to show it conceals nothing, throw it over your left arm. when you take it up again take with it one of the feathers, and when you shake the handkerchief again out drops the feather. if the feather is large and curved it will not appear as though it had been up your sleeve. repeat the process with suitable talk until all the feathers have been produced. $ink changed to water.$--fit a black silk lining into a glass vessel so that it lines the sides but not the bottom. put water in the glass and gold fish, but let the audience see nothing except the black lining. behind the glass have a spoon with ink in it. speak to the audience with an empty spoon in your hand, and then go to the glass, secretly change the spoons and pretend to take a spoonful of ink from the glass. now show the spoon with the ink in it to the audience, and they will believe the vessel is full of ink. throw a cloth over the glass and call upon the ink to change to water. remove the cloth, and with it the black lining, and there you have the water and the gold fish swimming in it. $the mysterious box.$--secure a little round box, into the bottom of which a half-crown will fit exactly. line the box with dark paper and cover one side of a half-crown with the same material. retaining this half-crown, pass the box round to be examined so that the audience may be sure it has no false bottom. now borrow half-a-crown, and as you return to the table exchange it for your prepared one. show this to the audience, keeping the papered side carefully towards you, and let them see you drop it into the box. in doing this keep the papered side upwards. close the box and shake it up and down so that the coin rattles. now touch the box with your wand and charge the coin to pass into a box, vase, or any other object in another part of the room into which you have previously placed half-a-crown. shake the box again, this time from side to side, and there will be no rattle. open it, the coin cannot be seen. now ask the audience to go to the place where you have planted the other half-crown, and while they are looking for it take out your papered half-crown. when they have found the other half-crown hand round the box again for them to examine. simple as is this trick, it is very puzzling to the audience. $how threepence vanished.$--place a threepenny piece upon the palm of your hand. close your hand, but have a piece of wax upon the nail of your middle finger. press this upon the coin, open your hand, and the coin will be out of sight. $the hat trick.$--borrow a hat, for a trick with a hat always has an air of importance. now, with a deal of elaboration, take a glass of water and proceed deliberately to cover the glass over with the hat. you undertake to drink the water without removing the hat. your challenge is accepted. you stoop beneath the table and commence making a loud sucking noise with the lips, as though you were drawing the water through the table. with a sharp "now, sir!" the curiosity of your opponent will make him lift up the hat; you instantly seize the glass and swallow the contents, saying, "you perceive, sir, i have drunk the water and i have not removed the hat." $card tricks.$--inseparable kings.--take four kings. beneath the last place any two cards, which you take care to conceal. then show the four kings and replace the six cards under the pack. then take a king and place it on the top of the pack, place one of the two other cards in the middle, and the other about the same place, and then, turning up the pack, show that one king is still at the bottom. then let the cards be cut, and as three kings were left below, all must necessarily get together somewhere about the middle of the pack. of course in placing the two other cards you pretend to be placing two kings. to guess chosen cards.--make a set of all the clubs and spades, and another set of hearts and diamonds. shuffle well each set, and even let them be shuffled by the spectators. then request a person to draw a card from one of the sets, and another person to draw one from the second set. you now take a set in each hand, presenting them to the two persons requesting them to replace the drawn cards. you must pretend to present to each person the set from which he drew his card, but in reality you present the red set to the person who drew the black card, and the black set to the person who drew the red card. to tell a card thought of.--take twenty-one cards of a pack, and deal them out one by one in three lots, requesting someone to think of a card, and remember in which lot it is. having dealt out the cards, ask him in which lot the card is. take up the lots successively, and place the lot containing the card in the middle. deal out the cards again, and ask him to state in which lot the card is; and proceed as before, placing the lot containing the card in the middle. deal out the cards in like manner a third time, proceeding as before. then deal them out as usual, and the eleventh card will be the one thought of, infallibly. this is the usual way of showing the card thought of; but, as the trick may be partly discovered by the counting, it is better to hold the cards in your hand, and take out the eleventh card, counting to yourself, of course, from the left hand, but pretending to be considering the guess. cheating the maid.--for this amusing trick you arrange the cards thus: holding the pack in your hands, find all the knaves, place one of them next to your left hand, and the other three on the table. then find a queen, which also place on the table. then say:--"three scamps went into a tavern, and ordered drink. here they are--the three knaves. 'who's to pay? i can't,' said the first. 'i won't,' said the second. 'i wish she may get it,' said the third. 'i'll manage it,' said the first, the greatest rogue of the three. 'i say, my pretty girl, haven't you some very old wine in your cellar?' here's the barmaid thus addressed by the rogue in question (showing the queen), and she replied:--'oh, yes, sir, prime old wine.' 'let's have a bottle.' off went the barmaid. (put the queen in your pocket.) 'now for it, my lads,' said the knave in question; '"run" is the word. let's be off in opposite directions, and meet to-night; you know where.' hereupon they decamped, taking opposite directions, which i will indicate by placing one on the top of the pack, one at the bottom, and the other in the middle. "when the poor barmaid returned (taking out the queen from your pocket) with the wine, great was her astonishment to find the room empty. 'lor!' she exclaimed, 'why, i do declare--did you ever!--oh! but i'm not agoing to be sarved so. i'll catch the rogues, all of them--that i will.' and off she went after them, as shown by placing her on or after the first. "now, to catch the three seems impossible; but the ladies have always smiled at impossibilities, and wonders never cease; for, if you have the goodness to cut these cards, you will find that she has caught the three rogues." when the cards are cut, proceed in the usual way after cutting; and taking up the cards, you will find the queen and three knaves together, which you take out and exhibit to the astonished audience. one of these knaves is not one of the three first exhibited, but the one which you slipped on your left hand at first. there is no chance of detection, however; simply for the reason before given--nobody suspects the trick. another guessing trick.--lay out twenty cards of any kind, two by two, and request a friend to think of two in a line; that is, one of the ten sets formed by the twenty cards. this done you take up the sets in the order in which they lie, and place them in rows according to the letters of the following words:-- +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | c | i | c | o | s | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | d | e | d | i | t | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | t | u | m | u | s | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | n | e | m | o | n | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ you may use a diagram like the above, but as the words are easily retained it had better be dispensed with, distributing the cards on the table just as though upon the diagram, which will make the trick more puzzling and extraordinary. proceed as follows:--place the cards two by two on similar letters: thus, place the two cards of the first set on the two d's in _dedit_; the two cards of the second set on the two _i'_s of _cicos_ and _dedit_; the two of the third set on the two _c'_s, and so on with the ten sets. all the letters of the words being thus covered, ask the friend who has thought of the cards to tell you in which lines these cards are. if both are in the first line (_cicos_), they must be those on the two _c_'s; if they are both in the second line, they cover the _d_'s in _dedit_; both in the third line, they cover the _u_'s in _tumus_; both in the fourth, they cover the _n_'s in _nemon_. if one be in the first line and the other in the second, they cover the _i_'s in _cicos_ and _dedit_, and thus of the rest--the two cards thought of _necessarily_ covering two _similar letters_, whilst each of the letters occurs only _twice_ in the diagram. to tell a card thought of.--take any number--say twenty. pretend to shuffle them with the faces towards you and remember the first card as you close the pack--say, the ten of diamonds. tell the friend that the only condition you require is to be told the order in which the card is dealt out by you; in other words he must tell you whether in dealing it comes out first, second, third, etc. remembering your first card, you may then turn your back to him, and deal out the cards one by one, and one upon the top of the other, requesting him to think of a card and its order as before said. then take up the cards, and shuffle them repeatedly by throwing a portion of them from the bottom to the top, taking care not to mix the cards or letting any drop, and then let the friend cut them as often as he pleases. then take the cards in hand. pretend to examine them mysteriously, but in reality only look for your card--the first dealt out--the ten of diamonds, for instance. now, suppose he tells you that the card he thought of came out fifth. then, for a certainty, it is the fourth card on the right of the ten of diamonds, in spite of all shuffling, for shuffling cannot alter the order or sequence of the cards. always remember to count from your own card inclusive to the number of the card thought of towards your right hand. but, should your card happen to be so near the right hand or the top as not to allow sufficient counting, then count as far as it admits to the right and then continue at the left. thus, suppose there are only two cards above the ten of diamonds, then count two more on the left, making the fifth. if the card you remember, or your first card, is first, then count the requisite number on the left, always beginning with your card, however. the reason of this trick is simply that by merely cutting the cards and shuffling them in the way indicated, you do not alter the sequence of the cards. another method.--form three ranks of five cards each, and request a person to think of one of these cards, and tell you in which rank it is. take up the cards of the three ranks, taking care to place the cards of the ranks in which is the card thought of between those of the two other ranks. make three more ranks as before. ask him again in which rank the card is, and take them up, placing the rank in which the card is between the two others. operate in like manner a third time, and the card thought of will infallibly be the third of the rank named. observe, however, you must not form each rank with five consecutive cards; but you must place the cards one by one, placing one successively in each rank: thus, one at the top on the left of the first rank, one below that first for the second rank, one below the second for the third rank, then one in the first, one in the second, one in the third, and so on. this trick, which is very easy, always produces a great effect. it only requires a little attention, and it can never fail unless you make a mistake in arranging the cards. to tell chosen cards.--the cards may be easily divided into two numerical parts, even and odd: by taking a king for four points, a queen for three, a knave for two, and the other cards for their especial points, we may make up two sets of sixteen cards each, the even composing one, and the odd the other. these two sets being before the performer, he takes one, shuffles it well, and lets a person take a card. he then takes the other, shuffles it, and lets another person take a card. then, whilst each person is looking at his card, which he is requested to do, the performer dexterously changes the place of the two sets, and he requests them to replace the cards in the set whence they took them. it follows that he who took a card from the even set places it in the odd set, and he who took it from the odd set places it in the even set. consequently all the shuffling and cutting in the world will be useless, for the performer has only to spread out the cards of each set to point out the cards drawn. singular arrangement of sixteen cards.--take the four kings, the four queens, the four knaves, and the four tens of a pack, and ask if there be any one in the company who can form a square with them in such a manner that, taken in any direction, from right to left, from the top to the bottom, by the diagonal--anyhow, in fact--there will always be in each line a king, queen, knave, and a ten. everybody will think the thing easy, but it is certain that no one will succeed in doing it. when they "give it up," take the sixteen cards and arrange them as follows, when the king, queen, knave, and ten will stand as required. +----------+----------+----------+---------+ | ten | jack | queen | king | | of | of | of | of | | spades. | clubs. | diamonds.| hearts. | +----------+----------+----------+---------+ | king | queen | jack | ten | | of | of | of | of | | spades. | hearts. | diamonds.| clubs. | +----------+----------+----------+---------+ | jack | ten | king | queen | | of | of | of | of | | hearts. | diamonds.| clubs. | clubs. | +----------+----------+----------+---------+ | queen | king | ten | jack | | of | of | of | of | | spades. | diamonds.| hearts. | spades. | +----------+----------+----------+---------+ the card that cannot be found.--take any number of cards and spread them out fan-like in your hand, faces fronting the spectators. ask one of them to select a card. you tell him to take it, and then to place it at the bottom of the pack. you hold up the pack, so that the spectators may see that the card is really at the bottom. suppose this card is the king of hearts. then, pretending to take that card, you take the card preceding it, and place it at a point corresponding to a in the following figure. a c b d you then take the card drawn, namely, the king of hearts, and place it at the point corresponding to b in the above figure. finally, you take any two other cards, and place them at c and d. of course, the cards are placed face downwards. after this location of the cards, you tell the person who has chosen the card that you will change the position of the cards, by pushing alternately that at the point a to b, and that at d to c, and _vice versa_; and you defy him to follow you in these gyrations of the card, and to find it. of course, seeing no difficulty in the thing, and believing with everybody that his card is placed at the point a, he will undertake to follow and find his card. then performing what you undertake to do, you rapidly change the places of the cards, and yet slowly enough to enable the person to keep in view the card which he thinks his own, and so that you may not lose sight of the one you placed at b. having thus disarranged the cards for a few moments, you ask the person to perform his promise by pointing out his card. feeling sure that he never lost sight of it, he instantly turns one of the cards and is astonished to find that it is not his own. then you say:--"i told you you would not be able to follow your card in its ramble. but i have done what you couldn't do: here is your card!" the astonishment of the spectators is increased when you actually show the card; for, having made them observe, in the first instance, that you did not even look at the drawn card, they are utterly at a loss to discover the means you employed to find out and produce the card in question. chapter xviii pets $cavies or guinea pigs.$--in starting these little chats, suppose we commence with cavies. some who ought to know better have said that cavies are very dull, stupid little animals, but i entirely disagree with this, as will also the lad who has kept them for ever so short a time; they are bright, intelligent little fellows, and most pleasant to make pets of, and although they belong to the rodent or rat family are not the least vicious. cavies are extremely clean in their habits, very handsome in colour, and if their little houses are kept clean there is no disagreeable smell from them. now before you buy your "guineas" you should build and furnish their house, and i will proceed to tell you how to do this. the selection of a suitable place comes first. if you live in the country there is generally an outhouse or wood-shed, and if so here is the spot to commence operations; if, on the other hand, you only have a small garden or back-yard, then select a spot in it which gets a fair share of pure air and sunlight, and which is protected from the cruel east winds. the smooth-haired cavy must have a hutch not less than ft. long, to in. from front to back, and about the same height. let the floor of your hutch have a slight fall to the back so as to carry off the moisture; the roof must also have a slope, and should be covered with tarred felt, or brown paper well tarred and sanded, which makes a capital waterproof covering. in the front of your hutch have a closely and well-fitting wooden door, large enough for you to clean out the interior comfortably; the other portion of the front must be covered with wire netting of a very close mesh. be sure that your doors fasten securely, as some cavies have a habit of shaking them, and if not properly secured, open comes the door and out drops poor guinea, who is almost sure to be killed. it is always best to have the hutch two or three feet from the ground, and resting on four legs, which is much better than nailing it to the wall. after having got so far, go carefully over your work to see that there are no cracks or crannies in your hutch, as these let in draughts, which lead to disease and death. cover the floor of the hutch with fine sawdust, and over this some sweet chopped hay, and your house is ready for its occupants. without going fully into the history of the cavy, i may say that it is a native of south america, where in many parts it is very numerous. in its wild state the cavy, where the ground is suitable, burrows like a rabbit; in damp, marshy places it hides under the many plants that flourish in such neighbourhoods. they are not difficult to catch, and not being of a savage nature are easily tamed. in their native haunts they are greatly esteemed as an article of food, and although i have never had the pleasure of tasting cavy flesh, i am told by those who have, and who are well able to give an opinion, that it is delicious; and i see no reason to doubt it, as cavies are exceedingly cleanly in their habits and feeding. there are several varieties of cavies, and as these are bred in almost every colour they afford the greatest pleasure, not only to the lad who is fond of experimenting, but also to hundreds of men and women. that the various colours can be easily bred and well fixed, has been proved beyond doubt by the many handsome little specimens that are to be seen at any of our exhibitions to-day. as we have them now, we may for our purpose divide the cavy into three classes or divisions, namely, long-haired (peruvians), rough-haired (abyssinian), and smooth-haired; but before going on with their description i would like to say a word as to handling them. this may seem superfluous, but it is not so, as they are easily injured; therefore, when you have occasion to lift your pet put your finger and thumb of the right hand round its neck, not tightly, but sufficiently firm to hinder it slipping, gently raise it and place it on your left hand, and so it can be safely lifted about and handled. in mating your cavies remember that the boar (male) controls the colour and outward characteristics of the future family, consequently he should be as typical in colour and shape as possible, and not younger than ten or twelve months; the sow (female) must not be less than about six months old, and in selecting her see that she is very tame and gentle, as she gives the inward characteristics to the young ones. of course, in keeping cavies, as in any other variety of pets, a very great deal depends on the individual fancy, and, therefore, i shall give a short description of the three classes mentioned, and leave you boys to select which you think will give you the greatest pleasure. the peruvian cavy.--the peruvian cavy is noted for its long hair, which is its chief characteristic, and when nicely combed and brushed it would be hard to find a handsomer little fellow. the hair grows right over its head and face, so that it is sometimes difficult to see either its eyes or ears; yet its beautiful bright eyes are always on the look out, and can see you and all your movements. on the body the hair grows to such a length that it trails on the ground, some actually having it as long as seven or eight inches. the hair or fur should be as long, soft, and silky as possible, and to keep it in proper order a good deal of attention is necessary; it grows very evenly from a natural parting, from the crown of the head to the stern, falling over to each side, and to keep your pet neat and trim as well as healthy you must brush its coat regularly, using a soft brush, and if any part is matted take a wide-toothed comb and very gently comb it out. you boys know what it is to comb your hair when it is matted, and how it hurts if roughly done. remember, therefore, that without care you will not only cause your pet pain, but, as the fur or hair on it is only, comparatively speaking, slightly attached to the skin, carelessness will result in pulling it out, thus leaving bare and unsightly patches. if, however, the brush is regularly used, there will be little or no need of the comb. the abyssinian cavy.--the next variety that claims our notice is the quaint little abyssinian or rough-haired cavy. unlike the peruvian, the hair of the abyssinian is short and hard or rough to the touch, and instead of growing all one way it is rosetted, as it were, in bunches, each rosette or bunch being separate and distinct, and the more evenly these are distributed over the body the more charming the result. what do my readers think of one of these little fellows--a beautiful tortoiseshell, very well rosetted, and with short, hard hair, being sold for upwards of £ ? but such is a fact. it was bred by a lady who takes a very great interest in master cavy, and who exhibits some most beautiful specimens, and it was disposed of for the sum mentioned. the abyssinian is a hardy little chap and must not be "coddled" up in a warm hutch. keep him dry and sheltered from draughts and he will thrive merrily. smooth-haired cavies.--last, but not least in any shape or form, comes the smooth-haired variety, which you boys all know, i am sure, and which is, as it fully deserves to be, the favourite. the coat of the smooth-haired cavy is soft and velvety to the touch, and the immense number of colours in which it is now bred makes it a most delightful little pet. i will not go through the many different colours further than to mention that we have them black, white, golden, brown, grey, red, and the various sub-divisions and blendings between these colours. the cavy has a good-sized head, is roman-nosed, has a very thick, or bull, neck, and a nicely rounded body, tapering towards the stern; eyes full and bright, and small, neatly-shaped ears; his whole make-up giving him the appearance of a cheerful, happy, and contented little fellow. now, as to feeding, remember that regularity and cleanliness must be observed, and that a variety or change in food is very much relished, and is necessary for the health of your cavies. for breakfast, which give early, provide some bread and milk sop, in which now and again put a piece of boiled potato; and as a change, in cold weather some barley-meal, scalded in boiling water and made into a nice crumbly mass. this latter is very warm and comforting, too, for supper, in cold frosty weather. as dry food, you must have good sound oats, wheat, a few crushed peas, bran, and hay. green food must on no account be overlooked, as it is one of the most valuable things for keeping the blood cool and the stomach in proper working order; but remember that all green food _must be fresh_ and dry. almost any green stuff is relished, but there are a few kinds that are very good: lettuce, cabbage leaves (not too many), parsley, celery tops, carrot, turnip, beet-root, chickweed, groundsel, and chicory. clean water must be always at hand, and a drink of milk now and then is much appreciated. as cavies are very apt to scratch their food all over the hutch, and so waste a lot of it, you should always feed in dishes or troughs. the heavy earthenware troughs, with flanged edges, which are used for rabbits, are best, as they cannot be upset, nor the food scratched out easily. i prefer earthenware to any other material, as it is so easily cleansed, and there is nothing about it that will poison or give a disagreeable taste to the food. though water and dry food should always be at hand for your cavies, never leave soft food or greens long in the hutch, as these soon become tainted, and if eaten in that state bring on disease. let them eat their fill of soft food and greens, and then take away any that is left. the lad who pays proper attention to his pets will soon be able to gauge to a nicety the amount of food they require. $rabbits.$--if you have sufficient pocket-money you can buy a hutch ready-made, or you can build it on similar lines to that for cavies, but of course much larger. for ordinary-sized rabbits a hutch - / ft. long by or in. will do, but for lop-eared and belgians it should be - / ft. by ft.; whilst for flemish giants ft. by ft. it is always preferable to have your hutch in some outhouse, where, though the inmates will have plenty of fresh air, they will be protected from very cold winds and rain. as there is a deal of moisture from rabbits, it is a good plan to have the floor of the outhouse cemented and connected with a drain, so as to carry off the wet that comes from the hutches; but as this cannot always be managed by boys who keep a few rabbits as pets, you should have a piece of guttering fixed along the back of the hutch and so placed that it will drain into a pail, in which put some sawdust and a little disinfectant, which will keep down any unpleasant smell. this pail you must empty every two or three days. in every hutch i like a part of it boarded off as a sleeping-room, which can be easily done by making a wooden partition and slipping it into the hutch, allowing a space of inches for this purpose. this partition must have a hole cut in it large enough for the rabbits to pop in and out comfortably. over this part of the hutch you must have a well-fitting wooden door, not only to keep them warm, but to darken the nest and so make them comfortable. in giving your rabbits their food, remember that you cannot measure the quantity exactly, any more than you can say that because you have eaten so much to-day you will want exactly so much to-morrow and every day during the week. study and observation are the only true guides. in giving soft food and green food let them have as much as they eat up _greedily_ and no more. feed twice a day, as early as possible in the morning and about sundown. in the morning give soft food, such as barley-meal, pollard, sharps, middlings, and bran, which mix with scalding water into a soft, rather crumbly than sticky mess. a few tea-leaves in the soft food now and then is a nice change. of course, these foods must not be all mixed together, but given on different mornings, so as to provide a nice variety. as there is not much feeding in bran it should always have one of the other foods mixed in it. when they have had breakfast put sufficient corn into their troughs to last them all day to nibble at, and for this oats are best; but as a change, once or twice a week crack up some barley for them. a feed, once a week, of grey peas, steeped till well soaked, will also be much relished. bits of biscuit and dry, stale crusts are also good, and can be given at any meal. for the evening feed give a bit of sweet hay, dry, sweet clover, and green food of almost any description that grows, so long as it is fresh and dry. it is impossible here to mention all the greens they will eat, but amongst others i may mention parsley, chicory, dandelion, lettuce, cabbage, celery, clover in flower; carrots, turnips, and mangolds (a slice or two) are very good. be very careful not to leave any soft food or greens lying about the hutch, as they soon spoil, and not only smell offensively, but injure the rabbits. on the floors of your hutches spread sawdust (pinewood sawdust is first-rate when it can be had), and over this some nice clean straw; and always keep in the hutch a little of one of the many disinfectants that are now manufactured. drinking vessels and feeding troughs should all be made of glazed earthenware, the latter having a flange round them to prevent the rabbit scratching out the food, and being heavy enough to prevent them being pulled about and upset. once more, do not neglect cleanliness and regularity in feeding. the lop-eared rabbit.--one of the oldest varieties of the rabbit when these were first taken in hand and bred as fancy or domestic stock, was the lop-ear; and so, paying reverence to his age, i will give him the first place. at the majority of rabbit shows i see lads and young men, as well as old ones, congregated in eager groups round the pens containing the lops, or, as they are sometimes called, the king of the fancy. i need scarcely tell our boys that the great feature in the lop rabbit is the immense lop or hanging ears. well do i remember in the early days how proud the owner of a lop was if he could show to those assembled a specimen whose ears measured from tip to tip inches; yet to-day, such a rabbit (if an adult) would not be looked at by the judges in a show, for specimens inches and upwards are now produced. in measuring the ears you must understand it is done as follows: take hold of one ear, lay it flat out full length, but not stretching it to hurt the rabbit, then place a rule at the extreme tip of the ear, pass it along, across the head, and so on to the tip of the other ear, which must be held out at full length as was the other, and so you have the proper measurement of your specimen so far as length is concerned. besides this, however, you want width of ear, and this should, roughly speaking, be one quarter the total length, measured across the widest part of one ear. the ears of the lop must be as long as possible and wide in proportion; not set on too closely on top of the head; thick at the root, and fall gracefully down the sides of the cheeks, nicely rounded at the tip and free from knots or lumps; the head large, with full, round, bright eyes. the body, when in repose, should be rather low at the shoulders, rising in a graceful curve to the hind quarters, which should be gradually and nicely rounded off, the head resting on the pouch or dew-lap; the tail must be straight, and carried close to the body, and the fore-legs straight and strong. lops are bred in various colours, such as black, yellow, fawn, blue, grey, and tortoiseshell, so that there is any amount of room for experimenting. some people, i am sorry to say, have the absurd idea that constant pulling and stretching the ears of their rabbits, whilst even in the nest, greatly helps to lengthen them, but like many cruel and ignorant ideas it is altogether wrong. all that lop rabbits require to develop the length of ear and keep them healthy is regular feeding, cleanliness, and being kept at a temperature of from to degrees fahrenheit; to secure which, during spring, autumn, and winter, artificial heat must be supplied, the best for the purpose probably being hot-water pipes. lops breed freely, but, as the young ones require a good deal of nourishment, the doe should, in order not to weaken her too much, only be allowed to bring up two or three, the others being given to nurse-does or foster-mothers, which can generally be had easily if a little trouble is taken to enquire for one or two amongst friends who keep rabbits. a healthy common rabbit makes a good foster-mother. the himalayan rabbit.--it would be difficult to find a more handsome little rabbit than the himalayan, and as it is one of the healthiest and hardiest of the coney family, i propose to give a few particulars of it. to commence, then, the himalayan, or, as it has been called, the chinese rabbit, has a perfectly white body, with dark chocolate-brown (as nearly black as can be) ears, nose, feet, and tail, and pink or rich golden eyes, the whole appearance being that of a very handsome animal. the ears must be short, close together, and stand very erect, so much so that if you bend them in any direction they immediately spring back into their proper position when released. the eye is round, bright, and rather full, and as i have just said, pink or rich golden in colour; the shape is very graceful, rather long than short or stumpy, giving it all the appearance of a thoroughbred animal. the coat is short, pure white, and fine and silky in texture, and the weight of a full-grown specimen should not exceed about six lbs. the fur is greatly in request for the making of imitation ermine, and good skins are always saleable to the manufacturers. now that we have this beautiful little rabbit in our hutch, how are we to preserve its distinctive markings in all their beauty? for be it remembered that the white turns yellow, and the black or dark brown markings grey, unless proper attention is paid to them. in chinese or russian markets where these rabbits are on sale, we are told that the colour, especially on the feet, is not so distinct as is seen in our domestic specimens; and this i can quite understand, as, with their constant burrowing and scratching amongst damp sand, earth, lime, etc., the colour on the feet will soon be affected. a very great deal of care is bestowed by those who exhibit himalayans in order to have their handsome markings as even as possible; for instance, the ears, from roots to tips, should be as dark as possible, and the nose the same colour, as well as all four feet and tail. this is often difficult to get; still, were it all as simple as a b c, there would be little honour in producing what any one else could produce without trouble. as on many other questions, considerable discussion has been carried on as to how best to preserve the distinct colour. many argued that the rabbits should be kept in entirely dark hutches, as they said the light not only destroyed the colour, but the rabbits in their wild state lived in dark burrows; just so, but these people forgot that such of the wild specimens as are to be seen in the foreign markets are not of that dark or nearly black colour, especially so far as their feet are concerned, as are those which are domesticated. others took up the extreme opposition view, and recommended as much light as possible. these latter were further astray than their "dark" opponents, for there is no doubt that constant exposure to the full light does destroy the purity of both black and white. another thing that was overlooked by the advocates of light was that too much exposure to light affected the eyes of the himalayan, which, as i have said, are pink, for it is a well-known fact that human beings, as well as animals and birds who have pink eyes, avoid a strong light. himalayans are best provided for in a partially darkened or shaded hutch, and this can be easily arranged, especially if the hutch stands in an outhouse or shed; if not, then partially cover the front with a bit of sacking or anything that will keep off the full glare. if your himalayan is allowed to sleep or sit about in a wet hutch the colour of the feet will soon be destroyed; but if the hutch is built as i previously described, all water from the rabbit will soon run away. however, in the case of the rabbit under notice, it is best to make "assurance doubly sure," so, on the bottom of your hutch put a nice layer of fine sand or sawdust, and over this straw or dried ferns, then any water will run through and be absorbed by the sand or sawdust, which should be raked over each morning, and renewed once a week. do not give your himalayan too much green meat, and never any that is wet or stale, as they are rather prone to scours. a few acorns are always a valuable thing to have on hand, and immediately bunny is seen to be relaxed; give one or two, and you will soon see the great good they will do. silver and angora rabbits.--amongst the many beautiful specimens that are to be seen now-a-days at exhibitions and in the rabbitries of breeders, the silver varieties hold a deservedly high place. the various colours include silver grey (light, medium, and dark shade), silver brown, silver cream, silver fawn, and silver blue. the silvers are of medium size, and should weigh between six lbs. and seven lbs., be compactly built, having a very neat head, ears moderately short, clear bright eyes, and with that general appearance of activity that denotes a healthy constitution. the coat or fur is close-fitting and smooth to the touch. the skin or ground colour of the silver grey should be blue, the fur consisting of black, white, and blue hair, and, according to its distribution, so we have the three shades of light, medium, or dark, as mentioned. when the silver grey is born it is black, the colour only beginning to develop between the age of one and two months, and being fully developed at about five or six months, when their coats are very handsome. some breeders, in order to get the silvering as quickly as possible, help nature by keeping their pets in artificially heated hutches; they succeed in thus accelerating development, but, as we have found from many years' experience, those who so interfere, and think they know more than mother nature, have generally to pay the penalty for their presumption; for rabbits, too quickly developed, although their coats have a beautiful appearance, do not continue so long in that grand bloom and brightness that denotes the rabbit that has been allowed to get its coat as nature intended. all the warmth that is necessary can be obtained by having the hutches water-tight, kept clean, and protected from the extremes of heat and cold. during the years the silver grey colour was being perfected, it is needless to say, crosses of various colours had to be resorted to, and amongst these were white rabbits, which naturally threw offspring with white or very pale ground (skin) colour in many cases, and as the fur grew, it was observed that the white hair predominated, giving the rabbit a cream or fawn colour, the lighter being designated creams, whilst the darker (or medium) were called fawns. the silver brown was another outcome of the various crosses, the belgian, wild english, and common grey hutch rabbit, all leaving their trace in the silver variety, the under coat and top coat being, as the name denotes, a brown colour; this colour, pretty as it is, is not so "taking" to the eye as the other handsome ones are, and so it has not been kept or bred so carefully as the foregoing colours mentioned. the silver blue is still a rare colour, and has not yet reached anything like such perfection as the others; a correct blue, whilst evenly silvered, should show a beautiful blue colour all through. although not so frequently seen, the angora is an exceedingly handsome rabbit, but needs a good deal of attention to keep it as it ought to be. the great feature of this breed is the immense length of its wool--not hair, mind, boys--which should be of the finest quality, soft as silk, pure white, and well distributed all over the body; the face and ears have less wool, in proportion to the other parts, but finer and more silky. the head is not very broad, and is surmounted with a pair of small and neatly-shaped ears, the eyes being pink and bright, a beautiful contrast to the snow-white wool. the weight should not exceed seven lbs. or eight lbs., although from the amount of wool they carry, they look very much heavier. angoras must be kept in large hutches, on the bottoms of which have nice, clean, soft, oat straw. to keep their coats in proper order, they must be gently combed and brushed at least every other day, care being taken to pull as little wool out as possible. should any part of the coat become matted, do not "tug" at it with the comb, which should be a wide-toothed one, but disentangle it with your fingers, and use a little warm water on it to help; if it is too securely matted to enable you to loosen it, there is nothing for it but to clip it off, which will, of course, spoil its appearance till the wool grows again. a healthy, well-groomed angora is one of the handsomest pets possible; but on the other hand, if neglected, the coat becomes foul and matted, and a more disconsolate, miserable-looking animal it would be difficult to imagine. the hutches must be cleaned out thrice a week, and a manger fixed in which to put hay or clover, of which they are very fond, and which is good for them. belgian hares.--the belgian hare is a large and very handsome variety of our domestic rabbit. although designated "hare," it is not a hare at all, but a rabbit pure and simple, although it has more of the hare-like form and colour than any other variety. being a large animal, scaling from eight pounds to ten pounds in weight, it is necessary that it should be kept in a large, roomy hutch. an old and experienced breeder says the hutch should be at least feet long, by feet broad, and inches high, and the shaded sleeping compartment inches wider than in the ordinary hutch. the belgian in colour somewhat resembles the english hare, being of a sandy-brown or golden-foxey colour, ticked as evenly as possible with dark chocolate, thus giving the fur, which should be short, firm and glossy, a very handsome appearance; the head is of good size, broad between the eyes, and gradually tapering towards the nose; the eyes, a special feature in belgians, are a beautiful brown colour, full, bright, and wild-looking; the ears, about five inches long, should be laced round the edges with black, and carried very neatly and closely together; the body should be long, giving it a graceful, hare-like carriage, so much esteemed, and the legs strong, long, and straight. belgians are very apt to develop a dew-lap or pouch, or as some have called it a large double chin; this is a defect, but, owing to an undoubted cross at a remote time with the lop rabbit, is very difficult to avoid. many specimens now-a-days do not show this point until they get old and fat. one of the best preventatives we believe is large airy hutches, and the avoidance of over-feeding. where it can be done, belgians should be allowed to run in a nice dry open shed, or failing this, an hour's run three or four times a week on a nice, dry grass plot. plenty of room, judicious feeding, and cleanliness, work wonders in the development of the belgian hare. dutch rabbits.--unlike the belgian, the dutch rabbit is noted for its small size, and is generally called the dwarf or bantam representative of the domestic rabbit. there are few lads who have not been captivated by the handsome little dutchman, and there are few large rabbitries where some of them are not kept, such great favourites are they. the breed being of small size should not exceed about five pounds in weight, and many grand ones are to be found under that weight. the pretty markings, combined with the various colours of this variety and the difficulties in getting both colour and markings exactly as they ought to be, makes the breeding of them very fascinating to those fond of experiments, and who delight in observing the various developments of the little animal. probably the most favourite colours are the blacks and the blues; but greys, tortoiseshells, and yellows, are all alike handsome. the head of the dutch rabbit is shapely and not large, the ears small, neat, and carried slightly backwards; the eyes in this variety are frequently not both of the same colour owing to crossing for various colours, and the too frequent and pernicious habit of in-breeding. it is, however, necessary that both eyes should match, and be bright and sparkling; the body rises from behind the shoulders, curving nicely over the stern, and giving the rabbit a compact, well-put-together shape; legs, medium length, straight, and fine in bone. now to come to the markings of this little aristocrat of the rabbitry. from between the ears comes a narrow white line, gradually widening as it descends to, and encircles the smellers, and continuing round the face, this is called the "blaze," the cheeks and ears are of the same colour as the body, whilst the chest, fore-legs, and shoulders are pure white, and the hind feet for about an inch and a half should also be white, the whole remaining part of the rabbit being a solid colour, as black, blue, grey, etc. the collar of white which runs round the shoulders should descend in a straight line, as though cut with scissors, encircling the fore-legs. the markings of a dutch rabbit should be sharply defined, and not blur or run into each other. for instance, in a black dutch, the cheeks, ears, and body from behind the shoulders should be a bright, solid, glossy black, and the remaining part pure white, a very beautiful contrast indeed. one great advantage in keeping and breeding dutch rabbits is that they are small and can be more successfully brought up in cool, outdoor hutches. if your rabbit has canker of the ear, clear out the discharge by gentle pressure with a sponge or soft rag soaked in warm water, taking great care that none of the water falls into the ear. when dry after this bathing, apply the following lotion, which any druggist will make up for you: sulphate of zinc grains, water ounces, wine of opium drachm, mixed. or you might try a mixture of one part goulard's extract of lead to five parts of pure olive oil. hold the rabbit's head on one side and pour into the ear half a teaspoonful of either of the above twice a day. give plenty of the best food, for if the rabbit does not feed well the chances of recovery are slight. $cage birds.$--canaries.--having determined to keep a bird, the first thing is to provide proper accommodation for it, and here let us suppose the lad has only accommodation for one, or at most, a pair of birds. very well, then, procure a cage. oh, yes, says the boy; of course, i know that. just so, but do not forget that there are cages _and_ cages, and that whilst some look very pretty and are quite an ornament, they are perhaps the most unsuitable and miserable of prisons for poor little dick; avoid by all means round cages, which are the worst possible for the poor little inmates, who have no room to exercise themselves, and where it is quite impossible for them to get out of the way of draughts or shelter themselves from the scorching sun. the best and most convenient cages are those which have plain wire in front, the rest being made of wood; the larger the size the better, as a great thing is to give the inmates plenty of room for exercise. the size that i have used for years in which to keep a pair of canaries or other small birds, is as follows:--length in., depth, from back to front, in., and height in. in such a cage small birds will live healthily for years. next in importance to size of cage is where to hang it, and a great deal depends upon this point. first, then, let me impress upon you never to hang dickey (except, perhaps, for an hour or two's change in fine, but not too sunny weather) in front of the window, for here the bird is exposed to draughts and every change of temperature, which is more injurious to the health and well-being of your pet than anything else. select a part of the room against one of the walls as free from draught as possible, and where there is plenty of light and air; and be particular not to hang the cage higher than (but rather below) the level of the gas, as when that is lighted the air in the higher parts of the room becomes very hot, and anything but comfortable or healthy for the bird. now that you have got your cage, which will be fitted with the necessary perches, drinking glasses, and seed hoppers, examine it carefully to see that it is clean and free from insects, then fill your water-glasses, and put seed in the tins or hoppers, and on the bottom of the cage a good supply of sand and small grit, which can be bought in penny bags at all corn chandlers or bird-shops, and your house is ready for master dick. perches are usually too thin. they should not be like a lead pencil, but more like your thumb, and flat on top. feed regularly each morning, on either the mixed seed, or, as we prefer it, buy some good, clean, sweet, canary seed and summer rape seed, and mix them yourself, one part of the latter to two parts of the former; clean water each day, and a wee bit of nice, dry, fresh, green food, such as groundsel, watercress, lettuce, chickweed, or plantain, as they are in season. do not indulge your bird in luxuries, but dickey will enjoy (and it will do it good) now and then, a morsel of sweet, ripe apple, pear, grape, or cherry. following these directions, and keeping the cage thoroughly clean, you will find dickey a delightful pet and one that will repay you for any little trouble. whenever you have occasion to go near the cage, either to look at the bird or to feed or clean it, always speak to it cheerfully but quietly, and so gain its confidence, and you will soon be surprised how earnestly it will greet you whenever you come into the room. it will greatly contribute to the health and vigour of your bird if you can now and then let it fly in the room where the cage is. close the room door and windows, and, yourself and dick being the only inmates, talk to him and then open the cage-door and sit down, and you will be amused at the bird's antics; first he will hop on the ledge of the door, then, looking this way and that, he will either try his wings on a fly round the room or drop to a table or chair-back, and so investigate the whole surroundings; do not startle the bird whilst it is out or it will get frightened and dash itself about. if it seems unable to find its way back to the cage, talk to it and drive it gently in that direction, but never wave a handkerchief or paper at it or you will probably frighten it to death. zebra-finches.--one of the merriest, boldest, most impudent and inquisitive little fellows is the handsome zebra, or chestnut-eared, finch; a prettier or more charming little pet it would be difficult to find. zebra-finches are the hardiest and best known of the australian finches, and are natives of queensland and new south wales, where they are found in great numbers; they are stoutly built, compact little birds, measuring between four and five inches from beak to end of tail, the tail itself being about an inch and a half long. the hen is soberly clad in grey with yellow beak and legs, but her mate is a handsome little fellow and somewhat difficult to describe; his beak is red; head, neck, and throat grey, the feathers on the latter being pencilled with white, which gives it a very beautiful appearance; the ears are a bright chestnut colour, and a line of black and one of white surround the beak; the breast is white, sides darker chestnut spotted with white; back and wings grey; tail black, barred and spotted with white; legs orange colour. no description, however, can adequately convey the handsome appearance of master zebra-finch when in the full beauty of his plumage. he is a fearless little fellow and bold to the extent of rashness in defending his mate, for he will attack birds many times larger than himself, and generally comes off the victor; and then doesn't he let you know it; how he struts about, blowing himself out and trumpeting to his heart's content. they are most lovable little birds, their every action being full of grace. zebra-finches do not sing, but the male bird's note is a sweet trumpeting sound, very cheerful and pleasant, and varying in tone. watch him making love to his little mate or helping her to make a nest; how low and soothing is his little trumpet, and how much it is appreciated is easily perceived by the joyous twitterings of his soberly clad lady-love; listen to him again when he is "showing-off"; with what vigour does he blow his trumpet, and how proudly he hops about, especially if he has just thrashed a bigger fellow than himself. i kept a pair for several years in a cage, such as i described to you, and although kept in a room where more or less noise was going on all day they were as happy as the day was long, and being continually petted and talked to became very tame, "master jocky" never failing to trumpet to us when we went to the cage or spoke coaxingly to him; his little wife "jenny" was, however, very shy and always allowed her lord and master to do all the talking, she chiming in now and again as though saying "hear, hear," to his remarks. as i had not, at the time, convenience for an aviary, i made a point, as soon as the birds were thoroughly tamed, of opening the cage-door every afternoon for an hour or two so that they might fly round the room; and how they did enjoy themselves! the first time i opened the cage-door they made no rush for freedom, but seemed to talk the matter over with each other, and then jocky came to the open door, trumpeting his best to attract my attention. i spoke to him, and then, apparently reassured, he launched himself forth across to where i was and back again to his cage; then he enticed jenny to come out, and they flew round and round, resting close together on the top of the cage now and then, when he would trumpet in his loudest and most vigorous tones; they would thus tire themselves out, and in a few minutes after would be sound asleep. thus they lived joyously for years, but she at last succumbed to egg-binding, which, unfortunately, with this variety is more common and more fatal than with many others. they had lived together so long and so happily that poor little jock never got over his sorrow, his delightful little trumpetings soon lost their bonny sound, and do what we could we failed to rouse him to anything like what he used to be, and so one morning when we took the cover off his cage he was dead. we all sorrowed over their deaths, for they made themselves most lovable little companions to one and all of us. dr. greene, the naturalist, speaking of his first experience with these delightful little birds, says:-- "as soon as i got them home, i turned the birds loose into a greenhouse in which was nothing but a grape-vine in full foliage. i shall never forget the delight of the little couple as they rushed into the midst of the leaves, the male trumpeting loudly and his mate twittering in joyful response. they paired almost as soon as i let them out of the cage, and in a minute or two the hen bird was hopping about with a little bit of fibre she had picked up off the floor in her beak, looking for a place to build her nest in; this she was not long in finding, and on my supplying her with some fine hay, she very soon, or, i should say they, for the male helped in the construction, made a little domed nest among the vine branches, and in less than a week were engaged in the important duty of incubation, male and female sitting alternately on five tiny white eggs." zebra-finches breed freely, especially when kept in cages in a rather warm temperature. the young ones, which are hatched in about twelve days, do not leave the nest till fully fledged, when they almost immediately commence to feed themselves, when they must be removed or they will interfere with the old birds. when kept in an aviary not supplied with heat artificially, they generally content themselves with two or perhaps three broods a year, which is much better for them. it must be remembered that when kept in an aviary with other birds they are inclined to be quarrelsome and masterful, frequently either taking possession of some other nest or pulling it to pieces to construct their own, in spite of the fact that abundant nest-making material is lying about. for food, canary seed and millet is the best, and will keep them vigorous and in good health. as a change give them a few hay-seeds, a spray of millet, or some grass in flower, which they will greatly enjoy, as also now and again a morsel of sweet apple or pear. when bringing up young, give a small piece of sponge cake and a little of the yolk of a hard-boiled egg crushed and mixed with sweet biscuit. always see that they have plenty of grit, and keep a piece of rock-salt and cuttlefish-shell for them to peck at. they are very cleanly birds, and when the weather is not too cold, should be allowed a bath at least twice or thrice a week. budgerigars.--this beautiful little bird, called variously "undulated grass parrakeet," "zebra grass parrakeet," and "shell parrot," is a native of south australia, and is deservedly a very general favourite, its hardy constitution, the readiness with which it adapts itself to confinement, its handsome plumage, and its winning ways, all tending to make it a great pet. it can be kept in a large cage, but is much merrier and more contented in a garden aviary, where it may be kept all the year round so long as it has an inner compartment to retire to in very severe cold or wet weather. it is a miniature long-tailed parrot, measuring seven or eight inches, of which the tail is about half that length; its general colour is a brilliant grass-green, the head pale primrose, whilst the neck, shoulders, and wings are yellow-green, the feathers being edged with grey, giving it an undulating appearance, hence one of its names; the two long middle-tail feathers are blue, whilst the others are yellow with green tips; the beak is white, chin yellow, spotted with blue, which latter colour also runs down each side of the beak like a moustache; legs and feet grey or slate colour. the male bird is distinguished from the female by the blue colour of the cere round the nostrils, which in the female is of a brown shade. budgerigars breed well in confinement, the season lasting from about december to july, during which two or three broods will be produced. several pairs can be kept together in one aviary, the only thing to be particular about is to provide sufficient nesting material, otherwise quarrels ensue. in the native woods these handsome little fellows generally make their nests in the hollows of gum-trees, taking very little trouble as to furnishing it; in an aviary they will select almost any hole or corner; but one of the best nests i know of is the husk of a cocoa-nut, which should have a hole cut in one end; this should be hung high up so that mice cannot reach it, and a perch should be provided close to the hole, where the male will sit and sing his love ditties, and tell his wife all the gossip of the day, whilst she is attending to her maternal duties inside. the hen lays three, four, five and sometimes six eggs, the youngsters being hatched in fourteen or fifteen days. when feeding-time comes the young ones do not open their mouths as do so many young birds, but the parents take the beak of their offspring into their own, and the youngsters feed themselves on the food which the old ones disgorge for them. the young birds leave the nest when five or six weeks old, as soon as they are fully fledged, and in a few days leave the parents, who soon set about nesting again; the first thing they do being to thoroughly clean out the husk for the reception of the next batch of eggs. if husks cannot be got conveniently, little wooden boxes (which should have some sawdust put in so that the eggs will not roll about) holes in the wall, or a rotten wood log will do. when kept in small cages budgerigars, not having room to properly "show off," are apt to become silent, but once in an aviary and the change is marvellous, as they dart about, tumbling, twisting, and climbing in all positions in the most graceful and delightful manner, and singing a pleasant little song all the while, stopping now and again as though to exchange confidences and to express delight at their surroundings. these birds do not bathe, but one of their greatest delights is to tumble and roll about in wet grass; if, therefore, the aviary has not a grass bottom, a large sod should be supplied and artificial rain produced by the aid of the watering can. when thus tumbling about, and the sun glints on their plumage it sparkles like so many gems. so far as food is concerned these charming little birds are easily satisfied, canary seed and white millet being sufficient to keep them healthy and vigorous, the only change necessary being when they are feeding young ones, when a little stale bread soaked in water and squeezed dry, and a few oats, should be added to their bill of fare; the simpler the diet the better, so do not indulge them with tit-bits. in the aviary or cage always have a supply of clean drinking water at hand, pounded oyster shells, as well as sand, fine shell grit and cuttlefish bone, which can be had at all bird shops, seed dealers, etc. being such hardy, sprightly little fellows, the handsome budgerigars are not liable to so many illnesses as frequently fall to the lot of our caged pets; now and again one may have a fit, due probably to improper feeding; should such occur, be careful to correct your feeding, and give grass in flower, dandelion, or a bit of groundsel. cramp they sometimes suffer from, which is produced by cold or damp, the latter more especially; a simple remedy is the removal of the bird to a warm and dry atmosphere. all cage-birds (hens) are liable to egg-binding, one of the most serious complaints, and difficult to deal with, and budgerigars suffer from it like the rest; it is seldom curable, but immediately the hen is observed to be suffering she should be taken gently, very gently, in hand, and a drop or two of castor oil or sweet oil put in her mouth, whilst the egg passage should be gently oiled with a feather, and then held over the mouth of a jug of hot water, so that the steam may get to the part affected, and so relax it and assist in the delivery of the egg. a bird which has been egg-bound should not be allowed to mate and go to nest again, as sooner or later she will again suffer from the distressing complaint and die. any one fond of birds cannot fail to be delighted and charmed with such a handsome, good-tempered, loving, and jolly little fellow as the budgerigar. $how to treat dogs.$--twice a day feed the dog moderately. paunch and tripe are excellent for dogs. boil this food, cut into small pieces, in a moderate quantity of water, and when the meat is sufficiently done throw into the gravy some good dog biscuits. when these are soft mix meat, biscuits and gravy well together. for an occasional change oatmeal or rice may be given instead of meat. during the summer boil a cabbage with the food twice a week, for unless dogs have vegetable food occasionally they are liable to have mange and scurvy. in winter put mashed potatoes in the food sometimes, for these contain the properties for which dogs sometimes eat the coarse grass in some parts called couch grass, in others twitch. once or twice a week a dog should have boiled liver and sometimes milk in which powdered brimstone has been placed. always he should be able to drink clean water. a dog's kennel should be in a dry, sheltered place and lifted from the ground. it should face south or west. let him have plenty of dry straw. wheat straw and oat straw are best; it is said that barley straw will cause mange. cedar or pine shavings are good if you can secure some. in cold weather a piece of canvas or carpet should be nailed to hang over the entrance, and great care should be taken to keep the kennel dry, or there will be mange and lameness. a kennel with an adjustable bottom which can be removed to be cleaned, is better than one with a fixed bottom. at least every two weeks the kennel should be thoroughly cleaned. apply some good disinfectant to every crevice with a brush, then expose the inside to the sun and air to dry it. it is usual to chain the dog to the kennel, but a better plan is to place in front of the kennel a stout wire about fifteen feet long stretched between two posts that are about three feet above the ground. the ring at the end of the dog's chain should have this wire running through it. this plan gives him a much wider range. to destroy vermin in a dog rub soft soap well into his coat, and in about a quarter of an hour lather it well into him, and then wash it away with an abundance of tepid water. when dogs have the "husk," a kind of cough, they should be fed with finely chopped suet boiled in milk, with a little garlic also finely chopped added to the suet. for worms, administer a teaspoonful of salt either dry or dissolved in lukewarm water. this is also a good remedy when distemper begins, for it acts as an emetic. the least exercise a dog should have is an hour each day. dogs kept in the house should have exercise for half an hour before breakfast and after supper too. a run at mid-day, too, is an advantage. to lead them out soberly on a chain and back again is not sufficient for a dog. he needs more lively exercise than that. a large dog should run six miles each day. brush your dog's coat each day and wash him once a week. bad habits should be checked when the dog is young, with a whip if that is necessary, but without cruelty. a little whip goes a long way with a dog. even the sight of it is sufficient usually. be sure he understands for what he is being punished, and be consistent. don't laugh at him for one thing one day, and punish him for it another. do not let him annoy neighbours by barking. if you do it will serve you right if the neighbours obtain an order from the magistrates for his destruction. they are entitled to do this, and, indeed the right ought to be exercised more often than it is. so far we have mentioned grown dogs only, but a few hints about puppies may be given. when these are five or six weeks old they may be weaned. feed them now for three weeks upon boiled milk, sometimes breaking into it a little stale bread. then they may begin to have soup made of meat and vegetables occasionally. when they are between six weeks and a year old they may be fed three times a day, the most generous meal at night before they go to sleep. $the raven.$--if you keep a raven be prepared for unending mischief and destruction. he needs plenty of room, and will eat most things. raw meat is perhaps his favourite diet, and he is pleased with rats, mice, small birds, beetles, grubs or worms, and bread. he ought to be fed once, and once only, each day, for he will find insects, worms, and other delicacies for himself. from time to time he loves to retire to a place that is sheltered, warm and dark, and where no one can see him. $white mice.$--the principal food for white mice is bread-and-milk, oatmeal grits, and any other common food, except cheese, which is bad for them. they should be kept particularly clean, and their cages overhauled each day and the bedding changed, or they will smell offensively. cages may be adapted from boxes. give them more room than the bought cages give them, and a dark compartment. $jackdaws.$--the jackdaw is tamed easily, and can be taught to say a few words. it is as alert as a terrier for visitors, and affectionate towards its friends. jack loves a bath, and may be fed on bread and milk, oats, mice, small birds, insects, and meat. $the jay.$--the jay is not so impatient of captivity as the magpie, and will tolerate confinement in a large cage. it will eat meat, small birds, mice, insects, worms, and is particularly fond of eggs. it eats, too, much vegetable food. $the magpie.$--do not keep a magpie unless you can give him generous room. he is a very clever talker and mimic. he is extremely fond of bathing, and a plentiful supply of water is needful to keep his beautiful plumage in good condition. the food of the magpie is the same as that of the jackdaw. $the hedgehog.$--this animal likes insects and snails, frogs and mice, and will even kill a snake, and eat it. in its wild state it sleeps all the winter, rolled up in a hole which it has filled with grass, moss, or leaves; and when tamed it will hide itself in some dark place for weeks, and never make its appearance, unless it should feel hungry. hedgehogs destroy beetles, eating them quickly and gladly. they need no looking after, but will fend for themselves, though it is better to have a little hutch to put them into sometimes. their feeding-time is in the night; and if there are black-beetles in the kitchen, the best plan is to leave the hedgehog there. $silkworms.$--buy a few eggs, which should be of a lilac or grey colour. avoid yellow ones. the silkworm when hatched is black, and about one-fourth of an inch long. the desire for food is the first sign of life, and it is more alive then than at any other time. when about eight days have elapsed its head becomes enlarged and it turns ill, refuses food, and remains torpid for about three days. this seems to be caused by the pressure of the skin, which has become too tight. the difference in the size of the worm from the beginning to the end of the caterpillar state is such, that the worm has been provided with several skins, each of which it throws off in succession. the silkworm feeds on the leaves of the white mulberry; or, when these cannot be obtained, upon those of the black mulberry; or even upon the leaves of the lettuce. the eggs should be bought about the end of april and placed in trays made of pasteboard. over the case put thin gauze. the trays may be placed in a window facing the south, where they are fully exposed to the sun, and there they should remain undisturbed till the eggs begin to hatch. as the worms appear they should be removed into other trays, and fed with the mulberry leaves. the temperature should be from sixty-six to seventy degrees, and the room ventilated, and preserved free from damp and from too much dryness. the trays should be kept clean, dead leaves and any other refuse cleared away. in moving the caterpillars from one tray to another they should not be touched by the fingers, but removed by threads of cotton passed under their bodies, or with a camel-hair brush. the caterpillar has four moultings, which may be all over in four days each, if the heat of the room be increased to from ninety-five to one hundred degrees of fahrenheit. when the heat is lower, the first moulting takes place on the fourth or fifth day after hatching, the second in four days more, the third in five or six days more, and the last in about eight days. ten days more are required after this moulting, so that in about thirty-two days after hatching the caterpillar is fully grown. [illustration] at the end of this time the silkworms change to a clear pink or flesh colour, and look semi-transparent; they refuse food, become restless, and prepare to spin their cocoon. care should be taken to raise the walls of their tray or they will climb over and be lost. the cocoon nest should now be prepared by twisting the corners of a piece of writing-paper, and raising its edges into the form shown in the illustration. a number of these should be prepared and fixed to a piece of tape, with their pointed ends downwards; and into each one a single worm should be placed when it refuses its food, and seems inclined to spin: it will then weave its web so as to leave a space within. the cocoon consists of three layers of silk: the first is loose and flossy, and is of no use for the silk manufacture; the second is closer, the silk crossing from side to side; and the third is still finer, and is stuck firmly together, so as to form a compact inner coating. when the cocoon is completed, the enclosed caterpillar once more casts its skin, with its head and jaws attached to it. it is now a conical chrysalis of the ordinary shape. at first the chrysalis, when opened, contains only a yellow fluid, but by degrees the parts of the moth appear, and in a fortnight or three weeks a swelling of the chrysalis indicates the approach of another change. a rupture down its back comes next, and the moth bursts through its coating into the hollow of the cocoon, and if left to itself would soon eat its way through. the chrysalis, however, must be stopped from eating through the cocoon; and the silk must be wound. when, by shaking the cocoon, it is found to rattle, then it is time to wind the silk. the cocoon is placed in a cup of warm water, after the loose outward silk has been removed, and then, an end being taken, the whole filament may be wound off on a piece of card. the length of the thread of a cocoon varies from to , feet. when the silk is wound off the aurelia presents itself, and being put in a separate case, it remains motionless for about twenty days, when it appears as a pale yellow moth. the male soon dies; the females lay their eggs on the slips of paper provided for that purpose. they then soon die. chapter xix things boys can make $a way to bind magazines.$--first, we must have a frame in which to stitch the sheets together. here is mine in fig. . i made it myself, and any handy lad can make one. the frame shown has an opening a foot long, so it is big enough to bind a book as long as that, or any smaller magazine. i have drawn it fitted with five strings, which would be the right number for a full-sized magazine; more or less strings are required according to the size of the book. they are, as may be seen, passed through holes bored opposite to each other above and below, and fixed tight with pegs. these strings are tapes / inch wide, which mother or sister will supply. now for the sewing. we have stripped off the wrappers, cleaned the backs of the sheets, and laid them in order, the last sheet on the top. but to make neat work, we should have what bookbinders call "end papers"--plain pieces of paper cut and folded to the size of the magazine--to go at the beginning and end of the volume; one leaf of each will be pasted down by-and-by to the inside of the cover adjoining it. we begin by laying an end paper on the frame with its back against the tapes. we take a needle and thread, tie a knot at the end of the latter, and pass the needle, as in fig. , through the middle of tape no. , and through the paper, drawing the thread to the knot. how we then go on is shown by the dotted line in fig. ; at the nearer side of tape no. we pass the needle out again, carry it behind the tape, in again at the farther side of the tape, and so on, till we finally bring it out on the near side of tape no. . please to notice that we do not pass the needle _through_ any tape except through no. at first starting; with that exception, the thread merely _goes behind_ the tapes. [illustration: fig. .] when we have reached the last tape and brought the needle out on the near side of it, we lay a sheet, in this case the _last_ sheet, of the magazine, on the frame, and pass the needle through it inwards on the farther side of tape no. , and then work back to the nearest side of tape no. . another sheet is now laid on, and so we proceed till the whole volume, including the front end paper, is stitched together. if we now lay a good heavy weight on our volume, we can squeeze it into narrower compass, for as the threads merely go round the tapes, they will slip down them; and we can then glue the back. everybody has not a glue-pot, but everybody can get a d. bottle of le page's liquid glue, and nothing is better or more handy. damp a strip of paper, or better, of thin muslin, and rub it down on the glue; it will strengthen the back. leave the volume under pressure till the glue has set, and we may then take it out of the frame and cut off the tapes to, say, about two inches long on each side. [illustration: _fig. ._] and now we are ready for our covers; a couple of pieces of stiff millboard, the wreckage of some old draper's box, will do very well. we cut them to size, and glue down the tapes upon them, as is shown in fig. ; and when the volume is heavy it is well to paste a strip of thin muslin over the hinge, as indicated by the dotted lines at _a_, to keep all tight. i have just spoken of paste; we shall want it for everything else that we have to do, so i will tell you how to make it. take a couple of tablespoonfuls of flour and half a teaspoonful of powdered alum, beat them carefully with cold water to the consistency of thin cream, and boil briskly for four minutes, stirring all the time. what we want to do now is to put a back to our volume. we want something that will look well, and be strong, and nothing that i have tried has been equal to "window-blind holland." a dark green i prefer, but colour is a matter of taste. this material will not stretch out of place in pasting, as bookbinders' cloth is apt to do. fig. shows how the back piece is cut. the middle part _b_ has a strip of stiff paper pasted on it, which is not exactly the width of the back of the volume, but just a shade wider, that when pasted in place, it may have the proper curve outwards. the flap _c_ is to be turned and pasted down on this strip of paper, but the flaps _d_ and _d_ will be turned and pasted down inside the covers, after the back has been pasted in its place on the volume; and when that has been done, the volume should be kept under pressure till the paste is dry. [illustration: fig. ., fig. .] we must, of course, cover the sides of our volume; bookbinders' cloth or marbled paper, both of which are very inexpensive, are what i commonly use. after that, we can line the insides of the covers by pasting down on them a leaf of the end paper. and only one more thing now remains to be done, that is to letter a label neatly, and to paste it on the back. $scrap book and index.$--keep _two_ scrap-books--one for cuttings and the other for notes. the scrap-book might be made of brown paper. take an ordinary quarto exercise-book, with about pages in it, and set apart the first fifteen pages for forming the index, for a scrap-book or a note-book without an index is as absurd as a public library without a catalogue. on the first page of your scrap-book write, in clear style, your name and address. next, put the date on which you commenced to insert cuttings in the book. and then you might add an appropriate motto. how would this title-page do? [illustration: "when found make a note of." captain cuttle. * * * * * my newspaper cuttings. * * * * * frederick cowley, , abbey road, knutsford. _commenced jan. th_, . ] [illustration: fig. a.] having finished the all-important question of a title-page, which might be much more ornamental than the one above, begin the index on page of the book. take a strip of paper of the same length as the pages in your book, and by doubling it in half twice and then dividing it into three equal parts, mark it off into twelve portions, as shown in fig. b. [illustration: fig. b. strip, the same length as the page. ] now place your strip alongside of the edge of page , and rule a line on the page exactly where the figure has been put. only a tiny line, about three-quarters of an inch in length, is needed. on page , again place your strip along the edge, and rule a line where the figure occurs. on page rule a line where the figure is; on page rule a line where the figure is; on page rule a line where the figure is; and so on, till on page you rule a line where the figure is. i expect you see why i have done this. now neatly cut from the bottom of page a strip, three-quarters of an inch wide, as far as the line you have ruled. this will leave at the top of the page a piece of paper jutting out. on this write the letters [a | b] in ink. then on page cut your strip three-quarters of an inch wide, up to the ruled line, and write [c | d] on the little square which projects underneath [a | b]; and continue to write two letters of the alphabet on each page till you get to page , when you must write [uv | w]. on page you can write [xy | z]. now your index is complete so far as the lettering. the edge of your book should look something like fig. c. if you want the index to look still better, you should write the letters alternately in red and black ink. on the first line of page in your book put a, and turning over the leaf write b on the top line. on page write c, and turning overleaf write d upon the top line. thus you will have allotted a page to each letter in the alphabet, with the exception of the last six letters. i think i should put on the top line of page u v, and overleaf write w, as w needs more room than u v. on page write x y, and overleaf z. [illustration: fig. c.] now that the mysteries of what the bookbinders call "index cutting" have been overcome, nothing remains to be done in the way of preparing your scrap-book for the reception of the numerous newspaper cuttings which i hope will find a home therein. we will suppose you are interested in cricket. here comes the usefulness of your book. when the averages of the county cricket are published you can cut out the list and paste it in your book, and enter in your index, under c, the fact thus: "cricket, county averages, ," the referring to the page on which you have pasted the cutting. when brown _minor_ is trying to prove that his county of kent was third on the list, you will be able to convince him of his error by a reference to the page in your scrap-book, whereon you have pasted a cutting headed "county championship." reserve a few pages in your book for cuttings from the comic papers. you have no idea, until you commence, how interesting and engrossing your scrap-book will prove. in the newspapers there are so many curious little incidents recorded as to swimming, cycling, football, science, which you will be glad to preserve for future reference. then, any little facts about your favourite hero may well find a place in your book. and when you have filled one book, commence another, and thus manufacture your own library of "best bits." [illustration: fig. ] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $net making.$--in fig. we have a netting needle and the way of filling it, in fig. a mesh stick. the stick may be almost any shape and about nine inches long. it regulates the mesh of the net, for the mesh is twice the circumference of the stick, so you may make a coarse net for tennis or a finer one to protect your strawberries, or a hammock net, or any kind you wish. fix a hook into a wall or door, or in some other similar position. take a piece of twine, a foot long will serve, tie the ends together, and hang the circle a thus made over the hook as in fig. . take the needle in your right hand and pass it through the loop. at b hold the loop and the twine that comes from the needle. now cast a turn of the twine so that it rests on the upper part of your left hand and wrist, and also over loop a. next pass the needle in an upward direction, pulling slowly and finishing with a tight knot. what makes the knot is shown at fig. . in fig. the knot loose and tight is shown. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] slowly as this is done a time will come when you can do it rapidly. when you have tightened the knot, hold the mesh stick in the left hand, lay the twine over the stick with the knot resting at its edge, as in fig. . pass the needle through the loop that has thus been made, pull the twine firmly round your mesh stick, then throw a turn of the twine over your wrist and so make the same knot again. throw the twine once more round the stick and make one more stitch through our old friend loop a. at this stage slip all you have done from your mesh stick, and you will find two half meshes attached to your loop a. in fig. these are shown as and . treat and as you treated loop a, that is first in make and in . now you have your first completed mesh, . mesh also is made on , the knots being one on the top of the other. now go on in the same way, making the meshes in the order that you find them numbered in fig. . the taking of two stitches through the last mesh of each row is the widening process, and this operation is maintained to the end of the net as far as the top edge is concerned. on the other edge, however, as soon as you have reached the width you need you must change this policy to that of taking the stitch through the last two meshes of the preceding row as in fig. . when the net is as long as you need it this narrowing as it is called is applied to both edges, and the fourth corner is finished off by taking the stitch through the last two meshes. then they should be tied fast. do not widen or narrow at the wrong edges as you work. to prevent this mistake some netters lie a piece of ribbon upon the top or narrowing edge. nets for fishing and for such pursuits may be made in this way. first make a square, then go along the edges of the square, narrowing at regular intervals until the net is of the size needed. gloves may be worn if the fingers become chafed, or the knots may be drawn tight in such a way that the strain is on the needle and not on the finger. when a new needleful is commenced be sure to make the first knot very firm. among the useful articles that may be made in this way are tennis nets, onion bags, nets for the protection of growing fruit, and hammock nets. $photographic enlargements.$--there are so many excellent sources, easily available, from which boys may learn how to use their cameras, so many developers, toners, and fixers ready to their hands at the chemist's, that we have not occupied space here with a general dissertation upon photography. we think, however, a chapter on enlargements will be welcome. the rapid development of bromide printing paper, and the ease by which enlargements may be produced thereon, has created quite a new era in amateur photography. no longer is it necessary to carry about an unwieldy heavy kit, which destroys half the pleasure of the amateur, when "on pictures bent," for now he may make use of even the smallest form of camera, and enlarge his pictures when he has returned from his meanderings. enlargements may be produced in several ways. the negative itself may be enlarged, or what is simpler still a direct enlargement may be made on bromide paper. the latter may be easily effected in two ways--( ) by means of daylight, or ( ) by artificial light. it is with the former that the writer intends to deal in the present paper. a word first as to the kind of negative best adapted for enlarging purposes. the quarter-plate size will be found most suitable, and these may be successfully enlarged to by . the negative must be perfectly sharp, full of crisp detail, and perfect in every way. any small defect in a negative is fatal to its enlargement, as it is made so much more apparent by magnification. most amateurs find a room at the top of the house the most convenient for enlarging purposes, and one with only one window is best, and that preferably with an uninterrupted view of the sky. the light must next be excluded by pasting brown paper over the entire window, or by having a tightly-fitting wooden frame made to answer the same purpose. provision is then made to fit into the frame a quarter-plate printing frame, in which is placed the negative. by this means no light is permitted to enter the room, save that which filters through the negative. as a general rule, it will be found necessary to fit on the outside of the window frame a reflector of some sort, and a piece of white glazed board fixed at an angle will be found as effective as anything. this will concentrate the light and produce an equal amount of illumination over the entire negative. the arrangement of the camera calls next for consideration. if the camera possessed by the would-be enlarger is one which focuses from the front, no adaptation of any sort will be required. all that is necessary is to place an oblong table close to the window, so arranging it that the camera when placed thereon will be on the same level as the negative. the ground-glass at the back of the camera being removed, place the camera as near to the negative as possible, which must have its film side facing the room. to prevent any escape of light through the body of the camera there should be as little space as possible between the negative and the camera, a black cloth being thrown over the end of the latter to make quite certain. at the other end of the table is fixed the enlarging board, on which the bromide is affixed by means of drawing pins. the farther this board is from the lens, the greater the enlargement, of course. a few experimental trials will soon show the tyro the proper distance the board should be placed, and this discovered, the place should be marked for future reference. it will be found a great convenience to have a piece of ruby glass fixed in the end of the lens cap, as this will enable the operator to see the full size of the image on the enlarging board, and thus obviate any difficulty as to the exact spot in which the bromide paper should be. the greatest difficulty experienced by the beginner in enlarging is undoubtedly the gauging of the correct exposure. light varies so, that it will be found necessary to give the same negative longer or shorter exposures at different times. the best plan is to make a table of approximate exposures by experimenting with a few strips of bromide paper, giving each a different exposure. these strips should then be pasted in a note-book for any future reference, together with the following particulars:--( ) time of day and year; ( ) intensity of the light; ( ) density of negative; ( ) brand of paper; and ( ) size of the enlargement. an observant worker will soon master all these little difficulties, and when once success has been achieved, enlarging pictures from small negatives will be found to be one of the most interesting branches of photographic operations. $magic lantern slides.$--draw first on paper the figures you wish to paint, lay the paper on the table, and cover it over with a piece of glass of the right size and shape. draw the outlines with a fine camel's hair pencil or a pen, in black paint mixed with varnish, and when this is dry, add the proper colours. the transparent colours are alone to be used in this kind of painting, and these include aureolin, gamboge, italian pink, indian yellow, madder lake, crimson lake, prussian blue, indigo, burnt sienna, madder brown, vandyke brown, lamp black. ox gall will cause the colours to flow more easily on glass. be careful that the glass is not greasy. both water colours and oil colours are available. an easy way to make diagrams and other outline drawings for the magic lantern is to take a piece of frosted glass of the right size and draw upon it, using indian ink. the frost enables you to do this, but would prevent the maximum of light passing through the glass when it was in the lantern. accordingly, to remove the frost now that it has served its purpose, pour canada balsam upon it, cover with another piece of glass and bind the two pieces together as other magic lantern slides are bound. a curious effect may be obtained by a magic lantern slide made as follows:--tint vaseline with cochineal and place some between glasses of the magic lantern slide size, making a kind of vaseline sandwich. put this slide in the lantern and focus it, and then insert a knife point a little way between the two pieces of glass and so let them be alternately forced asunder and drawn together. the effect upon the vaseline as seen upon the sheet is very peculiar. $three ways of making a hectograph.$--it happens often that a boy, especially if he be the secretary of a cricket or football club, needs to send away many letters or notices, all alike; and few things are so wearisome as this writing of the same thing over and over again. if he will make for himself a hectograph he need write his notice no more than once and yet he may have more copies than he is likely to need. here is the mixture that will prove so useful: gelatine, ounces; glycerine, fluid ounces; carbolic acid, / fluid ounce; water, fluid ounces. first add the water to the gelatine and let it stand until the gelatine is quite soft. now place all this in the glycerine and heat it over the fire until the gelatine has been dissolved, and then until the water has passed away in steam. the carbolic acid is to keep the mixture from turning sour, and it must be added gradually now, before cooling begins. pour the whole into some shallow tray like the lid of one of those square tin boxes in which grocers keep biscuits. when the mixture has become firm and cold it is ready to be used. get a bottle of aniline ink and write or sketch whatever you desire to multiply. when the ink is dry place your letter or drawing face downwards upon the pad you have made with the gelatine. rub the back of the paper with your hand to force the ink upon the gelatine. when the paper has been upon the hectograph for some time strip it off and you will find that your drawing or writing has been transferred to the gelatine. if you now press clean paper upon this drawing or writing it will be printed upon the paper, and so you may have copy after copy. when you have as many as you need clean the surface of the hectograph for the next time you wish to use it. this may be done with a soft sponge and tepid water, but this process being rather tedious, most boys will be pleased to hear of an easier method, though it causes the hectograph in time to lose its clean appearance. put it in the oven and let it melt, and when it is cold again it will be ready for the next letter or drawing. the following is another way to make a hectograph: take of pure glycerine, parts; water, parts; barium sulphate, parts; sugar, - / parts; gelatine, - / parts. mix well together, and allow all to stand for twenty-four hours; then heat gently over a slow fire until the whole is melted, stirring continuously until the various ingredients are thoroughly amalgamated. it may now be poured into the shallow tin or dish prepared to receive it, and allowed to stand for a day where it will be free from dust. it should not be used until absolutely cold and firm. here is another method we have found very successful. take ounces of fine russian glue and fluid ounces of cold water. let the glue steep in the water until the water has been absorbed, or nearly so. now place the glue and water in a vessel upon the fire until the glue melts. it need not boil. add eight fluid ounces of common glycerine and six drops of carbolic acid, and also as much paris white as will make the solution milky. stir well and then pour the mixture into a shallow tray. in about twelve hours it will have set. for ink judson's purple dye will serve. $how to make a filter.$--you should procure a common flower-pot, nine or ten inches deep. put in a layer of animal charcoal two inches thick. wood charcoal may be used, but animal charcoal--that is charcoal made from bones--is best. on this put a layer of well washed sand. for the way to wash sand see page . the layer is two inches thick. then comes a two-inch layer of small pebbles, each about as large as a pea. at the hole at the bottom of the flower-pot should be a fragment of brick which fits the hole loosely. put the filter on a stool or on a shelf. there should be a hole in the stool or shelf to correspond with the hole in the flower-pot, and under the hole a vessel to catch the filtered water. the first drops that come through the filter may not be clear, but in about a quarter of an hour clear water will commence to issue from the hole in the bottom of the flower-pot. take out the sand and the pebbles and wash them thoroughly once in six weeks, and once in four months replace the vegetable charcoal. $the syphon.$--in aquarium work and in other occupations it is necessary sometimes to empty water from a vessel by means of a syphon. suppose that we wish to empty a bucket. the simplest thing would be to take the bucket and turn it upside down. suppose, however, the bucket were fast and could not be moved, or suppose there were some dregs or sediment in the bucket which we did not wish to disturb, then we should find a syphon useful. suppose a bucket is on a table. one end of a pipe is in the water in the bucket and the other end is dangling down. now if we can once induce the water to flow through the pipe the water will continue to run, although at first it has to run up-hill a little, a most unwaterlike proceeding. there are two ways of inducing the flow. if you take the lower end of the pipe and suck, water will be brought over the elbow. or if before you put the pipe in position you fill it with water, it will flow, and in each case it will continue to flow until it has emptied the bucket; that is, if the pipe reaches to the bottom of the bucket. $how to make a fountain.$--a fountain is based on the principle that water strives to find its own level. the water tries to rise as high as the reservoir which feeds it, and would succeed, but the pressure of the air prevents it. in a u tube the water keeps at the same level in each part of the tube, but if you were to cork one arm of the tube it would not come so high there, because the air would not allow it. the writer of this article when he was a boy made fountains for a fern rockery and for a garden aquarium in the following simple way:--upon the garden wall he placed a bucket. at the bottom of the bucket he punched a hole and inserted one end of a length of india-rubber tube bought from a shop where they sell the appliances for the teaching of chemistry. at the same place he bought some pieces of glass tubing of such a size that it would fit inside the rubber tubing. explain to the man in the shop, and he will know exactly what you need. take a few inches of the tube and hold the middle of it in the gas flame, or in a bunsen burner if you have one. when the glass is soft draw the ends asunder gently, and you will find you have two pieces of glass shaped like a fountain-pen filler. it may be that one end of each of these two pieces of tube may have been closed by this process, but all that needs to be done is to file the sharp point until you have come to where the tube is open again. this serves for the nozzle of the fountain. there were no fountain pens when the author made his fountain, and it has just occurred to him that perhaps the best thing would be to buy a fountain pen-filler at once and have your nozzle ready-made. if you make your own you may not get it right first time. it may be crooked or the opening too large or too small. however, there will be this advantage, you may make many nozzles, and so by changing them have a variety of sprays. the finer the opening the higher will be the jet. it is not difficult to apply the fountain to an aquarium. for a rockery it will be easy to arrange the pipe and nozzle, and to fix it in position with the stones. $case for shaving papers.$--decide upon the size of paper you like best. cut a piece of millboard, celluloid, or even thin wood the same size, and upon this paint an attractive design. now cut a strip of the same material as wide as this piece, but only an inch, or less, deep. arrange piece, paper and strip as in the sketch. a is the piece of millboard, b the sheets of paper, c the strip. at d e f bore holes and secure the whole with paper fasteners put through these. this pad may hang upon the wall with ribbon, but the design and not the strip should hang outwards. when all the pieces of paper have been used the paper fasteners may be unfastened, and a new set of papers introduced. the turned-down ends of the paper fasteners are ugly and are liable to scratch. paste over them very neatly a strip of brown paper or other suitable material. $a blotting pad.$--a very serviceable blotting-pad may be made upon the same principle as the case for shaving papers. the measurements only will be different, and a pad of writing paper may be made in the same way. [illustration: shaving papers.] [illustration: hygrometer.] $a hygrometer.$--this is a greek word made up of _hygros_ meaning moist, and _metron_ a measure. it indicates how much or how little moisture there is in the air. in the diagram is a small nail a, a thread b, or better still, a long hair begged from your mother, sister, or friend. c is a weight of some kind. the author had a penny that had a hole in it. hang this on a wall in your bedroom or in an outhouse, or even in some sheltered place out of doors. when you hang it up rule a line at d, and put the date. in damp weather the weight will rise, in dry it will descend so you may rule other lines showing where it was at different times of the year. the hair should be as free from oil as possible. you may have noticed that the clothes line slackens in dry weather, and tightens on rainy days, and this applies also to the cords of the window blinds. there is a story that when some men were putting a london monument in position, by a miscalculation it needed to be raised just a few inches more, and this elevation the men were unable to bring about. at last, from the crowd that had gathered to watch the proceedings, a sailor bawled, "wet the ropes." they wetted the ropes, and up went the heavy monument into its right place. chapter xx fireside amusements $chess in twelve easy lessons.$--there is nothing like beginning at the beginning, so i first give a diagram of the board and men as set out for play. [illustration: black. white.] it will be noticed that in the above diagram the square at the bottom right hand is a white one, and it is in this way that, by custom, the chess-board is always placed. the board is divided into squares, coloured alternately black and white, or some similar distinctive colours. the squares are always called "white" and "black," whatever their actual colour may be, and similarly the men are invariably termed "white" and "black," though, as a matter of fact, often coloured white and red. having got the board in proper position, with its white square at the bottom right-hand corner, the next thing is to set up the men in proper order. there are thirty-two men in all--sixteen white and sixteen black. they consist of the following:-- two kings: one white, one black. the white king stands on the fourth square, counting from the white player's _right_ hand, and the black king stands on the fourth square, counting from the black player's _left_ hand. this brings the two kings opposite each other, the white king standing on a black square and the black king on a white square. two queens: one white and one black. the white queen stands on the white square to the left of the square occupied by the king. similarly, the black queen stands on the black square next to the black king. it is of importance in setting up the men to bear in mind that the queens stand on squares of the same colour as themselves, the white queen being on a white square and the black queen on a black square. four bishops: two white and two black. these stand on the squares adjoining their respective king and queen. the one next the king is called the king's bishop, and the one next the queen is known as the queen's bishop. four knights: two white and two black. these stand on the squares adjoining the bishops. the knight nearest the king is called the king's knight; the other is called the queen's knight. four rooks: two white and two black. these occupy the four corner squares, the one nearest the king being termed the king's rook; the one nearest the queen the queen's rook. the rooks are sometimes called castles. these sixteen men are collectively called pieces. sixteen pawns: eight white and eight black. these stand on the squares immediately in front of the sixteen pieces. they are named after the pieces in front of which they stand, as the king's pawn, the queen's pawn, the king's bishop's pawn, and so on. as it would be very cumbrous to use the full name of each piece or pawn every time it may be necessary to refer to it, i shall in future use the recognised english notation, as follows:-- k for king. q for queen. b for bishop. kt for knight. p for pawn. other abbreviations will be-- sq for square. ch for check. dis ch for discovered check; and doub-ch for double check. written in this notation, king's rook's pawn becomes k r p, and queen's bishop's square q b sq, and so on. now for the practical use of this lesson. let all the readers who wish to learn the game first of all set the board before them as herein described. then let them place the white men in their proper order on the board, beginning with the k. similarly let them place the black men on the board, beginning also with the k. as a second try, let them place the men on the board beginning with one of the r's, and going across to the other r. finally, let them familiarise themselves with the english notation, as given above. by the time they have done this they will be in a position to benefit by a further lesson. ii the board.--the chess-board is not merely something upon which the game of chess is played; it is part of the game itself, for it limits, and, to some extent, controls the action of the men. in my first lesson i gave a diagram of the board with the men set out for play, and i now give an outline diagram of the board on which the name of each square is given, both from the white and the black side. now, in order to read the moves correctly, it is of the greatest importance for the student to understand the method of naming the various squares. from the diagram on page it is clear that, according to our english style, each square has two names, the white player naming the squares from his own side, and the black player from his. thus, what the white player calls his king's square the black player calls his king's eighth, and so on with all the other squares. all the boys who are taking an interest in these lessons should get this point fixed in their minds to avoid mistakes. [illustration: from black's side. from white's side.] iii the squares running across the board are termed _ranks_; those running up and down, _files_; and those in a slanting direction, _diagonals_. the squares, as will be seen, are named from the pieces, which, at starting, occupy their first rank; thus the square at the lower right-hand corner is white's king's rook's square (k r sq); the square immediately in front is white's king's rook's second (k r )--the word square being omitted; the next in front is white's k r , and so on till you come to white's k r . in a similar way you get white's k kt sq, or or , etc., or white's k or q sq, or or , and so on. similarly, by turning the board round, you count the squares from the black side as black's k r sq, or , etc., or black's k or q sq, or or , etc. the files are also named in a similar manner; thus the file running from white's k sq to black's k sq is called the k's file, and so with all the other files. the ranks are simply called first rank, second rank, etc. the diagonals have no special name, with the exception of the two running direct from one corner of the board to the other--that is, the diagonal from white's k r sq to black's q r sq, and that from white's q r sq to black's k r sq. these are called the long diagonals. of course, some of the very sharp boys who read this will at once exclaim, "why, they are the only diagonals a square can have, for a rectangular figure can only have two diagonals." well, that is all right in mathematics, but in chess, use or custom has brought about the practice of calling all the sloping lines of squares diagonals, and the two which, according to mathematics, are really diagonals, the long diagonals. having thus described the board, i next proceed to describe the moves of the various men. the king.--the king is by far the most important man on the board, inasmuch as a successful attack upon him (as will be explained later on) involves the loss of the game. on the other hand, his moves are much more circumscribed and his powers of attack more limited than those of any other man except the pawn. he moves only one square at a time, but that move can be made in any direction--that is, to any adjacent square, either forward, backward, sideways, or diagonally. place the king on his own square and he can move to q sq, q , k , k b , or k b sq. similarly, if he be placed on a centre square, he can move on to any of the eight adjacent squares. the king captures in the same direction in which he moves; that is, if any one of the enemy's men stands on an adjacent square to his own, he can occupy that square, the other piece being removed from the board, or "taken" or "captured," as it is termed. the king cannot move on to any square commanded by an enemy's man, or, as it is technically called, he cannot move into check; neither can the two kings occupy adjacent squares. once during the progress of each game the king has the option of an extension of his ordinary move, but this i will describe under its proper head of castling. the queen.--the queen is by far the most powerful piece on the board, as she possesses such a wide range of moves. like the king, she can move in any direction--forward, backward, sideways, or diagonally; but these moves are not confined to the adjacent squares, for the only limits to her range of moves are the sides of the board, provided no piece or pawn is in the way of her march. place the queen on her own square, and she can be moved to any one of twenty-one squares, namely, q b sq, q kt sq, q r sq, k sq, k b sq, k kt sq, k r sq, q , , , , , and squares, q b , q kt , q r , k , k b , k kt , and k r . similarly placed on a centre square, say q or , or k or , and it will be found that she commands (that is, can be moved to) no less than twenty-seven squares on a clear board. the queen takes in the same direction as she moves; this she does by displacing the enemy's man, and occupying the vacated square herself. the rook.--next in importance comes the rook. this piece moves forward, backward, or sideways, as far as the open board permits, but not diagonally. place the k r on its own square, and it can move to fourteen squares, namely, r's , , , , , and squares, k kt sq, k b sq, k sq, q sq, q b sq, q kt sq and q r sq. placed on any position on the open board, in a corner, at the side, or in the centre, it will be found that it always commands fourteen squares, neither more nor less. it captures in the same direction as it moves in a similar manner to the king or queen; that is, by removing the enemy's attacked man and occupying the square so vacated. iv the bishop.--the bishop moves diagonally only (that is, in a similar manner to a man at draughts) but he can pass over any number of squares that may be open to him. place the k b on its own square, and it can move on to any of the following seven squares, viz.: kt , r , k , q , b , kt , or r . placed on a centre square, it commands thirteen squares in all. it captures in the same direction as it moves, and in a manner similar to the k and q. from the nature of its move the b can never leave the squares of the colour on which it originally stood. therefore the white k b is always on a white square, and the black k b upon a black one. the knight.--whilst the move of the kt is one of the most beautiful upon the chess-board, it is, at the same time, the most difficult to describe, though a knowledge of its move is not by any means difficult to acquire by a little practice. it may be described as a combination of the shortest move of the r with the shortest move of the b; that is, one square in a straight direction--forward, backward, or sideways--and one square in a diagonal direction. place the k kt on its own square, and it can move on to the following three squares, viz.: k , b , and r . it will be seen that its imaginary r's move would bring it over kt , and then its imaginary b's move places it on b or r . or its imaginary r's move takes it over b sq., and then its imaginary b's move places it on k . placed on a centre square, say k's , it commands eight squares--k b , k kt , k kt , b , q , q b , q b , and q . it will be noticed that it invariably moves on to a square differing in colour from that which it has just left; or, in other words, that it leaps from a white square to a black one, and from a black square to a white one. this peculiarity arises from the combination of the r and b moves. place the kt again on k's (a white square), and it will be seen that the imaginary r's move brings it on to a square of a different colour (in this case a black one), either k , q , k , or b --and then the imaginary b's move keeps it on the same colour. the knight captures as it moves in the same manner as the other pieces--that is, the captured piece is removed from the board, and the capturing kt occupies the vacated square. it has one advantage possessed by no other man, and that is the power of leaping over any intervening piece or pawn, whether belonging to its own side or the enemy's. for example, when the men are first set out in battle array, the only piece that can move without some of the pawns first making an opening is the kt, for it can at once spring on to b or r , despite the intervening pawns. the pawns.--the pawn moves in one direction only, and that is one square straight forward (that is the shortest p's move, except that on its first move it has the option of moving forward either one or two squares). place the k p on its square, and it can move either to k or k . place on k , however, it can only move to k . unlike the pieces, the pawn does not capture in the same direction that it moves, but diagonally, one square only (the bishop's shortest move). place a pawn at k , and whilst it can move to k it can only capture at b or q . the capture is effected, as it is by the pieces, by removing the enemy's man and placing the pawn on the square thus left vacant. the pawn has the privilege of claiming promotion as soon as it reaches the eight square. this is done by its being exchanged for any piece of its own colour (excepting a king) which the player may desire. this is technically called "queening a pawn," although it does not follow that a queen is always called for. it is not necessary that the player should have lost a piece when he thus promotes a pawn, and it therefore follows that he can have two or more queens or three or more rooks, etc., on the board at the same time. this last statement may puzzle a good many boys, some of whom may say: "i am under the impression that there is only one set of chessmen used at a game of chess. if this is so i do not see that there can be two or more queens, etc., of the same colour on the board at the same time. will you kindly explain this?" they would be perfectly right in stating that only one set of men is used in a game. the set constitutes thirty-two men (sixteen white and sixteen black), and these thirty-two men form a complete set. to distinguish one piece from another different figures are used, but the shape of these figures is purely conventional, and flat counters could be used with the name or with some other distinguishing mark written on them. as a matter of fact, indeed, the mohammedans do play chess with such counters, sculptured figures of any kind being prohibited by the koran. now, supposing a set is rendered incomplete by a man being lost, the place of the lost man can be taken by anything that will serve to denote that the piece should be on the board. i have often played a game where a thimble has done duty for a bishop, and a small paper-weight for a rook, and so on. so that it is quite easy to get something to do duty as a second queen, etc. in clubs and chess resorts, where there are many sets of men, a second queen, if need be, is borrowed from another set. sometimes, where only one set of men is available, a rook (if one has been captured) is turned upside down, the promoted pawn is placed on the top, and there you have a most excellent substitute for a queen. supposing, however, that no piece has been lost when the pawn is promoted, then a piece of twisted paper can be placed on the head of the pawn, and again we have a good substitute for a queen. some boys may ask me to explain to them what is meant by "castling" and "taking _en passant_," and as it is somewhat difficult to do so without the use of diagrams, i think i cannot do better than give the required explanation. v castling.--in describing the move of the k, i stated that once during the game the k had the option of an extension of his ordinary move, and promised to describe it later on. this extended move of the k--or rather combined moves of k and r--is termed "castling." there are two species of castling, one on the k's side, the other on the q's side, as shown on the diagrams upon the next page. the operation of castling can only be performed once on each side in a game, and that under the following conditions:-- . the king must not be in check. . the king must not have moved. . the rook must not have moved. . the king must not pass over or occupy any square commanded by an adverse man. . all the squares between the king and the rook must be unoccupied. [illustration:] these five points being kept in view, castling is performed as follows:--on the king's side by the k being moved to k kt sq and the k r over him to k b sq. on the queen's side by the k being moved to q b sq and the q r over him to q sq. by inspecting the diagrams this will be made clear. in castling it will be observed that the k moves two squares (to the right or left, as the case may be), and the r leaps over him to the adjoining square. in castling it is always best to move the k first to show clearly that castling is the move intended. the diagrams show only white's method of castling, but black castles exactly in the same way. it must be borne in mind that previous checks do not prevent the k castling, so long as he has not been moved, and is not in check at the time of castling. the young player must also remember that though the k be on his own square, and the r on its square with no intervening piece, yet castling cannot be performed if either the k or r has moved, and then come back to his original square. pawn taking en passant.--this method of capturing can only be exercised by a p standing on its fifth square, and the captured p on the move immediately preceding the capture, have been played from the second to the fourth square. the following diagram will assist the student. [illustration:] if black in this position move the p to k , then the white p at b can capture it in the usual course, that is by taking it off the square it occupied at k and occupying the vacated square. should, however, the black p go to k's then the white p at b could capture it _en passant_, or "in passing" as the term means. this is done by lifting the b p from k (to which square it has gone) and placing the w p not on the square thus left vacant but on the k (black k ) precisely as if the black p had only moved to k . in the position on the diagram, should the black p go to k , then the white p at q's fourth could capture it in the ordinary manner. it must be borne in mind that the right of capturing _en passant_ must be exercised on the move immediately following the one which the adverse pawn has made its move from the second to the fourth square, otherwise the right lapses. vi i now resume the easy lessons by giving a list of technical terms. adverse piece, adverse pawn.--an "adverse piece" is a piece of an opposite colour to your own, and, of course, belongs to your adversary. similarly, an "adverse pawn" is a pawn of an opposite colour to your own. attack.--the combined action of several men against an adverse position. attacks, of course, are generally made directly against the king, but occasionally they are directed against some weak point in the enemy's position apart from the king. to attack: attacked.--a piece or pawn attacks an adverse man when it threatens to capture it on the move. a piece or pawn is said to be "attacked" when it is threatened with capture on the move by an adverse man. castling.--this combined move of k and r i have fully described previously. check.--this term signifies that the king is attacked by an adverse piece or pawn. it is one of the very fundamental principles of the game that the king cannot be captured, and therefore when a move is made by which he is attacked, notice thereof must be given by audibly saying "check." the king is now said to be "checked," or "in check," and this check must be at once parried. there are three methods by which this can be done:-- . by moving the king on to a square not commanded by any of the adverse men. . by interposing a man between the attacking piece and the king. . by capturing the attacking man. there are three descriptions of checks:-- . the "direct check," which is given by a piece or pawn directly attacking the king. . the "discovered check," or "check by discovery," which is given by a piece, which, whilst it does not attack the king directly, yet by its removal, uncovers an attack from another piece. . "double check," which is a combination of the "direct check" and the "discovered check." this is brought about by a piece directly attacking the king and at the same time uncovering an attack from another piece. this last is the most dangerous form of all the checks, for it cannot be parried either by interposition or capturing. the available defences of the king are therefore greatly lessened, as he must move to get out of check. vii checkmate.--when the king is in check and has no power of escape--that is, the attacking piece cannot be captured, the king moved, or a piece interposed between the king and the attacking piece--it is "checkmate," and the game is lost for his side. to escape from a double check the king must move, and if there is no square to which he can move the game is lost, though both the attacking pieces are _en prise_, for it is plain that if one be taken the check from the other yet remains. the diagram on page will help the student to understand these different checks. in the first place let white play r to q , and it is a _direct_ check. the black k cannot move out of check, as all the squares adjoining his present position are either guarded by white pieces, or blocked by black ones; neither can the r be taken, for no black piece attacks it. black, however, has one move to parry the check, and that is by playing q to q , or interposing the q as it is termed. similarly, white can play q to q sq, again giving _direct_ check, to which black can again only reply q to q . once more, white can play p to r , becoming a q or a b and giving _direct_ check, to which black's only reply is q, q kt . in the second place, if white play kt to q he gives a _discovered_ check; that is, by so moving his kt he uncovers the attack of the q upon the k, or, in other words, the kt moving discovers the check by the q. in reply to this move black has again only one move, that being p to b or interposing the p. if white play b r , q , b , or kt sq. there is again a _discovered_ check, for the r now attacks the k. in reply to this black has three lines of play, namely, k takes kt (at k ) which is left unguarded by the removal of the b, or by playing the q either to k , or kt interposing. if the b had gone to kt the q could only interpose at k ; and if it had gone to kt or r the k could not then capture the kt, but, instead, could have moved to k out of check. [illustration: black-- men. white-- men.] in the third place if the b move to k there is then given _double_ check, for whilst the b now directly checks himself, by moving he has also discovered the check from the r, and the king to get out of this double attack must move. he has two lines of escape, one by capturing the kt at k's third, the other by capturing the attacking b. in the fourth place let white play p k , and the k is in direct check; but it is now _checkmate_, for the k has no possible move out of check, and the checking pawn cannot be taken. again, let white play kt, kt , and he gives double check, for the kt checks directly, and has also discovered the check by the q. once more this is _checkmate_, for the k has no possible move. it is true that the b could capture the attacking kt, but then the q still checks and the danger of mate has not been averted; similarly, the p could cover at b , but the attack from the kt remains all the same. this aptly illustrates what i have already said as to the extra danger of a double check. viii close game.--see "game" later on. combinations.--the concentrated action of two or more pieces and pawns, operating in common either for attack or defence. command: commanded.--to "command" a square is to have the power of moving a piece on to it, or to capture an enemy's piece that already occupies it. to "command" the board is to have the pieces so placed that a great many of the squares are commanded. counter gambit.--see "game" later on. counter attack.--see "game" later on. debut.--a french word, meaning "opening," sometimes used by english writers on chess. defi.--a french word meaning "challenge," and sometimes used in english chess books. develop: development.--to develop a piece is to bring it into more active play. to develop a game is to bring as many pieces as you possibly can into active co-operation. doubled pawn.--two pawns of the same colour standing on the same file are said to be "doubled." generally, but not always, this is a weak position for the pawns to occupy, as one cannot support the other. doubled rooks.--when two rooks of the same colour occupy the same file, or the same rank with no man of their own colour intervening they are said to be "doubled." this is one of the strongest positions the rooks can occupy. end game.--see "game" later on. en passant.--a french term, meaning "in passing," and applied to a peculiar capture of p by p, which i have fully described previously. en prise.--a french term signifying "exposed," or in danger of capture. in chess a piece or pawn is said to be _en prise_ when it is attacked by an enemy's piece and not sufficiently guarded. we do not say, however, that the k is _en prise_ when attacked, but in check, as already explained. establish.--to establish a piece or pawn is to place it in such a position that it cannot be dislodged by the enemy's pieces, except at a loss. to establish a centre of pawns is to occupy the centre squares of the board with pawns, which mutually strengthen and support each other. exchange.--the winning of one piece by the losing of another. exchange, to win the.--the winning of a superior piece by losing an inferior one. especially used when a rook is won at the expense of a b or kt. the player on winning the r is said to have "won the exchange"; the player losing the r is said to have "lost the exchange." ix file.--each line of squares stretching from one player's side of the board to the other is termed a "file," and appears perpendicular in printed diagrams. each file is named from the piece which originally stood on its outermost square, as the king's file, the queen's file, the k r's file, and so on. the lines of squares stretching horizontally across the board are termed "ranks." file: open.--an open file is one unoccupied by pieces or pawns, and it is a great point that a rook should be played so as to command such a file. in the diagram on page the k b's file is "open," whilst white has doubled his rooks on the otherwise "open" k kt's file. fork.--a term originally applied to the attack of a pawn upon two of the opponent's men at the same time. it is now, however, so extended as to include the minor pieces when any one of them--more especially the kt, however--attacks two pieces at the same time. in the diagram the black pawn on q kt "forks" the q and b. if white plays p q ch, then the p "forks" both k and q. if the kt goes to q ch, it also "forks" k and q. similarly if kt b it "forks" the q and r, and lastly, if b takes kt ch, it "forks" k and q. a "fork" from a kt on two superior pieces is always dangerous, and often fatal, whilst that from a pawn is also dangerous. [illustration: black-- men. white-- men.] x gambit.--see "game." game.--besides its ordinary meaning, the word is used in a technical sense, such as "open game," "close game," etc. a game of chess has three phases more or less well defined. the "opening," the "mid game," and the "end game." the "opening."--the first or developing moves in a game, wherein the pieces are brought from their original comparatively inoperative position into active co-operation, both for attack and defence. it is here that book play comes in, and in the study of openings the young student of chess will find wide scope. the "mid game."--that portion of the game immediately following the opening; the pieces being developed on both sides, combinations result, and attack, defence, and counter-attack take place. it is here that the native skill of the player finds full scope for its display. the "end game."--the final scene of all, after the bustle and life of the mid-game pieces have been exchanged, the board stripped of the men, and the combat reduced to narrower bounds. here again book knowledge is of the greatest benefit to the player. it is to be noted that some games never pass into the third stage, for the attack in the mid-game may have been so strong that surrender was imperative forthwith. nay, in the hands of a weak player, or by some gross blunder, a game may be finished even in the "opening" stage. the "openings" may be thus classified-- (_a_) games, when neither player offers any sacrifice of material force in order to gain some strategical advantage. (_b_) gambits, when the first player offers to sacrifice some material force in order to quickly develop his game, or otherwise to gain some advantage in position. a pawn is generally sacrificed in the gambits. (_c_) counter gambits, when the second player makes the sacrifice. (_d_) defences, when the game gains its distinctive character from the line of play adopted by the second player. some "defences" may properly be termed _counter attacks_. there are many well-known openings, all of which have a distinctive name, sometimes that of their inventor, sometimes that of a well-known player who may have made them familiar, sometimes from some place or incident with which they have been connected. thus there are the "scotch game," the "steinitz gambit," the "greco counter gambit," the "philidor defence," and "petroff defence," the latter of which should be more properly termed "petroff counter attack." then there are many other recognised openings. xi game, close.--a "close" game is one wherein the development both of pieces and pawns is mainly of a conservative or non-committal nature, the pawns being very cautiously advanced, and the pieces mainly massed behind them. the term "close" is used to designate this class of openings, because, as a rule, for many moves the board presents a crowded appearance, owing to the massing of the pieces and pawns, and the few exchanges effected. great nicety is required in playing the "close" game, so that when the time does come for dissolving the close position, the pieces may occupy commanding positions. game, open.--an "open game" is one wherein the opening moves are of a more immediately attacking nature, and where the pieces are more quickly marched to the front. the game is termed "open" because the board, as a rule, soon presents an open appearance. pieces and pawns are often got rid of early, and attack and defence embarked on at an early stage. formerly all games commencing p k on each side were classed as open, and all games, such as the french, etc., wherein one or both players adopted other opening moves were classed as "close." this is, however, now given up, for as a matter of fact, many french defences develop into very "open" games indeed, whilst games commencing p k , p k often early take on a "close" character. "hole," a.--this is a modern term greatly used by mr. steinitz, who may be considered as the "great apostle" of what is called the "modern school" of chess. as used by him, a "hole" means any square on the third rank left unguarded by a pawn during the developing or opening moves. for example, if a player having advanced both his k p and q p, should follow this up by advancing his k b p, or his q b p, in each case he creates a "hole"; in one instance at k , in the other at q . these "holes" are regarded by modern theorists as very dangerous, for an adverse piece can often be posted with great advantage on the unguarded square. xii interpose.--to move a man between an attacked man and the opponent's piece which attacks it. very often "checks" to the king, and attacks upon the queen are warded off by interposing a pawn or piece. as an illustration of "interposing" let the student refer to the diagram on page . if white play q r ch, then black plays ... p kt , thereby warding off the check. the pawn thus moved is said to be interposed. similarly, if it were black's turn to move, and he played q k ch, or r q ch, then white could play either ... r kt sq, or ... kt b sq, either piece then warding off the check, or "interposing." isolated pawn.--when a pawn occupies any file, both the adjoining files of which are unoccupied by any pawns or pawn of the same colour, such pawn is said to be "isolated." in the diagram on page , white's pawns on q b and q r are both "isolated." isolated pawns in an end game are often weak, whilst pawns on adjoining files are generally strong. j'adoube.--this is a french term, and means "i adjust," and is used by players who may touch a man without intending to move it. any english expression signifying that the man is touched merely with the intention of adjusting it on the board may be used. any man that may be touched without such intimation being given, must be moved should it be the player's turn to move, hence the importance of saying "_j'adoube_" (or similar words) in such cases. young players (and indeed old ones also for that matter) should never get into a habit of touching any piece unless they intend to move it, except such piece manifestly needs to be adjusted on its square. such a habit is likely to irritate your opponent. $draughts in nineteen easy lessons.$--it is very easy to learn the moves of the men on the draught-board, but it is not quite so easy to learn to play draughts. draughts is not a complex game like chess, but simple and straightforward, and herein lies its charm to many people who are afraid of chess with its variety of men, and their diverse powers and moves. in draughts there is only one description of men when the board is set for play, and the only addition is when any of these men become promoted to kings by gaining the opposite side of the board from that whence they started. it is plain then that any boy can learn the moves of the game in a few minutes, and can at once commence to play. english draughts is played on the white squares of a -square board, the squares of which are alternately coloured white and black, white and red, or in some other similar distinctive manner. there are men-- white and black. [illustration: black. white.] above is a diagram of the numbered draught-board, and it is well for the beginners to number the white squares of their draught-board in a similar manner. the best way to do this is to write the numbers on small pieces of paper and stick these on the upper left-hand corner of the squares. then when the men are placed on the squares the numbers can still be read. it will be observed that the position of the board is the reverse of that of the chess-board, for here a black, and not a white square, occupies the lower right-hand corner. this brings what is technically called "the double corner" to the right hand of the player. the black "double corner" is formed by the squares and ; the white "double corner" by squares and . at the commencement of the game the black men occupy the rows of squares numbered from to , and the white the rows numbered from to , the intervening two rows, numbered from to , being vacant. the row to is black's crown-head, and the row to white's crown-head; the square being black's "single corner," the square white's "single corner." by usage in this country black is always given the first move, which again reverses the custom observed in chess. the first move at draughts, however, gives no advantage to the player having it, whereas in chess the advantage of the first move is of some moment. ii at draughts the men move forward diagonally from square to square. that is, a black man on can move to or , and a white man on can move to or . when a man reaches the far side of the board he becomes a king, or is crowned; that is, a second man is placed on top of him. a king moves precisely in a similar way to an ordinary man, except that he can go either backwards or forwards; that is, a king (either black or white) on can go to or , or or . in capturing or taking, the capturing piece jumps over the captured piece or pieces. supposing a black man is on and a white man on , whilst is vacant, then the black man can capture the white man. this he does by jumping over him to square , and the captured man is removed from the board. if a second white man stood on , and were vacant, the black man could jump over both the white men, and go to . the king captures in a similar manner, except that he can capture as he moves either backwards or forwards. iii a game at draughts is won when all the pieces of one colour have either been captured, or forced into such a position that their ultimate capture is certain, or where the remaining pieces of one colour are so blocked that the player thereof cannot move any of them when it is his turn to move, and the player, who thus captures or blocks all his opponent's men, is the winner of the game. a game at draughts is drawn when an end game results wherein the two forces are so balanced, both in number and position, that neither side can force the capture or blocking of all the pieces of the opposite side. the following positions are illustrations of the close of games. white to move and black to win. (fig. .) in this position white cannot go to , or he would lose at once; he therefore plays - , and the game goes on - , - , - , - , - , - , - . white has now no other move than - , whereupon the black king jumps over it and the game is won. had white had a king instead of a man he would just as surely have lost. black to move and win. (fig. .) in this position the pieces are perfectly equal on both sides, but black has the advantage in position. he played - , and the game goes on - , - , - , - . now white has no other move than - , whereupon the black king jumps over it to , and the remaining white man is "blocked" and consequently black has won. iv further illustrations of won and drawn games are the following positions:-- white to move and win. (fig .) black men on , , , , , , , and . kings on , , , and . white man on . kings on and . this is a position well known to old hands at the game; though it is not likely to occur in actual play, yet it illustrates the power of the "block." white has only three pieces against black's twelve, yet he wins the day. here is the play which brings this about:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - white now plays - and - alternately, and the black men must go forward until they are blocked; and white therefore wins. now, to illustrate one form of the draw, let the student look again at the first position in third easy lesson. had it been black's turn to move, no more than a draw would result, for black must play - , whereupon white plays - and runs down to , making a king and drawing. in the following position white has two kings to one, yet black, by the strength of his position, forces the draw. black to move and draw. (fig. .) black king on . white kings on and . the black now plays - or , white replies - or , whereupon the black king comes back to and the draw is manifest. v when a man reaches the crown-head in capturing, and thus becomes a king, that completes the move, although there may be a piece or pieces which could have been captured if it had been a king and not a man, which made the original capture. many of the finest stroke problems are based upon this peculiarity, for the opposing player has thereby time to make a move. the subjoined position (fig. ) shows another won game, the victory being brought about by white gaining a move through the black having to stop to be crowned. black men on , , , and . (fig. .) white men on , , and . white plays - , then black must play - and becomes a king. then the game goes on - , - , - . black must now play - , and white follows him up and takes him . if the piece on had been a king this could not have been brought about, for after going to , thereby taking the man on , the move would not then have been finished, but the king would have continued by taking the man on , thus winning easily. [illustration: black--one piece. white--one piece. fig. .] [illustration: black-- pieces. white-- pieces. fig. .] [illustration: black-- pieces. white-- pieces. fig. .] [illustration: black-- piece. white-- pieces. fig. .] many young players are puzzled how to force the victory when they have two kings against one, the single king being within reach of the "double corner." take the following position as an example:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white king on . black wins thus:-- - - - - - - - - - - (a) - - - - - b. wins. (a) it is here that many young players miss the point. they play - and black moves to - and the work is all to do over again. vi the last lesson showed how to win with two kings against one, the latter being able to reach the double corner. three kings can also win against two, even when each of these latter can reach a separate double corner. the way to win has often puzzled young players, but yet it is comparatively easy. the following position shows how to force the victory:-- black kings on , , and . (fig. .) white kings on and . black to move and win. the win is brought about thus:-- - (a) - (c) - - (f) - - - (e) - - (b) - (d) - b. wins. (a) one of the black kings must now go into the double corner. (b) this is an important move, forcing as it does the remaining king into the other double corner. (c) for if - , then - wins. (d) compulsory, for if - , then - wins. (e) if - , then - wins. (f) if - , then - wins. it will be noticed that black must force the exchange of a king, and then he wins with two kings against one, as shown in fifth lesson. vii already it has been pointed out that the weaker side, though a man down, can often force a draw by correct play. here is a position from sturge:-- black man on . king on . (fig. .) white men on and . king on . black to play and draw. the draw is brought about thus:-- - - - - - - - drawn. here is another example of a draw, this time by payne:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . black to move and draw. this position is more complicated than the former, and white can vary his moves to a considerable extent, but black, by careful play, can always force the draw. the point is that black must hold the white man on . here is a leading line of play:-- - - - (a) - - - - - - - - drawn. (a) if - then - draws. this is a useful position as similar endings often occur in actual play, and all younger students should study it carefully. viii here are some examples of easy forced wins. payne has the following:-- black man on . king on . (fig. .) white man on . king on . black to move and win. the win is brought about thus:-- - - - - - - - b. wins. another very interesting position is:-- black man on . kings on and . (fig. .) [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] white man on . kings on and . black to move and win. black wins thus:-- - - - - - b. wins. ix some of the finest play in end games occurs in positions when two kings more or less sheltered by the double corner are opposed by three kings or two kings and a man. the point for the player with the strong forces to seize, is either to force the exchange of a king for a king, or to give up a king for a forced won position. it is here that great nicety of judgment is required, and the greatest attention is necessary if the game is to be won. the following position is from payne:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . either to move. white wins. here is the win when black moves first:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - white wins (b) - - (a) - (a) here comes white's opportunity of sacrificing a king, thereby obtaining a position won by force. (b) for this king must ultimately "fix" the king now on . this is the victory when white moves first:-- - - - - - - - - - - (b) - - - - (c) - - - - - (d) - - - - - (a) - - - white wins (e) (a) not - , for then black wins two for one by - , and this danger must be guarded against for several moves. (b) this is the decisive moment when the sacrifice of the king must be prepared. (c) - , too, would lose, for white would then move up his king now on , and ultimately man off. (d) if - , - , - , - , and white wins. (e) black must play - or - , and then comes - , - , - , and all is over. x the play in these "double corner" positions is always of a very delicate nature. here is a drawn position from payne, requiring great nicety of play:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . black to move and draw. the draw is proved thus:-- - - - - - - - - (a) - - - drawn. (a) black keeps command of square and so forces the draw. here is another drawn position, from rogers:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . black to move and draw. the play on the position runs thus:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - (b) - (a) - - drawn. (a) - - - - - - - - drawn. (b) white cannot crown the man or force an exchange, and hence the game is drawn. [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] xi when the forces on each side are reduced to two men, or a man and a king each, many positions occur which are won, lost, or drawn by well-known and long-recognised lines of play, and all who wish to become draught players should have a knowledge of them. here is such a position:-- black man on . king on . (fig. .) white man on . king on . black to move and win. here is the win:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - (a) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins - - - by "first - - - position." (a) - - - - - - - black wins - - - by "first - - - position." here is another position:-- black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . king on . black to move and win. this is the play for the defeat of your opponent:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins - - - by "first - - - position." - - - - - - the student will notice that all these victories are by "first position." this so-called "first position" will be explained in the next lesson. xii we now come to the ending known amongst all draught players as the "first position." black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . king on . black to move and win. if the student refers to the solution of the position on the first diagram in the eleventh lesson, he will find that the play shown in note (a) ends with the position shown above. the victory is brought about thus:-- - - - - - - - (a) - - - - - - - - (b) see - - - position - - - below. (a) - - - black - - - wins. - - (b) - - - - - - - black - - - wins. a more advanced stage of "first position." black kings on and . (fig. .) white man on . king on . white to move. black to win. this position is formed at the end of main play of both positions given in eleventh easy lesson, as well as of main play in the position on the first diagram above. white has two lines of play. first-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black - - - wins. [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] second-- (a) - - - black - - - wins. - - - (a) both - and - lose at once by - . xiii a careful study of the principles underlying the play given in the positions in the eleventh and twelfth lessons will suffice to show the student how to secure success (if that is possible) when two kings are opposed to man and king, the latter commanding or occupying his opponent's double corner, where also the man can only hope to be crowned. if the single man and the king cannot be forced to take up some of the positions shown at some part of the different lines of the play, then the game will be drawn. the next class is composed of endings in which two kings are opposed to two kings and a man. the following diagram shows what is called the "third position." black man on . kings on and . (fig. .) white kings on and . black to move and win. the end is brought about thus-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins. xiv another class of endings is when three pieces are opposed to three pieces, generally, of course, drawn, but yet in some cases admitting of forced wins by delicate play. the following is a characteristic specimen of such a forced victory, and should be carefully studied by all young students of the game. it is well known to experts as the "second position." black men on and . king on . (fig. .) white men on and . king on . black to move and win. the play for the victory follows:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins. xv the position given below is well known to experts, and the play upon it is very fine; but with the proviso, "black to move and win," it cannot easily occur in actual play, as the student will speedily discover if he examine the position carefully. nevertheless, it aptly illustrates an important principle in end game play, and is well worthy of careful study. it is known as the "fourth position." [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] black man on . kings on , , and . (fig. .) white man on . kings on and . black to move and win, or white to move and draw. the black victory is brought about as follows:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black - - - wins. - - - the draw arises thus:-- - - - - - - - - - - drawn. - - - black can vary his play to some extent, but he can never man off to advantage, or force a winning position by any line of play, and the position is drawn. xvi here is an example of a black win brought about by very fine play, and well worthy of attentive study. it is by the celebrated james wyllie:-- black man on . kings on , , . (fig. .) white men on , . kings on , . white to move, black to win. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (b) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black - - - wins. - (a) - - - - - var. (a.) - - - black - - - wins. - - var. (b.) - - - - - - - - - - - black - - - wins. xvii the position given in the last easy lesson showed a black win when it was white's turn to play, but it is only a draw if black had to play first. let the student add to the diagram the condition "black to move, white to draw." the draw is brought about as follows:-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - drawn. - - - - (a) - - - - - var.(a.) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - drawn - - - [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] here is a neat winning stroke from sturges:-- black kings on , , . (fig. .) white kings on , . black to move and win. the win is forced thus:-- - , - , - . black wins. xviii i give the following beautiful example of a black win by w. g. w. leggett:-- black man on . kings on and . (fig. .) white men on , , . king on . black to move and win. the win is thus brought about:-- - (b) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (a) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - black wins. var. (a.) - - - - - - - black - - - wins. var. (b.) - - - black - - - wins. xix classified list of principal openings. - opening. edinburgh [illustration: black. white. fig. .] [illustration: black. white. fig. .] - opening double corner - choice - , - , - - opening denny - - opening kelso - - opening. ayrshire lassie - , - , - , - second double corner - , - virginia - , - , - glasgow (irregular) - , - , - , - - , - , - wilter (irregular) - , - , - , - - fife - , - , - , - - souter - , - , - , - - sunderland - , - , - , - - defiance - , - , - , - will o' the wisp - , - , - old fourteenth - , - , - , - - alma - , - , - , - - glasgow - , - , - , - - laird and lady - , - , - , - - centre - , - , - , - - doctor - , - , - , - - , - , - , - - nailor - , - , - , - cuckoo - , - , - , - wilter - , - , - wilter-cross - , - , - , - - , - cross - , - cross choice - , - , - dyke (second irregular) - , - , - , - - , - , - single corner - , - , - , - - flora temple - , - , - , - - maid of the mill - , - , - maid of the mill - , - , - , - (irregular) - pioneer - , - , - , - white dyke - , - , - , - albemarle - , - , - , - - , - erie - , - , - , - - dyke - , - , - dyke (irregular) - , - , - , - - boston - , - , - , - wagram - , - , - , - switcher - , - - opening. bristol - , - liverpool - , - , - , - - paisley - , - manchester - , - london - , - white doctor - , - , - , - - , - , - leeds - , - newcastle - , - - opening. dundee - the losing game. as a matter of fact very fine scientific play is possible with this form of draughts, but all the same the youngest beginner can play at it, and very amusing results will follow. the object in the game is for one of the players to give all his men away, or get them fixed immovably, which, of course, would be a lost game in ordinary draughts, but is a won one at the losing game. it must be borne in mind, in playing the losing game, that it is not good policy to give away men at the beginning of the game so as to be left with three men against six, or two against five, for as a matter of fact in most positions the player with the superior forces can give all his men away, leaving the other player with one or more of his men left. here is where the laugh comes in. the hasty player keeps giving away his men until possibly he has only one left, whilst his more wary opponent has three or four. but can he give that man away and so win? not much! he soon finds he is perfectly helpless, and the other player can force him to take all his men, whilst his solitary man or king remains still on the board, a woeful example of "vaulting ambition, overleaping itself and falling on t'other side." in the losing game it is a case of "the more haste the least speed," for he who is too hasty to give away his men at the beginning finds he cannot give the remainder away at the end. from the first "position" must be played for, the board opened, and men exchanged carefully, so that at the end the player who wants to win may have such advantage that he can compel his opponent to capture his remaining pieces. when the game is reduced to one man on each side he who has "the move," as it is called, which would enable him to win, or draw, at the least, in the ordinary game must lose at the losing game. here is an example of a losing game. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - white wins, - - - for his sole - - - remaining man - - - is blocked. - - - - - - - - - another form of the losing game is for one player to have all his twelve men against a single man of the other player. i give a position of this kind as [illustration: a problem in the losing game. black. white. fig. .] the black men on their original squares. white man on . black to move and win, that is, give all his men away. another funny form of draughts is for one player to give the other the odds of having once (or oftener during the progress of the game) the right of moving twice in succession, this right being exercised at such time as the odds-receiver may choose. there should be great disparity in the strength of the two players, as the odds is really very great. the interchanged men. as a final poser for those who like to puzzle their brains, i give the following as a problem. place the men in due order on the draught-board, and then by a series of legal moves reverse the position of the men, that is, the black men must stand where the white men came from, and _vice versa_. $quaternions.$--quaternions is the name of a somewhat easy yet interesting game played on a checkered board (similar to a draughts board) with thirty-two counters or draughtsmen (sixteen white and sixteen black). the players move alternately by placing one of their men on a white square of the board, and the object of the game is to get four men of the same colour in a line, either perpendicular, horizontal, or diagonally, and the player who first succeeds in doing this wins the game. of course, each player also does his best to stop his opponent from forming his quaternion or file of four. should neither player be able to form a quaternion, then the game is drawn. to show clearly what a quaternion is, i give the following diagram:-- [illustration: black. white. fig. .] the four men on squares , , , and , form a quaternion, and similarly do those on , , , and , and those on , , , and . the numbers here given to the squares are the same as in draughts. the point to be borne in mind in playing the game is to try to unite a perpendicular with a horizontal line of squares, or with a diagonal line. by careful play three men can be got on one of these lines, and three on a communicating line, each having a vacant square. the player of the opposite colour can fill only one of these squares, and consequently cannot prevent the formation of the quaternion on the other line. the most careful play on both sides is required from the very first move, or the game can be forced right off. i give a diagram of an opening:-- [illustration: black. white. fig. .] it is now black's turn to play, and he must stop white from forming a line of three men with a vacant square at each end. to do this he must place a man either on or . supposing he plays on to , then white can force the game thus:-- white. black. black plays on to stop white getting an open three; would not be so good. the position is now as diagrammed:-- [illustration: black to play. fig. .] it will be seen that white has now three on a perpendicular (beginning at ) with a vacant square, and he also has three on a diagonal (also beginning at ) with a vacant square. black can now only occupy one of the vacant squares, and white thereupon occupies the other, thereby forming his quaternion and winning. black lost the game on his second play by placing his man on ; had he gone on to his game would have been as good as white's. now for a few general hints. open the game on the middle of the board. play to squares near those occupied by your opponent's men. keep your men in connection (with an eye to forming threes, as in the illustrative game given above). keep forming threes as long as you can so as to force your opponent to stop the threatened quaternion. keep a wary eye always on your opponent's game, and try to confine him as much as possible so as to prevent him from forming threes with an adjacent vacant square. play the cautious game rather than the risky one--that is, keep the draw always in hand, and win if you can. $consequences.$--each player has a slip of paper. three inches broad and eight inches long is a convenient shape and size. each player writes upon the top an adjective which might be applied to a lady, and then folds the top of the slip so as to cover the word. all now pass their slips to their neighbours so that each one has another slip. without looking at the adjective, which should be well covered by the fold, each writes the name of a lady who is in the room, and folds the slip again so that no writing may be seen. once more the slips are passed along, and upon the new slip which each player has now should be written an adjective applicable to a gentleman. fold the paper and pass it along again. this process is repeated until this adjective has been followed by the name of some gentleman of the party, then by the name of a place, next by what the gentleman said to the lady, then her reply. after that come the consequences, and finally what the world said. all the slips are now dropped into a hat, and someone is appointed to read them one by one, supplying the verbs in the right place. they will create roars of laughter, for they will run something like this: simpering jane cook met knock-kneed peter thompson up a tree. he said to her, "well, i am surprised" and she replied, "does your mother know you're out?" the consequences were that he pawned his boots, and the world said, "i told you so." $concert.$--the players having selected a "conductor," seat themselves round him. the conductor now gives to each a musical instrument, and shows how it is to be played. when all are provided with their imaginary instruments, he orders them to tune, and so gives each musician a chance to make all sorts of noises. next the conductor waves an imaginary _baton_, and begins to hum a lively tune, in which he is accompanied by his band, each player imitating with his hands the different movements made in performing on his supposed instrument. every now and then the conductor pretends to play an instrument, and the player to whom it belongs must instantly alter his movements for those of the conductor, and continue to beat time until the conductor abandons his instrument. should a player fail to take the conductor's office at the proper time, he must pay a forfeit. $shadow buff.$--a sheet or other large piece of white linen should be fastened at one end of the room, so that it hangs without wrinkles; buff seats himself on a low stool with his face to the sheet, and a table, on which is a lighted candle, should be placed about four or five feet behind him, and the rest of the lights in the room extinguished. buff's playfellows next pass in succession, between him and the candle, distorting their features as much as possible--hopping, limping, and performing odd antics, so as to make their shadows very unlike themselves. buff, who is not blindfolded, must try to guess to whom the shadows belong, and if he guesses correctly, the player whose shadow he recognises takes his place. buff is allowed only one guess for each person, and must not turn his head either to the right or to the left to see who passes. $the boat race.$--a most exciting game, and one that is particularly suited to parties. any number of players may take part in it, the more the merrier, and they must be divided into two sides. the players stand in two rows, facing one another; at one end of the line there is the starter and at the other the umpire. at the word "go!" the starter drops a penny into the hands of each of the two men nearest him. these two men then drop it into the outstretched palms of the people next to them, and so the pennies are passed along from one to the other, and the winning side is the one which manages to get its penny into the hands of the umpire first. a great point which all the players must bear in mind is that on no account must the coin be touched by the fingers. each player must secure the penny in the palms of his hands placed together, and must drop the penny into the hands of the man next him by simply opening his palms. this greatly adds to the fun of the game. in the hurry to pass on the coin the excited player will drop the money and pick it up in his fingers, and his side is then disqualified for that game. $a musical glass.$--take a thin cut-glass goblet, and having cut out of stiff writing-paper a cross with arms of equal length, lay it on the top of the glass, and turn down each end of the four arms, so that the cross will not slip off. having thus fitted the cross, take it off the glass and pour water into the glass until it is nearly full. now wipe the rim carefully, so that no particle of moisture remains on it, and replace the cross. you can make the glass vibrate and give out a sound by rubbing your damped finger over some part of the exterior. that is why it is called a musical glass; but an even more wonderful experiment may be made with it. you rub the glass with your damped finger under one of the arms of the cross; the cross will not move. rub it between any two of the arms, and the cross will begin to turn slowly, as if by magic, and will not stop turning until one of the arms reaches a point immediately over the place you are rubbing. you can then move your finger round the glass and make the cross move as you please. $boomerangs.$--the wooden boomerang of the australian savage has elements of danger, and attempts should not be made to throw it except away from other people and from animals. even the thrower will do well to have a tree behind which he can retire; but meanwhile much fun can be derived from small boomerangs made of pasteboard. they should be cut in the shapes given, a and b are the best. there is no need to be very exact, but the card should not be bent and should be capable of lying flat upon a table. other similar shapes may be invented. the curious flight of a little boomerang of this kind is induced by placing it upon a book with one of its ends projecting over the side of the book. raise the book to a level with your eyes and then with a pencil or penholder strike sharply the edge of the boomerang near the end. do not treat the boomerang as though you were playing at tip-cat or "peggy," and avoid smiting it upon its upward flat surface. when you have learned to hit it properly it will skim through the air, then rise a little, and finally come back to some place not far from its starting-point. in any case its peculiar movements are likely to be amusing. a flip with the finger nail is another way to start the boomerang upon its course. $an amusing game.$--in this game the ball is an empty egg-shell, and the field a covered table. after the sides have been chosen--any number of persons taking part--the players kneel at both sides of the table, a captain at the head on one side, and another captain at the foot on the other side. in front of each captain are placed two upright articles--candlesticks, tumblers, or what not. these are the goals, across which a ribbon is stretched. [illustration: boomerangs.] the egg-shell is placed in the centre of the table, and put in play by both captains blowing at it. all the other players then assist in the blowing, which keeps the ball moving about the table at such a rapid succession of tangents as to cause a great deal of fun. soon most of the players will be helpless with laughter. a touchdown, which scores four points, is made by blowing the ball through the opponents' goal. the captain of the victorious side then takes the ball back to the opposite goal and blows it across the table, the object being to pass it through the same goal again. this, if successful, scores two more points. the time limit of the game is thirty minutes, divided into two parts of fifteen minutes each. after the first half the two teams change positions, as in football. $nine men's morris.$--two persons, having each of them nine pieces, or men, different in colour from those of his opponent, lay them down alternately, one by one, upon the spots; and the aim of both players is to prevent his antagonist from placing three of his pieces so as to form a row of three without the intervention of an opposing piece. if a row be formed, he that made it is at liberty to take up one of his competitor's pieces from any part he thinks most to his advantage; unless he has made a row, which must not be touched. when all the pieces are laid down, they are played backwards and forwards in any direction that the lines run, but can only move from one spot to another at one time. he that takes all his antagonist's pieces, is the winner. [illustration: nine men's morris. fox and geese.] $fox and geese.$--fifteen draughtsmen serve for the flock of geese. the fox may be two draughtsmen placed one upon another. the game is played on a board marked as shown in the illustration. sometimes holes are pricked at the junction of the lines and pegs are used instead of draughtsmen. the fox is placed in the middle of the board, and the geese as shown in the illustration. the game is to confine the fox to some spot on the board, so that there shall be either the edge of the board or else two rows of men round him. when the fox cannot escape, the game is done, and the player of the geese wins; but when one of the geese is left on a point next to that occupied by the fox, and is not supported by another goose behind, or by the edge of the board, the fox can take it, and by jumping over its head to the next space, as in draughts, he may, perhaps, escape the others, as all the geese are compelled to move forwards towards the end of the board that was unoccupied at the commencement of the game. the fox is allowed to move either backwards or forwards. neither the fox nor a goose must be moved more than one space at a time. if the fox neglects to take when he has a chance, he is huffed, and one of the captured geese is restored to the board. the fox should avoid getting into the lower square of the board if possible, as he will find it difficult to extricate himself from a position which can be so easily blockaded. [illustration: fox and geese--a second method.] a second method.--there is another way of playing fox and geese on a chessboard, with four white men, representing the geese, and one black one, for the fox. the geese are placed on the four white squares nearest one player, and the fox may be put where his owner pleases. the best place for him is that marked in the diagram. the geese can move forward only, and the fox moves either way. the object of the geese is to pen the fox so that he cannot move, and the fox has to break through. the geese have a great advantage, and a good player keeps them in a line as much as he can. this the fox tries to prevent, and if the geese make a false move he is able generally to break through the line. $puzzles.$--dead dogs made living.--the dead dogs are, by placing two lines upon them, to be suddenly aroused to life and made to run away. how and where should these lines be placed, and what should be the shapes of them? the springs puzzle.--a is a wall, b c d three houses, and e f g three springs. it is required to bring the water from e to d, from g to b, and from f to c, without one pipe or channel crossing the other, and without passing outside of the wall a. three-square puzzle.--cut seventeen slips of cardboard of equal lengths, and put them on a table to form six squares, as in the figure. now take away five of the pieces, leaving only three perfect squares. six and five make nine.--draw six vertical lines, and, by adding five more lines let the whole make nine. cylinder puzzle.--cut a piece of cardboard about four inches long, of the oblong shape of the figure, and make three holes in it as shown. make one piece of wood pass through, and also exactly fill, each of the three holes. [illustration: dead dogs made living.] [illustration: the springs puzzle.] [illustration: three square puzzle.] [illustration: six and five make nine.] [illustration: cylinder puzzle.] [illustration: a button puzzle.] a button puzzle.--in the middle of a piece of leather make two parallel cuts, and below a small hole of the width of the distance between the cuts, pass a piece of string under the slit and through the hole, as in the diagram, and tie two buttons much larger than the hole to the ends of the string. the problem is to draw the string out without taking off the buttons. a slit puzzle.--cut a round piece of wood as in a, and four others, like b. get them all into the cross-shaped slit, as in c. [illustration: a slit puzzle.] [illustration: creeping through a small space.] creeping through a small space.--take a piece of cardboard or of leather, the shape and size suggested in the diagram. cut it in such a way that you may creep through it, still keeping it in one piece. an ingenious square.--here is a way to place one to nine in three rows of three figures each, so that they will add up to fifteen in eight different ways. [illustration] +--+--+--+ | | | | +--+--|--| | | | | +--+--+--+ | | | | +--+--+--+ [illustration: circle puzzle.] +-------------------+ |o o o| | | | | | o o | |o o| | o o | | | | | |o o o| +-------------------+ the cabinet-maker's problem.--a cabinet-maker had a round piece of veneering, with which he has to cover the tops of two oval stools. it so happens that the area of the stools, without the hand-holes in the centre, and the circular piece, are the same. how must he cut his veneer so as to be exactly enough for his purpose? circle puzzle.--secure a piece of cardboard, the size and shape of the diagram, and punch in it twelve holes in the position shown in the diagram. cut the cardboard into four pieces of equal size, each piece to be of the same shape, and to contain three holes, without cutting into any of them. the nuns.--twenty-four nuns were placed in a convent by night to count nine each way, as in the figure. four of them went for a walk; how were the remaining nuns arranged in the square so as still to count nine each way? the four who went out returned, bringing with them four friends; how were they all arranged still to count nine each way, and thus to deceive the sister in charge, as to whether there were , , , or in the square? [illustration: the nuns.] cross-cutting.--how can you cut out of a single piece of paper, and with one cut of the scissors, a perfect cross, and all the other forms that are shown in the diagram? cross puzzle.--cut three pieces of paper to the shape of a, one to the shape of b, and one to that of c. let them be of the same relative sizes as in the diagram. place the pieces together so as to form a cross. more cross cutting.--with three pieces of cardboard of the form and size of a, and one each of b and c, to form a cross. [illustration: cross cutting.] [illustration: cross puzzle.] [illustration: more cross cutting.] a problem for surveyors.--a gentleman who lived in a house on an estate decided that he would divide the estate into five building plots. there were ten fine old trees, and his instructions to the surveyor were: don't count my house in the division. i shall have that extra, but divide the remainder of the park into five equal parts with straight boundaries. i shall retain one part for my own grounds. be careful to arrange that each plot shall have two of the trees. how did the surveyor divide the estate? [illustration: a problem for surveyors.] another problem for surveyors.--a squire planted a number of oaks when his heir was born, and on the twenty-seventh birthday of the young man there was a tree for every year, and yet though there were only trees, there were ten rows and six trees in each row, which made sixty, the age of the squire himself. how did he manage it? halfpence puzzle.--place ten halfpence in a row on the table. take up one of them and place it on another, never in any case passing over more than two halfpence. repeat the operation until no halfpenny remains by itself in the row. puzzling advice.--read the following:-- if your b m t put : when your is . putting : the miser's ruse.--a miser once asked his tenants to dinner at an inn, and asked the landlord to join the party. when the bill was presented, the miser suggested that they should cast lots who should pay the score. it was decided that they should be counted by the days of the week, and that every time he who counted called "saturday," the person so named should leave the room until there was only one man left, and he should pay. how did the miser manage to throw the expense on the landlord? two eyes better than one.--put a coin on a table's edge, with half the coin's edge overlapping. move three yards away and close one eye; now advance, and try to knock it off with one finger, keeping the one eye shut all the time. [illustration: the double handcuffs.] wolf, goat, and cabbages.--suppose a man has a wolf, a goat, and some cabbages on the bank of a river, and he wishes to cross with them, and that his boat is only large enough to carry one out of the three besides himself. he must, therefore, take them over one by one, in such a manner that the wolf shall have no opportunity of devouring the goat, or the goat the cabbages. in which way is he to do this? the double handcuffs.--ask two friends to allow their hands to be fastened together with string, which must be looped, as shown in the illustration. now tell them to liberate themselves without unfastening the knots, or cutting the string. answers to puzzles. [illustration: dead dogs made living.] [illustration: the springs puzzle.] three-square puzzle.--take away the pieces numbered , , , , , and three squares only will remain. [illustration: six and five make] a slit puzzle.--arrange the pieces side by side in the short arms of the cross, draw out the centre piece, and the rest will follow easily. the same process reversed will put them back again. [illustration: slit puzzle.] [illustration: creeping through a small space.] creeping through a small space.--double the cardboard or leather lengthways down the middle, and then cut first to the right, nearly to the end, and then to the left and so on to the end of the card; then open it and cut down the middle, except the two ends. by opening the card or leather, a person may pass through it. a tough leaf may be treated in this way. [illustration: circle puzzle.] the cabinet-maker's problem.--the cabinet-maker must find the centre of the circle, and strike another circle, half the diameter of the first, and having the same centre. then cut the whole into four parts, by means of two lines drawn at right angles to each other, then cut along the inner circle, and put the pieces together as in the following diagram. [illustration: cabinet-maker's problem.] [illustration: the nuns.] [illustration: more cross cutting.] button puzzle.--pull the narrow slip of the leather through the hole, and the string and buttons may be released. [illustration: cross cutting.] [illustration: cross puzzle.] cross cutting.--take a piece of writing paper about three times as long as it is broad, say six inches long and two wide. fold the upper corner down, as shown in fig. ; then fold the other upper corner over the first, and it will appear as in fig. ; you next fold the paper in half lengthwise, and it will appear as in fig. . then the last fold is made lengthwise also, in the middle of the paper, and it will exhibit the form of fig. , which, when cut through with the scissors in the direction of the dotted line, will give all the forms mentioned. [illustration: cylinder puzzle.] cylinder puzzle.--take a round cylinder of the diameter of the circular hole, and of the height of the square hole. having drawn a straight line across the end, dividing it into two equal parts, cut an equal section from either side to the edge of the circular base, a figure like that represented by the woodcut in the margin would then be produced, which would fulfil the required conditions. halfpence puzzle.--place the fourth on the first, seventh on the third, fifth upon the ninth, the second upon the sixth, and the eighth upon the tenth. puzzling advice.-- if your grate be (great b) empty, put coal on. when your grate is (great is) full, stop putting coal on. the miser's ruse.--the counting, which stopped at every seventh man, was made to begin at the sixth from the landlord, who sat at the end of the table. wolf, goat, and cabbages.--first he takes over the goat; he then returns and takes the wolf; he leaves the wolf on the other side, and brings back the goat; he now takes over the cabbages, and comes back once more to fetch the goat. thus the wolf will never be left with the goat, nor the goat with the cabbages. [illustration: a problem for surveyors.] [illustration: another problem for surveyors.] the double handcuffs.--this is the way to do it. c must gather up into a loop the string which binds his hands, pass it under the string fastened round either of b's wrists, and slip it over b's hands. this done, both will be set free. to replace the strings, reverse the process. chapter xxi work and play at the bench $wood carving.$--the best kinds of wood include white holly, walnut and sycamore, and pieces of empty cigar boxes, often spanish cedar, are not to be despised. a pocket-knife, some bradawls, a few files, flat, round and triangular, a fine saw and some coarse sandpaper complete the tools needed for most of the work. draw very carefully upon paper the design with which you wish to ornament some article you may have made with wood. when you have at last drawn the design quite accurately there are many ways in which you may transfer the drawing to the wood. it may be pasted upon the wood so that paper and wood will be cut away together in those parts that are to fall below the general surface of the wood and at the end the paper that remains may be washed away. another way is to cut out the design with scissors, lay it upon the wood and go carefully round the edges with a lead pencil; or you may without cutting it out place it upon the wood and prick through the design or at any rate the principal points with a pin. if you were to scribble with crayon, coloured chalk or pencil upon the back of the paper and were then to lay the paper upon the wood and go over the design with a hard point, using some pressure, the design would be transferred to the wood, or still another way would be to use carbon paper (see chap. xxiv.) between the paper and the wood instead of scribbling upon the back of the paper. however, we will suppose the design in some way or another has been placed in pencil upon the wood. now with regard to every part in which the intention is to take out the wood completely from front to back bore a hole. then take your fret-cutter's saw or dentist's saw and unfastening one end put this end through the hole and fasten it again. saw perpendicularly. at this stage the young carver will need to decide whether he will follow the pencil lines exactly. if he is a very expert sawyer he may, but it is much safer to leave a little wood to be removed by pocket-knife, chisel, or file. it is easy to do this; but if he saws out a little too much wood, if he transgresses the pencil line, he cannot put back the wood he has wrongfully cut away. after the filing a little rubbing with sandpaper will complete the work. sometimes it is an advantage to adjust the saw in its frame with the teeth inside or sideways. $how to make a schooner.$--take a block of wood two feet four inches long, eight inches wide, and eight inches deep. we name this as a convenient size; but a boy may if he likes make his boat twice this size, or half this size, and so long as he makes his alterations in proportion it will not matter. try to get the wood without knots or other faults. white pine or deal with a straight grain is the best, for this wood is easy to cut into shape, and it is light. [illustration: fig. ] before the schooner is shaped it should be hollowed. draw a straight line with pencil along the centre of the upper surface of the block a b (fig. ). if the breadth of the block is eight inches then the centre will be four inches from each edge. next, in a similar way divide the length of the block into two equal parts with a pencil line c d. if the length is two feet four inches then this line will be one foot two from each end of the block. now divide the length into three equal parts by the lines e f and g h. one third of two feet four inches is nine inches and one third of an inch, so that each of the three parts will have this measurement. draw now the line i j c b and when this line is of the right shape make a tracing of it, and from the tracing a cardboard model. by placing this model upon the other side of the line a b and drawing round its edge you will get the line b d k i and it will be exactly like i j c b, a very important matter. with a knife, gouge, and chisel the boat may now be hollowed with care, and we may repeat that it is easier to hollow the block before its outside has been shaped than afterwards, because it stands now more firmly upon the table or bench. the shape of the outside is shown in fig. , and it should be noticed that the line l m n is not straight but curves so that m is the lowest point and l and n the highest. upon the counter at o a hole must be bored for the stern-post, which will come through at p in fig. . [illustration: fig. ] it is well from time to time to try the boat in water to see if it floats evenly, or if more has been taken from one side than the other. these little matters should be corrected, and a number of little touches will be needed here and there with tools or sandpaper before the vessel is right inside and out. then put a deck of thin wood over the hollowed part. this should be fitted very carefully so that no water can pass into the hold of the ship. if bulwarks are desired the deck may be half an inch or an inch below the edge of the vessel, but if the deck is flush with the sides of the hull there will be no place for water to lodge. we now come to the masts, of which there will be two. for the foremast make a hole through the deck at q on fig. . it is about an inch from the line g h. at r two inches from the line e f a similar hole should penetrate the deck for the main mast. the circumference of the lower masts should be one inch and three quarters, but an inch will serve for the topmasts. the bowsprit and the booms should measure one inch and a quarter round, and the gaffs an inch. [illustration: a schooner.] a bobstay. b bowsprit. c forestay. d stay foresail. e foremast. f gaff foresail. g fore gaff. h fore boom. i mainmast. j mainsail. k main boom. l main gaff. m main topmast. n gaff topsail. o main topmast stay. p fore peak haulyards. q fore throat haulyards. r main peak haulyards. s main throat haulyards. t mainsheet. u foresheet. v stay foresheet. w rudder. x lead ballast. y forecap and cross trees. z maincap and cross trees. linen will serve for the sails, and odds and ends of fishing lines for the ropes and rigging, with stouter cord like whipcord for the shrouds. the caps, deadeyes, blocks and such things may be made, but the process is wearisome and difficult and perhaps the better way is to buy them. the following measurements will be useful:-- inches bowsprit - / foremast mainmast topmast fore boom - / fore gaff main boom main gaff the sails should be made to fit these. if the schooner has been properly made she will sail well with the rudder but slightly turned to one side. if it is necessary to turn her rudder much she will lose speed and will not rank in the first class. to steady the schooner it is necessary to nail or screw along her keel, a strip of lead as ballast. err upon the side of making this too heavy, because it is easier to cut and file away than it is to add. $the making of a cutter.$--having made a schooner it will not be difficult to make a cutter from the appended diagrams with a few particulars regarding the measurements. [illustration] the cutter has but one mast reaching about fifteen inches above the deck. this is surmounted by a seven-inch top-mast, so that the complete height above the deck is twenty-two inches. here are the other measurements. bowsprit, inches from the stem of the vessel to the end. main gaff, inches long. main boom, inches. [illustration: a cutter.] a bobstay. b bowsprit. c forestay. d foresail. e jib. f topmost stay. g mast. h topmast. i mainsail. j main boom. k main gaff. l gaff topsail. m peak haulyards. n throat haulyards. o main sheet. p rudder. q lead ballast. r jib sheets. s the cap. t cross trees. $a sleigh that can be steered.$--with the sketches we shall give, a boy unaided, or with a little assistance from a carpenter, will be able to make a sleigh that he can steer. take a piece of board - / feet long, six inches wide and / of an inch thick. ash is excellent. avoid large knots. let fig. represent the face of the board. from b measure three inches to c. connect a c. from a measure two feet, four times. these measurements will give you d e f g. from c repeat this process and you will have h i j and k. saw from a to c; from d to h; from e to i; f to j, and from g to k. you will have now four pieces of wood like the piece in fig. and some wood to spare for a purpose that will be explained soon. with regard to your four pieces of wood which are to serve for runners remember that two will be right-hand runners and two left-hand runners, because the treatment of each kind varies a little. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] with regard to fig. draw the curved line a e. no rule can be given for this except that b e represents eight inches. cut the curve from a to e, round off the angle c d b a little, and you will have a runner from which the three remaining runners may be made. this runner however is not yet finished. from c in fig. measure - / inches to f, then another - / inches to g. make f h one inch deep and g i. then connect h i. measure inches from g to j and then mark off j k l m making it like h g f i. now direct your attention to the upper edge of the runner represented in fig. . two points will have been fixed already. m j, g f. to find the remaining points n o, p q draw the lines m n; j o; g p and f q making the angles n m j; o j m; p g f and q f g the same as the angle b d c in fig. . now saw and chisel out carefully n o m j l k and p q g f i h making what joiners call mortices. in repeating this process upon the other runners remember to have the narrower end of these dovetails inside the sledge. the arrangement will be as in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] the next thing is to connect your four runners with cross bars (fig. ) which are each fourteen inches long, two and a half inches broad, and one inch thick. of these cross bars there are four. the distance from a to b and from c to d is one inch in each case. these ends are shaped to form what joiners call dovetails, and they should fit exactly into the mortices upon the upper edges of the runners. the black dots represent screws. one of the cross bars does not appear in fig. . the runners should be shod with iron by the blacksmith. he will need eleven-and-a-half feet of half round / inch rolled iron, divided into four, a piece for each runner. each piece will be inches long pierced for screws as in fig. . a and b are an inch from centre to centre. c is eight inches from the end, d another ten inches; e a further ten inches. f g are like a and b. take now a piece of board one foot wide, fifteen inches long and one inch thick (fig. ). find the centre by connecting b and c and a and d by straight lines. the place where they cross, e, will be the centre. this board should be placed lengthways upon the cross bars of the front portion of your sleigh and should be fixed very securely in position with long screws. it should be at a in the completed sleigh, fig. . now for the long board upon which you sit, the board that connects the two pairs of runners, the board marked b in the completed sleigh, fig. . its width is sixteen inches, its length - / feet, its thickness - / inches. it is known as the reach board and should be of seasoned pine. this board is represented in fig. . fix your compass at a and describe a semi-circle, and then at b. a and b are each seven inches from the end of the board and seven inches from the sides. by the aid of these lines you will be able to give your board rounded ends as in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] having decided which end of this board you will have forward measure underneath inches from the front extremity and at that point draw the line a b (fig. ). now take the piece of wood you spared from your runners and saw it lengthwise into two equal parts. make each part precisely as long as your reach board is wide. screw one at c d in fig. so that its outer edge is close to the line a b. the screws go through the reach board into the cross piece. in the centre of the cross piece bore a hole with a half inch bit right through cross piece and reach board, this is for the bolt. now take that other piece of runner wood and fix hinges upon it as shown in fig. . the hinges should be � hinges, and should move round to their full extent each way. leaving the reach board for a few minutes we go to the pair of runners that will be at the back of the sleigh. it will be seen that we connected these with two cross pieces. it is upon the back cross piece that we have to place our piece of wood that has the hinges upon it. lay it upon the cross piece and when the two are even all round fasten the remaining flap of the hinges with screws upon this cross piece of the runners. these two cross pieces of wood will be separated only by the thickness of the hinges if the work has been deftly done. place the reach board so that the outer edge of the cross piece shall come exactly to a line we may draw now upon the under-side of the reach board five inches from its backward end as in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] fasten there the reach board to the cross piece with screws. the front pair of runners is fastened by passing a half inch bolt through the half inch hole we bored in the reach board and in the top of the front pair of runners. here you will need a few washers and a nut. each back runner should be fastened to the reach board by a loose chain as shown in the completed sleigh. foot rests of bent iron or of wood are a great advantage. place these where you need them. the sleigh is steered by means of two strong cords. fig. is merely general. some of the details do not appear there. [illustration: fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. .] $baby's sleigh.$--in fig. we have the sleigh as it looks when it is finished. to upholster it would add to our difficulties, so we will depend upon an abundance of cushions for baby's comfort. in fig we have a piece of strong board a b c d / of an inch thick, two feet long and one foot wide. from c to e is three inches, from c to g seven inches and from d to f three inches. the curve from a to g must be drawn according to the taste of the young joiner. when this side has been cut out it is easy to make the other from it. now for the backboard. in fig. a b c d we have a piece of wood fifteen inches square. the inside lines at the bottom are one and a half inches from d and c. e and f are three inches from a and b. put your compasses at i for a centre and draw the curve e f. if your compasses are not large enough a piece of pencil tied to a string will serve. the front board may be made like the lower half of the back board. nail or screw the parts together and put on a bottom that fits. inside, the seat rests on two strips, one screwed upon each side. these strips are of wood three eighths of an inch thick, an inch wide and eight inches long. the seat may be about a foot wide. the runners come next. in fig. a b c d, we have a board three quarters of an inch thick, three feet long and seven inches wide. the distance from d to e is eight inches. from a measure eight inches along the upper edge to g, then two inches to h and from h draw the line h f. draw the curve a h. f should be three inches from the line b c. from f draw a straight line to c. cut out the runner and use it as a pattern for the making of another. to connect the two runners use a couple of cross bars of hard wood each an inch and a half wide, one inch thick and a foot long. cut the ends as shown in fig. , the cuts being three quarters of an inch deep. carpenters call an arrangement of this kind a tenon. the front cross bar will connect the two runners fifteen inches from the front and the back cross bar will be fifteen inches further back than that. the method of fixing them is shown in fig. . the cuts a and b--mortices, joiners call them--are half an inch deep. having placed the tenons in the mortices fasten them there with screws. now get a board ten inches wide, half an inch thick and two feet long and screw this to the bars. if you want the runners shod with iron the blacksmith will do this for you. place now the car in position upon the runners, and bore two quarter-inch holes in the centre of the bottom, one under the seat and the other in front. make two corresponding holes in the board of the sleigh and so with two bolts and nuts secure the car to the runners. [illustration: hammock from a barrel.] $a hammock from a barrel.$--look round for a clean barrel. perhaps an apple barrel will be as easy to find as any. strip off the hoops and draw all the nails. measure three inches from the top, and three inches from the bottom of the barrel, and draw thence a line round the top and a line round the bottom of the barrel, keeping it three inches from top or bottom all the way round. upon these lines, and upon each stave, bore two holes with a brace and bit. place the holes so that they are about the same distance from each other and from the edges of the staves. if some of the staves are wider than others, each will need slightly different treatment. a stout rope should be threaded through these holes in the manner shown in the diagram. about twenty feet of rope will be sufficient. an inch or thereabouts should be left between each stave. cushions add to the comfort of this simple hammock. [illustration: hammock from a barrel.] [illustration: �olian harp.] $an �olian harp.$--make a shallow box of thin dry pine. the top piece should be free from knots and three-sixteenths of an inch thick. this is the sounding board. the sides and bottom of the box may be of wood one quarter of an inch in thickness. the harp should be two inches shorter than the width of the window in which you are going to place it. the width of the box itself may be ten inches, its depth two and a half inches. the ends should be of hard wood, for they have to bear the strain of the strings. in one end put studs or rings or eyes to which are fastened the wires or catgut strings. at the other end should be a corresponding row of violin pegs if you use catgut, or iron piano pins if you use wire. if you do use wire it should be of steel. in the diagram you will see the two bridges of hard wood glued diagonally across each end for the strings to rest upon. if steel wire is employed a piece of wire should run along the top of each bridge to prevent the other wires from cutting into the wood. four holes, each an inch in diameter, in the sounding board improves the harp. the tuning may be harmonics, thirds, fifths, and octaves. raise the sash of the window, and place the harp so that the wind blows across the strings. chapter xxii science for the play-hour $a home-made electrical machine.$--to make a really first-class machine of the modern type would require a good deal of mechanical skill, even supposing my readers to be the happy possessors of the necessary tools and materials; but the older type of machine--though of course not so powerful--will probably do quite well enough for most of their purposes. i will, therefore, describe one of the simplest forms of these machines, such as any one, with a little care and patience, can make for himself. the first thing to do is to get a general idea of what you are going to construct, which may be had from the illustration, and from the actual machines you may sometimes see in a shop window or in a scientific collection, like the science departments of the south kensington museum. it is the making of the cylinder machine we are going to work out, and, therefore, to begin with, the glass cylinder must be procured. this can be had from a dealer in chemical apparatus and costs only a few pence for the smaller size--about inches by inches. at the same time purchase a round glass rod, / inch diameter by inches long; a sheet or two of tinfoil, and sixpennyworth of amalgam. from a carpenter or timber-merchant you will require a base-board for the machine, say inches by inches, by inch thick, and of heavy wood; also two uprights, which are to stand on the base-board to support the cylinder. these may be inches tall, by inches by / inch. having now the principal parts of the frame, the work of fitting together can be begun by making a circular hole (centre about - / inches from the end) in one wooden upright, to take easily one of the projecting glass pieces, or pivots, at the ends of the cylinder--probably / inch diameter will do. this hole may be made with a brace and suitable bit, or failing that, with a round chisel--taking care not to split the wood. in one end of the other upright cut a slot of same width as the hole, the bottoms of both being on the same level. then rest the two glass pivots in the hole and slot, holding the uprights vertically on the base-board, when the cylinder should be quite horizontal. if it is not so, deepen the slot, or shorten either upright, as required. drill a hole through the two sides of the slot at the top, and insert a round nail to keep the pivot from having too much play. it will next be necessary to secure these supports to the board, which may be done by driving stout screws from below, together with the aid of some strong glue. if you have the skill it will be better to sink the supports / inch into the surface. the position should be such, that the cylinder is not quite over the middle of the board. (see illustrations.) next remove the cylinder by a little side working, and screw a piece of wood, - / inches by / inch by about inches, to the supports and base. this is to act as a brace to the supports, and also for holding tightening screws for the rubber. we now come to the preparation of the rubber, which is an important detail. get a wooden block - / inches by / inch and inch shorter than the cylinder. smoothe off all the corners, and glue on one long edge, a piece of thin leather (chamois will do); fold over the flat side, and then glue it again at the other long edge; double it back _loosely_, and glue again in original place. this should make a sort of bag on one side of the block, which should now be stuffed with _dry_ wool or hemp, and the two ends fastened down. a piece of black silk, about inches by inches, must be attached to the bottom edge. [illustration: front view, showing rubber seen through cylinder; conductor removed. a a supports; r rubber; b brace board; c c adjusting screws; f rubber stand.] [illustration: end view. h handle; d conductor; e glass support. rubber, silk flap and support. a home-made electrical machine.] now place the cylinder on its bearings, and press the rubber against the middle of one side, which will show what length to make the rubber stand. the thickness may be / inch, and the breadth inches; one end being screwed to the rubber block at the back, and the other resting on the base-board, but attached to the brace piece by two bolts with adjustable nuts. these you can get at an ironmonger's--thumb nuts are preferable, as they can be tightened up without pliers. as this board will be on a slope, the cushion block must be bevelled off with a chisel, so that it may rest "squarely" against the glass. the adjusting screws will enable the pressure on the glass to be regulated. be careful to see that the silk flap (attached to the bottom edge of the rubber) comes _between_ the leather and the cylinder, and then folds over the cylinder to about the middle of the opposite side. we next come to the "prime conductor," which is a piece of rounded wood, inches in diameter and inch less than the length of the cylinder. the end corners must be made round with a knife and sandpaper, so the whole surface may be quite smooth. then lay on _evenly_ with paste, a sheet of tinfoil, notching it so that it may fold nicely over the spherical ends, and take out any ridges by rubbing with the knife handle. an insulating support must be given to the conductor, as it is to hold the accumulated electric energy, and for this the glass rod above mentioned is required. make a suitable hole in one side of the conductor, and in it fix one end of the rod with cement. the other end can be fixed to the base-board in the same way; or a separate stand may be used; but before doing this, drive a horizontal row of strong pins along a side of the conductor, at right angles with the rod. these should be / inch apart, starting and finishing / inch from where the surface becomes spherical at the two ends; the heads should be cut off previously with pliers, and the external length, when driven into the wood, should not exceed / inch. now erect the conductor, and see that the rod brings it level or thereabouts with the centre line of the cylinder-side. the points should not quite touch the latter; and the silk flap must not hang down far enough to come between. there remains now but one piece of mechanism to construct--the handle. this is apt to give trouble at first, but with care may be successfully completed. a short piece of hard wood (say - / inches long), half of circular and half of square section, must be procured, and the rounded half cemented into one of the glass pivots. this must be done with good cement and both the glass and wood warmed, and cleaned first of all. be careful not to crack the glass by too rapid heating. a thin layer of cement is best, while, of course, the wooden rod ought to fit closely. the square end now projecting must be provided with a handle, the making of which will serve to pass the time during which the cement is drying. cut a square hole to fit the end in a piece of wood say / inch by - / inches by inch, which is the handle shaft. pass a bolt through the lower part and secure the handle-bobbin itself by a nut. if nothing else can be got, a cotton-reel makes a fair handle when the flanges are cut off. if the nut works loose, pinch the threads at the end of the screw, or add a "lock nut"--_i.e._ an extra nut. dry the cylinder and put a wooden stopper in the other glass pivot to keep out damp. take care to have the handle on the right-hand end of the machine when the rubber is closest to you and the conductor opposite; notice also that of the supports the _slotted_ one should now be on the _left_-hand side. all the woodwork, as well as the ends and pivots of the cylinder, and the glass rod should be painted with shellac varnish, which may generally be had ready mixed from paint merchants, or may be made at home by dissolving shellac in methylated spirits. a stick of red sealing-wax gives a more pleasing colour for the glass work if added to the shellac solution. all through the construction of the machine must be borne in mind the fact that rough edges or points "attract" away the electricity, and, therefore, all the edges and corners must be well rounded off and smoothed with sandpaper, and everything must be kept clean and free from dust. when the shellac is dry, let all the parts, especially the rubber, cylinder, and rod, have a good warming before the fire. then fixing the cylinder in its place, press the rubber firmly against it by means of the adjusting screws. after turning for a few minutes, the handle should become stiffer, and a small spark be obtained on touching the conductor. if not, tighten up the screws a little more. it is also advisable to lay a little amalgam with tallow on the rubber, _between_ the silk and the leather: a piece of tinfoil is also said to be of advantage when amalgam is not handy. sometimes, too, a wire connection from the back of the cushion to a neighbouring gas or water pipe helps the success of the machine, but if proper attention be paid to warming and cleaning and the avoiding of edges and corners, success is almost certain after a short time. a delicate test is to observe whether a thread is attracted by the conductor, and if so, a spark may be soon looked for. an iron clamp or two will be found of great assistance for holding down the base-board to the corner of a table. $the indestructible candles.$--when a candle burns, the matter of which the candle is composed, is not lost nor destroyed. it is simply changing its form, and every part of it may be accounted for. if we take a cold clean tumbler and hold it over the flame of the candle (fig. ) we shall see that the inside becomes moist with water, and on touching it our fingers are made wet. on the tumbler becoming warm, this moisture disappears. if we could surround the tumbler with an ice jacket, we should see the water from the flame of the candle dripping down, and if this were caught in a vessel we could obtain from an ordinary candle about a wine-glassful of water. we may therefore produce water from a burning candle. the cause of the water being formed is that there is in the fat of the candle, as one of its constituents, hydrogen, and as the candle burns, this unites with the oxygen of the air to form water. wherever water is found it always consists of hydrogen and oxygen in combination, and of nothing else. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $presence of hydrogen proved.$--we may prove the presence of hydrogen gas by bringing a lighted taper within two or three inches of the wick of a candle just after it has been extinguished. on holding the lighted taper in the stream of smoke coming from the wick, we shall see a tiny flame run down the smoke and re-light the candle. the hydrogen gas coming from the hot fat is being carried off in the smoke. it is very inflammable, and the flame from the taper ignites it, and in turn rekindles the candle. when the stream of smoke has ceased, it does not matter how near we hold the taper to the wick without actually touching, it will not be re-lighted. (see fig. .) $the hydrogen located.$--a still better way of showing the presence of this gas is by bending a piece of glass tubing of small-bore, into the shape shown in fig. . glass tubing may be bent easily to any shape by holding it in the flame of an ordinary gas burner. the tube becomes covered with soot, and this prevents its getting hot too rapidly, and so enables the tube to bend easily and evenly. the bending must never be forced, but very gently done as the glass softens. (see fig. .) a little practice will enable any boy to make a first-rate bend. on carefully observing the flame of the candle we shall see that it really consists of three distinct parts. round the wick it looks black, this is really a hollow chamber filled with unconsumed hydrogen. next to this is a bright luminous cone, and outside of that is an almost invisible covering of blue flame. in the black space gas is unconsumed, in the luminous part the combustion is only partial, but outside of all, where there is most oxygen, the combustion is complete, and the flame can hardly be discovered. now when the flame is quite steady the tube must be gently inserted at an angle into the black cone; after a few minutes, on applying a light at the end of the tube, although the candle is still burning, we shall see that this free hydrogen will burn there too with a small bluish flame. $the candle's carbon.$--as the candle burns, another part of its constituents is passing off into the air as soot or carbon, and this can be shown by holding a sheet of white paper or cardboard in the top of the flame, or better still, a cold saucer, on which there will be a copious deposit of black soot. this is another proof that as a candle burns it is not destroying matter, but only changing its form; from the white fat of the candle, black sooty carbon is liberated by the process of incomplete combustion that is going on. (see fig. .) $carbonic acid gas.$--when substances containing carbon are burnt, one of the products is an invisible gas, commonly called carbonic acid gas. after an explosion in a mine, all the workings are filled with a deadly gas, which often kills more men than the explosion. this is called choke damp, and is the same as carbonic acid gas. whenever a fire burns--gas, lamp, coal fire, or candle, this gas is one of the products. let us fasten a piece of wire round our candle, and, after lighting it, lower it down into a glass bottle with a wide mouth. at first the candle burns dimly, and then, when a current of air is established, brightens. now cover the mouth of the jar with a piece of card or the hand, and we shall see that the candle again burns dimly and quickly goes out. the jar now contains a considerable quantity of this carbonic acid gas. we may prove its presence by pouring into the jar a little clear lime-water and shaking it up. the carbonic acid gas will turn the lime-water milky. (see fig. .) lime-water can be purchased at any chemist's very cheaply, or it can be made by pouring water on a piece of quicklime, well shaking it, and then allowing it to settle. the clear lime-water may then be poured off. the lime may be used again and again until it is all dissolved. $our use of oxygen.$--we are breathing out carbonic acid gas; and on breathing through a piece of glass tubing into some of the clear lime-water we shall see that it will be turned milky in just the same way as when the candle burned. we are using up oxygen to support life, the candle uses up oxygen to support life, and in both cases the product is carbonic acid gas, as we have proved by means of the lime-water test. (see fig. .) $convincing proof.$--all that we have done up to the present supports our statement that the matter of the candle is not destroyed. in fact we have accounted for all its parts excepting that of a little mineral ash which will be left after the candle has burned away. we may, however, show in a very convincing way that our contention is true. an ordinary gas chimney is obtained, and at about three inches from one end a piece of wire gauze is placed, and the open end filled up with quicklime, at the lower end a cork is fixed upon which a short piece of candle is placed. there must also be a hole in the cork for the admission of air; when all is ready, carefully counterpoise the scales. then remove the cork and light the candle and quickly replace. after burning a short time it will be found that the chimney glass bears down the beam because of increased weight. the products of the burning candle have united with the oxygen of the air, and these products, consisting chiefly of carbonic acid gas and water, have been caught by the quicklime. because of the added oxygen they are heavier than the original candle. (see fig. .) $capillary attraction.$--there is still one interesting thing to illustrate about the burning candle, and that is the way in which the particles of fat ascend the wick to reach the flame. this is accomplished by what is known as capillary attraction. a very good illustration of this is afforded by a piece of salt standing upon a plate, on which is poured some salt water coloured blue with indigo or ink. the liquid will rise up the pillar of salt, and eventually reach the top. it rises by the force of capillary attraction. let the pillar of salt represent the wick of the candle, and the coloured water, the fat, and the illustration is complete. $analysis of candle flame.$--our candle can still give us some useful and suggestive illustrations of flame and combustion. we have seen that unconsumed gaseous vapours can be obtained from the flame by means of a bent glass tube. in the candle flame (fig. ) we see that this is because of the way the flame is built. the part marked _o_ is the gaseous chamber, _i_ is the luminous part, and _e_ is where combustion is complete. on taking a sheet of clean white paper and pressing it down on the candle flame for a moment or two we shall get the fact of this hollow chamber demonstrated by the smoke ring upon the paper, which will appear thus-- the paper is left clean at the hollow chamber, but marked with smoke at the luminous part of the flame. (see fig. .) [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] now we must find the differences between the non-luminous outer flame and the luminous inner flame. to do this thoroughly we must have a bunsen burner to afford the best illustration. this is not an expensive item. a cheap and simple form of it can be obtained for s. d. to understand the nature of the flame we must first understand the principles of the bunsen. it is a burner in which a mixture of air and gas is consumed. a is a brass tube, mounted on a solid foot k, with a small tube c to admit the gas. there are two holes at the bottom of the brass tube to admit air in the direction of the arrows, and a movable brass collar fits over these holes, so that the air can be admitted or excluded at will. on igniting the gas, with the holes of the bunsen open, we shall see that it burns with a non-luminous but exceedingly hot flame. on closing the holes we shall notice that the flame becomes luminous, much more languid, and does not give off nearly so much heat. (see fig. .) we must ask ourselves the question, what is the cause of this difference? the answer is a simple but very instructive one. coal-gas, like the fat of the candle, contains carbon, and in the luminous flame, owing to the limited supply of oxygen, these particles of carbon are made white hot, and so emit light, but are not entirely consumed till they reach the outer edge of the flame, where combustion is more complete, owing to the contact of the flame with the air, and even then many of them escape; and so where gas is burnt the ceilings after a time become blackened. in the non-luminous flame, owing to the air being admitted and mixed with the gas, the increased supply of oxygen renders combustion more complete, greatly increases the heat of the flame, but renders it incapable of giving light. now, the reasons for the differences of the two flames are made clear. a very clever modification of this principle has been utilised in what is known as the argand burner, in which the gas and air are not mixed as in a bunsen, but the burner is made circular, and the air is made to pass up the centre of the flame, so that it gets its supply of oxygen, burns steadily, and presents a very large surface of luminous flame. (see fig. .) $a pretty experiment.$--let us now go back to our candle flame. we see that it gives light, emits smoke, and does not yield a very large amount of heat. we have learnt that it gives light because the particles of carbon are heated to a white heat, but not entirely consumed. these particles in the flame are held very closely together, and so present a continuous surface. if we could get inside the flame and scatter them we should have a pretty shower of glowing sparks. we can illustrate this by the following experiment. take as much gunpowder as will rest on a sixpence, and a like quantity of iron filings, mix them together on a small tin dish. (see fig. .) this must be done carefully and without friction. then ignite with a taper. the gunpowder burns, makes the particles of iron red hot, and scatters them in a beautiful shower of glowing sparks. this is a fair representation of pulling a candle flame to pieces, the only difference is that the glowing particles are of iron instead of carbon. $artificial lightning.$--this may be further illustrated by putting a flame together. we may accomplish this by passing any very fine particles of carbonaceous matter through a non-luminous flame, and we shall see that whilst these particles pass through the flame it will give light owing to their presence. we require a little lycopodium, a piece of glass tubing one foot long, and about a quarter-inch bore, and the non-luminous flame of the bunsen burner or a spirit lamp. insert into one end of the tube a little of the lycopodium powder, and then, pea-shooter fashion, apply the mouth to the other end of the tube, and blow the contents into the flame. there will be a great flash of light whilst these infinitely small particles are passing through the flame, thus establishing the fact that luminosity is due to the presence of unconsumed solid matter in the flame. this experiment is sometimes called "making artificial lightning," and in a dark room it is very effective. (see fig. .) $flames that laugh.$--what makes the candle flame burn steadily is the next problem before us, and we shall see that it is very simple and at the same time most philosophical. it tells us the reason why candles are made round, and not square. the section of a candle being circular, with the wick in the centre, it can, as it burns, get its supply of oxygen from all directions at an equal distance; thus it burns regularly and steadily. if the candle were square, the four corners being at a greater distance from the wick than the sides, we should have four columns of fat standing up at the corners, and as the air rushed in to feed the flame it would come into contact with these, and so the current would be broken and the flame would become unsteady. we can show this by placing some cotton wool on tin dishes, and saturating it with methylated spirits and igniting it. this will give us what are known as laughing flames, because they burn so unsteadily. the air rushing in to feed the flame comes into contact with the wool, which impedes it, and so the flame has a dancing or laughing appearance. this experiment may be made very pretty by rendering the flames coloured. to do this add to the cotton wool, before pouring on the methylated spirit, chloride of copper; this will give a green flame; to another, chloride of strontium; this will colour the flame red; to another, common salt; this will give a yellow coloration. all these should be shown in a dark room. $the importance of oxygen.$--by previous experiment we have seen that oxygen is necessary to a flame, and our ingenious readers may now make a piece of apparatus to prove this. (see fig. .) it consists of two pieces of glass tube standing upright near the two ends of a board, in which there is a covered channel communicating with the two. a small candle is lighted and placed in one of the tubes. the air heated by the flame rises in the tube and causes a corresponding descent of cold air down the other tube. this gives us a good illustration of ventilation produced by artificial heat. so great is the down draught, that if we hold a lighted taper over the mouth of the cold tube the smoke and the flame will be carried down, with the result that the candle is soon extinguished. the reason for this is that the smoke and burnt air from the taper contain insufficient oxygen to feed the candle flame, and it dies. to make this apparatus, obtain a piece of deal board about ten inches long and four inches wide, cut along the middle a groove about three quarters of an inch deep, and about the same width, leaving about half an inch at each end uncut. cover this groove with a tightly-fitting slip. over the two ends of the groove are fastened two small blocks of cork pierced with apertures, into which fit the vertical glass tubes; these should be about ten inches high and about three-quarters of an inch bore. fig. , which is a section of one end of the apparatus, shows how a small candle like those used on christmas trees is held erect by a wooden socket at the end of the groove so as not to impede the current of fresh air. $rates of combustion.$--we must remember that all things do not burn at the same rate. iron rust is a product of very slow combustion. in using up food to maintain the heat of the body, combustion goes on more quickly than in rusting iron, the candle burns more quickly still, gas still faster, the bunsen burner faster still. we may get an idea of the different rates of combustion by the two following experiments. on a tin dish place half a thimbleful of gunpowder and lay on it a tiny piece of gun-cotton. ignite the gun-cotton; it burns so fast that it has no time to set fire to the gunpowder, which may now be ignited in its turn by the taper. another example is the laying of two long trains of gunpowder, one fine grain and the other coarse. it will be found that the two flames travel at very different rates along the same path. $the egg and bottle trick.$--an ordinary water-bottle, a hard-boiled egg, divested of its shell, and a piece of thin paper are all that is requisite. how can we make this egg get inside the bottle? light the paper, quickly thrust it into the bottle, and immediately place the egg over the mouth of the bottle, gently pressing it closely down to the glass. the burning paper consumes some of the air, a partial vacuum is formed, and air pressure will force the egg into the bottle with a loud detonation. (see fig. .) $making water boil by means of coldness.$--heat some water to boiling in a glass flask over a spirit lamp. after the water has boiled for a minute or two, quickly insert a well-fitting cork, and remove the flask from the flame. wrap a duster or towel round the neck of the flask, and, holding it over a basin (in case of breakage), pour gently a stream of cold water on to the flask. the steam inside is condensed, a partial vacuum is formed, and as long as any heat remains in the water, it will boil, whilst the stream of cold water is continued on the outside. when ebullition no longer occurs, it will be found that the cork is held in so tightly by air pressure that it is very difficult to draw it. (see fig. .) $fire designs.$--this is very simple, amusing, and effective. make a saturated solution of nitrate of potash (common nitre or saltpetre), by dissolving the substance in warm water, until no more will dissolve; then draw with a smooth stick of wood any design or wording on sheets of white tissue paper, let it thoroughly dry, and the drawing will become invisible. by means of a spark from a smouldering match ignite the potassium nitrate at any part of the drawing, first laying the paper on a plate or tray in a darkened room. the fire will smoulder along the line of the invisible drawing until the design is complete. (see fig. .) $the magic wine glass.$--the holding of a wine-glass to a substance mouth upwards without its falling off, may be accomplished thus. obtain a wine-glass with a very even edge (this may be done by grinding on a flat stone), a square of blotting-paper, and a piece of glass. about half fill the glass with water, place upon its rim the blotting paper, and then the piece of glass. whilst pressing them closely down invert the glass. the blotting-paper absorbs some of the water, a partial vacuum is formed, and on holding the sheet of glass, the wine-glass will remain suspended, being held on by atmospheric pressure. (see fig. .) [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $the floating needle.$--the idea of making a needle float upon water at first sight seems an impossibility but it can be done, and that with comparative ease. take a fine needle, and rub the fingers over it gently to grease it. now lay it very carefully on a piece of thin tissue paper on the surface of the water, as shown. presently the paper will sink, and leave the needle floating on the water. the thin coating of grease serves to protect the needle from actual contact with the water, and thus enables it to float. (see fig. .) $a glass of water turned upside down.$--a tumbler is filled with water, a piece of paper laid on, and the surface and the tumbler deftly inverted, the atmospheric pressure being unable to enter the glass, the water is kept in, so long as the paper holds. the effect of the experiment is very greatly increased, if, instead of using paper, a piece of thin mica, cut to the size of the glass, is used. the audience cannot then discover what prevents the water from running out. any gasfitter will supply a piece of mica. $the inexhaustible bottle.$--this wonderful bottle, from which five separate liquids can be poured, owes its marvellous qualities to the application of the simple law of atmospheric pressure. it is made of tin, and encloses five internal cylinders, each of which has a tube from the upper end running into the neck of the bottle, and another tube from the lower end opening into the side. the cylinders are filled with different liquids--water, milk, tea, coffee, lemonade. whilst the fingers are kept over the holes the bottle may be inverted, and nothing will run out. on opening the holes one by one the liquid may be poured out, according to the wishes of the audience, and greatly to their astonishment. (see fig. .) $the magic writing.$--fill a deep tumbler with water, and add a few crystals of iodide of potassium and a few drops of sulphuric acid. the liquid will remain perfectly clear like water. on some strips of white cardboard write various names with starch paste; when dry these will be invisible. on dipping the cardboard into the liquid the name will appear in blue writing, owing to the formation of starch iodide, which is blue. by previously preparing the names of those present at the experiment, by a little manipulation you can, to the astonishment of the audience, produce any name called for. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] $producing smoke at will.$--two glass cylinders are the best for this, but ordinary tumblers will do. with a separate feather make the inside of each tumbler quite wet, one with hydrochloric acid, and the other with liquid ammonia. both glasses appear to be quite empty, and nothing occurs. but on bringing the mouths of the two vessels together, a thick white smoke is at once developed. the hydrochloric acid gas and the ammonia gas unite chemically, and form the solid white powder known as sal-ammoniac. (see fig. .) $a novel fountain.$--this is a pretty experiment, and owes its action to the fact that ammonia gas is very soluble in water. in a basin place some water. fit up a flask with a small-bore glass tube, about eighteen inches long, as shown. the end entering the flask should be drawn out so that there is only a small opening. in the flask place about a teaspoonful of liquid ammonia, and heat it over a spirit lamp. as soon as the liquid boils a large amount of ammonia gas is disengaged, and fills the flask and the tube. now close the tube by means of the finger, and invert the flask over the basin of water. when the end of the tube is under the water remove your finger, and then, as the water dissolves the gas, it will rise in the tube, and will presently play into the flask like a fountain until the flask is full. (see fig. .) $to boil water in a paper bag.$--"here is a sheet of note-paper; can you boil me a little water in it?" this would appear to be a thorough puzzler, yet it is exceedingly easy to do. fold a piece of paper so that it will hold water, now suspend it above the flame of a lamp. the water will so readily take up all the heat that there is none left with which to burn the paper, and presently it will bubble and give off steam. (see fig. .) $illuminated water.$--wet a lump of loaf sugar with phosphorized ether, and throw it into a basin of water in a dark room. the surface of the water will become luminous. blow on the water, and you will have phosphorescent waves, and the air, too, will be illuminated. in winter the water should be warmed a little. if the phosphorized ether be applied to the hand or to other warm bodies these will become luminous. the ether will not injure the hand. $brilliant crystals.$--spread upon a plate of glass or upon a smooth slate, a few drops of nitrate of silver, previously diluted with double its quantity of soft water. place at the bottom of it, flat upon the glass, and in contact with the fluid, a copper or zinc wire, bent to any figure, and let the whole remain undisturbed in a horizontal position. in a few hours a brilliant crystallization of metallic silver will make its appearance around the wire upon the glass, and this arrangement of crystals will extend gradually till the whole quantity of fluid has been acted on by the wire. $a well of fire.$--add gradually one ounce, by measure, of sulphuric acid, to five or six ounces of water in an earthenware basin; and add to it also, gradually, about three quarters of an ounce of granulated zinc. a rapid production of hydrogen gas will instantly take place. then add, from time to time, a few pieces of phosphorus of the size of a pea. a multitude of gas bubbles will be produced, which will fire on the surface of the effervescing liquid; the whole surface of the liquid will become luminous, and fire balls, with jets of fire, will dart from the bottom through the fluid with great rapidity and a hissing noise. $the writing on the wall.$--take a piece of phosphorus from the bottle in which it is kept, and, while the room is lighted write upon a whitewashed wall any word or sentence, or draw any object. now put out the light, and the writing will appear in illuminated letters. care must be taken to dip the pencil of phosphorus in cold water frequently while you are using it. otherwise it will burn. $to make a ghost.$--put one part of phosphorus into six of olive oil, and let it dissolve in a slightly warm place. shut your eyes tightly and rub the mixture upon your face. in the dark your face will be luminous, your eyes and mouth like dark spots. altogether you will have a very ghastly appearance. there is no danger in the experiment, and the effect might be useful in charades or home theatricals. $a seeming conflagration.$--take half an ounce of sal-ammoniac, one ounce of camphor, and two ounces of aqua vitae. put them into an earthen vessel that is small at the top. set fire to the contents, and the room will seem to be on fire. $three haloes.$--one of the pleasing experiments of dr. brewster was to take a saturated solution of alum, and having spread a few drops of it over a plate of glass, it will crystallize rapidly though the crystals are so small you may scarcely see them. when this plate of glass is held between you and the sun or artificial light, with the eyes very near to the smooth side of the glass, there will be seen three beautiful haloes of light. $beautiful crystals.$--pour three ounces of diluted nitric acid into a glass vessel, and add gradually to it two ounces of bismuth, broken by a hammer into small pieces. the metal will be attacked with great energy, and nitrate of bismuth will be formed. crystallize the solution by a gentle heat, and preserve the crystals, which possess great beauty, under a glass. $the centre of gravity.$--a shilling may be made to balance on the point of a needle with very simple apparatus. put a bottle on the table with a cork in its neck; into the cork stick a middle-sized needle in an upright position. in another cork cut a slit, and insert the shilling, then into this cork stick a couple of forks, one on each side, with the handles inclining outwards. now poise the rim of the shilling upon the point of the needle, and it will rotate without falling. so long as the centre of gravity is kept within the points of support of a body it cannot fall. the balancing shilling may be transposed to the edge of a bottle, and it will still perform, even as the bottle is being tilted. $what a vacuum can do.$--take a new or nearly new penny and rub it briskly upon your coat sleeve until it is warm. then slide it up and down upon a door panel, pressing it closely to the wood. now hold it in one place for a few seconds and you will find it will stick there, because between the penny and the surface of the door there is a layer of air which was slightly heated. as it became cool a partial vacuum was formed, and the pressure of the outer air held the penny to the door. $an experiment in leverage.$--it would seem almost impossible that a column of iron or a plank or a spar of any kind could be so placed that one end of the spar needs support only, whilst the other end would extend from, say the edge of a precipice, horizontally into space; but that such can be done is very easily demonstrated, by very simple materials almost always at hand. by adopting the principle we may easily perform an interesting scientific parlour experiment, which always causes difficulty to the non-studious section of humanity, until the apparent mystery is explained. in illustrating this experiment the prongs of two ordinary table forks are fastened together, one over the other--net fashion--thus causing the handles of the forks to form the termini of an angle of about degrees. now take an ordinary lucifer match and place one end between the network of the prongs firmly. then place the other end of the match upon the edge of an elevation, such as a tumbler or cup, when the match, acting as a lever, with the forks giving a hundred or a thousand times additional weight to the lever, will rest (or apparently float in the air) without further support. ask your friends to try the experiment, after placing the materials before them, and find how many can perform it without guidance. $coloured fires.$--it is perilous to make some coloured fires, especially those in which there is sulphur, and even if they do not explode their fumes are harmful, so that their use in the house for charades or other home purposes is objectionable and at times positively dangerous. we give, however, a number of coloured fires that are free from these drawbacks, though all the same it is wiser to reduce the ingredients to powder quite separately before they are mixed, and if a pestle and mortar are used all traces of one powder should be removed before another is introduced. each ingredient should be reduced to a fine powder. red fire. parts. strontia shellac chlorate of potash charcoal green fire. nitrate of barytes shellac calomel (chloride of mercury) chlorate of potash green fire. nitrate of barytes shellac chlorate of potash charcoal blue fire. parts. chlorate of potash salpetre ammonia sulphate of copper arsenite of copper shellac blue fire. ammonia sulphate of copper chlorate of potash shellac charcoal red fire. nitrate of strontia shellac chlorate of potash - / charcoal chapter xxiii home-made toys it may be that some of these toys would amuse only little boys, but we have included them because our directions will enable older boys to entertain their little sisters and brothers. $how to make fire balloons.$--you will require for materials, tissue paper, which may be all white, or varied in colour. a balloon of white and red gores alternately is perhaps the best, as it may be used day or night; and as the balloon is constantly turning when it is in the air, the stripes add to the effect. then again there are conditions of the clouds and atmosphere when a white balloon ascending by daylight would be scarcely visible, and for parachute purposes a daylight ascent is desirable. tissue paper, then, paste, bonnet wire or cane, finer wire; some tow, cotton wool, or common sponge, or better than all, some round lamp-cotton, and methylated spirit or tallow, as fuel for your furnace. the shaping of the gores which are to form your balloon must be your first consideration. you will find it advisable not to go in for overgrown balloons. they are far more troublesome to build, and to manage when they are built, and are little if any more effective than those of moderate dimensions. about four feet in height is the size which produces the best results, and in making it one is neither cramped for room, nor are the gores of unmanageable proportions. twelve or fourteen gores, if you use two colours, or thirteen if you confine yourself to one, will be needed; and it will be wise not to attempt to emulate the graceful pear-shape of the ordinary passenger _gas_ balloon, but to aim at something approaching much nearer to a ball in form. the pear-shaped balloon would take fire to a certainty. fig. is an example of the unsafe form which is to be avoided; fig. is a perfectly safe model. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fire balloons.] a piece of common cardboard or stout brown paper, six feet in length and a foot in width, will serve for a pattern gore. fold it exactly in half lengthwise, and then mark off each foot, beginning at the bottom (fig. ). at _a_ measure off horizontally inches; at _b_, which is the first foot, - / inches; at _c_, inches; at a point inches above _d_, the third foot, measure off inches; at _e_ - / inches, marking each point. then connect the points by as graceful a curve as may be, and cut through the line thus obtained, unfold the pattern, and you have your standard gore. sufficient tissue paper should have been pasted together by the narrow edges from which to cut the , , or lengths of feet each. the sheets should now be placed one upon the other, and the pattern being opened out and laid upon the top, the whole of the gores may be cut at one operation. fold a gore in half lengthwise and lay it upon your table or the floor, and upon this place a second about half an inch within the margin of the first (fig. ). with a stiff brush--sable is the best--paste the protruding edge of the lower gore, turn it over the edge of the upper and smooth it down with a duster. if you have a warm flat-iron by your side, and laying a piece of flannel or cloth over the join, you run the iron carefully along, the paste will dry at once and all fear of puckering or displacement will be obviated. fold the upper gore lengthwise as you did the lower, and proceed in the same way with the remainder of the gores until the whole have been pasted (fig. ). if your balloon is a very big one it will be advisable to lay a string inside each seam as you paste it, leaving the ends long enough to tie round the hoop which is to go at the bottom or neck of your balloon. a piece of bonnet wire or split cane feet long, bent to a circle, will form this hoop, and this must now be pasted at the bottom, and the neck _may_ be strengthened by pasting inside a strip of stouter paper, such as foolscap or cartridge, snicked with the scissors so that it may take the right shape readily. now a circular piece of stronger paper, "curl" paper for instance, about inches or a foot across, should be pasted over the top to cover the hole where the points of the gores approach each other, and to this should be pasted a piece of yet stronger paper, writing paper for instance, to form the loop by which the balloon is to be supported during the process of inflation. the handle of a saucepan-lid should be the model to be followed. this is the method to be adopted if you want to produce a balloon of a shape which will bear criticism, but if you are not particular in this respect, a rough and ready gore may be made by a much simpler process. you have only to take four sheets of tissue paper and paste them together by the narrow edges. then trim off the two outside sheets as shown in fig. , and from the pieces so trimmed off, add a small piece at the top a, and there is your pattern gore in a little less than no time. you can then paste several together as already directed, arranging the number as you wish your balloon to be pudgy and safe, or lanky and dangerous. the next thing is to provide the means of ascension. [illustration: fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. .] lamp cotton is the best material for the wick, though any of the other substances already mentioned may be used if this is not come-at-able. it may be saturated with methylated spirit, or, if the material is easily accessible, melted tallow. in the latter case the wick should then be sprinkled with turpentine that it may catch fire readily. the tallow gives the best light, and lasts the longest. two pieces of thin wire should be attached to the hoop as shown in fig. , w w, and your ball of lamp-wick is to be placed in the centre, l w. the placing of the wick is the last operation, but of course, it will have been prepared beforehand. it is simply a loosely rolled ball of lamp-cotton through which a piece of fine wire has been passed and the ends formed into hooks (fig. ). the size of the ball must be governed by the dimensions of the balloon and by your ambition as to the height to which it is to rise. the wick may easily be made large enough to carry the balloon out of sight altogether, especially if tallow be used. in this case the wick should have been saturated with melted tallow beforehand, but where methylated spirit is used the proceedings must be delayed till the moment of ascension. with a fan--a folded newspaper will do as well as anything--fan the balloon full of air to start with. then your assistant must elevate the balloon to the right height by the aid of a smooth stick inserted in the loop, and he must stand on something to raise him to the right level. now the air in the inflated balloon must be warmed by holding beneath it a paper torch, care being taken that no flame touches the balloon, or it will be shrivelled up by the fire in a moment and your labour wasted. another assistant meanwhile should have been looking after the methylated spirit--if you use the tallow you can do without him. the spirit should be kept in a closely corked bottle and as far from your paper torch as possible. when the balloon begins to try to rise give the word to assistant no. , who will pour some of the spirit into the jam-pot in which the wick is lying, wait till it is saturated, and then, taking it from the jam-pot, run with it to the balloon and attach it to the cross wire by the hooks. directly it is in position, give the word to assistant no. to let go; touch the wick with a light, and up will sail the balloon into the air. a windy day should, naturally, be avoided, or your balloon is not likely to proceed far on its journey in safety. but a good deal more is to be got out of a fire balloon than a mere ascension, and even the mere ascension may be improved. you may, for instance, attach a car to the balloon (fig. ) and a couple of figures a a--it matters little how rough they are--will, very shortly after the liberation of the balloon, look so natural that the balloon will be taken for the real thing. when it has mounted but a little distance there is nothing by which its size may be compared, and if netting is imitated by lines drawn with a pen and ink, the illusion will be yet more complete. the car may be made of a square of writing paper with the four edges folded over equally all round. the corners should then be pinched together, folded over as in the illustration, and secured with a little paste. a parachute may be dropped "from the clouds." this may be simply a square of paper with a string at each corner and a figure hanging on at the ends (fig. ). the figure may be as rough as you like, detail would be lost. or, two squares of paper may be used, the strings being crossed over the lower and kept in place by the upper, which should be pasted upon it (fig. ). a more elaborate parachute may be made by folding a square of paper from corner to corner into a triangle. this should be folded again and once again from corner to corner when it will take the shape of fig. . a cut through the dotted line and a couple of holes pierced at the dots will give, when opened out, fig. ; and a string passed through each hole and made to carry a car will give the complete parachute (fig. ). a piece of cotton or twine should be passed through the parachute to attach it to the balloon. then a piece of wire should be twisted and bent, as in fig. , _w_. fasten to this with thin wire a piece of time-fuse, _t f_, turned up as shown, and to the bend _b_ attach the cotton. at the moment of ascension, light the top end of the fuse at _a_, and when it has burned to _b_ the parachute will be liberated. fireworks may be lighted in the same way. you will need time-fuse, quickmatch, and such fireworks as you prefer. blue lights, squibs, and fireworks of that description should be arranged as in fig. . here _c_ is a cork or bung with holes bored in it for the insertion of the fireworks _f f f f_. _q_ is the quickmatch which is to light them simultaneously when the time-fuse, _t f_, has burnt far enough. a catherine wheel may be pinned at the bottom of the cork and connected with the quickmatch, or the pin may be dispensed with, when it will whizz through the darkness in grand style. one of the most successful effects may be obtained with the balls or stars from roman candles. you can, of course, pull the candles to pieces, but a better plan is to buy the balls at d. a dozen. bend a piece of wire into a circle (fig. ) and take two wires across at a right angle. then place the balls, one by one, in pieces of tissue paper and cover them with meal powder and tie up the ends (fig. ), fastening them on the wire, as shown in fig. . a piece of time-fuse, or quickmatch, _q_, as you want the stars to drop singly or in a shower, must next be passed through each ball packet and connected with lighted time-fuse. of course the fireworks should hang some distance below the balloon. crackers or maroons may be arranged as in figs. and , and many other devices invented. your balloon may also carry up a piece of magnesium wire with which the country may be lighted up, or it may take up a chinese lantern--in fact there is no end to the fun which may be got out of it. you will find it difficult, however, to get an effect to beat the roman candle balls. quickmatch costs d. or d. a six-feet length, according to the thickness required; time-fuse one penny an inch. $bubble balloons.$--one reason for the short life of the bubble as usually blown is the excessive evaporation which takes place from the large surface presented to the air. as this evaporation of the fluid goes on, the film gets thinner, the tension gets more acute, accompanied by ever changing and brightening hues of colour, until the thin walls can no longer bear the strain, and the bubble bursts into fine spray. another, perhaps, more powerful reason is the unequal strength of the walls, due to the drainage of the moisture from the upper parts of the bubble into the lower parts by its own weight. this produces a weak and thin area, denoted by the refraction of the blue rays of light in the top of the bubble, and it cannot resist the pressure from within. there are two ways of prolonging the life of a bubble. when the breath is first driven into the liquid, the force used is sufficient to send the fluid surging in all directions, and the film is fairly well nourished. presently as the soapy water dipped out by the bowl of the pipe gets distributed over the walls of the bubble and it increases in size, this no longer acts, and drainage from the top at once sets in. if the blowing is now continued, the end so much the more quickly approaches. to enable you to continue enlarging the bubble and lengthen its life, feed it. this may be done readily and safely, by dipping a camel-hair brush in the soapy emulsion and, letting it touch the bubble at the top, when the fluid will stream down over the surface, thickening the film, and permitting you to get a bubble as big as your hat. this is only a temporary expedient, a flank movement, and merely defers the end by a minute or two. to attack the difficulty with more success, change the mixture. shred some castile soap, which may be purchased by the pennyworth at the chemist's, and beat up in the usual way with water; you will find that much more can be done with this preparation than the usual household soap. if your aim is merely to produce an overgrown, sagging, wobbling bubble, feed with a brush as above. for further experiments do not blow large unmanageable ones, but an ordinary sized bubble blown in this liquid will enable you to show its toughness, length of life, and other qualities. if your coat is made of a woollen fabric, release some bubbles on the shoulder; they will roll down the sleeve and tumble off to the floor, if they do not meet with any cotton fabric on the way; this is due to the repulsion which exists between wool and the watery film, doubtless due to the presence of fat in some form upon the fibres. while upon the sleeve they may be carried about the room, or passed from one person to another. this repulsion may be further utilized, too, and the bubble treated as a shuttlecock. to do this, procure the ordinary wooden bat used by your sister for the game of bat and shuttlecock. cover it with a piece of flannel, fine or coarse will do. then blow a bubble not too large, so that the film shall be robust and heavy. such is the toughness of the skin of the bubble, and the repulsion of the woollen surface to the soapy film, that it may be batted nearly two hundred times before the collapse takes place. by striking it on the side and getting some work into the bubble, it revolves slowly and the drainage from the upper part is counteracted. two or more can play thus with the glittering ball, passing it on, or a ring of players may be formed and a stream of bubbles passed round from one member to another. another form of the game is the keeping up a number of bubbles by the same bat. as the bubbles are very light they fall slowly, and six or eight may be kept up by the player. by having two bats, one in each hand, this becomes a game of considerable skill, and will tax the concentrated attention of the player to the utmost. now cut some circular discs out of note-paper about the size of a sixpence, larger rather than smaller. get a reel of fine white cotton, and pass the end of the thread through the centre of the disc. tie a knot in the cotton, so that it cannot readily be pulled through the hole. then dip the disc in the mixture till the paper is wet. blow your bubble, and before you release it from the pipe bowl, place the dripping disc of paper on the side of the bubble by dangling it from your right hand by the cotton. when it is in complete contact, a slight turn of the wrist releases the bubble from the pipe, and you will find that you have it attached to the paper disc, which in the meantime has sunk to the lowest part of the bubble. it can now be carried about by means of the disc. there is so much carbon dioxide in the breath that bubbles blown in this way have very little power of rising, as the difference in the heat of the breath does not sufficiently counterbalance the heavier weight of the expired air. by attaching a piece of india-rubber tubing to the stem of the pipe and gas burner, you can get a supply of lighter gas which will make the bubble into a balloon. having effected this arrangement, dip the pipe in the mixture and turn on the gas. feed the top of the bubble with more fluid, and when it has reached a size which satisfies you, attach the paper disc as before. it will be an easy task to detach the bubble, which will rise towards the ceiling, until the weight of the thread counterbalances the buoyancy of the gas. it will probably rise to the ceiling, where it is quite safe, as a cushion of air will prevent the bubble striking the surface. instead of the long thread, make out of the thinnest and lightest paper you can get, a small car, attach cotton to the corners of the car and gather the threads together and tie them so that the car hangs level. attach this to the cotton which bears the paper disc, and connect the disc with the bubble as before, wetting only the disc. you will have a miniature gossamer balloon. cut out two small figures of men in paper and put inside the car. do all this before blowing the bubble. if you have a glass shade, a number of these bubbles balanced by threads may be kept for hours inside. you will find it very interesting to watch the changes of colour in the films as they get thinner through evaporation. to check this, put under the shade a wet sponge, this will moisten the air enclosed in the shade, and prolong the life of the bubbles. no great skill is required in making the above experiments, and variations of an amusing character can be made by cutting out figures of animals and men and attaching them to the disc in place of the car. if the figures are painted so much better will the trick look. to make the mixture still stronger add nearly half as much again of pure glycerine. $boxing by electricity.$--a b c is a piece of iron wire inserted in the board d e f g. cut out the boxer h in cardboard. on one side of this figure paste tinfoil bringing the tinfoil to the other side of the figure just a little at the edges. you will be able to get your tinfoil from the packages of tea, chocolate, tobacco or other source. fasten the boxer to the board with sealing-wax. now make the other boxer i in the same way and suspend him from the iron wire by means of thread. borrow a lamp glass or the chimney from the incandescent gas burner and fit a cork k into the bottom. through the cork pass a nail l. connect the nail with the boxer by means of the wire m. warm and dry the lamp chimney, and rub it with fur or silk. the boxer i will rush at boxer h, then retreat hurriedly, and this will be repeated as long as you rub the lamp chimney. men, skilled in the science of electricity, will tell you that the reason for these strange proceedings is that the rubbing of the lamp chimney produces electricity; this passes along the wire to boxer h who becomes charged with the mysterious property. this electricity attracts boxer i who goes for boxer h. when he touches he becomes charged with the same kind of electricity and is then attracted no longer but repelled, and he continues to be repelled until his electricity has drained away by the linen thread, wire and board to the earth. then he is ready for another "round." [illustration: boxing by electricity.] $a prancing horse.$--carve the figure of a horse, and having fixed a bent wire to the under part of its body, place a small ball of lead upon the end of the wire. place the hind legs of the horse upon the table, and it will prance to and fro. sometimes the figure of a man is treated in the same way and in yorkshire it used to be called a "saaging tommy," to saag being an old word meaning to saw or see-saw. [illustration: a prancing horse.] $boats made of pasteboard.$--pasteboard is not a very satisfactory material of which to construct model boats, if these are wanted to sail, but it is possible to make them. the best plan for making pasteboard waterproof is to paint it with a solution of sealing wax. to make this, take sealing wax of the colour you prefer, break it into small pieces and place it in a wide-mouthed bottle. now pour in some methylated spirits and shake occasionally until the wax is all dissolved. if too thick, add more spirit; if too thin, more wax. apply with a brush. owing to the evaporation of the spirit, this paint dries hard and glossy in an hour. [illustration: a simple top.] $a simple top.$--procure a piece of white cardboard, two inches square, and cut it into a sexagon, as shown in fig. . now bore a small hole in the middle, into which push an ordinary match. you may number the sections of the sexagon and see who scores the highest number, counting the figure resting against the table as it falls. fig. shows the top complete. [illustration: the apple or potato mill.] $the apple or potato mill.$--this is made by boring a hole in a nut, just large enough to pass a thin skewer through; the kernel should then be extracted, and another hole bored in the side of the nut, as in the diagram. a skewer should next be cut large enough at the top to form a head. a piece of string is then tied to the skewer, and passed through the hole in the side of the nut, and an apple or potato stuck on the end of the skewer. the mill should be twirled round in the same way as the humming top to wind up the string, holding the nut stationary between the forefinger and thumb of the left hand. when this is done, the string must be pulled out rapidly, and the mill will spin. many other toys may be made upon the same principle, and some of these we will now describe. [illustration: whirling mac.] $whirling mac.$--our illustration shows how the apple mill may be modified for a whirling mac. the arms and legs of the figure should be tied loosely to the body and the skirt should be loose too. tie the string to the spindle inside the nut and have a button on the end of the string so that you may have a firm hold. now twist the figure round until all the string is wound, then hold the nut firmly in your left hand and draw the string out suddenly and swiftly with your right hand. the figure will whirl round, throwing out his arms and legs. when the string comes to an end slacken it, and the impetus of the figure will cause it to wind the string again. thus you may go on and on until you are tired. [illustration: fig. ., fig. ., fig. ., fig. . flying machine.] $a flying machine.$--similar in principle is the flying machine now to be described. in fig. _a_ is a handle cut in any hard wood four and a half inches long. into the top of this handle bore a hole down its centre about one inch deep, and force into this a piece of wire so that the wire will be quite firm. this wire should be of iron or steel, with a diameter of one-eighth of an inch, and it should be about three and a half inches long. it will be easier to force the wire into the wood if it is sharpened. the hole you have bored is only an inch deep; force the wire half an inch deeper than that. obtain now from your mother or sister an ordinary cotton spool about one and a quarter inches long. this is shown at _b_ in fig. . in the same figure _c_ is a kind of wheel made as follows. if you cannot find something ready made take a small piece of well-seasoned wood. cut it until it is an inch in diameter and five-eighths of an inch deep. see fig. . down the middle bore the hole _a_ large enough that the wire you put down the handle in fig. may turn easily in it. mark the upper surface of the wheel into four equal parts, and then you will be able to draw four perpendicular lines round this wheel at equal distances. two of these lines are shown in fig. . now draw the line _a b_ in fig. half way down the wheel. follow this line round and bore four pairs of holes as deeply as you can without piercing the centre hole. one pair is shown in fig. . each little hole is about a quarter of an inch from its neighbour. these pairs of holes must be the same distance from each other; they are for the wings you see in fig. , and which we will now proceed to make. take forty-two inches of light brass wire. divide this into four equal parts. you will then have four pieces of ten and a half inches each. bend each one into the shape shown in fig. . these wings will be about four inches long and about two inches broad at their widest part. the ends of the wire should be about a quarter of an inch apart. cover these wire frames with light tough paper, using as little paste as possible. the wings are inserted slanting like the sails of a windmill. now let us go back to the spool. upon the upper surface midway between its centre hole and the edge of the spool insert a piece of strong wire or the end of a broken knitting needle. the wire should be rigid, and should project from the spool about half an inch. when you put your wheel and wings upon the spool this wire will rest beside one of the wings and cause it to turn when the spool turns. now take a piece of cord and wind it away from you with your right hand round the spool. hold the handle firmly in your left hand and withdraw the string rapidly. the wheel and wings will mount rapidly in the air for about fifty feet and then come steadily down. [illustration: a dancing figure.] $a dancing figure.$--the illustration shows the back view of a toy easily constructed but capable of affording much amusement to the little ones. a is an ordinary lath glued to a cardboard figure of a man. the arms and legs too are of cardboard fixed loosely with short string knotted at each end. at the extremities of the arms and legs the strings b and c are tied and connected with the string d. pull the string d and the figure will throw up his arms and legs wildly. bears and other figures may be made upon the same principle. a string f may be put at e and then the lath is not necessary, for the performer can then hold string f in one hand and pull string d with the other. [illustration: the lively donkey.] $the lively donkey.$--on stout paper or cardboard draw upon a large scale the illustration. divide the drawing into three parts by cutting out the circle. you may now pin the parts upon the wall in such attitudes as are shown in the smaller illustration, or if you cut out many donkeys you may have all these attitudes and more. [illustration: camera obscura.] $a camera obscura.$--obtain an oblong box, about two feet long, twelve inches wide, and eight high. in one end of this a tube must be fitted containing a lens. it must be possible to slide the tube backwards and forwards so as to obtain the focus. inside the box should be a plain mirror reclining backwards from the tube at an angle of forty-five degrees. see a b in the figure. at the top of the box at c is a square of frosted glass or a piece of tissue paper, upon which from beneath the picture will be thrown, and may be seen by raising the lid d. to use the camera place the tube with the lens in it opposite the object or scene, and having adjusted the focus, the image will be thrown upon the ground-glass or tissue paper. $jig saw puzzle.$--this old form of toy has been revived lately. it is easily made. glue upon a thin piece of wood a picture, a coloured one is best. then with a fret saw cut picture and board into all manner of wild shapes, shake them into disorder and then try to put them back again into their proper position. jig saw is a piece of american slang for fret saw. $the wonderful chicken.$--with the help of the diagram it will not be difficult to construct a chicken that will move its head and tail in a comic manner. a b c d is a box that acts as a base and conceals the pendulum. it will need to have a slit in the top for the strings which hold the pendulum. the chicken is of wood and its body has two sides. one side has been removed so that the mechanism may be seen, but when the chicken is complete the mechanism is hidden. it will be seen that the head and tail are attached to the body with nails, but in such a way that they are not rigid but will move up and down. e is a pendulum of lead or other heavy material, and as it swings to and fro the strings cause the head and tail to bob up and down alternately. other moving figures may be made upon the same principle. longer strings, and a longer box to accommodate them, give slower and more lasting movements. [illustration: the wonderful chicken.] $the mouse in the trap.$--cut a piece of cardboard of the size of a penny, and paint on one side a mouse, and on the other a trap; fasten two pieces of thread one on each side at opposite points of the card, so that the card can be made to revolve by twirling the threads with the finger and thumb. while the toy is in its revolution, the mouse will be seen inside the trap. many others may be made upon the same principle. $distorted landscapes.$--take a piece of smooth white pasteboard and sketch a picture upon it. prick the outlines in every part with a pin or needle, then put the pricked drawing in a perpendicular position, and place a lighted candle behind it. stand in front of it another piece of pasteboard, and trace with a pencil the lines given by the light, and you will have a peculiar distorted landscape. take away the candle and the pricked drawing, and put your eye where the light was, and the drawing will lose its peculiarities. to find the proper position for your eye it will be best to cut out a piece of card, adjust it, and look through a hole made to occupy the place where stood the flame of the candle. [illustration: the mouse in the trap.] [illustration: fig. ., fig. ., fig. .] $the working woodman.$--the wind, as well as a pendulum, may be used to make wooden figures move. in fig. we have two pieces of wood, each an inch thick, an inch and a half wide, and twelve inches long. if we place them as in fig. we have four arms five and a quarter inches long. each one of these four arms has now to be cut into a shape to adapt it as a windmill sail; that is it has to be made into a slanting thin blade not more than an eighth of an inch thick, and all the blades must present a similar slope to the wind. as mistakes are likely to occur, here we will endeavour to make the point clear. take the arm a, fig. . suppose you have slanted this from x to y. now imagine that b comes round to a's position, then it, too, must be sloped in precisely the same way, and not sloped from y to x. the same applies to arms c and d. imagine them coming to this upright position, and make them all alike as they arrive there. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration] [illustration] the method of fixing the four arms into one piece is shown in fig. . a hole should now be bored exactly in the centre at the crossing of the arms. the platform upon which the figure of the woodman will stand, shown in fig. , consists of a piece of wood half an inch thick, six inches wide and twelve inches long. at each end is screwed a block to hold the shaft which communicates the movement of the sails to the figure. this shaft is a piece of strong wire fifteen inches long, bent into a crank, as shown in the diagram, and working round and round in the two blocks. the end of the wire that comes through the centre of the windmill sails should be bent up or down to prevent it from slipping out of position. the vane, which will cause the mill to keep in the right position whichever way the wind blows, is shown twice in fig. . it is of thin wood, and is fastened to the underside of the platform by means of the little catch, which should be left when the vane is made. the figures whose parts are shown should be cut out of thin wood with a fret-saw, and put together so that the joints turn easily on the pins that are put through them. two bodies are needed. to adjust the figure take off one side of the body and place the woodman in the act of completing his stroke, with the axe touching the wood, then put a peg or small tack or nail immediately behind the projection on the top of the legs. this will keep his body from bending too far forward. now let the axe be raised to the beginning of the stroke, and put a peg in front of the projection. the arm is connected with the crank by a piece of wire. you may not find the right place at first, but a few trials will put you right. bore a hole in the arm, put the wire through, and twist it round to keep it there. [illustration] a sawyer may be made upon the same principle, as the illustrations show, or you may have a simple windmill and no figures. fix the platform and its figures on the top of a pole with a pivot so that they may turn freely in the wind. before you bore the hole through the platform balance the whole carefully upon the pole or you will put the hole in the wrong place. $the skip-jack.$--the skip-jack is made out of the merry-thought of a goose. a strong doubled string must be tied at the two ends of the bone, and a piece of wood about three inches long put between the strings, as shown in the illustration, and twisted round until the string has the force of a spring. a bit of shoemaker's wax should then be put in the hollow of the bone at the place where the end of the piece of wood touches, and when the wood is pressed slightly on the wax the toy is set. the wood sticks only a very short time, and then springs forcibly up. the skip-jack is placed on the ground with the wax downwards. upon this principle toy frogs are made sometimes. [illustration: the skip-jack.] [illustration: the jolly pea.] $the jolly pea.$--stick through a pea, or small ball of pith, two pins at right angles, and put upon the points pieces of sealing-wax. the pea may be kept dancing in the air at a short distance from the end of a straight tube, by means of a current of breath from the mouth. this imparts a rotatory motion to the pea. a piece of broken clay tobacco pipe serves very well. some boys prefer one pin (the vertical one) and dispense with the cross pin. [illustration: revolving serpent.] $a revolving serpent.$--draw on a piece of cardboard a spiral serpent, as shown in the figure. cut along the lines with a sharp knife, and mount it on a needle fixed in a cork. the serpent will now revolve on its own account. its movements may be greatly accelerated by fixing it by means of a bent wire over the flame of a lamp or candle. chapter xxiv concerning many things $a simple shelter.$--a very easy way to rig up a shelter from sun or rain is given in the accompanying sketch. two poles with a deep notch in the top of each, a rope, two pegs, a sheet, and a few large stones complete the shelter. an ingenious boy could arrange an end, or two if he needs them. [illustration: a simple shelter.] $a calendar on your fingers.$--this is the way that an old-timer manages to keep account of the days of the week that months open with. it will be found correct and interesting to people who have a memory for such things: "what day of the week did january come in on?" asked grandfather martin. "if you can tell that, i can tell you the day that any month will come in on, by help of a little lingo i learned from my father when i was a boy. friday, did you say?" and he held up his hand preparatory to counting his fingers. "now, april is the fourth month; let us see--'at dover dwelt george brown, esq., good christopher finch, and david frier.' we go by the first letters of these words-- , , , : 'at dover dwelt george'--g is the letter, and it is the seventh in the alphabet. january came in on friday you say, friday, saturday, sunday, monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday--seven; april comes in on thursday. take february--second month: 'at dover.' d is the letter, and fourth in the alphabet. friday, one; saturday, two; sunday, three; monday, four; february comes in on monday. "if you make no mistake in using the rule, it will give you the answer every time." "but it did not give the answer for april," said harry, who had been referring to an almanac. "april began on friday." "to be sure, boy! this is leap year, is it not?" leap year requires the addition of one day for the last ten months, to allow for the th of february. so all fools' day came on friday this year. "i never knew anybody outside of my father's family," continued the old gentleman, "who knew this little lingo and how to use it. he taught it to his children, and i have tried to teach it to mine, but they seem to forget it, and i am afraid it will get lost. when father used to go to presbytery, fifty years ago, it often happened that a question of dates and their relation to days would come up, and no almanac at hand; in fact, the question might be as to some day of the next year; but almanac or not, my father could always find the fact wanted with just the little key of the first day of the year." $leap year.$--divide the year by . if nothing remains it is leap year. for instance / = so that is leap year. if , or remain these figures give the years after leap year. remember, leap year lapses once a century. $spiders and the weather.$--if the weather is likely to become rainy, windy, or anything but fine, spiders fix the terminating filaments, on which the whole web is suspended, unusually short. if these filaments are made unusually long we may expect a spell of fine weather. in proportion to their length is the fineness of the weather. spiders are generally indolent in rainy weather. if they are active in rain the rain will not long continue. $a barometer.$--put two drams of pure nitre and half a dram of chloride of ammonia, reduced to powder, into two ounces of spirits of wine, or pure alcohol, and place this mixture in a glass tube, ten inches long and about an inch in diameter, the upper extremity of which must be covered with a piece of skin or bladder, pierced with small holes. if the weather is to be fine, the solid matters remain at the bottom of the tube, and the alcohol is transparent. if rain is to fall in a short time, some of the solid particles rise and fall in the alcohol, which becomes somewhat thick. when a storm or even a squall is about to come on all the solid matters rise from the bottom of the tube and form a crust on the surface of the alcohol, which appears in a state of fermentation. these appearances take place twenty-four hours before the storm comes, and the point of the horizon from which it is to blow is indicated by the particles gathering most on the side of the tube opposite to that part whence the wind is to come. $another simple barometer.$--take a common phial bottle, and cut off the rim and part of the neck. this may be done by means of a piece of string, or better still, whipcord, twisted round it, and pulled strongly in a sawing position by two persons, one of whom holds the bottle firmly in his left hand. heated in a few minutes by the friction of the string, and then dipped suddenly into cold water, the bottle will be beheaded easily. let the bottle be filled now with water, and applying the finger to its mouth, turn it quickly upside down. when you remove your finger it will be found that only a few drops will escape. without cork or stopper of any kind, the water will be retained within the bottle by the pressure of the external air. now let a bit of tape be tied round the middle of the bottle to which the two ends of a string may be attached so as to form a loop to hang on a nail. let it be thus suspended in a perpendicular manner, with the mouth downwards. when the weather is fair, and inclined to remain fair, the water will be level with the section of the neck, or perhaps elevated above it, and forming a concave surface. when the weather is disposed to be wet a drop will appear at the mouth, which will enlarge till it falls, and then another drop so long as the humidity of the air continues. $how to go to sea.$--decide first whether you will go by wind or steam, as steamboat seamen and sailing-ship sailors are distinct, the former having little to do with actual seamanship, the latter everything. consequently, most parents are well advised to send their boys on sailing ships only. parents generally are at their wits' end to know what to do with boys with the sea "craze." therefore they are, as a general rule, "rushed" into paying exorbitant sums for apprenticing fees, only to find, after a voyage, their sons refuse to go again, having had enough to tire them of it. now, the best and safest way to get boys comfortably berthed as apprentices is to see by the daily papers, or the _shipping gazette_, the names of the largest firms advertising australian voyages, or voyages to the east indies, and write them particulars briefly, enclosing a stamped envelope for reply. the large firms keep a book or register, where boys' names are entered, so that when an apprentice is required the first on the page has the preference. this is the simplest and safest way, for there are always plenty of sharpers advertising for boys in the london and liverpool journals, offering midship berths and other "baits" at the moderate sum of from £ to £ . this is by no means a high estimate, for by some of the gentry larger sums are asked, and these reap golden harvests. these sharpers act as intermediates between the office people and themselves, sharing the bounty. now, few are aware that when apprenticing boys to the sea a trial voyage is necessary. a number of lads after one voyage prefer shore. therefore, before any binding moneys are paid, be careful to see that the indentures are made out clearly, as often they are carefully worded, or "blinded," as it is called at sea; so that if by chance money were paid down the difficulty would be to get it refunded, for if this is not stipulated, and a wish is afterwards expressed to cancel agreements, the purchase-money is forfeited. an excellent plan is to have a paper drawn up and signed by both parties, witnessed, and the indentures made up after the first trial trip; but it must be understood that the time of the first voyage, if it be a long one, makes a difference, as unless lads are apprenticed off-hand the "time" is counted as nothing. there is a pamphlet sold by mercantile stationers at one shilling containing much information, showing parts, and describing the various builds of sea-going craft. the contents of this should be completely mastered before any boy joins a ship, as it will help him to know part of his duties in addition to the nautical language, thereby showing to his officers that he is not a "know-nothing" lad. it will also help him in a variety of ways, it being in point of fact the a b c of ship life. "do as you are told with a will" is an expression often made use of, and in fact it must be practised by all contemplating sea life. "ship shape" is another saying suggested by the rigid discipline exercised by mariners. on one large vessel the following maxim was painted on the walls of the midship quarters: "there is a place for everything; put everything in its place." one of the things a captain or the mates dislike to see is a boy clambering over the rigging in port; time and circumstance will soon teach him that part of his duties, so that while he is in port a lad should busy himself in tidying up the deck, or by doing the work allotted to him. a boy does well to be on board his ship a day or two before departing, so as to get acquainted with the various parts, also to get himself known, and somewhat used to the deck. apprentices are expected to have a stout chest made for the purpose of storing clothes and sundries. some companies provide the articles necessary for the mess-room use, but it is well to inquire of berth-mates, or the steward, and arrange accordingly. a stout tin box, capable of holding linen is necessary, and the following articles must be procured:-- white shirt, collars, and a uniform suit for shore wear. this must be made in accordance with the rules of the company, the coat and waistcoat brass-buttoned, and the cap embellished with the house flag design and gold cordage. for ship wear no complete list can be given, the principal articles being the following: oilskin suit, one pair of sea boots, one or two pairs of half wellingtons; flannel shirts, and as many pairs of trousers and shoes as can be procured, the limit of these being at least three pairs. the numerous small articles may be left to discretion. another word of warning--do not deal with slop-shop outfitters advertising "rig outs" at low figures, but rather go to respectable tailors and traders, and purchase, or have made, the articles separately. with strict obedience, promptitude, and a cheerful disposition a lad can hardly fail to get promoted. $to make your own toffee.$--to one pound of the best demerara sugar add about a quarter of a pint of cold water and a pinch of cream of tartar. go on boiling it until when you drop a little into cold water it goes hard. you may look for this stage in about ten minutes. next take it off and add three ounces of butter cut into small pieces. boil again and test in the same way for hardness. at this stage put in lemon juice to flavour it and then pour the mixture into oiled tins. when it is nearly cold mark it into squares, and when it is quite cold divide it according to these marks. $steam rings.$--when the kettle is boiling and sending steam from its spout gently raise the lid and then shut it down again deftly. this will force the steam rapidly from the spout in the shape of very pretty rings which will rise in the air, growing larger and larger. $skeleton leaves.$--leaves from which the reader intends to derive the skeleton should be gathered fresh from tree or shrub, and put in an earthen pan filled with rain water and placed in the sunshine. when the substance of the leaf becomes soft and easily detached, they should be removed to another pan, containing clean water, in which they must be shaken about until the soft tissue breaks away from the skeleton. wash again in fresh water, and so continue until only the ribs and nervures remain. a soft tooth-brush, carefully used, will assist in the final part of this operation, the leaf being held in the palm of the hand during the process. now for the bleaching. purchase two pennyworth of purified chloride of lime, and dissolve it in a pint of water. in this solution put your skeleton leaves, and keep them under observation. as soon as one has become quite white it should be taken out and rinsed in clear water, then carefully dried. the softening process will take weeks, in some tougher species of leaf it may take months. this period may be lessened by using a small quantity of either muriatic acid or chloride of lime, but with either of these agents there is danger of rotting the skeleton. the rain-water process is the safest and most permanent. $to imitate a nightingale.$--many years ago a clever frenchman analysed the song of the nightingale and made out that it consists of the following sounds:-- temee temee temee tan spretu zqua querree pee pee teeo teeo teeo tix quteeo quteeo quteeo zquo zquo zquo zquo zee zee zee zee zee zee zee querrer teeu zqula peepee quee. $pith beads.$--a little boy we know amuses himself by threading pieces of pith and then painting the pith with water colours. when his mother wears the necklace he has made in this way people are very curious to know what the beads are, and fancy they must have been made by the natives of foreign parts, probably of the south sea islands. $hints on handwriting.$--although typewriters are excellent things, they are comparatively useless just in those particular cases where distinct handwriting is of the greatest importance, and where it is so very rarely met with. by some strange process of reasoning, it has come about that almost any sort of writing is thought good enough for a postcard, telegram, or medical prescription. the same man who would make a very fair performance when engaged on a long communication, in which the context would be almost certain to help the reader to decipher a queer word here and there, will dash off the most puzzling penmanship when writing a short but urgent note or postcard. the very brevity of the communication adds to the difficulty of understanding it. when the present writer was at school, it was impressed upon us that, whatever else might be faulty, the addressing of the envelope should be as near perfection as we could make it. the postman of the present day will tell you that this arrangement is now reversed, and, with the exception of letters sent out by business firms, the addresses he has to grapple with are very badly and incompletely written. here are a few short hints, the acting upon which will vastly improve the most slovenly handwriting in a week, if persevered in. in the first place, reduce the slope of your handwriting until it is almost, if not quite vertical. then break yourself of the habit of crowding your letters too closely together, on the one hand, and sprawling them out unduly, on the other. instead of sprawling the letters out so, write each character compactly, but join it to the following one by a distinct link-stroke, as it were. this is the sort of writing approved of by the civil service commissioners. at one time much stress was laid upon the importance of thick and thin strokes, hair strokes, and so on. excepting in the case of professional engravers, and for artistic purposes, all these refinements are out of date. what is of vastly more importance is the making of a careful distinction between the letters m, n, and u, and again between the letters e and i. good test-words to practice with are these: union, commence, ounce, suit, sweet, manumotive, immense, unite, untie. characters which extend above or below the line should not do so more than is sufficient to prevent their being mistaken for other letters. all the i's should be dotted and the t's crossed. finally, the last letter of every word should be written distinctly, no matter in what hurry you may be, for it is wonderful what an aid to legibility the observance of this simple rule will afford. those who follow these hints may never write a pretty hand, but they can scarcely fail to write a legible one, no small accomplishment in these days, when so many of us can do almost any out-of-the-way thing, but find it difficult to sign our names distinctly. $secret writing.$--mix well some lard with a little venice turpentine, and rub a small part of it equally on very thin paper by means of a piece of fine sponge, or in some other way. lay this with the greasy side downwards upon a sheet of note-paper, and write your message upon the plain side of the greasy paper with a style or the thin end of your pen-holder, using a little pressure. nothing will be seen on the note-paper; but what you have written may be made visible there by dusting upon it some pounded charcoal or other coloured dust. shake or blow this dust away and there will remain as much of it as has fallen upon the parts where your style pressed the lard upon the note-paper. $resin bubbles.$--if the end of a copper tube or of a tobacco pipe be dipped in melted resin at a temperature a little above that of boiling water, taken out and held nearly in a vertical position, and blown through, bubbles will be formed of all possible sizes, from that of a hen's egg down to sizes which can hardly be seen. these bubbles have a very pleasing appearance and are permanent. $etching on glass.$--cover the glass with a thin coat of beeswax, and draw your design with a needle cutting down through the wax to the surface of the glass. place the glass in a shallow bath, and cover it evenly with fluor-spar to the depth of an eight of an inch. now pour sulphuric acid diluted with three times its weight of water upon the spar. let this remain three or four hours. pour away the acid, remove the spar, and clean the glass with turpentine, and your design will be found upon the glass. $how to make carbon paper.$--carbonic paper for use with order books, and for other purposes, is made as follows: cold lard well mixed with lamp-black is well rubbed into the paper with a soft piece of cotton rag. when evenly and thoroughly done, wipe the surface gently with flannel until the colour ceases to come off; it is then ready for use. to obtain similar papers but of other colours, substitute ordinary paint powders for the lamp-black. the most suitable colours will be found to be venetian red, prussian blue, chrome green. $the making of paste.$--there are so many occupations with which boys amuse themselves that need paste that we have included a few recipes. a simple paste.--for a breakfast cup full of a simple paste, needed for use at the moment, and not required to be kept for many days, take a heaped tablespoonful of flour. mix it thoroughly with cold water as though you were mixing mustard, then fill the cup with boiling water, pour the whole into a saucepan, and let it boil gently for a few minutes. it is then ready for use. you may use starch instead of flour. a large quantity that will last.--in a quart of water dissolve a teaspoonful of pure powdered alum. into this stir as much flour as will make a thick cream, and keep on stirring until the mixture is smooth and until every lump has been removed. thoroughly mix with this a teaspoonful of powdered resin, and into this mixture pour a cup of boiling water. keep on stirring, and if the mixture does not thicken from the action of the boiling water assist it to thicken by placing it upon the fire for a minute or two. afterwards add a few drops of oil of cloves to preserve it from going sour. pour the paste into some vessel that has a cover, and keep it covered and in a cool place. in this form it will be thicker and stronger than is necessary for general use, but take a little as you need it and reduce it to its right consistency with warm water. $rice glue.$--mix rice flour well with cold water, then simmer it gently over the fire. this makes a fine kind of paste, durable and effective. mixed thickly it may be used as a modelling clay, and when it is dry it takes a high polish. $dressing the skins of small animals.$--different dressings have been recommended, most of which contain arsenic or corrosive sublimate, which are deadly poisons; but really all that is necessary is simple alum, a pound of which can be bought for three-halfpence. stretch the skin fur downwards on a board, and fasten it with tacks. put powdered alum over it, and rub it in well. continue to do this every two or three days for a fortnight. then remove the alum, and with a knife scrape carefully off any bits of flesh or fat that may be left on the skin. when dried, to render it soft, rub a little yolk of egg or oil into it, and draw it backwards and forwards across the edge of a blunt knife, fixed for the purpose. drawing through a ring, or well rubbing between the hands will also serve to soften it. $casts of medals and coins.$--cut a strip of brown paper about six inches long by one inch deep. rub a little oil or grease all over that side of the coin you wish to reproduce, cleaning off all superfluous grease with a little cotton wool, but still leaving the surface greased. then roll the paper round the edge of the coin so that it resembles a pill-box with a metal bottom, and fix the loose end with a dab of sealing wax. into this pour a mixture of plaster of paris and water made to the consistence of cream, tapping the box lightly on the table to cause the plaster to settle down free from bubbles. when the plaster is set quite hard, strip off the paper, and you have your plaster mould. by soaking this with oil and fastening a strip of paper round it as round the coin, you have a complete mould into which you can pour plaster and so take a cast exactly like the original except in colour, which however may be imitated with water colours. another plan is to make the mould of a different substance, such as isinglass; thoroughly dissolve isinglass in spirits of wine, then pour upon the coin as before, and set aside for a day or two. when quite hard it will separate easily and be found as clear as a bit of glass. $removal of ink blots.$--ink-blots can be removed from paper by painting over with a camel-hair brush dipped in a solution of drachms muriate of tin in drachms of water. when the ink has quite disappeared, rinse the paper in clean water; then dry it. $grease removed from paper.$--to remove grease spots from paper, gently warm the greasy part and press it, under and over, with blotting-paper. repeatedly change the blotting-paper until most of the grease has disappeared. then heat a very little oil of turpentine until nearly boiling, again warm the paper, and apply the turpentine to the grease spot by means of a camel's hair brush, on both sides of the paper. repeat this process until the grease has _quite_ disappeared. finally, with a clean brush, dipped in spirits of wine, again brush over the spot, and as the spirit evaporates the paper will be left free from grease or stain. remember that oil of turpentine is very inflammable. it would be safer to heat it in the oven. $invisible ink.$--take an ounce of oil of vitriol, and mix with a pint of rain water, and when cool write with a clean pen. when it is cold it will disappear. heat it and it will appear in black ink. here are some other inks which appear and disappear at the writer's will:-- solution of nitro-muriate of cobalt, when heated turns green; solution of acetate of cobalt, with a little nitre becomes rose-colour when warm. inks which remain visible when heated, but do not disappear when cooled include, onion-juice, yellow; equal parts of copper and sal-ammoniac in water, yellow; aquafortis, spirits of salt, oil of vitriol, and salt and water, yellow or brown. inks which appear when exposed to light may be made with diluted solution of nitrate of silver, or with diluted solution of terchloride of gold. $how leaves keep clean.$--while leaf shapes have formed a subject of study ever since botanical science has existed, it is only recently that one of the most remarkable purposes which the points of leaves serve has been clearly brought out. it has been shown, as the result of some special investigations made in germany, that the long points quickly drain off the excess of moisture deposited upon the foliage in heavy rains. this ready method of disposing of a surplus of moisture is important to some plants. it also serves as a means of cleaning the surface of the leaves. round leaves do not so easily get rid of the rain water, and it has been noticed that they remain dusty and dirty after a shower, the escape of the water by evaporation not tending to cleanse them, while long, narrow, pointed leaves are washed clean and bright. [illustration] [illustration: deaf and dumb alphabet] [illustration: deaf and dumb alphabet single hand.] [illustration: deaf and dumb alphabet single hand.] [illustration: how to tie knots.] [illustration:] [illustration:] the end index alcohol and athletics, alphabet, deaf and dumb, angling, apple mill, aquariums, artist, the boy as, �olian harp, an, how to make, balloons, bubble, balloons, fire, to make, barometers, simple, barrel, hammock made from a, beads of pith, binding books, blotting pad, boat race, game of, boats made of pasteboard, books, how to bind, boomerangs, bottle, the inexhaustible, boxing, boxing by electricity, bubble balloons, bubbles of resin, budgerigars, bust in clay, how made, butterflies, cage birds, calendar, a, on your fingers, camera obscura, a, camp, cooking in, canaries, candle, the chemistry of a, canoes, canoes, steering of, carbon paper, how to make, card tricks, casting coins and medals, cavies, chess, how to play, chicken, the wonderful, coins, how to cast, coloured fires, concert, game of, conflagration, a seeming, conjuring, consequences, game of, cooking in camp, cremated alive, crystals, beautiful, crystals, brilliant, curling, cutter, model, how to make, cyr louis, dancing figure, deaf and dumb alphabet, digging, distorted landscapes, dogs, donkey, the lively, draughts, how to play, draughts, the losing game, drawing, drop ball, dumb bells, , , , egg and bottle trick, electricity, boxing by, electrical machine, an, how to make, enlargement of photographs, etching on glass, fight for the flag, filter, how to make a, fire, a well of, fire balloons, to make, fires, coloured, fire designs, fishing, fives, flying machine, football, fountain, a novel, fountain, how to make a, fox, fox and geese, french and english, fugleman, game, an amusing, games, gardening, ghost, to make a, glass, etching on, glue made of rice, golf, gravity, the centre of, grease, to remove, guinea pigs, gymnastics, haloes, three, hammock, how to make a, handwriting, hints on, harp, �olian, an, how to make, hectograph, how to make, hedgehog, the, hockey, hoops, games with, hop-scotch, horizontal bar, , horse, a prancing, hurdle races, hygrometer, a, illusions, optical, index, how to make, indian clubs, , ink, invisible, ink, removal of, jackdaws, jay, the, jig saw puzzle, jingling, jumping, , kite, how to make a, knots, how to tie, landscapes, distorted, lantern slides, leap year, leverage, an experiment in, leaves, how they keep clean, leaves, how to use, leaves, skeleton, levy, mr. e. lawrence, mac, a whirling, macgregor, john, magazines, how to bind, magician, the boy as, magic lantern slides, magpie, the, medals, how to cast, mice, white, modelling with clay, moths, mouse, the, in the trap, musical glass, a, needle, the floating, net making, newspaper cuttings book, nickie nickie night, nightingale, to imitate a, nine men's morris, optical illusions, paperchasing, parallel bars, pasteboard, boats made of, paste, how to make, pea, the jolly, perspective, rules of, pets, photographic enlargements, pith beads, polyphony, portrait bust, how made, posting, potatoe mill, prisoners' base, puzzles, puzzles, puzzles, answers to, pyrography, quaternions, how to play, rabbits, rackets, raven, the, resin bubbles, rice glue, rings, exercises with, rings of steam, rob roy canoe, , rowing, running, , sailing on skates, schooner, model, how to make, scrap book, how to make, sculling, sea, how to go to, secret writing, seed, how to sow, serpent, a revolving, shadow buff, shaving papers, case for, shelter, a simple, silkworms, skates, sailing on, skating, skeleton leaves, sketching, skins, how to dress, skip-jack, the, sleigh for baby, how to make, sleigh, how to make, slides for magic lantern, smoke produced at will, spiders and the weather, sprinting, steam rings, steeplechasing, stencilling, swimming, syphon, the, tent, a simple, toffee, to make your own, top, a simple, training for athletics, trapeze, turnpike, vacuum, a, what it can do, ventriloquism, walking, , , water boiled by coldness, water boiled in paper bag, water, illuminated, water polo, water upside down, weather, the, and spiders, weston's walk, whirling mac, a, white mice, window box, wine glass, the magic, wood carving, woodman, the working, writing pad, writing, secret, writing, the magic, writing, the, on the wall, yachts, , zebra finches, printed by the london and norwich press, limited london and norwich transcriber's notes: the symbol [| ] represents a reversed numeral three. missing punctuation has been added in several places. the symbol [a | b] represents an a printed vertically above a b. the oe ligature is rendered as [oe]. italics are rendered between underscores, e.g. _italics_. bold text is rendered between dollar signs, e.g. $bold$. small caps are rendered with all caps. the following table lists other changes made by the transcriber. +---------------------------+ | transcriber's changes | +-----+----------+----------+ |page |as printed|changed to| +-----+----------+----------+ | | throught | thought | | |shufflling|shuffling | | | | v | +-----+----------+----------+ none the sportswoman's library. vol. i. [illustration: _the marchioness of worcester._] the sportswoman's library. edited by frances e. slaughter. volume i. [illustration] with illustrations from photographs and old prints. westminster: archibald constable & co., , whitehall gardens, . * * * * * dedicated by permission to the marchioness of worcester a keen sportswoman and wife of one of the foremost sportsmen of the age. birmingham: printed at the guild press, , great charles street. the sportswoman's library. vol. i. contents. preface. . englishwomen and sport the editor. . fox hunting mrs. burn. . hare hunting the editor. . shooting the hon. mrs. lancelot lowther. . fishing for tarpon mrs. murphy-grimshaw. . archery mrs. berens and miss walrond. . skating miss may balfour. . golf miss starkie-bence. . croquet mrs. spong. appendix a. golf rules and glossary. appendix b. croquet rules. preface. when i look at the completed mss. of the first volumes of the _sportswomans' library_, i feel deeply grateful to the many good sportswomen who have aided me in my work, not only for the great stores of practical knowledge they have brought to bear on the several subjects of which we have treated, but for the way in which they have collaborated with me. for this my warmest thanks are due to them one and all. the object we have placed before us, is to give women the information and help they are not likely to find in those books, which are written chiefly from a man's point of view, and we have therefore avoided, as far as possible, trenching on ground that has been already adequately covered by those who, to sportsmen and sportswomen alike, are the best authorities on the various subjects. if, therefore, our writings sometimes seem to be wanting in completeness, it is, i venture to think, to be attributed to this cause. when i first gathered round me the body of contributors, some of whom were personally unknown to me, i could but feel that the many threads i held in my hand might prove to be a very "tangled skein," before the work was brought to completion. this foreboding, however, i am glad to say, was entirely without foundation, for each writer threw herself into her part with such genuine determination to do the best she could for the _matter_ of her work, that the minor details as to the _manner_ in which it should be given to the world, did not assume undue proportions, and there has been nothing to throw the slightest shadow over the harmony in which we have worked. that the effort we have thus jointly made to give some help to our sister-sportswomen may be successful, is to wish the writers the best reward they can have, for the labour they have bestowed. besides my fellow workers, i have a debt of gratitude to discharge to all who have so kindly assisted me in my work. foremost among these i must acknowledge the valuable help given by lady gifford, mrs. pryse-rice, mrs. cheape, and miss lloyd, of bronwydd, without whose assistance i could not have ventured to write on the subject of hare-hunting: by mr. t. f. dale, author of _the game of polo_, whose great practical knowledge of sport has made him an invaluable referee on many important questions: by another good sportsman, captain the hon. r. c. drummond, who generously gave me the benefit of his advice on matters which have been a life-long study to him: by elizabeth, lady wilton; lady theodora guest, lady gerard, lady dorothy coventry, mrs. wrangham, mrs. t. e. harrison, miss serrell, mr. c. h. bassett, late master of the devon and somerset staghounds; mr. ian heathcoat-amory, master of the tiverton staghounds; mr. w. l. wyllie, a.r.a.; miss maud earl, miss walrond, mr. cuthbert bradley, dr. lewis mackenzie, miss florence ritson, and mrs. dudley smith. i must also acknowledge the help so readily given by mr. charles lancaster, and messrs. holland and holland, on the sport with which their names are so closely connected, and i must thank those photographers who have exercised their skill on our behalf, viz.: messrs. lombardi and co., who, from the first, have helped us largely; messrs. lambert weston, j. weston and son, stuart, becken, and a. debenham. my thanks are also due to the proprietors of _baily's magazine_, _the field_, _the gentlewoman_, and _the lady's pictorial_ for the use of blocks which have been re-produced in their pages. lastly, i must discharge the debt of gratitude i owe messrs. a. constable and co., for the unfailing courtesy i have met with at their hands, and for the hearty way in which they have thrown themselves into the interests of the book. whether we have all succeeded in our object, viz., to give clear, practical directions to women in the several out-door recreations of which we have written, it is for our readers to determine, and on their verdict will depend the extension of our plan to other branches of sports and pastimes. to the great body of sportsmen, who so far have held almost undisputed sway in the realm of sporting literature, i would plead: "softly, my masters! do me this right--hear me with patience." the editor. beeding, march st, . [illustration: _lombardi and co. , pall mall, east._ miss frances slaughter.] englishwomen and sport. in all ages of the world's history, women have taken part in the out-door recreations in which men have ever delighted, the extent to which they have joined in these health-giving exercises being regulated, by the amount of freedom and independence allowed to the sex, by the unwritten laws of the spirit of the age. in a consideration of the subject that is rather suggestive than attempting to deal with the matter in any final sense, we can perhaps trace in the easiest way the position held by women in the world of sport, at different epochs of our history, by seeing how the subject was regarded by the authors of the period. [illustration] in the romances of the middle ages--to go no further back in our researches--sport for all divisions of the upper classes of society was regarded with a favourable eye. the nobles, the superior clergy, and the dames of high degree had their deeds of prowess in the field extolled by the literary lights of the time. for a noble not to care for hunting was considered nothing less than a disgrace, while the clergy were expected to require the relaxation of the chase, and to them was given the right to hunt in their own parks and enclosures. of this privilege they seem to have availed themselves to some purpose, as at the time of the reformation the see of norwich is said to have possessed no less than thirteen deer parks. the wives of the nobles and those who ruled over the religious houses for women, seem to have had an almost equal amount of liberty in sharing in these recreations, and in organising hunts for themselves. the doings of these gay dames--for the religious habit seems to have made but little difference--are extolled by the poets, and if the feats recorded of them are true, they must not only have been accomplished horsewomen but very keen and determined huntresses. on many occasions, we are told, they organised hunting parties, "winding the horn, rousing the game and pursuing it by themselves." nor, in spite of what it is the fashion of the present time to say of that period of our history, do the stay-at-home embroidery-loving dames come in for the same share of praise at the hands of the old writers. in hawking especially women were proficient, and one scribe even tells us that they excelled their husbands and brothers in the knowledge and exercise of the art of falconry, from which, however, he deduces the ungallant conclusion that the pastime was to be regarded as "frivolous and effeminate." at the time of the great revival of letters, the art of falconry was at the height of its popularity, and both in england and in other countries of europe it was the rule for women of noble birth to train, handle, and fly their own hawks. it was the seventeenth century which saw the decay of this sport as a royal and aristocratic amusement, for though in the early years of the age it was still the most popular form of recreation in the field, by the time the following century had dawned it was all but extinct. after this, during the eighteenth century, there is no doubt that the prowess of women in the field suffered an eclipse, and the few bold spirits who from time to time broke through the trammels that restrained their less enterprising sisters, were regarded with a certain amount of suspicion and distrust. to come to the days when the writings of sir walter scott opened up a new field of enchantment to his readers, we know that his creation of di vernon needed excuse at the hands of the author for her sport-loving tastes, as the presumption was against her being a true specimen of the "womanly" woman, in the best sense of the word. whyte melville, entirely devoted to the chase as he was himself, is yet doubtful of the place of his heroines in the hunting field, and in his well-known novel, _kate coventry_, he seems to consider it a reasonable condition on the part of the man kate is about to marry, that she should give up hunting when she becomes his bride. in the pages of surtees, which give such a vivid picture of the fox-hunter's life in the first half of the century, the woman who hunts is nearly always an adventuress, while in the social sketches of trollope sport has no place in the life of his otherwise charming heroines. [illustration] but gradually and surely women once more made good their position in the realm of sport, one of the early books to take a decided line in this matter being, i believe, a little-known novel entitled _a matched pair_. in this book which was published anonymously, a young man and woman who have kindred tastes, are brought together through their common love of hunting, and an amusing instance of the prevailing spirit, is given at their wedding breakfast. when the hour is drawing near for the departure of the bride and bridegroom, news is brought to the latter that the m.f.h. of the country has met with an accident, which will keep him from the saddle for the remainder of the season. the lady of course is told the news, and she receives the suggestion that their honeymoon should be given up, in order that her husband may stay and hunt the hounds, with the most obliging readiness. this incident i give from memory, as it is now many years since i have seen the book. the strangest thing about the incident, perhaps is, that such a truly sporting couple should not have delayed their marriage till the end of the hunting season. it is during the last ten years that women have come to be reckoned as a power in the land, in the matter of sport, and it is now a matter of course for the novelists of the day to make their leading women-characters of almost all classes, join in some one or more form of out-door recreation. vivid pictures of the hunting-field, the banks of the salmon river, the croquet lawn and the golf links, show the love of the nineteenth century maid and matron for the healthy out-door exercise, which has given to the younger generation a physique that would have been regarded with wondering awe, not unmixed with disapproval, by their gentle and delicate great-grandmothers. in a bird's-eye view, too, of the course of our history, we may note that at the time of the absence of the great body of the nobles in the holy land in the days of the crusades, the women, so many of whom had been left in charge of the castles and lands of their lords, came very prominently forward in the domain of sport, as well as in the social life of the period. on the return of the warriors, this liberty seems in some degree to have been curtailed, and whether this is to be attributed to any undue exercise of freedom during their time of independence, or to the fact of the minds of their lords and masters having been effected by the oriental ideas as to the conduct of women, does not seem very clear. [illustration] the restraint however was but temporary, and when the highest place in the land was filled by a woman, and "queen bess" ruled her subjects with a judicious determination none could gainsay, her humbler sisters shared in the reflected glory of her fame. elizabeth herself, as we all know, was an ardent sportswoman, and took the keenest delight in a run with hounds, or a trial of skill with the cross-bow, long after she had passed the age, at which even modern dianas are wont to retire from an active share in the fatigues of the hunting-field. the reign of queen anne on the other hand, although the sovereign herself and the members of her court were lovers of the chase, seems to have had a distinctly depressing effect on the independent position of women. it was not till the present century, when our beloved queen by her conduct on the throne, and in her private life, gave such a stimulus to the position of her sex, that women came forward to take their share in the sports, as well as in the more serious duties of our national life, in a way that was new in the world's history. that the young queen whose every act was eagerly copied by her girl subjects, could have ridden after hounds as she did in the early years of her reign, without having many followers, is not to be supposed. thus indirectly--for victoria's early succession to the duties of a sovereign left her but little time for the enjoyment of the lighter side of life--her majesty's example has probably had not a little to do with the increased love of sport among the women of the present day. in the history of sport, therefore, as in other departments of our life as a nation, the name of victoria will be remembered as the great benefactor of women, by having given them larger, truer conceptions of life, and by opening to them spheres of usefulness and pleasure which the deadening influence of the eighteenth century, seemed to have closed to them for ever. the editor. [illustration: _speight. rugby._ _mrs. burn._] fox hunting. "my dear young lady, you would enjoy your hunting so much more if you would _only_ watch the hounds!" i once heard a master of hounds say to an eager young woman whose only aim and object seemed to be to get on. such indeed was her anxiety to do this that she was quite oblivious of the fact, she was meanwhile riding the hounds off the line. the m.f.h. quoted being one of the finest huntsmen in england, i have remembered his words. for it is simply wonderful to think of the hundreds upon hundreds of people in great britain, who hunt regularly week after week in the season, and who never "watch the hounds!" talk and chatter when they draw, gallop of course and jump--most probably--when they run, but "know what they are doing?" _no._ and yet to anyone who is really fond of hunting, the greatest charm of all is in watching the hounds and in taking an intelligent interest in the hunt itself. not that this interest is given to all, for crowds come out, some because they can afford it and it is the right thing to do, some to see their friends, and others to _ride_, and lastly some, not many, to _hunt_. these last have generally been "bred to it," as a man would say, and have the love of hunting born in them, and so they are able to enjoy themselves when others do not. for even though the scent be bad, and they "cannot run a yard," these few will take a pleasure in watching hounds really hunt, and will hug themselves with delight as they distinguish old rhapsody feather up a furrow away from the rest till she can assure herself that it is right, and then with a note like a bell bring all the others flying to her cry, till one after another they pick up the line and proclaim that it is good. part of the charm of hunting is the beauty of its surroundings. i know nothing prettier than the different scenes of a hunt. to watch the hounds put into covert, to stand at a corner and see down the ride the huntsman's red coat and all the hounds round him, among the brown leaves on the ground and the dark trees in the background is simply a picture, and time after time in each hunting day such pictures appear, and delight the eye. then the joy of listening to the cry, and not only the cry, for it does one good to hear the huntsman cheering the hounds in covert, especially if he has a good voice and can blow a good note on his horn. even the smell of the dank leaves turned over as the hounds rustle through them is delightful, and like all loved scents it brings back more than anything else the days of long ago. i never go out cub-hunting now without that scent bringing back to me the old days at brigstock, when my father[ ] hunted the pytchley hounds. in spring and early autumn we always went to the woodlands, for the woodland pytchley had not then become a separate pack, and i once more seem to see him, long of leg and lithe of limb on the raking chestnut mare, and hear his cheery voice drawing those great woods. and as i listen to his view halloa i feel a thrill run through me, and in fancy i see them striding down the broad grass ride, while the hounds fly to him from every side, and with an "over, over, over, over," which simply make one shiver, he cheers them over the ride, while they swing to the right and crash into the covert with a glorious burst of music like a chime of silver bells. it is odd how these things remain in one's heart. [footnote : colonel j. anstruther-thomson.] "wire and silence" will be the end of hunting, so he says; he being my father whom on all things venatic i firmly believe. i suppose hardly one "hunting" woman out of every hundred who go out, ever know how many couple of hounds there are out, or think of counting them while the master sits outside the covert blowing them to him. yet this is interesting in itself, and if you know the hounds personally all the more so, as you watch them come tumbling through the fence by ones and twos and go smiling up to their huntsman's side, with a satisfied expression as if they were saying "here i am anyhow." [illustration: _elizabeth, countess of wilton, on willoughby._] hunting in the provinces has that great advantage over the shires, that you have fewer people out, and consequently you really can take an interest in the hound work and watch what they are doing, and when they run you can keep your eye on them all through, and ride to them, whereas in a fashionable country you get cramped up at a corner of a covert with three or four hundred people hemming you in, behind a narrow gateway may be, hardly wide enough for one horse to get through at a time. your horse probably gets frightened in the thick of the fray, and tries to go backwards instead of forwards, the man's horse in front of you has his ears back and a ribbon in his tail, while those behind keep cramming on with cries of "_get_ on, _do_, or else let _me_ come," so by the time you have sniggled yourself through this turmoil, hounds have slipped away and are out of sight. you may then ride for all you are worth, but you probably will never see the _hounds_ again until they kill, or at any rate check. so you must e'en be content with galloping in the wake of somebody else's back, and trust to luck that he is going the right way, but it is dull work compared to picking your own places and using your own head to get to hounds the shortest way. of course the country in the shires makes up for almost anything, and to stride away over the pasture lands of leicestershire or pytchleydom, is truly the realisation of the "happy hunting grounds." after you have once learned to find your way over a cramped country, intersected with lime and mortar walls and barbed wire, in scotland, or after you have scaled the heights and fathomed the depths of the banks and drains in ireland, then to go down for a hunt in the shires is a holiday worthy of the name. "call this a ditch?" you exclaim inwardly as you flick over an english fence, after encountering those gruesome dykes in meath. true, i only hunted in meath one season, but my private verdict at the end of the time was, "a splendid education, but an awful experience as far as the fences are concerned." but then i do not like a ditch i cannot see the bottom of, especially when it has sheer cut-out sides which every person in front of you makes bigger and bigger. i also have a vivid recollection of seeing several top hats (nothing else) wandering up and down on the level of the ground, as other brave souls went at those ditches and cleared them and their contents, human, equine and all. this was on a pleasant spot in meath, known as the "bush farm," and i don't mind saying that for appalling fences i have never met its equal, and devoutly trust i may never come in contact with its superior, unless i am mounted either on a bird or a balloon. but for sport it was undefeated, and the beautiful old turf was a pleasure to ride on. a great blessing too it is having no ridge and furrow, for really sometimes in england, the bay of biscay "is jokes" compared to the ground you ride over. the continued galloping up and down is so hard on horses, and though of course one knows the dodge of taking them slantways, still it is not half such fun as swinging away over smooth grass. one thing about ireland--and when i say ireland, i am thinking only of the county meath, for i have never hunted with any other pack over there, barring one day in kildare--is that a pony can get over it. it will creep about and jump like a cat, and cross the country as it never could in england. then, too, people do not seem to hurt themselves so often when they fall over there, and that no doubt is because they ride _slowly_ at their fences, but then how one misses the gates. it is almost impossible to believe at first that there really are not any, but the cruel fact is proved time after time, till at last you are forced to own that it is only too true. scotland, some years ago, before so much wire crept in, was as good a school as need be to teach anyone how to get to hounds. you sometimes had to crawl and creep, and sometimes to jump a bit of timber standing, perhaps uphill in a corner, or an awkward place under a tree, with generally a wire somewhere through it or standing handy by, and it is a great thing to _learn_ where there are difficulties, for it teaches you to use your head, which is as important out hunting as it is in daily life. yet how few people seem to hunt with their heads. as long as they can gallop and jump in sight of someone else's coat tails, there are many who seem to be quite content, and will assure you they enjoy their hunting immensely. but this is not the _real_ way. to use your own judgment, to have a quick eye to hounds, and as they turn and swing to cut off the corners, to save your horse by choosing the weak places in the fences and the best going in the fields, this is the science of riding to hounds. yet very few know how to do it, and fewer still have the gift of being able to make a horse gallop. in a crowded country where everything depends on your getting a start much also depends on this. to be _strong_ on a horse is given to few, to ride light to very few, and yet to be a really good horsewoman one ought to be both. it is pretty to see a really good man or woman riding to hounds. how they keep flitting along to one side of the pack, never seeming in a hurry, but always moving on, down the furrows and over the gaps, and those who try to catch them will find they are always in front and generally clean. one great thing to learn, and especially i think for a woman, is to go quietly and not to splash. one hates to see the women of a hunt always on the gallop, going from covert to covert across the fields. it looks so much better, and _is_ so much wiser to trot quietly over them than to go helter skelter past everybody else, probably squelching muddy water over them as you go, and incurring the condemnation of the opposite sex, who, if they are sportsmen of the right sort, will seldom be seen bustling between times. not only to ride your horse quietly, but to _be_ quiet yourself is also an advantage. i shall never forget once in leicestershire, after an almost blank day, the whole field was drawn up to one side of a small spinney by the road, and all our hopes of retrieving the day lay in our getting a fox away from the far corner of the wood. all who understood the importance of keeping quiet were dumb, and we could not help feeling a little bit bored by one good lady, who in strident tones gave an exhaustive history of her aluminium watch. her listener would evidently have gladly cut her short had his manners been less good, and the rest of us wished heartily that both she and her watch were at the bottom of the sea. poor lady, she hunted with the greatest regularity several days a week, but she had never learned the _why_ of things out hunting. then there are what may be called the "let _me_ come" women--those who have to gallop at their fences because they dare not go at them slower, and if anybody happens to be before them think it necessary to shout. i know, of course, that opinions differ as to riding fast or slow at a fence, though personally i hold to the latter, and cannot help thinking that people who always ride at them fast are afraid to do so any slower. certain it is that a horse will jump a place more surely and more cleverly if you give him time to see what he is going at, and most of them can jump very much bigger places even standing than people generally give them credit for. if you take a pull to steady your horse when you are a little distance from your fence, you will probably arrive at the other side far more collectedly, and be striding away again over the next field, before others who allow their horses to gallop on right up to the fence are near you. they are going too fast to notice the grip before they arrive at it, and consequently their horse takes off from the wrong leg and lands like a star-fish in the next field, then stumbles, pecks, and recovers again before he is once more set in motion. all this takes time and tires the horse, moreover should the luckless animal thus ridden fail to recover from the stumble and peck, he will give his rider a far worse fall than if he had gone at it slower. "hands" of course have everything to do with the niceties of riding, and "hands" cannot be taught. but, after all, _thinking_ has a great deal to do with good riding, and if people would but remember that horses are not machines, that they _do_ feel and their poor mouths _are_ sensitive, it would go far towards improving their horsemanship and hands. i am sure that half the falls we get are due to our own faulty riding, though we all know how we say if our horse falls with us he is a stupid brute for doing it, yet if the same mishap should occur while a groom is on his back, it is then _he_ who gets that title for letting him down. we read sometimes about people "lifting" their horses, but i do not know what that means. one must _trust_ them to a great extent, and any interference at the critical moment is most likely to land them head over heels. i remember hearing a well-known coper say to a friend of mine who could ride a runaway horse without being even pulled, "ah, but then you've got the fingers." i once tried to explain to my sister that she must "carry her own hands," and she laughed at me for telling her to try and make them be like souflés. "anything will pull if you pull at it," i have often been told, but it is _not_ easy to be like a souflé when you are going forty thousand miles a minute, skew-ways on at a double wire fence with a river in between. how women long ago could possibly ride across country without a third pommel is a mystery to me. yet we are told they went well. i cannot credit their having been able to ride anything but patent safety horses, for one needs all the strength the third pommel gives to steer an awkward horse along, though of course one's knee should hang below it in the ordinary way of riding. i believe the great tip in women's riding is to ride off the right leg. so much strength is to be got out of pressing the leg against the saddle flap, and it is noticeable what a much prettier seat those have who rise in trotting off the right thigh than others who laboriously rise out of the stirrup. [illustration: _lancer, irish horse._ (_property of mrs. burn._)] another thing that often strikes me is how few women carry their stirrup foot in the right place. the proper position for the left foot is to hang in a straight line from the knee, with the foot easy in the stirrup, not pressed against it, but home in it _i_ think, though i see many who only touch it with their toes. it is pitiful to ride behind a woman and see the sole of her foot sticking up at the back, yet some find they get their grip in this way, so they tell me, the grip which _should_ come from the pressure i mentioned before, of the right leg against the saddle flap. a well-known woman to hounds was once pointed out to me as a wonder on a horse. so she was, very good; _but_ if she had ridden with a spur she would have been killed long before, for she rode with her toe out and her heel pressed against her horse's ribs. why many women have not broken their necks before now i do not know. those who ride with a loose rein, for instance. i once saw a gallant girl galloping hard across a heavy plough, with her reins hung over one finger. it may have been smart, it certainly was brave, but the sad thing was it showed her ignorance so patently that one pitied her from the heart, and her horse still more, for had he not been one of the cleverest in england he must have tumbled her head over heels. women out hunting should take their chance with the rest, and never trade on the chivalry of the opposite sex, for this is what makes them unpopular in the hunting field. if they are not brave enough to take their own place at a fence, they must be content to wait their turn at the gap or gate. if they are wise they will keep on the very _outside_ of the crowd in a gateway, as they will pass through quicker like that than if they go straight into the mass of struggling humanity, which will probably jam them out the more they try to get in front. if you hunt, be ready to help other people, "and do unto all men as you would they should do unto you." don't let a loose horse gallop past you, because you happen to be a woman, but _catch_ him. always do what is wanted promptly. if the master says "hold hard," or only holds up his hand, "stop." it would be very bad form for a woman to lead the way on such an occasion by going on, as the master cannot so well tell _her_ what is in his heart, as he probably would if the delinquent were a man. if you should make a mistake and earn a reproof, hold your tongue, and remember an m.f.h.'s life is not a happy one, and there is more to worry and aggravate him every hour of every hunting day, than his field ever dreams of. so instead of feeling angry at his speaking to you, be sorry that you have deserved it. remember too that most people out hunting are exactly like a flock of sheep, so if you show the way over a seedfield for instance, or by unnecessarily jumping fences when hounds are not running, your example is very likely to be followed, and the result will be damage done and consequent trouble. women are more generally accused of riding jealous than men, but real good sportsmen of either sex will never think of such a thing. of course being "alone with the hounds" is a pleasure that cannot be denied, and there is an uncontrollable feeling of joy when one happens to be among the favoured few who get well away. but that is more because it gives you a better chance of being with hounds, and more room to ride, than when you are surrounded by hundreds of people hustling and bustling all over the place. live and let live, is just as sound a maxim out hunting as elsewhere. always make way for the huntsman at a gate, over a gap, or wherever it may be. let him pass, for it is his proper place to be with his hounds. always too, wait for dismounted men. if anyone has to get off to open a gate or break down an impracticable place, cut a wire, or for whatever cause it may be, pull up and wait till he is on again. for remember no horse will stand still to be mounted while others are galloping past him, though strange to say few people seem to think of that. it is rather hard on a man after letting you through a gap or gate to see you gallop away, leaving him to struggle with his impatient horse which assuredly will give him little chance of getting on again in a hurry. possibly you might be able to help him by holding his horse's head till he is up. there are so many little things like this that can be done quietly, by a woman being quick to see what is wanted, and just being helpful without being officious. if you arrive first at a gate, open it, and swing it back for the others, that is to say, if you are sure you won't make a mess of it, and only keep the whole crowd waiting while you fumble helplessly between your whip and the latch. if you think you cannot open it, do not try, but pull back and let somebody else do it for you, and so save time. no one will thank you for it if you get in the way, and then only fumble. it always distresses me to hear men saying, as alas, they often do, and very often i fear with every excuse, "a woman of course," or, "a lady as usual," when a hound has been kicked or a man jumped on. it is so unnecessary, for why should not a woman use her brains as much as anyone else out hunting. i remember once hearing of a lady, who had not much experience, and was mounted on a kicking horse. she stood among the crowd in a gateway with her horse kicking viciously at everybody near, till at last an exasperated man could bear it no longer, and remonstrated, saying, "really, mrs. smith, do you know your horse is kicking most dangerously?" "oh, yes," she replied with an innocent smile, "i know, but i assure you i don't mind." such innocence is sweet, but out hunting it is as well to remember to turn your horse's heels to the hedge, and his head to the hounds when they are coming past you, and if your horse kicks to keep out of the crowd. for the sake of all other women who hunt, do not risk their reputation by doing a stupid thing, or not doing a kindly action whenever you get the chance, and try never to give anyone an excuse for wishing that women should not come out hunting. that warning shout of "seeds," or "young grass," in an agonised tone from the master himself, is too often unheeded by the hard riding woman who has not taken in the fact, that in her anxiety to "show them all the way," she is careering alone across a newly-sown field, while the rest of the people have gone round on purpose to avoid doing damage to the land. it is extraordinary how few people take such a state of things in, but it is as well to know young grass or sown wheat when you see it, and having seen, to avoid riding over it as much as possible, also to shut the gates behind you if you can, and in all ways to try to keep friendly with the farmers, for on them depends the continuance of hunting. now a word on the disagreeable subject of falling and getting into difficulties. in the latter case i hold with the words of solomon, who said, "their strength shall be in _sitting still_," and he generally talked sense, though perhaps he was not thinking of hunting when he made the remark. anyhow, the best thing under difficulties is to keep your head and sit still. take your foot out of the stirrup, so that you may get clear away as soon as opportunity offers and good sense dictates. a good thing is to kick your foot free of the stirrip before you get into the mess, if you think it at all likely to occur. it is well to be as free as possible, and not to meddle with your horse's head, for he will probably be as keen to set himself straight again as you are, if he only gets the liberty to do so. one can but speak from experience, and my own is this, that since i learned to ride slow at my fences, i have not had one-third of the falls i used to get before. by riding slow, i mean taking a pull about three or four lengths from the fence, and getting your horse to go steady and _look_. when once you are over, you can go striding away again as fast as you like, and so not lose your "pride of place." indeed you are far more likely to keep it in that way, than if you gallop over your fences, for before long the _over_ will relapse into _through_, and then it will be only a question of time how soon you will measure your length on the ground. of course one is bound to fall sometimes, however good the horse, however good the horsewoman. blind fences, wire, a wide place on the far side, or the sun low so that it catches your horse's eyes, are all pretty well bound to knock you over, and then the main thing is to fall clear. nowadays we are mercifully seldom hung up, thanks to our safety skirts and safety stirrups, without both of which no woman should, in my opinion, be allowed to hunt. it is wise to minimise the dangers of hunting as much as possible, and i think that in one's clothes and saddlery for hunting, everything should be as plain and as _safe_ as possible. [illustration: _comet._ (_property of lady gerard._)] i believe myself in champion and wilton's safety stirrup, and dislike hunting on a saddle without it, though some people "crab" them, and say they come off at the wrong moment. if indeed this does happen, the stirrups must require mending, or else the movement of the rider has caused the leather flap which protects the bar to rise, which of course will set the stirrup leather free. but this is obviously not the stirrup's fault. i also like the arrangement on the off flap, so that you can tighten your own girths, for it is nonsense to say that women's girths should "never need tightening." they need it far more than men's as a rule, and if you can pull them up a hole or two after a gallop, yourself, it is a great convenience, and much better than making some unfortunate man, or his groom, fumble about at a buckle covered with mud below the horse's body, as on other saddles. as for the safety habits, i believe in the apron skirt, for in that you must fall clear. i have tried several so-called safety habits, and have been hung up both on the near and the off side, but since i took to the apron i have had no more danglings. of course the drawback to the apron is its appearance off the saddle, when it is certainly too scanty to be becoming. i have, however, overcome that difficulty by having an extra "modesty," made of the very thinnest serge, which i always carry under the near flap of my saddle, so that it does not show, and yet when i get off to ease my horse's back, i can put it on and feel quite independent and happy. i therefore commend this plan to others, as being far handier than buttoning the extra covering inside their habit skirt, and much nicer than going without altogether. women, as a rule, are not particular enough about the way they put their boots on. though they would be very much surprised if they saw a man out hunting with the tags of his boots sticking out, they seem to forget that anything wrong in the way they are put together, is sure to be noticed, and that it is only when our clothes are right that they attract no attention. one should always study, therefore, to be neat and clean-looking beyond everything. i know many men assert that no woman should ever wear a spur. of course they are chivalrous enough to add, because women should never ride a horse that needs one. such a state of things would indeed be delightful, but as there are some in the world still, who would rather go out on anything than not go out at all, and that "anything" is as often as not a refusing brute of a hireling, as cunning as a monkey, i cannot agree with the opinion. in saying this, however, please note i do not mean by a spur, that horrible sort of a dagger which works with a spring, and is commonly sold as a "lady's spur," for of all the dangerous and cruel inventions, that is about the worst. i mean the ordinary small man's spur, with the rowels blunted, and of course this should only be worn by those who know how to use it, never by a beginner, or indeed by any but a really fine horsewoman, for if the foot is not carried in the right position you are sure to touch your horse with it unwittingly, and if you make a mistake you will probably have to pay for it. if your horse is very hot and eager, too, you will be better without it. one of the most useful things for a woman to learn, is to be able to get on her horse off the ground by herself. if you cannot do this, you are so utterly dependent on the kindness of the long-suffering man. it is very easy to learn, if you have any spring in your body. you simply put your left foot in the stirrup, catch hold of the cantle of your saddle with your left hand, and the pommel and reins in your right, and up you go. be careful, however, not to knock up the flap over the stirrup bar, if it be a safety, in doing this, or out it will come, and down you will flop again. of course the main thing is, that your horse should stand still and allow you to mount. a horse is generally so tactless about this, he will fidget and dance and never give you a chance, but, by taking the off reins up short in your left hand, you have at least so much control over his curvetting, that by pulling his head away, you make him turn his body and saddle towards you. but mind in doing this he does not trample on your toes, which he is very likely to do. of course you should always try to get your horse on lower ground than yourself, and if he is still too high, you must let down the stirrup until you can reach it. always try and sandwich your horse between yourself and a fence or house, so that he cannot revolve round and round, as they are so fond of doing at the critical moment. try, also, not to tickle or kick him with your toe, after it is in the stirrup, as that will probably induce him to kick you off before you are safely on. it is really a marvel how few men can jump a woman on to her horse properly, and how few women go up as they should. the operation is quite easy, if only the man can be persuaded to _stand still_ and merely give his hand a little heave upwards. the majority of men who do not know, no sooner feel the foot on their hand than they count hard and run backwards towards the horse's head, carrying the unfortunate woman's foot with them. thus, instead of sending her up, dragging her down till the whole thing ends in a wild struggle, she clinging round the pommels with her chest, chin, and arms. too degrading an exhibition. if the man will stand still and take it quietly, and if the woman will just spring off her right leg and straighten her left knee, she will arrive in her saddle gracefully and lightly, and the man will not have felt her weight at all. it is best to come to a thorough understanding with the man before you begin, as to when he expects you to spring. if this is to be when he counts three, or as soon as your foot is in his hand? do not in any case allow him to have hold of the hem of your skirt with your foot. unless this is free it will hold you down, and a sort of jack-in-the-box-performance will begin. you spring and the man's hand remains inert, then he jerks up your left foot when you are standing stolidly on the right, and generally the end of all is that you arrive in a heap on your saddle, and finish by kicking the man in the face. how to have a quick eye to hounds? yes, how? but i do not know. it is a gift which few have, and most people have _not_. to keep looking out for the hounds in front and all round if you are _not_ seeing them, and to keep your eye on the leading hounds if you _are_ in that lucky position, to notice every turn and be quick to turn with them, to cut off the corners and go the shortest way, a sort of anticipation without anticipating, that is all i can say about it. never ride exactly _behind_ the hounds, as if they check you are thus sure to hustle them on over the line and incur the wrath of the huntsman besides spoiling your own sport and everybody else's. ride either to one side or the other of the pack, down wind for choice, about forty yards in their wake, so as to give hounds plenty of room to swing or stop, should they come to a check. as there is hardly one woman in fifty or a hundred who can go her own line and pick her way all through a run--or perhaps it would be more courteous to say _i_ do not _know_ many who, if put down in a country on an ordinary hunter alone with the hounds, could find their way into and out of ten fields in succession; it is as well for most women to have a pilot. first, though, ascertain that the man is willing to accept this onerous position. then be careful _to give him room_, not to ride in his pocket or get in his way, and above all things to give him time at his fences to land _or fall_ without jumping on him. [illustration: _miss serrell on colleen._] when you have once chosen your pilot, obey him. if at a gate or in a crowd, or for any other reason, even if you do not understand it, he should want you to go first, _go!_ nip through quickly and quietly, and don't keep others waiting whatever you do. take your turn whenever it comes, and take every chance that offers without hanging back, which hinders other people, and without hustling, which annoys them. in fact, if after you have achieved being _quiet_ out hunting you succeed in being quick, you will have begun to grasp the situation. it is as well for your own comfort and that of other people to ride sane horses as far as in you lies. i once had a ride on an insane one, and it was far from satisfactory. it was perfectly immaterial to that horse whether he arrived at his fence with his head or his tail foremost. now it is not a pleasant sensation to waltz round and round, or to find yourself bounding backward towards an impenetrable black bullfinch and at the last moment to whip round and swish through or over as chance befalls. it was rather like having a hunt on a wild cat, for i never knew where or how he intended either to take off or land, but he would not fall, though the bridle _behind his ears_ was a mass of mud and grass, after one double distilled peck into a boggy field. of course a woman has not half the strength on a phlegmatic horse that a man has to "gar them gang," as we say in the north. a man can squeeze a half-hearted one over a fence, where a woman would be simply powerless to do anything, and i think the worst sort of a horse a woman can ride is a refuser. it is bad for her in every way, for body, temper, and nerve. one can forgive a horse everything if he will but try, but a sulky or funking brute, who grows more and more slack as he nears each fence until he collapses at the brink, is too high a trial, especially when the fight which must come generally ends in rearing, which is of all things most dangerous for a woman. i once had a racehorse given me, which had been spoiled in training, with the temper simply of a fiend. in racing, he never would try, but always shut up just when he ought to have won with ease, for to give the devil his due--and he _was_ one--he could gallop. that horse out hunting was simply purgatory; he could jump like a stag, which was the most irritating part of the whole thing, and sometimes he would gallop and jump with the best for a few fields, then all of a sudden collapse, stop, dig in his toes, and that was the end of my hunt, for no power on earth after that would induce him to go _forwards_. backwards he would go all round the field, with intervals of rearing. i saw him fall backwards twice in one day, when one of the whippers-in was riding him, because he refused to go through an open gate. riding a refuser does i think teach one to be strong on a horse; but is it worth it? you can always acquire strength to a certain degree by riding different horses, which is a far more agreeable form of education, and much more interesting than always sticking to two or three of your own. for a beginner, of course, it is necessary she should above all things have confidence in her horse that he will carry her safely, so that when she finds one she had better stick to him. a made hunter in the prime of life with nice manners, easy paces, and good temper is the horse for her, for he will carry her safely without fatigue, and for that there is nothing like the action of a thoroughbred, whose low, slinking stride hardly makes one rise. a woman should not ride too big a horse for her size, as a great stride is very tiring, especially when hacking on the roads. one of the greatest luxuries is a smooth hack, and if you wish to keep warm on your way to the meet, then, instead of driving, to canter along the grassy sides of our english roads on a thoroughbred polo pony, is one of the most delightful sensations in life. the ideal hunter would be neither too young nor too old. for the young one will be too brave, if he is bold by nature and ridden by a keen beginner, he will with his rider probably come to grief through want of discrimination. the old hunter will fall short, in the sense of being too cunning to jump one inch bigger than he need; moreover when he falls he will not pick himself up as quickly as he might. therefore if, when riding him he falls, you do not happen to be "top side" your peril will be prolonged, though mercifully horses are mostly kind and really try not to tread on one or hurt one if they can avoid it. it is more than foolish ever to jump a tired horse, it is unfair, for it he is fond of hunting, horses mostly are, he will jump as long as he can, so if, after a long run he refuses a place, _take the hint_ and go home. no one knows better than i the lonely feeling of being obliged to pull up in the middle of a good run because one's horse is beat, "while the merry chase goes heedless sweeping by." but if you have only one horse out, it is hopeless to compete with more fashionable souls who are on their fresh second horses, so it is really wiser to make the best of a bad job, and though you feel it hard, go home. your horse will come out again the oftener, too, and you can enjoy a hunt but little, if you know you are asking more of your horse than you ought. a tired horse, too, makes a tired rider, and _that_ makes a sore back, and then--where are you? talking of going home and tired horses, reminds me that if you are at all far from home it is best to put your horse in a public, or some friendly stable on the way, and give him a drink of gruel, for this will freshen him up and make your ride home all the pleasanter. perhaps it would be as well to mention how the gruel should be made, in case you should ever have to do it yourself. thus, place two double-handfulls of oatmeal in a bucket, pour boiling water over it and stir until it becomes a thick cream; then pour cold water till cool enough for the horse to drink, which will be when it is about blood heat. should your horse be very done, add a pint of ale or a little gin, to revive him. the ride home is now shorn of some of its terrors, by the saddles which let you sit downhill. what a boon these are, for one used to suffer anguish, jogging for miles on the old-fashioned saddle whose pommels rose higher than the seat, so that your knee was almost under your chin, and the consequence was a pain between the shoulder blades, which made you long for rest. oh! those long jogs home. miles and miles at hounds' pace, on a rough or tired horse. how i used to pull up and walk, and then gallop to catch up my father, he jogging even on, even on, all the time. i can hear him now answering my complaints with, "nonsense, child; it rests one all the way." [illustration: _gone to ground._ (_portraits of four b.v.h. prize winners._) (_from a picture by basil nightingale, in the possession of lady theodora guest._)] perhaps i am a sybarite, but i do like to drive both to and from hunting, and to have a second horse out completes my joy. an open cart with a polo pony to drive, is to me better than all the broughams in christantee. to drive on in the morning through the soft damp air that smells like hunting, with hopes running high for the sport to come, seeing the tiniest second horseman jogging on with the biggest of horses, everything makes one feel the joy of life. and when the day is over, to slide off your horse and send him home, and turn in yourself to a bright fire, and tea and poached eggs, at some little inn by the way, is most comforting. then you wrap yourself up in your fur coat and woolly gloves, and tuck yourself in to the rugs, and bowl away home in the twilight, with the stars twinkling above you, and the blackbird chuckling his good-night, while the pony trots his best in the anticipation of oats to come. a pleasant sense of healthy tiredness is upon you, which serves to make you appreciate the comforts of your drive, as you sit there cosy and warm, dreaming of the happy day that is done. r. m. burn. [illustration: _elliott and fry. , baker street._ _lady gifford and her harriers._] hare hunting. this sport has a peculiar interest for women inasmuch as they are able to take a leading part in it. with foxhounds, the duties of the huntsman are too arduous, even though a woman m.f.h. has not been unknown in the past. but to the lady salisbury of venatic fame who hunted the fox manfully over hertfordshire, we may refer as the exception that proves the rule, for few women would feel they had the physical strength for the task. with harriers, however, the case is different, for in the first place the little hounds are very handy, and the hunting of the hare is a sport which should above all things be conducted quietly. the less holloaing and noise there is with them the better, for the hounds should be trusted to work out the puzzles set them by the hare, with as little interference as possible. of course hare hunting may be turned into a poor imitation of fox-hunting, by racing a hare to death with -inch foxhound bitches, but this is not true sport in any sense, for it gives the quarry little chance of saving its life, and should be discountenanced by all lovers of the chase. apropos of this subject, there was in a certain harrier country a great, flat-sided, long-legged hound which attracted the notice of a sport-loving stranger, as being evidently too fast for the pack. in all innocence this visitor remarked to the master, "i suppose you will draft that hound?" to his astonishment the master, with an expression of horror and indignation, exclaimed, "draft him, why he is the best hound i have. he kills more hares than all the rest put together." the visitor said nothing, but he knew the kind of sport that lay before him. to leave the travesty of honest hare hunting, let us turn to the more pleasing subject of how the chase should be carried on, and here at the threshold we may pause to recall the names of those women, who of late years have carried the horn and hunted their own hounds. mrs. cheape, the squire of bentley, has shown good sport for many a year, first with the wellfield beagles, and since with the bentley harriers with which her name is so intimately connected. mrs. pryse-rice became m.h. only two years later, having started her pack in , and last season a third name appeared in our hunting lists, when lady gifford took the field and carried the horn with her harriers. great success has attended both the kennel and field management of these enterprising sportswomen, and when we come to consider the history of their efforts, we shall see that they have proved the fitness of women for the duties in which they themselves have excelled. lady ileene campbell too, before her marriage, proved herself fully equal to the hunting of her brother lord huntingdon's celebrated pack in ireland, the duchess of newcastle at the present time enjoys the pleasure of hunting her little pack in the neighbourhood of clumber, while mrs. briscoe in ireland whips in to her husband's hounds, and miss lloyd of bronwydd does the same to her father sir marteine lloyd's famous pack of beagles in south wales. as we have already said, there should be no fuss and bustle in the field with harriers. when hunting them you should never interfere with them unless they are entirely at fault, and then you should have some definite idea of where the hare is gone, and should know, or think you know, something the hounds do not. there is no cracking of whips wanted in this sport. a touch on the horn, or, better still, a low whistle--if you possess this accomplishment which to many good sportswomen is denied--should bring your pack round you, and you should then slowly trot off in the direction in which you think you will pick up the line. if you view the hare, as you often will, squatted close to your horse's feet, do your utmost to prevent the hounds getting a view, for it is the destruction of good sport with harriers for them to view the hare till within a few moments of the end. the hunting should be done fairly and honestly, inch by inch, till the quarry has been run down. any hound, therefore, that is given to staring about for a view, i would draft, or make a present of to one of those packs which holloa, mob, and course hares to death. [illustration: _mrs. pryse-rice's kennels._ (_woodmorton charity and wilful._)] foot people who as a rule come out largely with harriers will of course holloa, and in some cases when they receive no encouragement to do so, but their too noisy zeal should be steadily discouraged, and while you show every willingness to let this part of the field see sport, you should let it be known that you wish for, and expect silence from them. if your wishes are not respected, i should then advise you either to take hounds home, or trot right away for two or three miles before you look for another hare. no woman should attempt to hunt hounds who has not the resolution to keep her field--both mounted and unmounted--in proper order. you may indeed--for it is very hard for some men to believe that a woman can understand hound-work--be troubled by suggestions from your field, which they would never dream of offering if a man were carrying the horn, but most women will know how to meet such cases with the courteous indifference which will protect them from further interference. an instance of this has lately come to my knowledge. a lady m.h.'s pack was drawing for a hare on some moorland, and it was evident to her that hounds were on a very stale line, but were slowly working it out foot by foot. this was not very amusing to her field, and at last the farmer who owned the land went up to her and said that hares never worked the way hounds were going, and asked if she would not cast them up the moor. the m.h., however, answered quietly that while she felt sure the farmer knew the run of his hares, she thought the hounds were close on their's, and that in another moment or two it would get up in front of them. the words were scarcely spoken when up got the hare, and the worthy mentor had to sit down and ride for all he was worth, for she ran as only a moorland hare can, and hounds had a fast forty-five minutes before they ran into her in the open. quietness and trust in her hounds are the two qualities without which no woman can hunt a pack successfully. this brings me to the subject of the hounds themselves, and though it may seem rather like putting the cart before the horse, to speak of hunting them first, yet it is certain that no one will find the hounds of much use until she knows how to handle them. the first point of course to decide is the kind of hounds you mean to have, whether dwarf foxhounds, stud-book harriers, or the old pure harrier. [illustration: _h. e. coles. redditch._ _buxom, bentley harrier._ (_winner of champion cup, peterborough. ._)] the pure harrier has undoubtedly the advantage in tongue, but though good music is a charm it is not so necessary with harriers as with foxhounds, as the former are generally in sight. as against this they have, unless very carefully bred, a lightness of bone and a tendency to splay feet and flat sides. here again, however, we shall see presently what the experience of those who have taken the matter in hand has been. dwarf foxhounds are only to be recommended in countries where hares are bold and strong and go away like foxes, for most countries they have too much drive, and will be continually flashing over the line, and if you compare the hunting of one of these packs in an ordinary country with that of good stud-book harriers, the balance of sport in the long run is sure to be with the latter. what the foxhounds gain in speed they lose in the tendency to over-run the line. and now we must face the question of what a stud-book harrier is. a pure harrier, with an infusion of foxhound blood some generations back, so that now the hare-hunting instinct of the former, and the good feet and shoulders of the latter are combined in the shapely, compact, little harrier to be seen taking the prizes at peterborough, is, i suppose, about as good a description as we can have. the nose and the patience characteristic of the good old-fashioned hare hunting hound are necessary to good sport, and that power of hunting a cold scent down a road, which they transmit to their descendants, is a most useful one. but the make and shape which will enable them to stay through a long day's hunting, and a certain amount of drive which adds greatly to the sport, come from an infusion of foxhound blood. then, after at least three generations devoted exclusively to the chase of the hare, we may hope to get the happy mean between the drive forward on the one hand, and the pottering and towling on the other, in which lies the pleasure and success of hare-hunting. when you have got over the preliminary difficulties of starting a pack you should draft down your hounds till you have as level a lot as possible, - inches being about the general standard. larger hounds than these will smother the hare, and smaller ones cannot get over the fences of any ordinary country. the ultimate aim of everyone is, of course, to have a level pack, as otherwise, no matter how good the hounds may be, they can never have the smart appearance in the field so dear to the sportswoman's heart. i would always prefer to have even two or three couples short, than to spoil the look of the pack by having out hounds either too large or too small. it is not in any case desirable to have out a large pack to kill hares, from eight to fourteen couple being quite enough for any country. some twenty couple of good stud-book harriers then in kennel, will be enough for you to have a smart workmanlike lot of the requisite number in the field, two days a week. there are no hounds so full of faults, both of make and disposition, as harriers, and it is never an easy matter to buy a pack ready made. the best way, therefore, to begin is with unentered drafts from known kennels, such as the boddington, the aldenham, and the bath and county, and then to breed and buy as opportunity offers. i would remorselessly draft hounds that do not throw their tongues, and this in spite of the fact that mute hounds are often good in other ways, and the rest of the pack will fly to a trustworthy one directly it begins to feather on the line. this recalls the amusing hypothesis recently made by a brilliant writer on sport, that hounds have a system of signalling with their sterns, analogous to the "flag wagging" of our army. did the original idea of signalling, this writer asks, come to some gallant officer while he was watching hounds feather on a scent? if not, many will agree that the system _might_ have originated in this way. but to return. worse hound faults, even than muteness, are jealousy, skirting and babbling, any one of which should be at once met by drafting. the last--babbling--is incurable, but the other failings often appear in good hounds after they have lost their pace. as these habits are very catching, the only remedy is to draft the hounds directly they show symptoms of them, and you will find that you need to be constantly drafting from the head and tail of your pack, and you will be wise to keep few hounds over four seasons. the first thing in the training of hounds is to get them perfectly handy and under control, and to do this will mean time and trouble. you must win their affection, and consequently must spend much time with them, both in the kennel and on the road. in this way you will soon get to know the character of each hound, and you will take out the docile ones first in couples, and then when you can trust these, the wilder and more headstrong hounds. you should take notice of the hounds continually on the road, speaking to them of course by name, and your whipper-in should be ready with his thong whenever it is wanted. not that the whip should be much used, this will not be necessary if you study your hounds' dispositions, and treat each one according to the peculiarities you have noted. but all the same, chastisement should be prompt for any attempt at rebellion after due warning given, and then you must harden your heart to the piteous cries that will follow. always keep a watchful eye on the hounds when you have them out, and never let them break away if you can possibly help it. if, however, such a thing does happen, it will add greatly to your comfort it the ringleaders be transferred at once to another kennel. at the same time when on the road, or out for exercise, you should give hounds plenty of room, for it is bad for them and certainly does not look well, to have them packed close round your horse's heels. never under any circumstances take a pack into the field before you are sure that their discipline is perfect. till the hounds know you thoroughly you should drill them whenever you go into the kennel. let them greet you while you make much of them, for it is thus that you will win their hearts, but, this over, it is a good thing to make them "lie up," and not to let them venture to leave the bench till they are called by name. then you will call first one and then the other, making much of the obedience and readiness shown, and rewarding the hounds with biscuit. if you mean to hunt the hounds yourself, you must go to the kennels daily, and in any case it is always well to see that the servants are sufficiently careful in preserving perfect cleanliness and sweetness, both with the hounds themselves and in the kennels. it cannot be too much insisted on that cleanliness rigorous, absolute and complete, must always prevail. this is quite practicable, and no excuse should be accepted as to its failure in any one particular. a good disinfectant such as jeyes' fluid, and constant vigilance on the part of the kennel-man, are all that are required. [illustration: _woodbine, wellfield, buxom, bentley harriers._ (_w. west_, k.h., _with three champion winners_.)] if you have a good kennel-man, it is not necessary for you to feed hounds yourself, but you should frequently inspect the food, as even the best servants are apt to be careless in this matter. if, however, you study economy and only have a lad in the kennels, then you or some member of your family should always see to the feeding of the hounds. the food may consist of horseflesh and old oatmeal, with a few biscuits and some bone-dust, and this diet i should say would be found the best and cheapest in the end. this, however, is a matter in which each hound owner will use her own judgment. there are of course various ways of cheapening the diet, but i cannot honestly recommend any of them. on the care in the kennel depends the sport in the field, and without health and condition in the hounds you can hope for no good days. far better to have a less well-bred pack, or an inferior country, than hounds which are out of sorts and condition. this reminds me that whenever you go into the kennel you should have a watchful eye for the slightest symptoms of a dull or heavy look in any hound, and order such to be separated at once. a healthy hound should be clear of eye and bright of coat, as well as bright and cheery in manner. if you are in doubt about the health of one of your pack, remember that the pink of the mouth is a great sign of health, while paleness and yellowness about the gums is the reverse. quite the worst part about keeping harriers, in my opinion, is the constant drafting of the hounds. perhaps in the case of some old favourite which you know has taken to skirting and hanging on the line, you overlook the faults and refuse to part with him. but what is the result? you find the younger hounds are becoming demoralised, and reluctantly are forced to recognise the truth of the verdict, that harriers should be drafted in their fifth season. it is only the few of exceptional constitution and strength to whom this does not apply, and so you have constantly to be hardening your heart to send some old favourite away. there are only two points on which i need touch further, and these are your assistants in the field, and the treatment of the quarry. for the first you should have two whippers-in, one an amateur and one a professional, and though as long as things go right they will not be needed, they should always be ready in case of riot, or when hounds are nearing forbidden territory. for though harriers will do no harm in a country if they are properly managed, it is well to remember that m.f.h.'s are tenacious, and covert owners are ready to take alarm. a question that has to be faced is, what to do with the hare when your little hounds have caught her, and my advice is to let hounds break her up themselves without any fuss, as the badminton hounds do their foxes. and now to turn to the interesting topic of the experience in kennel and field of our present lady m.h.'s, and all will doubtless like to know something of the methods in which each of these pioneer sportswomen has built up her pack. in south wales, where mrs. pryse-rice has her kennels, the conditions of sport are very different to what they are in the southern counties of england. in the first place, the spare little black-backed mountain hares of wales, have a turn of speed beyond the powers of their better fed english fellows, and are very hard to kill. instead, too, of circling round and round when before hounds, they will generally go straight away and will often give a five mile point as bravely as any fox. the reason of this fitness is to be found in the fact that they are constantly being coursed by the farmers' cross-bred greyhounds and collie dogs, which are often scantily fed and badly in want of a dinner, and they have far to go themselves for food, as they have no nice fields of roots at hand like the more luxurious lowland hares. it is evident then that the hounds to follow these speedy little hares must be quick in getting away and have plenty of drive, and i cannot do better than quote mrs. pryse-rice's own words on the subject, as to how she has succeeded in building up such a pack. "i started my harriers in , being much helped in the first instance by gifts of hounds from my father-in-law, mr. vaughan pryse, who hunted his harriers for forty seasons, and is one of the oldest masters in the kingdom. to these i added a few couple of the woodnorton pack when it was given up by the comtesse de paris, and some small foxhounds chosen from my husband's pack, which he had given up the season before.[ ] the first year i ran a small pack of twelve couple, and though the hounds were perhaps not a very level lot, they gave us a very good season's sport. now after four years of breeding, buying and drafting, they run up well together, and are a stud-book pack of twenty couple of - inch hounds. [footnote : mr. pryse-rice was master of the tivyside foxhounds.--editor.] [illustration: _elliott and fry. , baker street._ _mrs. pryse-rice and her harriers._ (_mr. pryse-rice and a. mandeville_, k.h.)] "although i am of course keen to breed a peterborough winner, still my great ambition is to own a pack that will hunt and drive. i am not in favour of the slow, sure and persevering type of hound, for though these may hunt and constantly kill their hare, they will by giving her time, allow her to run round and round in the country she knows, instead of _driving_ her out of her beaten track. i like hounds to get away on the back of their quarry and if they drive her into a strange country she will be almost certain to go straight. if hounds do this and possess plenty of drive without flashiness, they will often _make_ a good scent, when otherwise they would find an indifferent one." as an apt commentary on the remarks of this very successful m.h., we may note that mrs. pryse-rice's hounds had some really extraordinary runs last season.[ ] for instance early in december they found a hare in the heather, and after running her down wind for nearly two miles, they turned and went at a pace that tried their followers for a five-mile point dead up wind, killing her in forty-five minutes from the start. in the same month another mountain hare gave them a good five-mile point, and on january th the hounds were two hours and forty-five minutes going at a good pace, and travelling over a great extent of country, and they did not reach kennels after this, their best run of the season, till . p.m. [footnote : - .] it is clear, therefore, that mrs. pryse-rice is to be counted among those who have attained more or less to the ideal they have set before them in breeding, and she has beside scored high honours at peterborough. the noted harrier stud-book bitch, aldenham restless, a veteran of pure foxhound blood, by the whaddon chase tarquin--oakley sarah, is now in the llandovery kennels. this bitch won the champion cup at peterborough in , and three years later took the silver cup for the best brood bitch,[ ] after which she became the property of mrs. pryse-rice. [footnote : i must express my regret that it has not been found possible to reproduce the photograph of this famous hound, though it was most kindly sent me by mrs. pryse-rice.--editor.] the stock of restless are well to the fore, for last year-- --no fewer than nine of her descendants were winners at the peterborough show. rigby, a fine upstanding hound, of pure harrier blood, by eamont barrister--their russet was second for the champion cup in , and as he was unentered and was shown against old dog-hounds, this was a remarkably good performance. to quote once more from mrs. pryse-rice's own words: "we have never," she says, "had a big count of hares killed. we--my husband acts as my first whip and a. mandeville is k.h. and second whip--are quite content to come home having accounted for one hunted hare, or when we kill a brace in this way, it is quite a red-letter day for us. i do not see any fun in either chopping them, or in killing three or four hares that only run a few fields, though of course this does make up the count." touching on the subject of the introduction of the foxhound cross with harriers, mrs. pryse-rice says that she is "in favour of an infusion of foxhound blood, in moderation, into the harrier kennel." the country hunted by mrs. cheape lies round redditch, and extends into warwickshire and gloucestershire. in , when "the squire" inherited the bentley estates from her father, she bought the well-known pack of harriers belonging to captain spicer, of spye park, and several couple of the herondon hall harriers. the bentley pack of the present day includes many peterborough winners, and deservedly ranks very high among the harrier packs of the land. the hounds, however, have not been bred for show purposes only, but for nose and tongue, and to show sport. at the peterborough show of last year ( ) the first prize for dog hounds, under inches, was taken by mrs. cheape's wellfield and gainer. the former of these is by lord e. somerset's dancer--woodbine, and through his dam, which was the winner of the champion cup for bitch hounds not exceeding inches, at peterborough in , strains back to the aldenham restless. gainer, on the other hand, is a home-bred hound. a grand three couple, which took the silver cup in , are buxom (wellfield--bracelet, dam by boddington borderer--breconshire lightstone) also winner of the champion cup; gadfly, home-bred; verity (aldenham valiant--their restless); waterwitch, home-bred (waggoner--woodbine); warlike, also a son of wellfield; and dahlia, home bred (druid--worry); the sire of the last (ashford valley pillager--h. h. dewdrop) being one of the winners of the first prize for best couple of entered hounds, not exceeding inches, in , at peterborough. truly a triumph of breeding and selection of which any woman may be proud. [illustration: _bracelet_, _waterwitch_, _verity_, _woodblne_, _generous_, _worry_. _mrs. cheape and her peterborough winners._ (_best three couple under inches, peterborough, ._)] [illustration: _dulcima, pure harrier._ (_property of lady gifford._)] lady gifford began by having a small pack of beagles, but as she found it impossible to keep with these hounds on foot, she gradually changed to harriers. the ideal she then placed before herself was to get a level pack of inch hounds of pure harrier blood. in colour, too, lady gifford is particular, her fancy being to get her hounds as dark as possible, with golden-red tan on their heads, but, as she truly says, though a smart appearance is much--and such hounds are very smart--"when you get a good-shaped hound it does not do to quarrel as to colour." in starting her pack lady gifford has gone a good deal to mr. allgood's kennels, and dulcima, a very beautiful bitch by his durable--darkeye, has perfect colouring and good bone, and, moreover, an excellent nose, and will gallop all day without tiring. her owner naturally regrets that owing to the fact of mr. allgood not being a member of the association of masters of harriers, she is not able to show hounds bred by him, although lady gifford herself has joined the association. the country over which lady gifford hunts is the moorland near her home in northumberland, and she finds the little hounds of - inches beautiful to ride to over the open grass land, and very quick to get over the stone walls and the heather. that they need to be speedy after a heather-fed hare there is no doubt, for such an one is stronger than most of her kind, and will usually go straight as a good fox, after a ring or two to start with. the open land, too, generally carries a fine scent, and even though you have harriers before you, you will find you need to be riding a horse with a good turn of speed to enable you to live with them. in kennel management lady gifford takes the keenest interest, and her system appears so excellent, that all engaged in hound breeding may find something to learn from it. "i always think," writes lady gifford, "that when hounds are in work, they are often given their food too wet. this, i am sure, is a mistake. i give my hounds the best oatmeal that can be got, and too much care cannot be given to the making of the porridge. it must be boiled just right, or it is worse than useless. there is a biscuit known as bread biscuit, which i find extremely good for hounds, though it is a little difficult to get. it is made, i understand, from the dinner rolls and bread left at london parties, and so you may be sure it is made of the best meal. i always find, however, that my meal merchant is anxious for me to have _any_ kind of biscuit except this. the washing and grooming of hounds is, i think, a point in the kennel not sufficiently thought of. all the summer months i have my hounds thoroughly washed with soap and warm water, and of course thoroughly dried, and though no doubt this takes a long time, the result well repays you. if hounds are well groomed every day, they will keep twice as healthy, and their coats will have a shine like satin, exactly like a well-groomed horse. as to exercising, i take them out on the road every morning about six o'clock, for two hours, and in consequence they never really get out of condition, but by the time august comes round they are quite ready for 'cubbing' so to speak." another point on which lady gifford gives information which others may find valuable, is concerning a cure for that "kennel dread," distemper, which she learnt from the great veterinary surgeon, professor pritchard. she advises a preparation of coffee and milk in equal parts, exactly as you would have it made for your own consumption, then to drench the puppy continually with it, allowing him to touch nothing else, and while the treatment lasts to keep the puppy in an even temperature. the results of this treatment, in lady gifford's kennel, has been all that could be wished, and though previously she had had heavy losses from this cause, she has never since lost one that she has tried it on. is it possible that as this simple remedy becomes better known, we may find that cruel scourge, distemper, disarmed of its terrors? [illustration: _mrs. pryse-rice's kennels._ _aldenham bitches._] _beagles._ beside the harrier, there is sport and good sport too, to be had with the beagle after hare, and those who are young and active and to whom the merry cry of hounds is a delight, will find a never-ending source of interest in hunting with these little hounds. this sport has too the advantage of being inexpensive, for it not only requires but a small outlay to start with, but necessitates a very moderate sum for the keeping up of the pack. of course there are degrees of expenditure both in the management and hunting of beagles, to be determined by the means at your command, but a sportswoman can have a good and efficient pack of beagles in the field for very much less than she could have other hounds. the first necessity, if you wish to hunt your own beagles, is to have a country to hunt over, and you must get leave to pursue your quarry over a farm or farms where there is a fair proportion of hares. the number of hares, indeed, need not be very great, as not very many will fall before beagles. neither do you require a large extent of country to hunt over, as a hare is not likely to be driven right away, but in a majority of cases will circle round the place where she is found. yet there is a charm in beagling, which lies in the open air, the active exercise, the music of the hounds, and the working out by them of the puzzles set by the hare. when you have secured a country--or before, if you are so inclined--you will need to get together your pack. if a good pack of beagles should come into the market, you would do well to buy them, provided you do not mind the expense to start with. if, however, you do not object to trouble, and do mind the outlay, then, even before you think about country, you will buy some well-bred bitches and set to work to build up a pack. in any case, if you mean to have beagles, _have them_, and do not have dwarf harriers. the beagle stud-book will help you in your choice of strains. go to good beagle kennels such as those of sir marteine lloyd, or the caledon, and having decided on the type for which you intend to breed, keep true to it. having succeeded, either by buying or breeding, in getting a pack, you will then have to keep your hounds up to a certain number. from about six to twelve couple will be all that you will want to take out, but this of course will mean that you want at least two couple more in reserve. you should breed a certain number of puppies every year, and in this you must be regulated to a great extent by the walks at your command. you might keep one couple at home, giving them a free run of the stables, yards and paddocks, and though you will find them troublesome and as mischievous as monkeys, their small size will prevent them being the unmitigated trouble that foxhound puppies undoubtedly are. still, the infant beagle has a marvellous appetite for sponges, brushes, and all sorts of indigestible household requisites, and he will besides be credited by the servants with even more mischief than he really works. you will find some, or perhaps most of your field, ready to undertake the charge of a few couple--and those who come out regularly ought to look upon this as a duty--and for a small payment you can secure homes in cottages, with those who will look after the puppies carefully and intelligently, and who will, indeed, treat them so well that you will not improbably have a very sulky lot of little dogs to deal with, when they first come under kennel discipline. perhaps it may be thought that i have touched too lightly on the very difficult question of breeding beagles true to a type, for except it be the clumber spaniel there is no dog more likely to give you trouble than the beagle. still it can be done successfully, and if you choose your bitches in the first instance and are careful in you selection of the sires, constant care, scrupulous cleanliness, careful feeding and regular exercise will do the rest. the most charming and graceful type of hound, as well as the most likely to be useful in hunting, is one that corresponds in miniature to that of the foxhound. there should be the same alertness and good carriage, the good shoulders and straight legs of the larger hound, and any puppies that fall below the standard in any particular should be immediately drafted. to a certain extent you must be guided by the sort of country over which you are to hunt, for if this be fairly open, without thick coverts, stout fences or wide drains, then you will find a small lightly-built hound, of some fourteen or fifteen inches, the best, but if on the other hand, you have much plough and strong fences, you will require a beagle of the heavier and larger type, standing about sixteen or seventeen inches. with beagles as with other hounds, muteness is a fault which should immediately be met by drafting, and i would strongly advise the same even for great economy of tongue. skirting or any suspicion of falsehood will meet with the same fate, as well as the very slightest symptom of jealousy, for the little hounds should score to cry at once. there was in a pack i used to know well, a certain very handsome little bitch, aptly enough named "fallible," which, when she found the hare, or touched the line first after a check, would hunt with the best, but if another hound was before her, she would scour away at right angles to the line, throwing her tongue vigorously when she had nothing whatever before her. so good was this hound _when she pleased_, and "such a pictur'" to look at, that it was a great wrench for the master to part with her. it was found, however, that it was a choice between letting her go and having the whole pack demoralised, so "fallible" carried her gifts and her failings elsewhere. this instance will also serve to remind you, that good hounds are not easily parted with from any kennel, and, therefore, it behoves you to be very careful in the choice of those you take into your own. the kennelling and feeding of beagles is a comparatively simple matter, cleanliness, warmth and wholesome food being the great requisites. on the building of kennels you need not expend any great amount of money, as almost any out-buildings you may have can be adapted for the purpose. the cardinal points to be considered are: (_a_) freedom from damp. (_b_) freedom from draughts. (_c_) good ventilation overhead. then the hounds must on no account sleep on the floor, but have the usual benches provided, and there should be a palisaded or walled-in run, into which they can go from their sleeping room. if these points are attended to, the workmanship of the buildings may be almost as rough as you please, but above all things you must not let the use of the limewash brush be spared. the scraps from the house boiled up with vegetables--with care that everything is perfectly sweet and fresh--and any good dog biscuit, will be found to answer for their food. no hounds will do well on biscuit only, and it should be remembered that rice is not nourishing food. meat and vegetables are needed, and of the latter i should advise a certain amount of cabbage to be given. the amount of food, and this specially applies to meat, should be carefully proportioned to the number of days you hunt in the week, and the length of days you make. it is a great mistake to feed hounds either too high, or too low. if you have not an experienced and trustworthy kennel-man, you should see the hounds fed yourself, and then observe the appetite and needs of each hound in the pack. hounds should have plenty of exercise before hunting, and as much on the road as you can give them when they are not hunting. they should be trotted out with horses if possible, and out of the season eight miles a day or even ten, will be found necessary to keep them in condition. since the establishment of the association of masters of harriers and beagles--which body i would strongly advise any woman interested in hound-breeding to join--and the foundation of stud books for both classes of hounds, immense strides have been made towards the perfection of the respective types. the competition for the prizes at peterborough consequently becomes keener every year, and the glory of success is proportionately greater. no one has done more for the improvement of the beagle than sir marteine lloyd, whose pack known as the bronwydd beagles, is the best, as it is one of the oldest packs in the land. a feature of this hunt, specially interesting to women, is that miss lloyd, sir marteine's daughter, takes an active part in the management of the hounds, and in the field acts as whipper in to her father. miss lloyd has been kind enough to write the following short account of her father's hounds, in which all beagle lovers will be interested. [illustration: _elliott and fry. , baker street._ _sir marteine lloyd and some of the bronwydd beagles._] the bronwydd beagles. this pack was started in by my grandfather, the late sir thomas lloyd. next to the royal rock (started by colonel anstruther thomson in ) they are the oldest pack of beagles in the kingdom. they measure - / inches, and we generally have fifteen couples. they are pure bred; dwarf harriers never being admitted. in , the bronwydd "nigel" won the champion cup at peterborough, for the best dog-hound, and in , the cup was won by our "merryboy." the harrier and beagle show was started at peterborough in , as though before this there were rules laid down for foxhounds on the show bench, beagles had not been given similar attention, and it was suggested by my father and a few kindred spirits, that it was time to stop the continual drafting of dwarf harriers into beagle packs, regardless of rule or standard. my father consequently appealed to the peterborough committee, asking them to form a show for harriers and beagles upon the same principle as that on which the fox-hound show was based. in , the bronwydd beagles celebrated their jubilee. they have not been hunting this season. [illustration: _so bored!_] "sir marteine succeeded to the mastership in , but he had begun to hunt the hounds himself in at the age of sixteen, when the old huntsman, john walters, retired. george davies commenced his career as whip at the same time and i was added to the staff as whip a year ago." i have only to add to this that the photograph of sir marteine lloyd is taken on his mare "grand duchess," and that four of the hounds with him, named "liberal," "favourite," "comical," and "comely," are special favourites and excellent workers in the field. frances e. slaughter. [illustration: _lombardi and co. , pall mall east._ _the hon. mrs. lancelot lowther._] shooting. in these few words on shooting for women, i must begin by saying that as this is my first attempt at writing, i hope any faults i may make will be lightly treated. it is only within the last few years that the idea of a woman being able to see a gun without screaming, much less fire one off, has even been thought of, but now i venture to say that there are many women who are just as good shots with both gun and rifle as men, and perhaps some better. i do not mean to infer that we can count amongst our number anyone who can take the place which lord de grey, lord walsingham, and a few others take amongst men, but as shooting becomes more popular, and is more practised among women, i daresay we shall in years to come see some of the latter just as good even as those i have named. i am afraid it will take some time for men to get over the terror which the sight of a woman with a loaded gun in her hand always gives them. the reason of this is that they think we are much too careless to be trusted with such a dangerous weapon, and that we think no more of carrying a loaded gun than if we had a walking-stick in our hands. the first thing, therefore, that a women who takes up shooting has to remember is, that as an irishman once said about a gun, "loaded or unloaded, she's dangerous." one cannot be too careful in handling either a gun or rifle, always to have it at half cock when not actually shooting, and always to take out the cartridges when getting over or through a fence. accidents happen quite easily enough without providence being tempted by the neglect of these simple precautions. a woman requires a light gun if she is to carry it all day. there are, of course, as every one knows, a variety of different bores. i will mention the ones mostly used, which are the , , , and -bores. the and -bores are mostly made for women, but personally i prefer a -bore double-barrel hammerless gun. of course it must be made rather lighter than for a man. i have always myself used one of these that was specially made for me, weighing exactly lbs., both barrels medium choke, and a thick india-rubber pad at the end of the stock to prevent all recoil. the cartridges i use are made with schultze powder grains, and seven-eighths of no. shot. i have found this a perfect gun, and one i should always recommend. it is not too heavy, and is first-rate for shooting pheasants, partridges, pigeons, etc. the great thing in ordering a gun is to have it very well balanced, a thing which is hard to describe but which is easily told apart, as no one who has tried the two can fail to appreciate the well-balanced gun as against the badly-balanced one. it chiefly consists in having the muzzle and stock of the gun to divide their weight, neither one nor the other being a half ounce too heavy. when choosing a gun, it is necessary to put it several times quickly to the shoulder at an object level with the eye, and if the sight taken comes fair on the mark aimed at, the gun will probably suit. another thing to remember and guard against, is having cartridges loaded too heavily for the gun, as it makes the gun "kick," and nothing puts you off shooting so much as expecting every time you fire to have your shoulder bruised. this is beside very dangerous for a woman. if, however, a gun fits you properly, and the charge of the cartridges is proportionate to the size of the gun, a "kick" should never happen. you must also be particular to have the stock exactly the right length, so that it can be brought up quickly and easily to the shoulder. it must be held firmly against the shoulder, with the left arm extended as straight as possible from the shoulder and the right hand behind the trigger guard. more accidents happen by _following_ game with the gun than by any other means. there are very strict rules of etiquette to be observed in shooting, as in hunting or any other sport, and nobody is more hated and feared than a jealous shot. these are indeed a source of danger to everyone, as they are always so anxious to add another bird to their score that they never give any thought to their neighbours, or think of other people. for a person, whether a man or woman, who is beginning to shoot, the best thing is to go out with some experienced shot or keeper who will thoroughly explain the art of shooting, and show how to load and unload a gun and how to hold it. to quote from the excellent article on shooting in the _badminton library_: "a beginner should at first start with a small charge of powder and be taught to fire this off at small birds, every attention being paid to his handling his gun with safety as if it were loaded. he may next shoot at small birds with a half ounce of shot. if he succeed pretty well, and is above all things careful in the way he manages his gun, he can next be permitted to fire at pigeons--with their wings slightly clipped, so as not to fly too fast--from under a flower-pot or out of a trap, at a distance of fifteen yards." [illustration: _clay pigeon trap._ (_used at charles lancaster's shooting grounds._)] you must remember that accuracy of aim will only come by practice. when you are fairly sure of yourself the next step is to go out to walk birds up, but you must get it carefully explained by an authority what birds you ought to fire at, and what are to be left alone, and on no account should you, if walking in line, fire across a neighbour's gun, or at birds that strictly belong to others from their having got up nearer to them than to you. it is always better to fire a yard too far ahead of flying birds or running game than too far in the rear. in the former case, the shot is more likely to meet the mark, in the latter it never can. in the former if it does count a hit it means one in a vital part, the head, in the latter at most it means a wound in the extremities. it is utterly impossible to measure distances in the air in front of a flying bird or running game; instinct, aided by practical experience, will alone teach the hand and eye to obey the brain in this respect, and to give the correct distance at which to aim in front. if a rifle is required for small game such as rabbits and young rooks, a -bore holland rook rifle would be useful. rifle shooting is a far more difficult thing, and requires more practice than shooting with a gun. you must have a very steady hand and straight eye to be a good rifle shot. it has often been remarked that a woman as a rule shoots better with a rifle than a gun. i do not quite know why this should be the case, but so it is. when shooting with a rifle one must never forget that a bullet from even one of the smallest rifles goes a very considerable distance. i used, as a girl, to have many an enjoyable evening's sport with my rifle in the park at home, stalking "brer" rabbit, of which there were any number, but the difficulty was to get up to them, as they were very shy from being constantly shot at, and at the slightest noise used to scurry off and disappear like lightning down their burrows. some evenings i used to bring home two or three rabbits, though oftener than not, none at all, but whatever the result, it was all the same a very pleasant way of spending a summer's evening, and there was a good deal of excitement about it. then another great amusement of both my brother's and mine was rook shooting. most people, unless they have tried it themselves, would think there couldn't be much sport in shooting at a young rook sitting quietly on a branch of a tree unable to fly away, but let them once try rook shooting with a -bore rifle, when there is enough wind to blow the trees about, and they will find it requires no small amount of skill to fetch down a young rook from the top of a high tree which is gently swaying to and fro. there are two difficulties in this particular form of shooting which affect a woman perhaps more than a man. the strained attitude in aiming, necessitated by the height at which the rooks build their nests, causes serious stiffness at the back of the neck, which soon communicates with the muscles of the shoulders and obliges one to rest awhile. again, and this more especially occurs when the tree-tops are moving, the tiny target a young rook makes when peeping out of its nest, will soon become indistinguishable among the twigs and branches around it, unless the sight taken is both instantaneous and accurate. many a time has it happened to me to gaze and gaze down the barrel of my rifle vainly attempting to draw a bead upon the swinging rooklet, until everything becomes blurred and blotted, and i was perforce obliged to bring the rifle down in despair. i may say at once that i have a decided preference for the rifle as opposed to the gun, though i should be the last to minimise the pleasures of pheasant and partridge shooting. i am not one of those women who prefer the excitement of a regular "battue" to the more sober joys of a quiet pot-hunt. to begin with, there is no doubt that a woman is a great bore at anything like an organised shooting party. it would do the intending lady-shot good to see the faces of the men on hearing that they are to have the honour of her company during the day. the smothered grumbles of the younger sportsmen are drowned in the more forcible ejaculations of the older generation. but apart from this, and i am not for one moment assuming that it is the duty of women to consider exclusively the whims of the sterner sex, there always seems to me to be some special enjoyment in sallying forth with the object of replenishing an exhausted larder, and with the certainty of having to work one's hardest to accomplish the task. every shot then becomes of importance, and the comparative scarcity of the prey redoubles one's vigilance and activity. should the wily partridge elude your aim on these occasions, you feel as if some tremendous disaster had occurred, and your spirits do not recover their normal condition until some special success has rewarded your efforts, and a long and difficult shot has added another victim to the bag. in shooting, as in so many other pursuits, it is quality not quantity that should be sought. [illustration: _from a painting by miss maud earl._ _pointer on partridge._] one of the most amusing day's shooting i ever remember was a hare drive in austria. we left the house at one o'clock and drove about eight miles through a very flat country to the "rendezvous," where we found a perfect army of beaters who were chatting volubly in an unknown tongue. i discovered later that they were talking polish, which is the common language of the peasants in that part of silesia adjoining the austrian-russian frontier. the men were mostly barefooted, but in other respects resembled the average english beater. the keepers were distinguished by their green livery and austrian conical hats. they carried horns slung from their shoulders, and when a line had been formed some quarter of a mile in length, the signal was given by the head-keeper on his horn and was taken up by his subordinates. an excellent method was observed in allotting a certain number of beaters to the care of each keeper, who was then responsible for their maintaining a good line and preventing stragglers. the ten guns were of course distributed at intervals along the line, and we started across level fields of potato and beet-root sugar roots which took the place of our turnips, and were much easier to walk through. there were no fences, and the fields were divided by ditches and low banks. game was plentiful, and although we only shot for about two-and-a-half hours, we succeeded in killing about two hundred hares and several partridges. the beater who carried my cartridges was greatly excited whenever i was fortunate enough to kill a hare, and jabbered away in his native tongue. i have never heard anything approaching that language. it is a fearful and wonderful thing, and i wished i could have brought some of it away with me to use on special occasions in england. the only drawback was the weather. it rained cats and dogs, and while i was glad to note that england has not the monopoly of inclement weather, i must confess that the austrians think no more of a wet jacket than we do. at five o'clock we gave up, and returned home wet to the skin, but none the less my husband and i have the pleasantest recollection of our first day's shooting in austria. before closing this article i must refer shortly to the subject of dress. the first thing to remember, is always to have a dress of some dark or neutral tinted material that will not be conspicuous on a moor or when birds are being driven, and which will also keep out the rain. a short skirt, breeches, thick boots, and either woollen stockings or gaiters, and a double-breasted loose coat are the most convenient as well as the most sportsman-like. but the coat must be loosely made, so as to allow one to bring the gun up to the shoulder quickly and easily, otherwise it will seriously interfere with the shooting. gwendoline lowther. [illustration: _from a painting by miss maud earl._ _irish setters._ _champions shandon ii. and geraldine._] * * * * * a friend, whose name i may not divulge, has kindly given me the following notes, and i venture to think that their excellence will make them acceptable, even though the writer prefers to remain unknown.--editor. shooting is a sport which requires neatness, accuracy, and the most persevering practice. its real pleasure lies in successful shots rather than in the number of slain. of course this does not mean that you should chance doubtful shots, but rather that you should gain the skill enabling you to kill a driven grouse, or partridge, or rabbit crossing a ride, or a high-flying pheasant, neatly, instantaneously, and with scarcely the loss of a feather or fluff of fur. to do this, constant, steady and unremitting practice will be necessary. with regard to the choice of a gun i have little to add to mrs. lowther's remarks. many people would say that you might begin practising with a common gun, but my strong advice is to get a good weapon to learn with, for you will overcome difficulties much more easily if you have a really good gun, and one that fits. the good shot, indeed, may do fairly well with a less perfect gun, but in my opinion a beginner should have the best possible weapons to her hand. bad shooting will not spoil a good gun, but an uncomfortable ill-fitting, too heavy gun, may spoil the novice as a shot for ever. having chosen a suitable gun, the next thing to do is to learn to shoot. if the gun fits you well, this is no difficult matter, at all events up to a certain point. aim should be constantly taken at a small paper target set up in a room, and regular practice should be had every day at bringing the gun quickly up to the shoulder, with the sight on the mark at which you aim. thus, fixing the eye on the imaginary point at which you are shooting, and holding the gun lightly and firmly, bring it up to the shoulder so that as soon as it is in position you could fire at the object without delay. as soon as you find you can do this, the gun still unloaded, should be the companion of your walks, and should be brought up to the shoulder in the same way at birds, rabbits, or any mark animate or inanimate that you please. this practice will have the double advantage of training your eye and hand, and accustoming you to the weight of the gun, which though not great, will yet be felt after you have tramped a good many miles. then you need to learn to judge distance. a good plan is to fix on an object in front of you when out for a walk, and after saying to yourself how far it is off, to pace the distance. another good plan is to cut out of cardboard a rough figure of a bird, pheasant, or partridge, and fasten it to a tree. then measure forty yards, thirty-five yards, and twenty yards, for you should never shoot at birds much nearer than that. after this begin at twenty yards and move slowly back, aiming every yard or so and making mental notes of the size of the cardboard bird as it appears to you. half the missing, and more than half the wounded birds, come from a want of power to judge distance. fortunately continued practice is very easy, and you should be always measuring distance when you are out walking. boys when they learn to shoot either go out with the keeper or get shots at jays, hawks, or other vermin in the woods, or they surreptitiously prowl about the hedges and shoot at anything that moves. but there are objections to both these plans for women, who may not have woods in which to range, and it is hardly necessary to say that the shooting of small birds is not to be encouraged. so for the next step i would suggest the clay pigeon. i have found that practice at these is very useful, and the flights are so ingeniously arranged that plenty of variety is given to the shooting. if there are several shooting people in the house, it will be possible to organise little competitions and sweeps which will improve your shooting by the spirit of emulation. i may add, by the way, that in country houses a clay bird shooting competition is a capital thing to fill up the day in the cub-hunting season, when after an early morning's sport, the rest of the day sometimes hangs heavily on our visitors' hands. the next step is to the rabbit, though bunny is a most difficult and deceptive animal to shoot, having been made by nature at least six inches too short. the best way for a beginner to shoot rabbits is to go out with the ferrets, and get shots at them as they are bolted. i prefer shooting rabbits in this way for quite a beginner, to stalking them in the open when feeding near their holes, as until one is pretty sure of killing them, there is always a danger of wounding them, and then they creep away into their burrows to die miserably. never shoot at a rabbit going dead away from you, and learn from the first to aim well forward. of course the easiest of all shots for a beginner is at a hare crossing in covert, but hares are hardly numerous enough in most places and often are more or less preserved for harriers or coursing. by the time you can hit a wood pigeon and bowl over a rabbit neatly, you will have made some progress, and will be able to take up the various kinds of shooting in turn. i will speak of grouse first, because these birds afford the very best shooting possible. for women who have the opportunity, there is no doubt that driven grouse are in some respects more suitable to their powers than the birds to be obtained after a long fagging tramp over the moors. with the universal popularity of driving, both with shooters and the owners of moors, such opportunities are likely to come frequently in the way of women, whose means enable them to shoot in scotland. driving is popular with owners because it is better for the moors, a larger proportion of old and therefore useless and injurious birds being thinned out by this method, than when a moor is shot over dogs in the ordinary way. with shooters it is popular, because driven grouse afford perhaps the finest shots of any known game, with the possible exception of the himalayan pheasants, as they sweep with their grand rush down the sides of the mountains. there are certain points which all shooters of driven grouse should bear in mind, one being that the eyes should be, so to speak, working in front of the gun, which should come to the shoulder with one movement, and the trigger be pulled at once. it is this instinctive action in shooting which makes the constant practice, on which so much stress has been laid, so necessary. it cannot, so far as i know, be acquired in any other way, but if a woman has the perseverance and keenness necessary, she is likely to acquire it more quickly than a man. birds, it must be remembered, coming at the pace of driven grouse, fly into the shot, and therefore the shooter must aim further in front than would be the case with birds going at a slower pace. but the angle at which the birds are coming, their height, and the inclination of their flight, all make a difference. infinite variety is the characteristic of shots at driven birds, and it will need all the coolness and steadiness of nerve of the shooter to meet each occasion as it arises with promptness and success. when the birds are coming within shot, the gunner should fix on the bird she means to shoot at first, this being the one which is easiest for her, that is to say, the one which offers the sort of shot at which she is best, and at which, therefore, she can fire with the most confidence. then keeping her gun at the shoulder, she will take the second available one. there is no necessity to look to see if the first one has fallen, for if you have missed you can do no more, and if it is dead you should waste no more time on it. this is undoubtedly the method of shooting grouse most suitable to women. it gives the minimum of fatigue with the maximum of skill, and it is to skill rather than bodily force to which a woman must look if she would excel in sport. for however young, strong, and active she may be, it must never be forgotten by the prudent sportswoman, that we _are_ the weaker sex. if, however, the moor on which the woman has the chance of shooting is not suitable for driving, and some far northern moors yield better results to dogs, then she may try her luck over the pointers and setters. very delightful you will find this, but it is well not to overtax your strength, not only on your own account, but also to avoid being regarded as an encumbrance by the male members of the party. beats near the lodge, if possible, should be chosen, and luncheon should, in my opinion, be the signal for the prudent sportswoman to retire. when i turn from the grouse to the partridge i shall probably have a much larger public, for partridge shooting is, next to the rabbit, the most easily attainable form of sport. it varies in quality of course, but is always enjoyable, though it requires very much smaller expenditure than the grouse. almost every girl that can use her gun, may hope to get a shot at partridges. the partridge is little inferior to the grouse, or perhaps i may say, it is only inferior in its surroundings. in its pursuit the wild romantic scenery of the moor, will be exchanged for the tamer but not less beautiful landscape of the manor. there are three ways of shooting partridges, the drive, walking up, and shooting over dogs. the first of these is only suitable for large estates, and is not therefore within the reach of many women. i well remember the first time i saw one. the friend to whom i owe most of my shooting, whom i will call mrs. robinson, had herself learned to use her gun in order to accompany her husband who was very fond of the sport, and when the management of the estates fell into her hands, she threw herself enthusiastically into the improvement of the shootings. mrs. robinson does not drive her estate, as she holds that walking up and shooting over dogs is more suitable for her ground. but she has a neighbour, lord b., who does, and it was when i was staying with my old friend, that the latter asked us both over for a "drive." i was all excitement at the prospect, novelty having ever a charm for me, though i was a little nervous too as to how i should acquit myself. my friend offered some earnest advice. "i have told lord b. you are a capital shot, so do keep cool, and remember that the birds fly much faster than when you are shooting over dogs or walking, and, therefore, the allowance must be greater. in the first drive you will probably find yourself placed about twenty yards from a high hedge. stay where you are placed, and watch the top of the hedge, and try to shoot the birds as they appear in sight over it. there are a good many red-legs on the estate, so you may expect plenty of single shots. if you should be near colonel a. watch him, for he is one of the finest shots in england, both for style and results." it was with a decided feeling of nervousness that i found myself, as my friend had said, stationed about twenty yards or more behind a high and rather thick hedge. "you will get some really sporting shots here," said colonel a. as he went on to his own station, which i saw was near to mine. as it happened he got the first birds. i saw his gun go up--quickly but without flurry--and he fired as it were all in one motion. two birds were topping the hedge, and a brace of dead partridges dropped, killed neatly and instantaneously. almost immediately afterwards i got my chance at a single bird. my performance was not so neat, for the bird went on, towered, and fell behind us. i need not go into a long history of the day's performance, suffice it to say i came away thoroughly delighted with partridge driving. the number, variety and sporting character of the shots, made it a most exciting day, and when at the close the slain totalled up to brace, i felt that we had had a really fine shoot. it was not that i took actual pleasure in the numbers killed, but i had never before seen so many birds which afforded such sporting shots. i have been almost inclined since that experience to put partridge driving, for actual skill displayed, at the head of shooting. as an illustration of shooting partridges by walking up, i may give an account of a day's shooting over some of mrs. robinson's best ground. our party consisted of our hostess, lord b. and his son, the rector of the parish and myself. to each of us was assigned a man and a dog, and in the dogs i took the greatest interest, as they had been bred and broken by my father and myself. but of these more anon. they were three good dogs, and one super-excellent one, named dinah, a black retriever. there was also a brace of pointers, to save time on the turnips. mrs. robinson adopted the formation of beaters and guns recommended by mr. stuart wortley in his delightful volume on the partridge--which every shooter should read and re-read--that is, of a semicircle, with a gun in the centre and one on each flank. this is undoubtedly the best plan, for more, and i think better, shots are obtained than by walking in a straight line. in root crops we left the beaters, and let loose the pointers, which is a saving of time, and is far the most effectual. two guns went with each dog and took the points in turn. the root crops finished, the pointers were called up and the beat resumed. then we used to walk up the partridges on the various beats. the estate was well preserved, the keeper being both popular and efficient. but i think perhaps the days i liked best were those on which my friend and i went out alone, with two steady pointers and my dear old dinah, and picked up what birds we could. of course it is difficult now to make large bags over dogs, even where birds are plentiful, as they do not lie to dogs in the shaven fields of modern times as they used to do in the days of stubble fields, nevertheless, we were generally able to pick up four or five brace in a morning, and a few rabbits. hares were preserved for a pack of harriers, much affected by the farmers on the estate. sometimes too, we would beat the hedgerows with a brace of good clumbers for rabbits, or stray pheasants, and once, in a little copse or spinney, we found, and i shot, a woodcock. in turning to the subject of pheasants i have not a great deal to say, the opportunity of shooting them in these days coming but rarely to women. there are many reasons why a woman is out of place in big shoots, and as pheasants now are not often shot in any other way, it is not easy to get much practice at them. nevertheless, there are one or two places on my father's property where, with a steady old setter, i can generally find a brace of pheasants or more. a pheasant flushed in a hedgerow, is no doubt sometimes an easy shot when you are in practice, but it is good for beginners, as is everything that gives you confidence in yourself. when you shoot your first pheasant and he comes down stone-dead, you feel you really are a sportswoman, and a new confidence which brings success in its train, springs up in your heart. in woods, of course, the birds give a greater trial of skill, as you must as a rule make longer shots, for they will be travelling much faster. i seem to have said but little about pheasants which are after all the most important game, but the principles of shooting are the same in all cases, and with such pheasants as come in your way, you will be able to deal, if you read and put in practice the general precepts i have given, not forgetting to attend to the list of "don'ts" to be found at the end. we now come to rabbits, which are very important from one point of view, for the woman who can get nothing else can often get shots at "bunny." there are so many ways you can get him. you may bolt him with ferrets, you may stalk him with a rabbit rifle or a gun, you may drive him out of covert with fox terriers or beagles, or you may make him the occasion of a big shoot of his own. there is one thing about the rabbit which is invaluable, he hardly ever offers you an easy shot, and very often he is one of the hardest animals in the world to hit. rabbit shooting in company, unless that company be one of the most select, is decidedly dangerous, for more stray, careless and excited shots are made at rabbits than at any other form of sport. i am somewhat solitary in my sporting tastes, and much as i love the _chasse aux lapins_, i like it in solitude, or at all events with one trusted companion. the form that i really prefer is that which in my younger days prevailed in sussex, of bringing the rabbits out of their haunts with a small pack of rough beagles, the charming cry of these little hounds adding greatly to the pleasure of the day. about four couples are quite enough, and they should be well under control or you may find yourself toiling after your vanishing pack as they run the line of a hare, or even a fox. beagles which are wanted for this kind of work should be kept strictly to rabbits and well exercised, so that they may be steady. some preparation is desirable for a day of this kind, and in order to keep the rabbits above ground it is wise to run muzzled ferrets through the burrows a day or two before. the rabbits will then lie above ground. there is near my home a hill covered with patches of gorse, which we keep for this kind of shooting. we are very careful about our invited guns, as a careless shot easily mistakes a beagle for a rabbit. indeed this sport requires great care and steadiness. but to my mind it is one of the most exciting and enjoyable of sports, the cry of the little hounds, the ringing shots, the dart of the little brown forms with their snowy patches of white down, the pleasure of success as the neatly-killed "bunny" turns over dead in his tracks, make up a most delightful whole for the enthusiastic gunner. the same kind of sport can be followed by spaniels, free-tongued dogs of any race being the best. spaniels are better than any other dogs for working thick hedgerows, into which rabbits have been previously bolted by ferrets. some people use terriers, but i only advise these when you have no other dogs handy. it is most difficult to keep terriers above ground. they should at any rate never be taken out in the spring, if you know of an earth in which a vixen fox may have lain up, or into coverts where foxes are. if you wish to enjoy the pleasures of deer stalking on a small scale, take out a small rifle and stalk rabbits. you will find it a most entrancing sport, calling out all your knowledge of woodcraft, and teaching you much you did not know before. you will not shoot many rabbits, but those you do get will be well earned. remember, however, that bullets from these rifles travel a long way, and that you should always know what is behind the rabbit when you shoot. by the time you can kill a rabbit fairly often, at from fifty to sixty yards with a bullet, you will be a good shot. [illustration: _from a painting by miss maud earl._ _flat-coated retriever._ _champion darenth._] of other kinds of shooting it is not necessary that i should write much, for if you can shoot easily and well under the circumstances i have spoken of, you will be able to fire at anything with a fair and reasonable chance of hitting it. one form of shooting is both difficult and interesting, and that is catching wood pigeons on the return flight in the evening. many a time have i waited an hour or more for a few shots, though often returning home empty-handed after all. but when successful, i have had the greatest possible pleasure in getting only one or two pigeons, which have been due to really creditable shooting. _dogs and dog-breaking._ this is a subject on which i can speak with enthusiasm, and with a certain amount of practical knowledge. everyone knows that in these days landowners have to consider all ways possible of utilising their land, and of making money. some years ago our home farm came back on our hands in a very poor state. never very good land, the last tenant who had been insolvent for years, had not been able to afford to keep the stock required, much less to use artificial manures. my father and i decided to take it in hand ourselves, and to use it partly as a game farm and partly as ground on which to break our dogs. the cultivation of the farm was carried on in such a way as to form covert for all sorts of game, and i may say that by care and personal management, the farm is now one of the most profitable on the estate. we always had some good retrievers, and we decided to increase the size of our kennels, and to raise and break a certain number of retrievers and setters for the market. my father and i reckoned that there was now a real market for good thoroughly broken retrievers. i had seen enough of keepers and their ways with dogs, to feel sure that very few of them understood and cared for dogs, and i determined to see to the breaking process myself. we have never shown, because we think the show bench and judging ring are not good for dogs which are really meant for business, but we use many of the leading prize strains. "dinah," the best retriever i ever had, and a bitch which seems to have the power of transmitting her virtues to her descendants, is a black retriever of a well-known strain. she is a model of intelligence and a beautiful worker. she watches the birds fall, and is wonderfully good in marking the spot where they come to the ground. no bird ever escapes her, unless it goes to ground, as pheasants will sometimes, and you can call her up at any moment. i attribute her obedience and docility to the fact that she has been my constant companion, for retrievers cannot be too much with their owners, and the first thing in training is to make friends with the puppy, and get him thoroughly in hand before his field education begins. nothing is more fatal than a headstrong disposition, which i am convinced is often the result of bad treatment. "in for a penny, in for a pound," seems to be the reflection of a retriever, when looking back at his raging master and evidently understanding that he will be beaten in any case, he goes off for an entrancing chase after a hare, thus perhaps spoiling half a day's sport for you. and vice once contracted is most difficult to eradicate, indeed it was my bitter experience on this point which led me to undertake the education of my retrievers myself. as soon as i had attained to some skill in shooting, it was my custom to take my gun with me whenever i went out for a walk. now, there is a small river which runs through our grounds, and at a part of its course feeds a number of ponds in which probably were fish stews in the time of the monks, who were our predecessors. there are one or two small islands on these ponds. one day i had out with me a new purchase, a good-looking black dog. he came to heel, and retrieved a rabbit i shot, fairly well. it so happened, however, that not far from the river an old cock pheasant got out of the hedgerow, and as it was late in the season and we had done covert shooting, this was a chance for me, so i fired and hit him. the bird, however, went on, towered and fell into one of the ponds. directly i gave the word off went my dog, and i began to think i had got a treasure. he went straight for the water, plunged boldly in, and swam direct to the bird, but then to my horror, he went off to the island, and taking the pheasant ashore proceeded to eat it. it was then and there that i determined to break my own dogs, and such success attended my first efforts that we have since done it on a large scale. "dinah" was my first attempt. it so happened that a friend of ours who used to breed retrievers for show purposes, took me to see a wonderful litter of champion-bred puppies. there were eight, all black except one which had a white star on her chest. this last, the owner said, he was going to drown. "oh! give it to me," i said, moved to pity for the little round sleek victim. "well, if you will take it away now, you can have it." so i carried off "dinah," and brought her up by hand. from very early years i was able to teach her obedience, and to fetch and carry, being greatly helped in her training, by her affection for me. she has always lived in the house, and consequently understands a great deal, and i had but little trouble with her. her lessons in seeking for hidden bits of meat were a delight to her, but i was very careful never to allow her to chase. i believe if a dog once does this, it is most difficult to cure, and that the vice is always liable to break out again. i break all the dogs to my own voice and whistle, being attended by a kennel boy who manipulates the check cords. as to punishment, i carry a small dog whip, the crack of which is generally sufficient. if a young persistent offender requires a blow, three stripes will be found enough, but my experience is that if i cannot break a dog without beating, he is beyond my powers. the great secret of breaking, however, is companionship, my retriever for the time being never leaves me, and i have the kennel dogs in my company as much as possible. above all, i always take them out for a run, at least once every day. the cardinal rules for retriever breaking are: (_a_) to get the dog thoroughly obedient and under control. (_b_) to make them perfect at the down charge before you attempt to shoot over them. (_c_) to make friends of them. (_d_) to check faults at once, and never pass them over. (_e_) if a dog shows real vice to get rid of him. (_f_) to be patient, and not confound a headstrong disposition with vice, for some dogs that are troublesome to break, turn out the best. i believe in high feeding for sporting dogs, and hard work. the fewer dogs you have and the harder you work them in reason, the better. the kennel food of our dogs is really the same as that of a pack of hounds, viz.: good scotch oatmeal, after it has been kept for a year, horseflesh or mutton--i dislike beef--with a certain proportion of cabbage boiled up with it. once a week i give a _raw_ bone to each dog. no biscuits, except as rewards. as to the best kind of retriever, we have had of all kinds, and perhaps the best after "dinah" herself, is a cross-bred between her and an irish water spaniel. but we do not now keep cross-bred dogs, as they are no use after the first generation, though you may often get very good ones then. we now use curly and flat-coated blacks, bred from prize strains. the grooming of sporting dogs, especially of setters and retrievers is most important, and cleanliness, assisted by a good disinfectant, will be found after all the chief element in kennel management. i have not said anything about the breaking of pointers and setters, because there is nothing to add to general hutchinson's system. patience, kindness and perseverance will lead you to success, but the patience required is often great, for it is sometimes not till the third season that a dog is really at its best. on the other hand there is much pleasure in it and some profit, and as time goes on, it becomes much easier, for the young dogs not only inherit the capacities of their parents, but learn a great deal from them in the field, especially from their mothers. _books._ the general topics concerning shooting have been so ably dealt with in several recent books, that it may be well to give a short list of those likely to be of service to the beginner. i would especially recommend _the art of shooting_, by c. lancaster. the diagrams in this book are most valuable and practical, and there are many useful hints. the badminton library, _shooting_, vols. the chapters dealing with pheasant shooting are particularly good. the fur and feather series, _the partridge_, a book as delightful to read as it is useful to study. hutchinson on _dog breaking_, a book which has never been approached, much less surpassed. daniel's _rural sports_, to be found in most country house libraries, a thoroughly useful and practical book from which many subsequent writers have borrowed. it deals of course with sport from an old-fashioned point of view, but is none the worse for that. tegetmeier's _pheasants_, a first-rate standard work, by an expert. now let me give a few useful cautions to young shooters: don't point your gun at anything but the game you wish to shoot. don't risk a shot if you have doubts as to its safety. don't fire at birds when too near. don't try long gallery shots. it is cruel. don't fire at your birds, but in front of them. the exceptions to this, are birds coming direct to you or going away. don't potter in your aim, but aim and fire quickly. don't, if you can help it, shut either eye. don't wound. if you can't kill neatly, don't fire. don't fire at a pheasant's tail feathers, but try to intercept his head. don't climb over stiles with a loaded gun. don't keep your cartridges in the gun, except when actually waiting for game. don't talk when shooting, or if you must do so, let it be in a low voice. don't fire at fur going directly from or to you. don't talk about shooting except to sportsmen and sportswomen. don't stay out too long and get over-tired, or some or the foregoing warnings may be forgotten. [illustration: _mrs. murphy-grimshaw._ (_with a tarpon caught at fort myers. weight, -lbs. length, -ft. -in. time, hour minutes._)] fishing for tarpon. whether there be any truth in the saying "that opportunity makes the thief," it is decidedly the case that it makes the sportswoman, for although i now find myself in such goodly company, low be it spoken that until i went to florida i had never fished in my life. such being the case, it will easily be understood that when i found myself one blazing day in a very small boat, with a sturdy rod in my hand, listening to a very black guide retailing many wonderful stories of what tarpon did when they were hooked, my feelings were chiefly those of trepidation. however i was destined to have a large and varied experience with sharks, jew fish, bass and many other monsters of the deep, before the eventful day arrived on which i killed my first tarpon, and here let me advise anyone who may be meditating an expedition to florida for tarpon fishing, to beware of going to punta gorda. this most charming and picturesque place was once a very favourite haunt of the tarpon, but owing to works which have been recently started, which entail a constant passing of steamers up and down the river, the fish have quite deserted it. we fished there for six whole weeks, starting often at a.m. and generally staying out till . or so, and we never saw one fish the whole time. we proved a fruitful source of revenue to the guides and boatmen who had ever some fresh reason for our non-success, and we had on the whole a charming time, for the hotel is comfort itself and is a perfect paradise of flowers. we had lovely expeditions up the river, and any amount of bass, sea trout and other fishing, but neither we nor anyone else ever saw a tarpon. we got tired of this at last and decided to move further down, to a place called fort myers on the caloosahatchie river. this we found to be an extremely pretty little town, with low white-painted houses, nestling in roses and magnolias, surrounded by gardens full of brilliant-coloured flowers and luxuriant orange plantations, with however most primitive arrangements in the shape of an hotel. we were fortunate in securing the two best guides on the river and a good sailing boat, and at last our luck changed. we always followed the same routine. breakfast about a.m., sometimes earlier, then we sailed down the river towing our tarpon-boats (for each person has his own guide and boat), till we found some place where the fish was feeding, when we anchored the sailing-boat and went off each on our own account. i wish i could convey the charm of those early morning sails, the crisp, exhilarating feeling in the air, before the heat of the day began, the brilliant sunshine, the pale blue vault above, reflected in the shining depths beneath, where we and our snow-white boat seemed to be floating in some delicious ether in a crystalline bowl. or again it might be a cloudy grey morning, when the heavens above and the wide expanse of river below, were all one lovely pearly opalescent haze of pinks and greys and soft indefinite blues, suffused with a warm light, telling of the golden glory of the sun which would presently melt the clouds away; and all the teeming population of the river seemed to be rejoicing with us in having awakened to another long, happy, busy day. the solemn pelicans decorating every post and sand-bank, too intent on their breakfasts to notice us, excitable flocks of little black duck which would rise scolding and chattering like a crowd of school-children to settle, still volubly objecting to us, a few hundred yards or so further on, gaunt fishing-eagles and turkey buzzards, leviathan-like porpoises gambolling round our boat, and everywhere the flash of the silver mullet as they leapt and played; both the bird and animal life being an incessant source of amusement and interest to watch. when we arrived in florida on the th of march, we found the weather just like that of a perfect english summer, cool mornings and evenings, in which a thick cloak was always acceptable, for the air on the water was invariably fresh, then blazing hot in the middle of the day. one's poor face suffers terribly from the glare off the water, and till you get hardened it is quite painful from the intense burning, though at last you settle down to a uniform tomato-red or brick-dust tint. so far as clothes are concerned, you require the very loosest form possible. thin silk shirts, and light serge or holland skirts for fishing, and thin, very high boots, for when you land on sand banks or on one of the fascinating little islands which dot the river, your ankles will be devoured by what is euphoniously named "the red bug," and then you will be driven nearly mad with the irritation. indeed one english woman i met in florida had been quite lamed and laid up for weeks from these bites, after having walked in low shoes along the beach. then you must have a large and shady hat, or do as most of the american women do, and wear sun-bonnets. i adopted the latter plan, as the sun-bonnet shelters the back and sides of the neck, which otherwise suffer from the heat. then for days when you are not fishing, you will want the thinnest of white frocks, and for the evening or sitting on the piazza, where it is always deliciously cool and shady, being surrounded by orange trees and a tangle of roses, i found some muslin tea-gowns which i happened to have with me, the greatest comfort. last, but most important of all, you must be well provided with the thickest leather driving gloves, at least one size too large, indeed men's gloves will be found the best, as otherwise your hands may get cut to ribbons by the line swishing out. i have had all the fingers of one hand cut to the bone through this, and it is of course most painful. a leather tarpon belt such as is sold at the army and navy stores, is also quite necessary. the rod i killed most of my fish on was a bamboo, about feet long. in choosing a rod, remember it must not have too much spring, and you will require from to yards of linen line. but all requisites of this sort are to be found at the army and navy stores. the great difficulty is to find a really satisfactory hook. we tried all kinds and varieties, but i think the chief thing is to be sure that they are made of the best steel, with good large eyes. the hooks are attached to the line by a raw hide snooding, which is far better than wire or any other kind, though it is true that sharks, which very frequently take the bait, can bite through that much easier than piano wire. the bait used, is the soft part of the silver mullet, and the providing of this bait was one of the greatest troubles we had. each person requires at least one dozen mullet a day, and the natives are very lazy about catching them. we used to be down on the pier sometimes, with the tide just right for starting, only to be told that the bait had not come, and then we had to wait, fuming and fussing, for nearly an hour perhaps, with all our chances of getting off on the flood tide disappearing. at last a coloured man would come sauntering along with the long-looked-for bait, and would meet all our remonstrances with the most hopeless and exasperating good humour, and probably the same thing would be repeated the next day. at fort myers however, we had less trouble about it, our guides being white men, who very often caught the mullet themselves. such nice, cheery fellows these guides were, most amusing and interesting companions, and real sportsmen. after we had been at fort myers a few days, i caught my first tarpon. he was a fine fellow, ft. in. long, and weighing lbs. he gave me a very hard fight indeed, lasting for an hour and twenty-five minutes. i never felt so sorry for anything in my life as i did for that tarpon as i played him. he made such a plucky struggle for life, and was worthy of a better antagonist, for he could not know that it was no skill on my part that finally conquered him, but a sheer determination to get the better of him. i was thankful indeed when at last i succeeded in working him near enough for santi to gaff, for my arms and thumbs were absolutely numb with the enormous weight and strain. one very quickly learns the knack of playing the fish and tiring them out, and i rarely took longer than twelve or fifteen minutes, and sometimes less, in killing my fish after a little practice. the tarpon were late in coming up the river the year we were there, owing to the water being very cold after the dreadful "freeze" which devastated so many flourishing orange plantations, so that the fishing was not really good till about the middle of april. from then till we left, however, about the th of may, we had splendid sport, killing forty-eight tarpon between us, of which seventeen fell to my share. my husband's biggest kill in one day was five, mine was three, and i found that quite enough, for though it does not take long in point of time, to kill your tarpon when once he is hooked, the strain on all your muscles is enormous. it calls all your faculties into play, as may be imagined, to kill a lbs. fish on a small rod, and a line no thicker, if as thick, as a salmon line. the one thing to avoid is letting your reel over-run. if that happens, and it easily does, for the reels are on ball bearings and run at a touch, your fish is practically lost, you can rarely clear the line again. i was miraculously lucky in never losing a fish through breaking the line, but the danger of letting your reel over-run has been very strongly impressed on me, and you quickly find out how much strain you dare put on the rod. the great point to be remembered is always to keep the rod as upright as possible, and your thumb on the brake. i think very few things can equal the keen excitement of playing a tarpon. you may have been sitting in the boat perhaps for hours, on the look-out for the bubbles on the water, and the sound of the "puff," which show a tarpon is feeding near. your line, of which twenty yards or so have been coiled loosely in the bottom of the boat, suddenly begins to creep out, gently, almost invisibly. you think, as you see it, "it is those wretched cat-fish again," but no, it is too determined and continuous for that. you watch the line, breathless with excitement, till nearly all is gone, and the pace gets quicker and quicker, then you take the rod up carefully, so as not to interfere with the line, for at this stage the very slightest jerk or stoppage of the line will cause the tarpon instantly to spit the bait out. now the line is whizzing out. you strike with all your might and main, and have a confused feeling of having hooked an avalanche, an earthquake and a thunderbolt all in one, for instantly a huge mass of shining silver leaps yards high into the air, falling with a mighty splash, to leap again, and again, and again. your reel is screaming as the line whistles out, but long before the tarpon has finished his first leaps the guide has hauled up his anchor and is away, rowing with all his strength down on the fish, which soon settles down to a long, steady, dash downstream. you do your utmost to make him leap again and so exhaust himself, by reeling up a yard or so of slack at a time, then pausing with both thumbs hard on break and line as he throws himself wildly out of the water. but away he goes again, taking out perhaps every foot of line on the reel, and again you reel up, working him hard. slowly and by degrees his leaps become shorter and fainter, you work him nearer and nearer the boat till he lies exhausted on his side, but with one wary eye on the gaff, ready to slew round and make another dash for life and liberty. but you hold him tight. one skilful blow with the gaff, and another gallant fish has met his fate. [illustration: _mrs. murphy-grimshaw_ _on board the tarpon boat._] a rope is passed through his gills, and in triumph you return to the sailing-boat, there to tie him up. this all sounds very simple and straight forward, but there is no end to the tricks of which a tarpon is capable. he will dash backwards and forwards beneath the boat, till you think no power on earth can ever prevent your line becoming hopelessly entangled with yourself or the oars, he will double up and down, and round and round, he will even leap clean over the boat, often threatening to land himself inside it, and so swamp you. on one occasion a fish i had hooked started away up stream, then suddenly turned in his tracks, met the buoy of our anchor, took three clean turns round it, and continued his mad career towards the gulf. i thought all was over, but santi by some marvellous _tour-de-force_ somehow unwound it, shouting as he did so "let your line out as hard as you can," and away we went. all this with a tide running about seven knots an hour, and the boat swinging wildly in mid-stream. we killed that fish, which greatly surprised us both. one hears wonderful stories of fishermen being towed many miles by tarpon, and one englishman we met had been over four hours one day having a desperate fight with a very large fish, which i believe he lost in the end. after we had been at fort myers some time, we heard great accounts of the sport to be had at a place called captiva, an island in the gulf of mexico. we were also told it was a very dangerous form of tarpon fishing there, as the place where you fish is a very narrow pass between two islands, where there is always a tremendous sea running, so that you are liable to be swamped. they also told us it would be quite impossible for a woman to attempt to land a tarpon there, as owing to the rapid tide you must land in order to play your fish, and this entails running up and down the beach after him, which is very hard work with a heavy fish. all this naturally made us much keener to go, so we made our preparations, which had to be considerable, as the only accommodation on the island consisted of two or three fishermen's huts. we laid in a couple of small camp bedsteads, while sheets, pillows, blankets, and the ever necessary mosquito curtains were lent us by our host at the hotel. we also invested in a tin plate, mug, knife and fork each, a few cooking utensils, the largest tin bowls we could find to tub in, a large supply of tinned provisions, chickens, ice, in fact, all we could think of. then we found a coloured cook, a vast and very cheery young man, who turned out an excellent _chef_. finally we started, with our guides and tarpon boats--and towing our sailing-boat--on the steamer which plies every other day between punta gorda and fort myers, and which passes within a mile of captiva island. captiva is a dream of loveliness, lying like a pearl on the sapphire-blue, ever changing waters of the gulf of mexico--an enchanted garden where all the ordinary troubles and cares of life seem to have no place. as we landed for the first time on its snowy beach, where the brilliantly green trees and vegetation come down almost to the water's edge, and cast intense violet shadows on the low-growing cactus, with its yellow, starlike blossoms and redly purple fruits, and gazed out on the wondrous waters of the gulf, where every exquisite shade of palest and brightest emerald green gradually deepened into softest yet most vivid blue, we felt we had indeed chanced on the land of the lotus eaters, and that here we could spend our days in dreaming blissful dreams, far away from the multitudinous cares of civilisation. life was so simple there, one's requirements narrowed down in a remarkable way. the climate is so exquisite, with the blazing sun tempered by breezes from the gulf, and the hut we had was a simple structure of two or three poles thatched with palm leaves, into which you entered by a square hole in the wall. guiltless of furniture was the hut, beyond two trestle-like tables, on one of which i erected my bed, to escape the numberless cockroaches which infested the thatch. our meals we had in the other hut, where cooking went on, and what delicious repasts they seemed to us. they generally consisted of fish, soup or chowder, a sort of "olla podrida" of bits of chicken, vegetables, green corn, anything our _chef_ could lay his hands on, or fried fish fresh caught, and such delicious varieties of these there were too, and bananas fresh or cooked. we always marvelled at the inventive genius of our coloured soyer. but in reality you never think of being hungry, or thirsty, or tired, or anything else at captiva, you feel quite superior to all bodily wants. we used to bathe at night in the mystical moonlight, when the air was heavy with scents, a belated mocking bird's song perhaps mingling with the soft rush of the tide on the shelly beach. then we would sleep sounder than we had ever done before, till - or so, and awake keen and eager for another delightful, long, busily lazy day. it used to be my greatest delight to get out on the beach, before any of the old sailors even were about, and watch the daily miracle of the sunrise over the shining waters of the gulf, when the air seemed stilly waiting for the wonderful moment when the golden glory of the sun should flood land and sea, and chase away the dreamy evanescent hues of greys and rose and blues, which had clothed the world but a moment before. the island is about three miles long and one mile wide, curved rather in the shape of a letter s, which made the most fascinating little bays and inlets. we used to spend all our spare time rambling about and exploring it. it is quite uninhabited except for four or five old spanish fishermen, who have their little settlement of two or three huts and a drying shed for the fish, on the beach where we landed. the whole island is covered with trees and a thick undergrowth, with here and there open spaces covered with flowers of all varieties. the butterflies are another great feature, of every size and colour imaginable, and the mocking birds make the air ring again with their lovely plaintive note, so like our nightingale. on the beach the shells were a never ending interest to collect, so wonderful and varied they are. with all these different amusements we never found time too long, for when we were tired of investigating the hidden nooks and corners of our garden of eden, we could always sketch, and occupy ourselves in vainly endeavouring to reproduce the ceaselessly changing and indescribably beautiful tints of the gulf, with its waters rippling gently on the golden shore at our feet, or the picturesque old fishermen in their faded blue garments, as seen against the dim background of the drying shed, where the fish were a mass of irridescent mother-of-pearl and jewel-like hues, and where huge, green glass demijohns for water made yet another note of brilliant light. [illustration: _ -ft. - / -in._ _ -ft. -in._ _ -ft. -in._ _ -lb._ _ -lb._ _ -lb._ _a good bag of tarpon._] at captiva you fish on the flood tide, which when we first arrived there, chanced to be about p.m. so we had all the day at our disposal. about - p.m. would see us setting forth in the tarpon boats, bigger and deeper ones than those used on the river, so as to minimise the danger of capsizing. gently pulling down to the fishing ground, half a mile or so away, we would take up our places as near a tide-rip as possible, for that is where the fish love to feed. the pass is very narrow, about a quarter of a mile across, so we and any other boats that might be there would be at very close quarters, indeed the swinging of the tide frequently brought about collisions between neighbouring boats. there we anchored, a somewhat difficult business, as the bottom is so rocky it is very hard to get an anchor to hold. while waiting for the tarpon to begin to bite, we would pass the time catching smaller fish for the next morning's breakfast, red grouper, with their cavernous rosy-red mouth, very excellent eating; black ones of that ilk; king fish, an extremely difficult gentleman to catch, as he is very active and game for his size, and in colour and shape rather a cross between an eel and a mackerel; sea trout always welcome for the pot, or some unhappy fisherman perhaps would discover he had hooked a jew-fish, which would mean either hours of hauling and much expenditure of bad language and energy, or cutting the line and sacrificing hook and snood. the jew-fish is a horrible looking thing like a large pig, a dirty yellow in colour, covered with scales so minute that they look like a skin, and with a huge head. these fish generally weigh over lbs., and fishermen naturally dread them, for they are absolutely unsporting and just bore down and down on the line, never jumping or showing any fight, but steadily resisting all efforts to raise them, till it is like trying to lift an elephant. but whenever or wherever you throw a line, a catch of some sort is a certainty, for the water simply teems with fish, and you probably get a different one every time, which adds greatly to the interest and excitement. in bottom-fishing, as it is up the river, the more rods you have out the more chances of bites, but at captiva the fish bite so voraciously and so incessantly that two rods are as much as you can do with, one for yourself and one for the guide. even then if you hook one fish out of every ten strikes, you do well. in bottom-fishing you wait for the fish to gorge the bait before striking. at captiva you must strike the very instant you feel a bite, or otherwise the tarpon spits the bait out on feeling the line, and you must strike with all your strength too, for the tarpon's vast mouth is lined with a perfect coat of mail, in which there is but one soft spot, an inch or two in length, where the bones divide. the hook is put into the bait about two inches from the end, and the shank, seized to the end of the bait, is connected with the line by three feet of piano wire, which replaces the raw hide snooding in this pass fishing, where there is so much strain on everything owing to the difference in the way the fish take the bait, and the tremendous tide running. you need a rather more limber rod too, to help you keep a tight line on your fish, no easy matter in very rough water. the fish are in innumerable thousands in the pass, which they must all enter on their way up the river, and it is a fine sight to see the water literally alive with these splendid fish, all leaping and playing like minnows in a pond. i must say i felt very nervous at first as to my chances of landing a tarpon at captiva, having been told it was so impossible a feat for a woman to achieve. great therefore was my delight and pride, when, the second day after our arrival, i landed a fine one, weighing lbs., and measuring ft. in. it was a thrilling moment, when, after many futile strikes, i at last got one on safe, and saw his huge silvery bulk leaping wildly into the air, while santi threw out his buoy and we started down towards the gulf. i strained every nerve to keep a tight line on the fish, working in the slack by a foot at a time, while keeping the tip of my rod high in the air. by very slow degrees we edged towards the shore, and at last felt the welcome grating of the keel on the beach. i scrambled out, knee deep in water, and then the real tug of war began; for it is a very difficult matter to run up and down a shelving, shingly beach with nearly lbs. fighting for dear life at the other end of your line, threatening every instant to snap it, or to make a wild dash out to sea. after about twenty minutes of this, when i was very nearly exhausted, i felt to my great relief that the tarpon's struggles were becoming less effectual. we could see him occasionally, and at last i hauled him close up, santi made his usual clever stroke with the gaff, not however till after many attempts, and much splashing and objecting on the part of the tarpon. i was decidedly thankful when i saw him lying high and dry on the shore. my husband had two great battles in one night. he hooked an enormous tarpon which ran straight out to the gulf. he and his boat disappeared entirely from sight, and when after about two hours we went in search, we discovered him breathless and exhausted but triumphant, having just gaffed his fish, which measured ft. in., and weighed lbs.! the second one measured ft. in., and weighed lbs., a fine kill for one day at captiva. these two, with mine, looked splendid specimens lying side by side in the moonlight. it is if possible even more exciting to fish in the dark than during the day. when you have it all to do by "feel," it is a weird sensation, to struggle with an invisible foe, the only outward signs of which are the showers of phosphorescent spray, as the tarpon leaps and falls again. of course on a moonlight night you can see all that is going on, and the tarpon looks like a dream fish as the silvery light glitters on his gleaming sides. after ten days or so of fishing in the pass we heard they were getting a good many fish at port myers, so we returned there, quitting our idyllic life at captiva with much regret. it is a lovely trip by steamer between these two places. the river is thickly studded with islands of all shapes and sizes, some flat and low, covered with an impenetrable thicket of mangroves, others larger with a few houses and probably an hotel. we called at two or three of the more important ones, always finding the same scene, a dilapidated wooden pier, constructed on slender piles standing far out into the river, where most of the people gathered for the event of the day, the arrival of our boat. a queer-looking motley crowd they were, coloured people of all shades of blacks and browns and dirty yellows, languid, lazy-looking "crackers," as the native floridians are called, with here and there a pretty girl in a sun bonnet, flirting with the lanky and very leggy young men in shirt sleeves and sombrero-like hats. all were lounging in the sun, most of them with a line, pulling up cat-fish, sea-trout, jack-fish, or sheepsheads, as fast as they put the bait in. the sea is a wondrous emerald green, and we lean over the side of the boat watching the rolling porpoises, some of which follow us for miles, and catching an occasional glimpse of an evil-looking shark, or again passing through huge shoals of stingarees, like enormous submarine birds with their flapping wing-like sides. the day wears on in warm drowsiness till at last we approach fort myers, and are met at the dock with eager enquiries and congratulations on our successful expedition to the pass. by the th of may the weather had become very hot, and the mosquitos very bad, and all the other fishermen having already taken their departure, we felt our time had also come. it was only a few days before we left, that i caught what was supposed to be a record fish in point of length, -ft. / -in., weight, -lbs. on a blazing morning we lingeringly and regretfully bade farewell to fort myers, where we made so many pleasant friends, and had such glorious sport, and we had a blazing ten hours passage on the _laurence_ up to punta gorda, so that we hailed the evening cool with thankfulness. at punta gorda the big hotel was closed, and the visitors and fishermen had all fled long since, but we found a room in which to pass the short time that elapsed till the train was ready to start for jacksonville. there we arrived after twelve hot weary hours in the cars. we waited there two nights for the boat to new york. jacksonville is the chief town in florida, and a most bustling and amusing place to see. we had an exquisite passage to new york, five days of absolutely calm and glorious weather, with scarcely a ripple on the sea, or a cloud in the intensely blue sky. we arrived to find new york shivering in cold winds and a prey to spring weather of the worst description, heavy showers and dreary intermittent gleams of sunshine, a strange contrast, indeed, to the perfect climate we had so recently left. among our luggage was a gigantic coffin-like case, in which reposed the body of my first tarpon. i had insisted on having him stuffed and set up, as i was quite convinced at the time i could never catch another one so fine, though afterwards i rather regretted my haste, when i found i was destined to even greater success. hermione murphy-grimshaw. [illustration: _lombardi and co. , pall mall east._ _miss walrond._] archery. there is probably no weapon in modern use which can boast a more ancient and distinguished lineage than the bow, and so slight is the change it has undergone during its lengthened career, that the bow of the present day is in no-wise--save in strength and finish--dissimilar to the more deadly instrument of far-off times. in dealing with the history of archery as relating only to women, a volume might be filled with the stories of the marvellous military exploits of the warlike ladies who lived in the east. but leaving these and coming to medieval times we are told of a stirring incident, during the plundering of a village in usbec tartary, by some soldiers belonging to the emperor aurunzebe's army. an old woman warned the plunderers to desist, threatening them with the vengeance of her daughter should they continue. her words having no effect the marauders collected their prisoners and booty and were retiring when a damsel rode up carrying bow and arrows and mounted on a warlike steed. she boldly summoned the soldiers to release their prisoners and return their plunder, and promised that if they did so their lives should be spared. finding that no attention was paid to her, she then raised her bow and shooting three or four arrows, emptied a corresponding number of saddles among the enemy. in return the soldiers attempted to shoot her, but finding that their weak indian weapons were not equal to her tartar one, and that their numbers were being lessened by her incessant shower of arrows, the veracious historian tells us they released their captives, too late, however, for their own safety, as those who did not fall to her arrows were put to death by the sword. truly a remarkable episode. in dr. southey's _history of the cid_, it is stated that clorinda, a moorish queen, "was so skilful in drawing the turkish bow, that it was held as a marvel," and it is said that they called her in arabic, nugneymat turga, which is to say, "star of the archers." hansard, in the _book of archery_, writes of the persian beauties of the harem, who were permitted to amuse themselves with archery. these oriental bow meetings he says, "take place within the recesses of the royal gardens where, their black-bearded tyrant and a bevy of female attendants excepted, no spectators are allowed to be present. the butts consist of moistened sand enclosed in a wooden frame, and beaten into a hard compact mass. these are set up in a slanting direction at the boundary of some verdant alley, where the over-hanging branches of vine and orange tree exclude the fierceness of an eastern sun. consistent with that gorgeous taste so prevalent throughout the east, the whole exterior of this butt is covered with elegant scroll work and patterns of flowers. gold and silver intermingled with various pigments of the most brilliant hues, are lavishly employed to produce this effect. a female abyssinian slave stands beside the mark, provided with a large round pebble, to form and preserve an unbroken hollow in the centre, and at this cavity every arrow is directed. she repeats the operation several times whilst her mistresses are shooting: for the triumph of persian archery consists not merely in a central shot, but also in making the arrow penetrate deeply into the sand at every discharge." still more striking are the words of a french traveller named gentil, who speaks of a race of amazons, seen by him in the retinue of an indian prince. they were about a hundred in number, were well paid, lived in the palace, and accompanied the prince when he hunted, or formed his body guard in time of war. there are prints and records dating from the fourteenth century, which show the fondness of the english women for sports. we find them in the field with the men, sometimes taking part in shooting at the animals as they were driven past them, and proving themselves no mean markswomen. they are said often to have conducted a hunt entirely by themselves, "winding the horn, rousing the game," and following it without any help from the opposite sex. strutt tells us that on these occasions, some of them went so far as to wear divided skirts and sit their horses like men, but we do not hear that the fashion became general. [illustration: _from a harleian ms. in the british museum._] john yonge, somerset herald, who attended margaret tudor, the daughter of henry vii., on her journey to scotland for her marriage to james iv., states under the date alnwick, th july, : "two mylle from the sayd place, the sayd erle (northumberland) cam and mett hyr well accompayned, and brought hyr thorough hys park, when she kylde a buk with hyr bow." in sir ii. nicolas' _household expenses of henry viii._ we find these entries: may, . itm the same day paid to scawsely for bowys, arrowys, shafts, brode hedds, bracer, and shooting glove for my lady anne xxxiijs iijd. june. itm the same daye paied to the king's bowyer for iiij bowes for my ladye anne at iiijs iiijd, a pece xxiiijs iiijd. june, . itm payed to charles morley for bowes, arowes, a qwyver, wt other thinge for my lade g'ce xijs xd. these show us that archery was among the royal amusements of this time. elizabeth is said to have been extremely fond of hunting, and to have been expert with her bow. roger ascham, a great lover of archery who wrote the first treatise on the pastime, and after whom the long cupboards so well known to every archer are named, was elizabeth's tutor, though whether he initiated her in the mysteries of the art is not known, but certain it is that during this queen's reign archery was a popular pastime among the ladies of the court. when elizabeth was being entertained by lord montecute at cowdray, in sussex, it is stated in _nicol's progresses_ that "on munday at eight of the clock in the morning her highnes tooke horse and rode into the parke, where was a delicate bowre prepared under the which were her highnesse musicians placed, and a crossebowe by a nymph with a sweet song, delivered to her hands, to shoot at the deere, about some thirtie in number, put into a paddock, of which number she killed three or four, and the countesse of kildare one. aug. th, ." it is stated on this occasion, that the queen was surpassed in skill with the bow by her favourite lady desmond, the latter, however, courtierlike, avoided giving her mistress any cause for jealousy, by judiciously missing her quarry occasionally. again robert cary, earl of monmouth, speaking of events which happened in says "the queen came to dinner to enfield house, and had butts set upon the park to shoot at marks after dinner."[ ] [footnote : memories of robert cary, earl of monmouth.] lady berkeley is said to have "used the longbow, and was in those days, among her servants, so good an archer at the butts, that her side by her was not the weaker, whoes bowes, arrowes, gloves, braces, scarfe, and other ladylike accomodation, i have seen and heard herself speak of them in her elder year."[ ] [footnote : ms. memoirs of the berkeley family.] lady shrewsbury also was an adept in the use of the bow, as we find sir f. leake writes to her husband: "my right honourable goode lorde,--your lordeshyppe hath sent me a verie greatte and fatte stagge, the welcomer beynge stryken by your ryght honorable ladie's hande; i trust by the grace of god, he shall be meanlie eaten at thes assizes, when your lordeshyppe and my ladie shall be often remembered. my bold bucke lyves styll to wayte upon your lordeshyppe and my ladie's comyng hyther; howbeit i knoe her ladishipp takes pitie of my bucke sense the last tyme yt pleases her to take the travell to shote att them. i am afræyde that my honourable ladies alathea and my ladie cavendish will commande their aroe heades to be verie sharpe: yett i charitablé trust that such good ladies wyt be pittifull." ( ). from this time until the revival of archery at the end of the last century, its practice among women appears to have been gradually abandoned. the first archery society to be established in was the royal toxophilite, but this consisted only of men. shortly afterwards many other societies were started, among them in the royal british bowmen, and to them belongs the honour of being the first to admit ladies as members, and very sociable, pleasant gatherings they seem to have had. other societies soon followed this good example, some admitted ladies as members, and some like the woodmen of arden only as guests. the assemblies at meriden are still held every year, the old customs being strictly kept up. [illustration: _hertfordshire society of archers_ _dutchess of leeds._ _marchioness of salisbury._ _hon'ble miss grimstone._ _miss seabright._] women were not slow to appreciate the gracefulness of archery, and it soon became a fashionable amusement, the lady salisbury of the time being one of its most ardent supporters. most of the societies adopted a distinctive dress, in which white and green predominated. the royal british bowmen adorned their lady patroness with a white feather in her hat, the other lady members being compelled to wear black ones, while their dresses were green with pink vandykes round the edge of skirt. the harley bush bowmen were so fond of the distinctive colour, that they even had green boots, and it is pleasant to know that it was provided by the rules these should be "easy fitting!" archery was taken up very strongly in the closing years of the last century, and of the doings of this period many interesting particulars are to be found in the collections of miss bank banks, daughter of sir joseph banks, which are in the british museum. they give descriptions of the various meetings, the balls given by the different societies at which both ladies and gentlemen appeared in uniform, and one of the anecdotes given may be worth quoting, as, if authentic, it shows greater success with the bow than has been achieved by any woman in modern times. "a match was shot at one hundred yards between mr. gilpin, mr. wyburgh, and miss littledale, in which the last was victorious: during the shooting, which lasted three hours, miss littledale hit the gold four times, and, what evinces superior skill, the three last hits made by miss littledale were in the gold." though archery was taken up so warmly, it died out a few years later, in consequence of the war, and it was not again taken up until the final conclusion of peace, in , when it was revived. many new societies were started and old ones restored, and from this time it has continued to flourish, not only in england but in many other parts of the world, notably in the united states of america, the mauritius, and at melbourne. space prevents my mentioning these at length. besides these societies, which hold prize meetings at intervals, there are five public meetings in the year, beginning with the leamington and midland counties' meeting at leamington, in june, where the championships of the midland counties are competed for. the crystal palace meeting follows, at which the southern counties' championships are shot for in july. the grand national meeting, where the championships of all england are shot for, and the grand western archery meeting, at which the championships of the west are awarded, come next, either meeting being occasionally held before the other. the grand northern meeting for the northern counties' championships is usually the last held. these three meetings are held in a different place each year, to encourage archery in local clubs. at the grand national, in addition to the prizes, badges and medals are given, and it is a great joy to the young archeress to get her first "spider," which is a little brooch in form of a target with three arrows placed through it. [illustration: _archery dresses_ (_about _).] if you wish to compete at a public meeting you pay a subscription--unless you are an annual subscriber to that particular society--and a target entrance fee, besides which each archer subscribes sixpence a day, for the payment of the target boys. there are usually five or six competitors at each target, no. is the captain or scorer, who has to keep order, instruct the boys how to pull the arrows out of the ground, and see that the judge comes to measure golds, etc. she is assisted in adding up and checking the scores at the target by no. , the lieutenant. the first grand national meeting was held in but no ladies shot, and it was not until that the double national round was first shot by ladies, so that it is only possible to compare the shooting subsequent to this date. on this occasion the highest score ( ) was made by miss temple, two years later miss villiers making with hits, the second score being only . the number of was first reached by a lady in , when miss h. chetwynd made , and this score remained unbeaten till mrs. horniblow scored , which in its turn was surpassed two years later by miss betham with . it was not until , at bath, that was attained, that score being made by mrs. horniblow. mrs. w. butt added to this record in , and this remained the top score until , when miss legh made . the highest score made by any lady at any grand national was mrs. bowly's in . miss legh's at leamington, in , being the highest ever made by a lady at a public meeting, though perhaps the same shooter's score at bath, in , of , was an even better performance, as no arrow was dropped on either of the first two days, and only one on the third. it will thus be seen what a great improvement has taken place in shooting during the last fifty years. beatrice p. m. walrond. [illustration: _lombards and co. , pall mall east._ _mrs. berens._] archery.--ii. i have been asked to write the practical part of this article, though why i cannot imagine, for although i can sometimes pull off a good score with bow and arrow--when the wind does not blow and when my loose is good--i am of no use whatever with a pen, and never wrote an "article" on anything in my life. the badminton book on archery, with its valuable teaching, often stands me in good stead when i get into any of the innumerable tricks which beset the path of the archer, and which well nigh bring the beginner to _despair_ of ever becoming a steady shot. how many beginners have i met who have had to learn by bitter experience that to shoot a good arrow is not so easy as appears at first sight, and that to make perhaps a very fine score of three hundred and odd, does not by any means prove that one has conquered all difficulties. there are so many things to think of at once, and though you may try to do this conscientiously you will find your performance often terribly inadequate. but after all the great fascination of archery consists in the continual battling against faults which creep upon the archer unawares. this we find to our cost on a windy day, for there is nothing like wind to prove that we do not get the real power out of bow and loose. i always recommend to a beginner an inexpensive lancewood bow weighing about twenty-four to twenty-six pounds, the cost of which amounts to about twelve shillings, but when the archeress has practised sufficiently to understand what she requires and _why_, then i should advise a yew-backed yew of good quality as giving more cast and retaining it longer than other kinds. i should perhaps say that by cast is meant the rapidity and ease with which the arrow is delivered from the bow. many shooters prefer to use a self yew bow, but it must be remembered that this is more delicate and requires to be drawn with great care. a three piece bow of yew, fustic and hickory, price about thirty shillings, will do good service, though the cast does not last so long if one practises constantly, as that of the yew-backed yew. there are many archers who have ruined their style and shooting with too heavy a bow, one weighing twenty-seven or twenty-eight pounds can do all that is necessary for the national round of sixty and fifty yards if it is properly handled, and for the six dozen arrows at seventy yards, called the hereford round, i can use one of the same weight. for eighty yards, however, i prefer a bow of twenty-nine or thirty pounds, still my advice to all beginners is, "do not shoot with a bow which is beyond your control." now to choose the bow. the first thing to see to is that the grain of the wood is straight, even, close, and free from knots or pins, more especially on the rounded part and within about six inches of each end. this applies to any sort of bow, but more especially to yew, as crysals are apt to develop wherever there is a pin. a crysal is a small crack in the wood, which at first is often difficult to detect, but which is a serious source of weakness and often ends in the breaking of the bow. the length of a lady's bow should be from ft. in. to ft. in. [illustration] to string the bow, place the lower horn against your right foot, the "back" or flat part of the bow towards the body, and taking the handle of the bow in your right hand, place the ball of your left thumb four inches from the top horn. then while drawing it to you with the right hand, press it from you with the left and slip the upper loop of the string into the nock of the horn. the method of unstringing is precisely similar, except that the loop is slipped out instead of being passed in. when the bow is strung, the distance from the inside of the handle should be five-and-a-half inches to the string, which for one inch above and five inches below the handle should be neatly whipped with waxed thread or silk to prevent its being injured, should it strike the bracer. then exactly opposite the top of the handle of the bow, the nocking point must be made, which should be sufficiently tight to retain the arrow when hanging downwards from the string. when strung the bow should be held, string uppermost, the lower horn resting on the ground, and on looking down the string, it should appear to cut the bow in the centre. in a good bow the centre sixteen inches should be rigid, and thence the bend should be regular and even. the string should be of the best hemp whipped with silk, and a nocking point neatly made exactly in the right spot. it is better looped at each end, as in the event of its being slack it can then be twisted up in a moment, thus avoiding all flurry of undoing in the old way of knotting the end. i have already said that it is better to have a string with loops spliced at each end, it is as well, however, to say how the loop can be made in a new string. the knot is a timber hitch, to make which take a turn of the lower end round the string and twist it three times round the loop. the string is whipped in the following manner: string the bow and find the exact spot where the nocking of the arrow will come, then wax the string for an inch and a half above, and five inches below the spot, and take some silk or carpet thread, also waxed, and lay half an inch of the thread along the string beginning at the upper portion. then wrap the thread over that part of itself which has been laid down until the waxed portion is covered. in order to fasten off, take six or seven turns of the thread over the string in the reverse way, place the end of the thread against that part of the lapping that was last done, wrap the reverse turns of the thread over the end of the lapping of the string, then pull the end through and cut it off. the manner of putting on the knocking point is the same. [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] the weight of the arrow is mainly determined by that of the bow. arrows are weighed against new silver, and when one talks of a / arrow, the allusion is to the weight, not to the price. for a beginner a /- or / arrow is about right for a pounds bow, but all these little points are for the archer to work out for herself. if the experienced archer should find that she has to aim considerably below the target, she may increase the weight of the arrow with advantage, as the heavier the arrow, the lower will be the trajectory. it is bad economy to have any but the best arrows, and these should be made according to the archer's pattern, that is to say, as to the colours on them, and should have her name and the number painted on each. to prevent the paint from the target sticking to the arrows, it is well to wipe the ends of the latter with a little vaseline or sweet oil, and care should be taken to choose the arrows of as nearly as possible the same weight before shooting, as whatever they are marked, they are sure to vary slightly. the best arrows are footed as it is termed, _i.e._, they have a piece of hard wood dovetailed in at the pile end. the best shaped arrow for a beginner is the straight one, and care should be taken that it is stiff, and not weak at the feather end. there are two kinds of feathers, parabolic and straight, but there is very little difference in their flight. the best kind of feathers come from the wing of the peacock, turkey's wing feathers being the next best. [illustration] the other equipment required is an arm guard or bracer with straps, cut out of one piece of brown leather,--the leather bracers lined with silk having elastic fastenings are no good--and a belt with a quiver to hold six arrows, as the first shooter at a target at a big meeting should always have six arrows to shoot with, to avoid delay in the beginning. on this belt should hang a tassel for wiping dirty arrows, a pencil and scoring book, a little bag containing glove, extra string, a piece of wax and some silk to whip the bow string when necessary. it is also useful to have a knife, and a pair of scissors. [illustration] as to the question of gloves or tips, i always recommend a kid glove, a size larger than the ordinary wear, with pieces of smooth leather--not soft or spongy--neatly sewn on to the three first fingers, care being taken not to put the leather below the first joint of the finger. many people, however, shoot with either knuckle or screw tips, which are bought ready made of the bow maker. if tips are used they should fit the fingers accurately, all three being of the same thickness. it is important to have two gloves or sets of tips for shooting in case of accident, and they should be exactly alike. other necessaries are a waterproof bag for bow, and a wooden box with spaces for arrows. the usual distances shot by women are sixty and fifty yards, four dozen arrows at sixty yards and two dozen at fifty yards, being what is called the national round. of late, shooting at seventy yards has been re-introduced, six dozen arrows at that distance followed by four dozen at sixty yards and two dozen at fifty yards, being named the hereford round. the targets are four feet in diameter and are made of twisted bands of wheat straw fastened together with tar cord, then covered with painted canvas. there are five concentric rings painted on them, the centre gold, which scores nine, the red seven, blue five, black three, and white one, and in scoring, the arrow counts as being in the highest colour which it touches. the targets are supported by iron or wooden stands, the centre of the target being four feet from the ground, and slightly tilted back. they should not be placed at the exact distance it is intended to shoot at, but from two to four yards further back, a mark being placed in the ground at the correct distance for the archer to stand on, and no one should be allowed to stand in front of the targets except the archer who is actually shooting. it is important that quiet should be maintained behind the target, and archers, especially at public meetings, should assist the captain, whose duty it is to see that order is kept. the ground should be as level and smooth as possible, and the targets should be placed exactly opposite each other; if more than one pair are in use, the ground will require squaring, in order that the pairs may be exactly opposite each other. the directions given for the position for shooting hold good at all distances, and no alteration ought to be made with the exception that the left hand must be raised higher at the longer distance, greater elevation being required in order to obtain a sufficiently high flight. it is a great mistake to draw to a different place on the face, or not to draw the arrow fully up, at the shorter distance. _always_ draw the arrow till the pile reaches the bow and your hand the right place, viz., under your right jaw below the axis of vision of the right eye. having described most of the details to be attended to, we now come to the all important subject of how to shoot. i must first of all impress on all beginners that it is absolutely necessary there should be nothing on the dress which could by any means catch or interfere with the string. nothing is more suitable than a plain tailor-made dress, or a skirt and blouse, the latter with no frills. the sleeves should be sufficiently easy to allow the elbow perfect play without being too large. in putting on the bracer care should be taken to keep the sleeve smooth, any fulness being drawn to the back of the arm, and the top of the sleeve pinned back out of the way. _standing._ take up your position on the shooting spot, with feet six or eight inches apart, standing easily in an upright position, with the shoulders in a direct line between the targets. care should be taken that the knees are perfectly straight, the balance of the body being on the heels, and the position of the shoulders must be obtained by moving the feet and not by twisting the body. _nocking._ the bow to be held in a perpendicular position, between the second knuckle of the first finger and the ball of the thumb of the left hand. the main grasp of the bow should be in the upper part of the hand, the other fingers being held close to the bow. the test as to whether you are holding the bow correctly is to drop the left arm by the side, the wrist being quite straight, and if the string touches the bracer, the position of the bow in the hand is not correct. the nocking is to be accomplished by bringing the arrow over the bow, which should be held directly in front, and fitting it on the nocking place, remembering to keep the cock feather--_i.e._, the one which is at right angles to the nock--uppermost, and not to alter the grasp of the bow until after all three arrows have been shot. place the three fingers of the right hand evenly on the string, and do not pinch the arrow with the first finger, otherwise it will fall off the left hand at the moment of drawing. the right wrist should be held straight. [illustration: _before the draw._] _drawing._ the usual position of archers before they actually begin to draw, is with the left elbow bent just above the hip, the bow being perpendicular, but to speak from my own experience, i find it better to hold the bow easily in the hand with the left elbow straight, though without stiffness, raising both arms simultaneously on a level with the point of aim. then draw in a straight line with the target, till the pile of the arrow comes on to the bow, and the right hand with the fingers bent, is held in such a position that the thumb is pressed against the throat below the jaw and under the axis of vision of the right eye. the left arm should be straight but not rigid, the final grasp of the bow being made directly the aim is taken. the head must be erect, and turned towards the point of aim. the body should be erect and the weight thrown as much as possible on the heels. a common fault i have noticed with young archers, is to draw the right hand too high and rest it outside the jaw instead of underneath it. this should be guarded against. bring the pile of the arrow on to the point of aim immediately, keeping the right elbow up as you do so and the shoulders pressed back. every care, too, should be taken that the arrow does not "creep," _i.e._, that it is not allowed to slip forward on the bow. _aiming._ to aim correctly the archer should see the point of the arrow covering the point of aim. by "the point of aim" i mean some given spot on the target or ground, the height of which must be found by each archer for herself, as it is governed by so many things, such as difference in sight, height, weight, and cast of bow or arrow, etc., etc. if the archer finds that she has persistently to aim to the right or left of the target, there being no wind, it is a proof that something in her position, draw, or loose is incorrect, _i.e._ that she does not stand with shoulders in line with the targets, or that she does not keep her right hand in the proper position, or again that she does not loose the arrow evenly from all three fingers at once. i must caution every young archer against the terrible habit of merely glancing at the target and then loosing the arrow, without taking proper aim. very many archers who have asked my advice on decreasing scores or inability to hit the target have had really _no clear_ idea of any aim whatever. they "think they aim at the top of the target," perhaps, but by a system of catechising i discover that such is actually not the case, and until a real firm point of aim is found and known to the archer--though an occasional good score may be fluked--no lasting progress will be made. therefore as soon as you have learnt to draw up properly, make it your next study to find your point of aim, and remember that this will vary with different bows and according to the direction of the wind, and also according to whether the atmosphere be heavy or light. _loosing._ remember that the grip of the left hand on the bow must not give, nor the tension of the muscles be relaxed, until after the arrow has left the string. keep the right hand tight to its place, with the thumb pressed under the jaw beneath the axis of vision of the right eye, taking care not to relax the pull on the string until the moment of release, or the arrow will creep. the release is effected by drawing the fingers back evenly towards the thumb, and the hand must on no account leave the face while this is being done, nor must it drop down or follow the string in ever so slight a degree. the wrist must be straight and the elbow well up. after the release keep up the bow hand and retain the right hand in its place till the arrow has reached its destination, then drop the right hand easily and without hurry, preparatory to nocking the next arrow. nothing is more ugly or more likely to unsettle you than any flurry or undue haste. it is well to warn beginners that great care must be taken of all the archer's equipment. if the bow or arrows at any time get wet, they should be carefully dried and the bow should not be replaced in its waterproof case for some time. the feathers of the arrows can be restored after being wet by passing them quickly backwards and forwards above a jug of boiling water. neither bow nor arrows should be put near the fire. they should be kept in a dry even temperature. it is a good thing if a beginner can find a friend who is able and willing to correct her and help her to overcome some of the faults into which she is almost certain to fall. but great care should be taken in the selection of this coach, and even after the beginner has obtained some degree of proficiency, she ought to be very careful whose opinion she takes as to her shooting. i have met many young archers who will ask anybody at the same target "if they would kindly tell them any faults they see in their shooting." but such general advice will do little good, for some people cannot detect a fault when it is there, much less describe it with any accuracy, and some again imagine faults which do not actually exist. too many instructors thus spoil the archer, who will get hopelessly muddled with all the advice given her, and will often alter what she should leave alone, and not correct her real faults. [illustration: _full draw._] the amount of nonsense heard on the archery field on the subject of "why that arrow did not go in" is to the old hand most entertaining, and to the young one extremely confusing. but i would give this advice to all beginners: strive to preserve an even temperament in all conditions of your shooting. do not get too jubilant and excited when you make either a pin hole or three reds or golds at one end, and when it happens, as it certainly will, that what you believe to be three beautifully shot arrows fall exactly underneath the centre of the target, do not give way to any irritation of temper or manner, or your succeeding arrows will be affected. i know many archers who when they want to compete for any coveted challenge badge do not put down or add up their score, but i have always found when i tried this plan that ignorance cannot be kept up on one's score, as some kind friend will always come up and congratulate you on a dozen of _eighty_, or condole on one of _thirty_, and then you get more flustered than if you had known all there was to know. you should always endeavour to preserve a quite equable temperament even in great success until the round is over, and not go chattering all round the target as to what you have done or not done, for this upsets other competitors at your target, and does you no good. _to form a club._ an experienced archer knows well how to get a club formed if there are enough archers to subscribe to it, but for the beginner to start one is more difficult. having first selected a ground, which should be about yards in length, the width being proportionate to the number of targets it is intended to put up, and obtained targets and stands, fix one day and hour in the week for your club meeting, on which you can all meet and shoot your club national round. the subscription should not be high, and when the members get numerous, an entrance fee can be charged. have a little paper pamphlet of rules based on those of the grand national, or any well-known club founded on those principles. as soon as your members make scores of over a hundred, divide them into classes, and when you get members to join who can make first rate scores, let your classes be as follows: class i. over } { made on your ground class ii. " } { or at any public or [ ]class iii. under } { club meeting. [footnote : these scores might perhaps be slightly lowered for a young club.] [illustration: _before the draw._] have all targets pitched so as to begin your round punctually on your club day, and begin by shooting the four dozen at sixty yards. when this is over, if tea is provided it is a pleasant rest, and then you will shoot the two dozen at fifty yards. it is a good thing to get some experienced archers to join a young club, and the system of classes will prevent their taking the beginners' prizes when the club has got on far enough to start a prize meeting. prizes are usually given for best score in each class, and best gold. when men join the club, they must either shoot altogether at one target, or they must shoot at eighty yards at each end before the women shoot at sixty. admission to a club is generally made by a proposer and seconder writing the name of a candidate to the secretary, and having it entered in the candidates' book, which is put on the table for two meetings of the club. if a ballot should be demanded the members will all vote, and one blackball will exclude. when the club is well on its legs, i am an advocate for getting up a match with a neighbouring club, and i am also very much in favour of asking visitors to shoot at the prize meetings--a little prize for visitors adds to the amusement--it creates interest in the young club, and often gives the members opportunities of seeing good shooting. after each weekly club meeting, the scores, hits, and golds of the members at every distance should be entered in a book kept for that purpose, and any prize won should be marked against the score. cordiality is a great element in a club's success. let each member then take an interest in the scores of her fellow competitors and rejoice in their successes. with regard to the literature on the subject of archery, the books are numerous and varied, but for all practical purposes it will be sufficient for the beginner to consult butt's ford, the badminton library volume of archery, and no. i. of encyclopædia of sport. i would recommend to all archers, either beginners or otherwise, to take an annual copy of the _archer's register_, which gives not only the scores of the public and club meetings in england and abroad, but also contains many interesting and instructive articles on the subject. ellinor f. berens. [illustration: _lombardi and co._ _ , pall mall east._ _miss may balfour._ (_mrs. talbot._)] skating. i. i propose in this article simply to give my own personal views on the subject of skating in general, and to say what i consider to be the best method of attaining proficiency in the art. as what i have to say will be rather jottings from my personal experience than anything in the nature of a formal treatise, i hope i may be excused if my remarks are of a somewhat scrappy and discursive character. in england at the present time, the art of skating is passing through a transition stage, and it is quite possible that what to-day is regarded as a necessary condition of good skating, will in a few years' time be discarded as obsolete and old-fashioned. i think it therefore wiser, not to formulate any theory, or lay down any general rule on the subject, but to confine myself to giving my readers a few hints gathered from my own experience, which may prove useful to those who wish to attain a certain measure of proficiency in the art. my earliest skating experiences were probably similar to those of most english people, that is to say, i was limited to the very short periods of frost that occur in english winters, and i had none of the advantages of regular instruction from competent teachers which it is easy now for anybody to get. i learnt to keep my balance, not on ice, but with roller skates on asphalte, and this was sufficient to enable me to go forward with a certain amount of ease when i first skated on ice. i remember vividly the first time i attempted the outside edge. this is a grand epoch in the life of any skater, and the sensation of accomplishing it for the first time, however clumsily, is never to be forgotten. i may say here, that i consider a real mastery of the outside edge the only foundation for all figure skating, and i believe it would be a mistake to attempt such accomplishments as going backwards, or turning a three, without first being fairly steady on the outside edge. another point that i early learned to be of great importance, was to approach as near as possible equality on both legs, to attain which of course it is necessary to give one's weaker leg--in most cases the left--double practice. the next advance i made was to turn a three from the outside edge. for a long time i practised this on my right leg alone and neglected my left, which of course was extremely unwise, and resulted in my being much weaker on that leg than on the other. the ordinary turning of a three is a comparatively simple matter, but the difficulty lies in being able to do it to a centre on both feet. yet this accomplishment is absolutely essential to anyone who would attempt combined figures. in my opinion there is more enjoyment to be gained, both for performers and spectators, from combined figures gracefully and neatly done, than from far more difficult turns performed alone. i will not go into details as to particular figures, because they can be learnt so much better from the innumerable books that have been written on the subject. hand-in-hand skating is another most delightful branch of the art, and has been very strikingly developed in the last few years in england. a number of new scuds have been elaborated by the ingenuity of experts, many of which are most fascinating to do, and in many cases they have the great advantage of being performed either with one or two companions. the advance in this department of the art is largely due to the number of covered rinks that have been started lately in england and france, these being particularly adapted to the practice of this style of skating. another accomplishment, to which the practice of covered rinks is specially suited is waltzing on skates--which merely consists in a series of turns of threes, and outside-edge forwards and outside-edge backwards. the important point to remember about waltzing is, that the partners must accommodate their steps, and the woman must take care not to drag. when gracefully and neatly done by two people, well used to each other, and to the sound of a good band, this sensation surpasses anything that can be enjoyed in ordinary dancing. for my own part i have concentrated my energies on combined figures and hand-in-hand skating, and have never given much attention to the great variety of difficult turns that are to be done alone, though i do not by any means wish to depreciate the beauty of these, or the skill needed to perform them. but, under the conditions that prevail in england, it is difficult to get enough space in which to practice elaborate figures alone, so i am inclined to think that my course has been a wise one. [illustration: _skating in holland._ _from an unpublished drawing by a. van de velde, circa , a.d._ (_by permission of lawrence b. phillips, esq._)] i mentioned above, that skating in england is in a transition stage, and by this i mean that the last few years have witnessed the introduction of what is called the foreign style of skating in england. at the present time most of our instructors are foreigners, or englishmen who have thoroughly imbibed the foreign method, and the result is that beginners are induced to purchase foreign skates and to base their style on foreign models. the main difference between the two styles is, that the englishman is taught to keep his unemployed leg close to the other and to be always erect, not to bend his knee, and in general to keep the body rather stiff and quiet. the foreigner, on the other hand, as might be expected from his more lively temperament, allows himself much more freedom in swinging and bending about. he thus gives the impression of enjoying himself more than the englishman, and, in consequence, is more attractive to watch. to my mind, the ideal skater is one who combines the excellencies of both styles, that is one who, to the firmness and unobtrusiveness of the englishman, adds the easy pace and brilliancy of the foreigner. the followers of both styles have a great deal yet to learn from each other, and, therefore, the blending of the two methods in england at the present day, is certain to lead to most beneficial results. a few words now on the important subject of skates. enormous improvements have been effected in them of late years, but in my opinion we are still very far from possessing the ideal skate. the main object of the best english skates (for instance the mount charles, or the dowler) is to enable the wearer to hold long edges, whereas the foreign blade is especially adapted to rapid turns. what is wanted is some invention that would combine in one skate the special merits of both these kinds, so that the long firm edge and the sharp turn may be equally possible. at present this is only a dream of the future, and in the meantime i should be inclined to advise a modified form of the french skate, as on the whole the best adapted for all purposes. i should strongly recommend everybody to keep their skates permanently fixed to one pair of boots. this is a practice however so generally adopted that it may seem superfluous to mention it. laced boots should be worn specially made for skating, with thick soles and high in the leg, so as to give as much support as possible round the ankle. [illustration: _our sisters in canada._] in the matter of dress women have a distinct advantage over men. our skirt both conceals deficiencies in style, and makes it easier to be graceful, the man with his closer garb being sadly exposed to the fierce light of criticism. the only essential for us, is to have a skirt short and well cut so as not to drag, and with this precaution we can indulge in as much variety as we choose. in conclusion let me say, i know of no exercise more exhilarating and healthful for women than skating in the open air, though, i am bound to say, this cannot be said of the exercise in covered rinks, as one is liable to get very hot and then to catch cold. the combination of hot air above and the cold current rising from the ice, does not tend to produce a very healthy atmosphere. but as we should not make such rapid progress, or have the advantage of seeing together so many good skaters of all nationalities, if we had not the covered rinks, many of us will not be inclined to complain. i am afraid my remarks are very disconnected, but the subject is a difficult one to treat from a general point of view. i shall be satisfied if what i have said should inspire even one of my readers with a greater devotion to the beautiful art of skating. may balfour. ii. it is natural that the art of skating should come to us from the north, for it is in the land of ice and snow that the problem of traversing the frozen surface of the snow-covered ground and the ice-bound water would have to be solved. with the greeks and the romans indeed, the great ruling nations of the south, there was no word to designate the exercise--a conclusive proof that it was unknown to them. but from scandinavia we have an old war song which tells of the progress of the god of winter over the water, supported on the bones of animals, and this shows that the skates of those early days were made of bone, though they were, as might be expected, of most primitive structure. it is generally agreed that the necessity of crossing the enormous fields of frozen snow during the long scandinavian winters led to the fashioning of snow-shoes, and that from these were made the smaller skates, by the aid of which the frozen waters could also be crossed, locomotion thus being made possible. the early form of the bone skate was brought to england by the northern tribes which settled in our midst, though it was to our dutch neighbours, at a much later period in our history, that we owed the introduction of the wooden skate bound with iron, which is the prototype of our skate of to-day. from the earliest efforts with the primitive bone skates to the graceful evolutions now possible on a modern mount charles there is a marvellous change, and the art which has a history of nearly two thousand years behind it, is entitled to a place among the time-honoured pastimes of the world. a beginner in this, as in all other pursuits, is met at the outset of her career, when she is without practical knowledge to guide her in the choice, by the difficulty of selecting a proper instrument. she must then trust to others. as the choice however is not large, she can scarcely do wrong in investing in a mount charles, which should be fixed to a well-fitting-boot with low heels, a fairly thick sole, and laced upper leathers. [illustration: _mount charles._] but the first efforts will, if she is wise, be made on roller-skates, for though the tide of fashion has set against this form of skating, and it is only in far-off simla and a few scattered places that it still holds its own, it is unrivalled as a means to the end of skating on ice. on roller-skates the learner can follow up her study systematically day after day, independent of weather conditions, and can acquire the two primary essentials of successful skating, viz., balance and confidence. when these have been acquired you may then make your first attempt on ice with every prospect of success. with steady practice you will soon learn to manage your skates, but never forget during these early days that you must ever be on your guard against the countless tricks which beset the beginner at every stage of her progress. some people will indeed advise you, when you first put on your skates proper, to walk about a carpeted room with them, while others will tell you to make your first efforts on the ice itself. in this you will probably be guided partly by the age at which you begin the pastime--whether, that is to say, a fall is a serious matter or one to be disregarded with the smiling carelessness of youth--and partly by the degree of confidence you have acquired on the roller-skates. in any case, when you find yourself on the ice for the first time, you will endeavour to walk forward on your skates with short and careful steps. if you have assistance to prevent you from the inevitable tumbles that will otherwise be your lot, your progress will be safe but slower than if you take your courage in both hands and carry out unaided the good old nursery maxim of "try, try, try again," till the delightful foretaste of success comes to you, in the first quivering glide forward _without_ a too sudden descent at the end. remember, when making these first efforts at walking, that the foot on which you are resting on the ice should have both the ankle and knee kept stiff, or you will find your ankle twist sideways. you must also take care to keep the feet well under you, as until you have found your balance they will have an inclination to slide apart, and thus render a fall imminent. after a short experience of this tottering effort after equilibrium, you will probably almost instinctively begin to slide forward with both feet, and for the moment you will find sufficient pleasure in movement of any kind. i have indeed seen quite a rapturous expression of triumph come over the face of a middle-aged beginner, when she first managed the smallest of small slides without it ending in a catastrophe, or in a wild clinging to her guide. the good lady doubtless saw in the dim future the end in view for which she was willing to expend so much patient effort, and so shall we, and in a shorter time, if fewer winters have passed over our heads before we make our first venture. a few hours at least should be devoted to this preliminary experience, and then you will probably be able to try the inside edge forward, which is the first step to master. with your feet turned at an angle of °, you will press downward with the ball of your left foot, so that you may have a secure position from which to start, and you will slide forward with your right foot only on the inside of the skate, balancing yourself entirely on that foot. you will then bring the left foot forward from the position it has held with the toe of the skate held just off the ice behind the right foot, and pressing the inside edge of the skate under the ball of the right foot into the ice, you will slide forward with your left, striking out farther and farther as you find you can keep your balance during the stroke. the position of the body should be slightly sideways, with the face in the direction of progress. to perform a half-circle and a circle will then be your aim, until you can succeed with a perfect figure of . by the time you have mastered this, you will be ready for the turn on both feet and the backward stroke of the inside edge, after which the forward and backward stroke of the outside edge will be your study. in all backward movement the head must be turned in the point of direction, while the weight of the body is thrown on the back part of the skate, instead of on the front part as in a forward movement. as soon as complete mastery of both edges has been gained, and that the fate of the immortal winkle may not be yours, you have learnt the art of stopping, you will find all the simple figures within your powers. do not, however, be hurried into trying any combination, however simple, until you have acquired the art of easy and graceful motion on the inside and outside edges, both forward and backward. the hand-in-hand figures are much in vogue among women in all countries, and these are pretty and effective, as well as simple to execute by anyone who has thoroughly grounded herself in the rudiments of skating. the more usual way of executing these figures in this country is for the partners, generally a man and a woman, to stand side by side, joining their right hands underneath the left, which are also clasped sideways, though occasionally what is known as the austrian mode is adopted, viz., by the woman standing in front of her partner and bending her hands under and backward at her side, when they are taken in the clasp of the man behind. it is to the daughters of the inventor of the plimpton roller-skates that we are indebted for the various fascinating forms of hand-in-hand skating now in vogue, and for the effective movement known as "a pass," we are equally beholden to miss l. cheetham, who was, i believe, the first to put it in practice. for the many varieties of scuds and rockers now constantly to be seen at the much patronised covered rinks, reference may be made to mr. maxwell witham's book "a system of figure skating," in which are to be found diagrams of some very simple figures taken originally from the archives of the oxford skating society. these will be well within the powers of all, and in the case of the stronger and more enthusiastic women skaters will form a fitting prelude to the execution of the more elaborate "club figures." in figure , the skaters take up their positions facing one another upon each side of a square, the start being made by each skater with the right foot, on a curve of outside edge, continuing this for half a circle when the left foot will be put down and the stroke taken, either in the ordinary way or from the cross, and the whole circle of outside on the left foot skated. this will bring each skater into the original place of the other and the movement can be repeated. the figure can also be skated backward, in which case the position for starting will be with the backs instead of the faces of the skaters towards each other. figure is very similar to the former. the skaters take up their positions facing one another at four points of the inner circle, skating off on a curve of outside edge with the right foot and going round the inner circle. the left foot is thus put down and the stroke taken in the ordinary way or from the cross, another circle of outside edge being skated on the left foot. this will bring the skater to the inner circle again when the movement can be repeated, and the whole figure can be skated backwards. a variation of this figure can be made thus: "the skaters only go three-quarters round the centre circle, so that the outside circle described always lies immediately behind the one on which each skater last travelled round. the skaters thus changing their positions has a pretty effect. "arrived at the common circle the movement is repeated, each skater taking her partner's hand (the four hands being thus crossed) which is retained until the whole circle, which all have in common, has been skated, when each again branches off as before described."[ ] [footnote : _a system of figure skating_, by t. maxwell witham.] in all skating, neatness, precision, and an easy, upright carriage are the things to be aimed at, and as you feel yourself getting at home on your skates, remember it should be your object to disguise your stroke as far as possible, so that your progress may have the smooth, graceful ease of apparently unbroken motion. shortly, the great points to be attended to when learning are: . an upright carriage without stiffness. . straightness of the knee of the employed leg. . approximation of the feet. . a slight sideways position of the body, with the face in the direction of progress. . equality of power on either leg, to attain which extra practice for the weaker leg--generally the left--will be needed. when these have been acquired the full delight of the health-giving exercise of skating will be open to you. [illustration: _lambert, weston and son folkestone._ _miss starkie-bence._] golf. the object of the game of golf is to complete the round of eighteen holes in as few strokes as possible, starting for each hole from a place called the teeing ground, and hitting the ball with various clubs till the green is reached. upon the green is a flag denoting the spot where a round hole with a diameter of four and a quarter inches and a depth of four inches, is cut. into this hole the player must get the ball in as few strokes as may be. the distances between the teeing grounds and the greens vary at every hole. the game when played by two persons is known as a single, when by four persons, as a foursome. the scores in medal play are kept upon cards provided for that purpose, each player noting the other's score, which is then marked down at the conclusion of each hole, the totals being added together at the end of the round, when the card must be signed by the scorer and placed in the score card box. failing to sign a card entails disqualification. in match playing, the scores are reckoned by the terms, "the like," "the odd," "the two more," "one off two," etc., and the hole is won by the player who has holed in the fewest strokes. being the person to lead off at the tee, is styled having the honour, and is a privilege accorded to either the player who has the least handicap, or to the winner of the latest match, or again to the winner of the last hole. in foursomes the strokes are played alternately by the partners, through the green and from the tee. the ground played over is known by the name of the links, or the course, and covers an area generally from two, to three and a half miles for a full-sized or man's course, and very often much under this distance for what is known as the ladies' links, whilst the distances between the holes vary from fifty yards to yards or more. the game is pursued over obstacles of all sorts, known as hazards and bunkers, till the green is reached. this is a beautifully kept piece of grassy lawn, some twenty yards in extent, either undulating, sloping, or sometimes quite level, in which the holes are cut. the term stance is applied to the position of the player's feet, when addressing herself to the ball. the term grip denotes either that part of the handle of the club covered with leather, which is held in the hands, or the grasping of the club itself, and the term lie, applies to the situation of the ball, good or bad. the further technical terms may be found in the glossary (p. ) or in any instruction book on the game, the most highly recommended of the latter being _the badminton library on golf_, by mr. horace hutchinson, _the game of golf_, by w. park, jun., or sir w. c. sampson's _the art of golf_. but to the early history of our game. the exact date of the founding of the royal and ancient game of golf is still a somewhat disputed point. but we read that in holland and also in belgium, about the year , a very popular pastime was then in vogue, styled chole, and as far as can be ascertained from old documents, pictures, and the familiar and curious dutch tiles of that period, the mode of play and the weapons used, although rather crude in many respects, were not at all unlike those of the present day. some writers go so far as to tell us that this game rather resembled hockey, and that the ball used was about the size of an ordinary cricket ball. others who have searched even more deeply amongst the archives of the royal and ancient game, relate that the aim and object used to be to strike the ball against stone posts, which appears to have corresponded with the later practice of holing out. anyway we have it on good authority that the game was much played during the sixteenth century in scotland. in the blackheath club was formed in england, and in that of the edinburgh burgess society in the north, although the game had been extensively played for some time before this. closely following the institution of the edinburgh burgess society club, came those of the honourable company of edinburgh golfers in , st. andrew's in , and mussulburgh in , followed again in the south by old manchester in , and westward ho! in , till at the present time there are links all over europe, in america, india, australia, new zealand, and even in egypt. not content with this, we even have the royal game on the west coast of africa, in that spot of treachery and massacre, benin. but of course, to scotland the gratitude of the world will ever be due for having really been the home of the game, besides which for grandeur in natural hazards, and finest of fine turf, the north will ever bear the palm. [illustration: _j. ross. north berwick._ _miss e. c. orr._ (_winner of the championship, ._)] golf, as far as women are concerned, is indeed both royal and ancient, for we know that mary, queen of scots, was a great adept and devotee thereof, but till this century women's doings appear not to have been much chronicled, although they used to play, and our scotch sisters have always been more or less brought up to it. latterly both the english and irish have taken wonderfully to what was at one time styled "that old man's game," and in so doing have found it not at all a bad pastime, till now-a-days the lady-golfers make quite a formidable army on the occasion of the yearly championship, or the other big open meetings. to arrange for such events, and to give more uniformity in general matters, the "ladies' golf union" was formed a few years ago. to this body all troublesome questions are referred by the associated clubs, for which it acts as legislator in chief. it arranges too the details for the yearly championship, and has lately started a system for universal handicapping which is progressing very well. but i shall have occasion to speak of this useful institution later. when ladies' courses were first started, they were chiefly conspicuous for their shortness, and general lack of hazards, it being calculated that the ordinary wooden putter would be sufficient to see the player safely over any obstacles encountered during the round. but woman's ambition was not satisfied, she sighed and fretted for more elbow-room, longer holes, more difficulties, and last but not least on inland courses, real sand at the bottom of the bunkers. till then it had not entered into the head of man to conceive that any woman was equal to, or would care for, daily tramps over rough and broken ground, bogs, dykes, and sand, or that even if she did care, she could ever become proficient at so sacred a pastime. was it possible either that a woman's strength would prove equal to propelling the ball a sufficiently long distance, to make her in any way a rival to one of the sterner sex? but nevertheless, even with all these doubts, the men's club were ready to assist in giving what was asked for, by helping to institute links at st. andrew's and westward ho! in , musselburgh and wimbledon in , carnoustie in , pau in , troon in , bath in , yarmouth in , etc. of golf as a game for the health, it must be said that it is suited to all seasons of the year, and also to the hundred and one changes of climate which occur in the twelve short months. through snow we pursue the game on the frozen and ice covered links, with balls painted red, again in march gales, we toil round regardless of the flapping skirts and blow-away hats, but in may days when the weather is lovely, when the courses and their greens are at their best, then it is that we lay ourselves out for pure enjoyment, and reap the well-deserved fruits of a winter of steady practice. so through summer and autumn the game still retains its fascinations, at least for those who have mastered its inner mysteries, but for the uninitiated it must indeed be more than a trifle dull, beside savouring rather of madness to walk miles and miles only to hit along a little white guttie ball, with instruments of weird and curious shape. [illustration: _figure ._ _position for driving._] although ladies' courses are now vastly superior to what they were a short while back, there is still room for great improvements in the matter of scope for brassey and cleek play through the green. the usual courses consist of a series of holes, generally nine holes--eighteen being the exception--closely resembling each other, interspersed with hazards of sorts, but in point of length and play nearly all these holes are reached by a fair drive, followed by a short iron or approach shot on the green. this is occasionally varied by a cleek shot from tee to green, which constitutes the whole and monotonous ring of change that is to be found, to say nothing of the total banishment of the brassey, one of the most useful clubs in existence. excepting, therefore, when women play over men's courses, or at least over a part of them, they rarely find themselves called upon to play cleeks, or full iron shots either. a notable exception to this is the west lancashire ladies' course, at hall road, near liverpool. there we find not only eighteen holes most craftily laid out amidst hazards of all description, which call into requisition a variety of useful clubs, but the distances between the greens have been so varied that any monotony is quite impossible. for whilst at one hole it may require three full shots to reach the green, very likely the next will be but a cleek shot, and so on. one of the irresistable influences of the game to a beginner, is undoubtedly that vexation of spirit caused by some strange mixture of obstinacy and helplessness, which smarts and rankles bitterly after a morning spent in trying, to stand in the correct position with your club grasped firmly in your hands, and after the preliminary waggle, to swing up and down and hit the ball into space. it looks so easy, ridiculously easy, and as if it was quite impossible not to hit that little white globe, perched on its sand tee, but in reality, till the eye and the hand have been trained to do so, it is one of the most difficult tasks in life, and a process tending to many abusive speeches! the experience naturally produces a spirit of dogged determination not to be beaten, wherein lie the first seeds of interest, and the desire for improvement. the younger it is possible to begin the game, the better, for at an early age the muscles are tractable and supple, and the slightest stiffness which gives a noticable jerkiness to the strokes, is very difficult to overcome. the strokes should on the contrary be performed, and the arms and wrists should work, with the smooth evenness of windmill sails. but speaking of evenness and smoothness of movement, more especially in the case of a person in the act of driving, brings to mind the late championship at gullane, where, for the first time, it became possible to compare, side by side, the styles of the scotch and english players. between some there was but little difference, excepting that the scotch swing was rather short and quick, whilst that of the english was somewhat longer and slower, but in whatever style our scotch sisters played, their whole action was so even and pendulum-like, so entirely free from any jerk or strain, that it clearly demonstrated their familiarity with clubs from the days of early childhood. of course such familiarity is more than half the battle, making as it does in after life a vast difference to the skill and style, although in this as in all else, there are many and notable exceptions amongst those who have only come across the game when nearing the days of discretion. the greatest example of this, is our triple champion, lady margaret hamilton-russell, née scott, whose style has been pronounced perfect by many competent judges. great self-control and good nerve, with a large amount of endurance, are the requisites of golf, for without wishing to say one word to its detriment, it cannot be denied that it is a game somewhat conducive to selfishness, and with a distinctly rousing effect upon the temper. to those who are adepts at other out of door sports and pastimes, golf presents one great difficulty, namely, that most of the clubs have to be gripped firmly by the left hand only, the right hand being used quite lightly in comparison, simply as a general support and guide to direction. having once decided to become a player, the best course by far is to arrange for daily lessons from some competent and painstaking professional, for by this means we start from the very beginning by being placed in the right positions, and moreover, are taught to use the right club in the right place, which knowledge will prove of invaluable assistance in future matches and competitions. no beginner should however forget to obtain a book of the st. andrews' rules and to study it well, for one of the first essentials in a game is to know the rules thoroughly. by thus starting with lessons from a qualified instructor, you do away with the risk of having to unlearn most of what has been already grasped, as is so often the case where your mentor has been some kind and amiable friend. once having mastered the rudiments and mysteries of the game, steady daily practice should be indulged in, if you would hope in time to figure in the front rank of players. the driver, iron, mashie and putter are the chief clubs to master thoroughly, for at any time these will suffice on all courses to play a good round with, whereas if only one club is taken out at a time to master, the eye and hand are apt to become wearied by continuous repetition, whilst the varied strokes necessitated by three or four clubs, prove both instructive as well as absorbing. in the choice of clubs arises great difficulty. patents unlimited are to be had, each claiming special advantages. for instance, w. park's putting cleek, or wry-necked putter as it is often called, and brougham or yeoman's aluminium drivers, so utterly indestructible when playing off roads or other hard lies. then there are taylor's or teen's mashies, the former rather short in the head and broad on the face, particularly useful for the high-pitched approach shots, the latter shaped more like a spoon, having at the back and in the exact centre, a crescent-shaped and convex piece of extra steel, so as to concentrate the full force and weight at the point of impact. but the good old-fashioned clubs can hold many candles to various latter-day inventions. a very useful driver head of ordinary beech-wood has within the last three or four years come from the able hands of j. ray, of randalstown, co. antrim, called a "bap." this is in appearance exactly like a large and rather flat penny bun attached to the shaft, but its driving powers are tremendous owing to the amount of wood behind the spot from whence the ball is hit, which naturally induces a long carry and run, especially in a wind, when it seems to send a capital long, low straight shot. [illustration: _figure ._ _grip of hands for driving._] it is best to choose the first clubs with the assistance of a professional, or that of an experienced amateur, who will know at once what weights are most suited to your powers of wrist and arm. having done this, and by a study of the rules prepared yourself for instruction, you will naturally wish to make your first attempt. on arriving at the first teeing ground and after mounting your ball on its sand tee, take up your position with the driver, so that the club head may be within easy reach of the ball, and without the least straining or stretching forward to reach it. [illustration: _figure ._ _wrong grip._] [illustration: _figure ._ _club head wrong. hands wrong. result of a grip, as shown in fig. ._] [illustration: _figure ._ _"toe" of driver pointing downwards. hands right._] the left foot should be slightly in advance of the right, rather turned in if anything, and both feet some sixteen inches or thereabouts apart, the ball, club, and hands being as nearly as possible in direct line with your waist buckle, perhaps slightly inclined to the left. the hands then require to grip the club as shown in figures and , the left hand should hold with a grip of iron, the right much more easily, but still with a tenacious grasp, turned well over so that the back of the hand is to the front. care should be taken that the thumb is not as shown in figure , for such a grip would cause the head of the club, when at the top of the swing, to be turned broadway as in figure , instead of pointing toe downwards as in figure . when off your drive entirely, and when instead of being able to swing your ball nicely and cleanly away, you can only keep hitting down on the top of it, called smothering, take a swing with the club, pausing at the top (that is to say when the club has reached its usual high curve over the right shoulder, and just before its descent is commenced) to note the angle of the head. this will generally be found as in figure , whilst the position of the hands will be as in figure . then alter your grip to as near that of figure as possible, when the angle of the club-head at the top of the swing, will become as in figure . but to continue, being in the correct position for addressing the ball both as regards distance and grip, after a short preliminary waggle which will give the needed impetus, raise the club away to the right, not too quickly, with a scythe-like sweep, till well over the right shoulder, at the same time lifting the left heel and turning the body slightly on the toes of the left foot. figure . the action of the swing should be entirely done from the shoulder, and not with a twist of the whole body as is often seen. descending again and driving away the ball, then continue the swing till it finishes up quite naturally over the left shoulder, called "the follow through," figure , thus describing an entire circle round the body, the _whole_ of which must be as evenly performed, without the least signs of force or disjointedness, as though it was the revolution of a wheel. many players stand to drive with the ball in a line with, or even outside, their left foot, but having the ball nearer the centre of the body, as described above, is the more usual position, and one to be recommended. [illustration: _figure ._ _grip when at the top of swing._] [illustration: _garland. woking._ _figure ._ _finish of swing._ (_mrs. m. c. willock._)] brassey shots through the green are played in a similar manner to drives, the only exception being, that instead of a ball teed on the sand, it has to be taken off the flat, therefore it becomes necessary to swing the club head into the ball with a smart click, nicking in between it and the ground, so as to cause the ball to rise away in its flight quickly and cleanly, avoiding any taking of turf, or sclaffing as it is styled, and thereby losing half the propelling force. when to reach the green two or three full shots are required after the drive, the brassey is generally taken, or for a medium length shot the cleek, the latter being used with a full swing, till some eighty or a hundred yards from the hole, when the lofting iron is called into requisition. with this latter club, as with the cleek, the grip of both hands must be very firm, for at the moment of striking the ball with the face of the club, there is the danger of the sole at that very second taking the turf, when, unless the club is firmly gripped in both hands, it must naturally turn somewhat, with the result that the shot will be hopelessly foozled. [illustration: _figure ._ _swinging upwards for a three-quarter iron shot._] the position of the feet in iron shots differs from that of driving. for one thing the right foot should be slightly in advance of the left, whilst the ball is more opposite the former, and in the second place the knees must be a little bent, the whole body assuming more of a crouching stance than when driving. the swing, too, with an iron, is somewhat different, for even in the full shot it is never of such a length as that taken with a wooden club. it is more of an up-and-down stroke. in the three-quarter shot, the arms and not the shoulders are responsible for the swing, the club going as far back as the length of the arm comfortably permits (figure ), whereas, in the half shot, the fore arm and wrist work only, the arm from the shoulder to the elbow being then nearly close into the side. the approach shot with the mashie is played when the green is some fifty yards or more distant, the player desiring either to run the ball up to the hole along the ground, provided the intervening space is pretty clear of hazards, or to pitch it up, with that short "choppy" wrist shot, so that the ball falls without run, nearly dead. many players place the right thumb down the shaft of the club in this stroke, claiming that it is easier thus to gauge the distance and be more accurate as to direction. but whichever way it is played, remember that it is the wrists and not the arms that work the club. this shot is played with the face of the club very much laid back (figure ), and a peculiar species of cut from right to left administered to the ball at the moment of impact. a stroke that can with difficulty be taught, being more the outcome of instinct after experience, than of instruction. the hard part of approaching lies in making the ball fall sufficiently dead, and _not_ to strike it so, that after pitching, it will run nearly as far off the green on the opposite side. the mashie is one of the most useful clubs, for besides being your "right hand" in approach shots, it is simply indispensable when playing out of a bad lie, or whenever the ball is snugly reposing in some sand bunker. to extricate oneself from such a lie, it is necessary first and foremost that both feet should be _firmly_ planted on the ground, for every atom of strength must be brought to bear on the right spot, at the right moment. about two inches behind the ball is the place to let your club-head delve into the sand, and it is upon _this_ spot that the eye must be fixed, and _not_ upon the ball, as is otherwise the case. the force of hitting the club-head into the sand, causes it to shoot up, bearing the ball high into the air, and over the confronting obstacle. whilst speaking of bunkers and difficulties, it is as well to have in mind the st. andrew's rule, no. , which runs as follows: "when a ball lies in or touches a hazard, the club shall not touch the ground, nor shall anything be touched or moved before the player strikes at the ball, except that the player may place his feet firmly on the ground for the purpose of addressing the ball, under the penalty of the loss of the hole, but if in the backward or downward swing, any grass, bent, whin, or other growing substance, on the side of a bunker, a wall, a paling, or other immoveable obstacle be touched, no penalty shall be incurred." in medal competitions the penalty for breach of this rule is disqualification. if there should be any doubt as to what is considered a hazard, rule no. is very explicit. "a hazard shall be any bunker of whatever nature--water, sand, loose earth, mole hills, paths, roads, or railways, whins, bushes, rushes, rabbit scrapes, fences, ditches, or anything which is not the ordinary green of the course--except sand blown on to the grass by wind, or sprinkled on grass for the preservation of the links--or snow, or ice, or bare patches on the course." [illustration: _figure ._ _short approach shot with thumb down the shaft._] in _match play_, rule states: "a ball must be played wherever it lies, or the hole be given up--except as otherwise provided for in the rules." whereas in _medal play_, rule reads: "a ball may under a penalty of two strokes be lifted out of a difficulty of any description, and be teed behind the same." the niblick, in bunkers where the sand is at all heavy, is rather a better club to use than the mashie, being so short, thick, and powerful in the head, therefore capable of delivering a stronger blow into the sand. a most useful club for bad lies through the green, is the driving mashie, made much after the order of a cleek, only being shorter in the face and very solid in the sole, it is able to hit a long, powerful shot under the most trying conditions in the way of bad lies. having spoken of the many clubs used from the tee till the green is reached, the putter alone remains for a few words. till quite recently this was made of wood only, rather in shape like an elongated driver-head. in fact these very old clubs, such as were used by celebrities like jamie allan, young tommy morris, mr. george glennie, and others, are now worth fabulous sums of money. but of late years, steel and gun metal have come much more into vogue. park's patent putter with the twisted socket or neck, is a universal favourite, the fact of looking straight down the shaft on to the ball appearing to make the line of transition somewhat more easy for the eye to take in. the mode of holding the putter is similar to that of the iron, only that the thumbs are both placed downwards and the fingers are called more into play, as shown in figure . the general grip is a trifle looser, although the right hand requires to be firm. mr. horace hutchinson, in the _badminton book on golf_, says as follows: "the principal secret of good putting, as of good driving, is that the club should travel as long as possible on the line--or a production of it--on which the ball is to travel. "putting is a stroke made almost exclusively with the wrists. the wrists do not hit the club on to the ball and then check it, but the club is swung by a movement of the wrists... any checking of the club as it meets the ball being fatal to consistent good putting.... the hands should be allowed to fall into a natural position.... the putter should be held rather short, and preferably with a light grip, and should be worked backward and forward by the wrists, mainly perhaps the left wrist.... the left elbow may, if preferred, be a little crooked to the front: the club head will in this method be swinging somewhat after the fashion of a pendulum, and if a golfer gets the hanging arrangements of this pendulum correct, it can not very well swing out of the true line." [illustration: _figure ._ _putting off the right foot._] the above describes the stroke exactly. the stance for putting is as shown in figure , at least that is about the usual position, but many people putt with the ball about mid-way between the right foot and the left, in a straight line with the centre of the body (figure ). the crooked left elbow is certainly a great help in keeping the ball on the right road to the hole, while the right elbow should be resting against the hip. iron shots too can be kept from diverging with the vagaries of the wind during a gale, if the left elbow is well crooked towards the front, so as to follow through in that position over the line of flight of the ball. a very similar position to that of playing forward at cricket. in golf there is a good deal of etiquette to be observed, but again all hints will be found in the book of st. andrew's rules, or in that very useful compendium _the golfer's referee_, which was compiled lately by the editor of _the golfer_, in edinburgh. it may be as well to mention that no. of these rules is one to be observed, if not for courtesy's sake, at least for the sake of danger, a blow from a golf ball being no light matter. therefore out of pure humanity it is only right to let the party in front play their second shots, or get off the green, so that they may be out of range of those behind. besides match and medal play, another species of competition has of late years been started, namely, "bogey." this is simply a score fixed for each of the eighteen holes, the same as the par of the green, the player having to hole out in one less than the given par, it she would win the hole, or in the like for a half. at each hole, any strokes taken beyond the number of the fixed par, count as a loss to the player and as a win to "bogey." the mode of marking this on the competition cards being + for a win and o for a half, and - for a loss. [illustration: _figure ._ _putting with ball between the feet._] one of the greatest features of golf is that although you may only perhaps be a third-class player, and your opponent a first-class, or as it is termed, scratch player, yet by the system of handicapping you will both play on equal terms. in match play the difference between handicaps is allowed as follows: in singles, three-fourths of the difference between handicap allowances, in foursomes, three-eighths of the difference of the aggregate handicap allowance on either side, a half stroke of over counting as one, but smaller fractions not being reckoned. thus if the difference between your own and your opponent's handicap in a single is , you will have to allow her nine strokes, or a half, viz.: a stroke every other hole, whereas if in a foursome the difference of handicap between yourself and partner and your opponent and her partner was likewise , you would then only give an allowance of five strokes. as a rule, clubs have their own special table of holes, at which the strokes are to be taken in matches. nerves undoubtedly play a great part in golf, for the person who can go on quietly and steadily when her opponent is two up at the turn has an immense advantage. for as nothing is certain in life, still less is it so in golf! a topped drive, or a short putt, and the whole luck of the game may alter. therefore the player who has perfect control over her nerves has a decided advantage over one who becomes flustered, and she will very often come in with a rush and flourish of trumpets at the last. when playing a tight match never risk going for the hole if a halved one will answer as well, for there is always the chance in going for it from some way off of placing the ball out of holeing distance for the next shot, and so losing the hole altogether. much the same in medal play: never risk a very long carry or dangerous shot if instead, by playing short and then over the difficulty, you can insure more safety. medal play is essentially a matter of stolid steadiness, while match play bristles with excitements from start to finish, but it is by no means the case that the best match player will be the best in a medal round, the almost mechanical steadiness of play required in the latter being often found too irksome and tedious. of the faults that a golfer may drift into, slicing, hooking, and topping are the most common, and these are often too the most difficult to cure. slicing is caused by drawing the club across the ball and towards yourself. this will cause the ball to dive off to the right, and is either the result of an error in the stance, or the grip of one or both hands, or possibly because the club is being swung away too quickly, causing more of a straight up and down stroke than is the case in the proper and rounded swing. if hooking is the fault, then the ball will fly off to the left. the reason of this may be either that you are standing with the ball too much opposite to the left foot, or that you are hitting it with the club's face turned in, the latter being the result of faulty gripping. topping as the name denotes is simply not getting well down to the ball, and means the ruin of both its shape and paint! yet another fault is that of heeling, or hitting the ball off the neck of the club, this can generally be cured by standing a little farther away from the ball and letting the arms go out well free of the body. one of the most difficult shots you can be called upon to play is when the ball is in a "cuppy" lie, viz., in a small hole or hollow. the club then has to be swung _into it_ without taking any of the surrounding edges, which seems so impossible to accomplish, and yet to get the ball away any distance, but the more quietly and without pressing you succeed in doing this, the more chance you will have of a good result. a ball lying above you, say on the side of a hill, is awkward, as the club shaft when used in such a position seems so lengthy and unwieldy, but taking the stroke quietly and again not pressing for an extra long shot is the best way out of the difficulty. if on the other hand the ball lies on a slope below you, shorten your grip of the club, for the body will naturally fall a little forward in the downward swing, owing to the stance being on the slant. sometimes the ball may be found lying with a disused and grass-grown mole-hill, or some such lump immediately in front. in such a case it would be equally impossible to sweep away the ball with a full swing, or with a three-quarter one. the club must therefore be raised just as far backwards as in a half shot, when it should be smartly brought down, thus hitting the ball and jerking into the turf, causing it--the ball--to rise over the obstacle. this will cut a large divot out of the ground, which must be replaced and stamped down, ever remembering the text, "it is the duty of every golfer to replace, or to cause to be replaced any turf cut in the act of making a stroke." of course care must be used not to break the shaft of the club, owing to the force with which the head will cut down into the turf. to keep yourself in good form it is not necessary after the game has been thoroughly mastered to practise every day. three or four times a week will keep both the eye and the hand well up to their work, without getting either tired or stale. whenever the chance presents itself of playing a round with a scratch player, or someone who is really more skilled than yourself, do so. such experience will not only serve as a lesson, but will stimulate the spirit of ambition in no small degree. besides, it will be most excellent training and a decided gain in the way of steadiness, and will also teach you not to get flustered when confronted by difficulties. merely to watch your opponent's self-possession, as she extricates the ball from the heaviest sand, without the least sign of force or irritability, will be a lesson worthy of taking to heart. to have made good progress in the game, and to be able to hold one's own with some of the longer handicap members, perhaps even to be able to give them a point or two besides a beating, has the effect of making most people rather proud and pleased with themselves. then it is that a sound beating from some good player will do your game pounds of good and show you how much you still have to learn. if one were to play golf for ever, yet would the feeling remain that there are many things to be mastered. one of the most trying times for the nerves, and in fact for your play all round is when at some big open meeting, or perhaps even in the championship, you find yourself drawn to play with or against a celebrity. some of the on-lookers may, and probably will, elect to follow you round just to see your famous partner perform, as well as to criticise both players. naturally, this will cause you some embarrassment, but beside your own feeling on the matter, you have to consider those of your partner, and the risk that if you play badly you may very likely put her off too. for in golf the laws of imitation are very subtle, and nothing is more common than to play down to another person's standard. however trying it may be, therefore, to have every shot watched, whether it is a long raking drive, a foozled iron, or some twelve inch putt that lips the hole instead of going down, do your best to be steady, even if brilliancy be out of the question, for consistency can never be very hardly criticised, even when seriously put in the shade by a superior display of knowledge. attending open meetings, and taking part in club matches, will do more for your nerves and be the means of your gaining greater experience than a hundred rounds on the quiet home course, with just those players around you to whose criticisms the ear has become so used, that they cease to make the slightest impression. at such big gatherings you can see for yourself the endless varieties of style, grip, stance, and a dozen other details which will go more towards teaching you how you should or should not do this, or do that, than many lessons and many chapters on the subject. to play a tight match in a championship, is generally a doubtful pleasure. the severe strain of knowing that every stroke should be soundly good, or at all events useful, the amount of care that must be taken over the shortest putt, the dogged determination that you _will_ beat your opponent, or if you do not quite succeed in this, that you will only be beaten by the most narrow margin, and last but not least, the total obliviousness to the crowd that may be following the match; all this self-possession cannot be learned in a day or even in a few months. to attain to such a level is a matter of test and training. before any of these big events, it is as well to go and reside for a time in or near the spot where the meeting is to be held, as you will thus gain a thorough knowledge of the course, lies, bunkers and greens, not forgetting that most useful appendage, the caddie. to secure a sharp boy, who knows every nook and cranny of the links, will often mean half a stroke a hole to the credit of your match or score. the most suitable and workmanlike clothes for the game are a simple coat and skirt of harris tweed or other strong material, thick boots with a few nails in the soles to prevent slipping, and a straw sailor hat by way of head covering. fly-away and feather-bedecked hats, together with garden-party dresses, look, and are, terribly out of place on a course, which in this country, owing to the variable moods of the clerk of the weather, may not always be without mud! many players wear red coats with their club facings and buttons, and these always look smart. among them, and one which is quite the neatest of all club uniforms, is that of the wimbledon ladies' club--a coat, with black collar and cuffs, outlined with a piping of white, the buttons being of black, with the club initials in white on them. all clubs that have the privilege of calling themselves royal are entitled to facings of royal blue. the littlestone ladies wear rather a smart coat with white facings, round which are the narrowest of narrow pipings in tri-coloured silk cord, of the club colours, white, green and salmon pink. green facings are very popular, and are used by the st. anne's ladies, the mid-surrey and many others. perhaps the only club with a membership of several hundred, which has no distinctive coat is princes, at mitcham, but the charming mixture of chocolate and light blue, in the form of hat ribbons and ties worn by the members, makes rather a welcome change. going away to other links to play matches for one's club is by no means the least of the minor pleasures of being a golfer, for it carries one to many "lands unknown." the fascinations, too, of a new course are great and wonderful, especially during the first round when you are quite ignorant of the pitfalls that await the unwary. there is something so exhilarating in driving over carries of unknown breadth, and in taking one's iron to reach a blind, or hidden green, with several sandy obstacles between you and it. [illustration: _miss pascoe._ (_winner of the championship, ._)] of the five courses which have now been used for the ladies golf union's annual championship meeting, that of gullane, in , was by far the best and most difficult, portrush being next in order. but before entering into further details it may be as well to give just a brief outline of the said "ladies' golf union" and its origin. early in , the idea of such an institution was started, dr. laidlow purves, miss issette pearson and several wimbledon members being the moving spirits in the scheme, ably backed up by such clubs as ashdown forest, barnes, eastbourne, east sheen, great harrowden, great yarmouth, lytham and st. anne's, minchinhampton, north berwick, north warwickshire, portrush, belfast, st. andrew's, southdown and brighton, and wimbledon. a large and influential meeting was held in london during the month of april, and it was then decided that an annual championship should be held, the winner of which was to receive a gold medal and be styled lady champion for the year, whilst a magnificent silver trophy was to pass into the possession of her club for the same period. strangely enough the lytham and st. anne's club had already thought of, and in fact advertised, a splendid £ silver challenge cup, to be competed for annually over their links, the winner of which was to be styled champion. this handsome offer had been made before the golfing world was even aware that the subject of a ladies' union had been mooted. after some discussion the matter was amicably settled, by the delegate from the st. anne's club and the council, deciding to hold the first championship over that course. the subscribers towards the magnificent cup include the clubs of st. andrews, st. anne's, ashdown forest, blackheath, cotswold, royal belfast, royal eastbourne, southdown and brighton, minchinhampton, and wimbledon. the th of june and three consecutive days were chosen for the event, and the following circular was issued to all the ladies' clubs throughout the united kingdom: "the ladies' golf union have decided that the ladies' golf championship competition, , open to all lady golfers, members of any golf club, will take place at st. anne's-on-the-sea, lancashire, on tuesday th, wednesday th, thursday th june, when the trophy, value fifty guineas, and four medals will be competed for under the following conditions: . competitors shall enter for the competition through the secretaries of their respective clubs. . the competition shall be played by holes in accordance with the rules of the lytham and st. anne's golf club. . the draw shall take place on friday, th june, and shall be conducted as follows: depending on the number of entries, such number of byes shall be first drawn as shall after the completion of the first round leave four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, or sixty-four players, and one draw shall decide the order of play throughout the competition; those who have drawn byes being placed at the head of the list of winners of the first round, and taking their place in the second round, in the order in which their names then stand. . each game shall consist of a round of eighteen holes. . in the event of a tie in any round, competitors shall continue to play on until one or other shall have gained a hole, when the match shall be considered won. . the winner of the competition shall be the champion lady golfer for the year, and the trophy shall be held for that year in the club from which the winner shall have entered. . the winner shall receive a gold medal, the second a silver medal, and the third and and fourth bronze medals. . all entries must be subject to the approval of the lytham and st. anne's golf club. . all disputes shall be settled by the council of the lytham and st. anne's golf club. . entries close thursday, th june, ." truly perfect weather favoured the meeting, and some thirty-eight competitors entered, including two members from the pau club. the drought that year had been exceptional, but the "green committee," headed by mr. t. h. miller, had kept the greens verdant, thanks to constant care and unlimited watering. the course being one of nine holes, two rounds had to be played. the chief hazards were "cops," or high turf banks, sand bunkers, and one or two ditches. at that time, when ladies' golf had not reached its present standard of excellence, the links appeared sufficiently difficult for a championship test, but now, when entries number a hundred or so, and players think nothing of a carry of yards, which will clear the great obstacles easily, it becomes necessary to have a shortened man's course for such events. although at gullane, in , the full men's links were used, the round of which is two miles and three quarters, with a few yards over, at littlestone, in , the course was not quite two miles and a half long, whilst portrush, in , measured only a few yards more than two miles and a quarter; the hoylake course, used in , was within a hundred and ten yards of two miles and three quarters. great yarmouth, which is to be the scene of the present year's-- --struggle, is some three miles in extent, but will doubtless be a trifle shortened, if it be in any way possible. harking back to st. anne's and the first championship, it was a matter of surprise and pleasure to witness the splendid play of lady margaret scott, and the ease with which she used her clubs, whether in a good, bad or indifferent lie. it came in the light of a revelation to the non-golfing many, who were not used to such a beautiful exhibition, and were not aware to what pitch of perfection a lady-golfer might rise. whilst to the golfing few it was a fine lesson, on the subject of how the game should and could be played, if it was only properly engrafted into the player from the beginning, and if proper pains were taken not to leave the minutest detail unconquered. the only two who approached lady margaret scott in her easy swing, and the manner in which she extricated herself from difficulties, were miss issette pearson, the energetic and hard-working honorary secretary of the golf union, and mrs. wilson-hoare, of westward ho! the final issue of the great battle resulted in lady margaret becoming champion, a title she held for three consecutive years, and miss pearson being the runner-up. this first championship was not without its fruits amongst those who witnessed it. on all sides the tide of ambition ran high to emulate even in a small degree the splendid example that had been given, which was the talk of the golfing world. so much so, that by the spring of , there was a much improved band ready to struggle with each other for the coveted title at littlestone, kent, an off-shoot of that charming and quaint cinque port town, new romney, which the continual wash of shingle, and silt of the sands, has left a mile and a half high and dry inland. in comparison with st. anne's, littlestone was three times more difficult. not only was the latter an eighteen hole course, but it fairly bristled in sand bunkers, canals, rabbit holes, and endless traps for the incautious. however, everyone had profited by the previous experience, and the play of most of the competitors called forth expressions of approval on all sides. the number of entries was sixty-four, including players from seventeen different clubs. ireland was unrepresented this year, although at st. anne's the previous season there had been four entries from the sister isle. lady margaret scott, and miss pearson, again stood first and second, after a very fine match, which was watched attentively by a large crowd from all the neighbouring golfing centres. following the championship in the autumn came the largely-attended and first open meeting of the ranelagh club, at barn elms. this was a huge success, thanks to the untiring energies of the committee, and miss pearson, so much so that another gathering was organised for the following april-- --and since then this fixture has been kindly allowed to become an annual event. early in the may of the enthusiastic army of golfers was under weigh for the quiet little irish town of portrush, the scene of both the irish and the english championships that year, the former preceding the latter by a few days. the bustle and excitement in the streets of the little town was great, and outside cars came tearing round the perilously sharp corners, laden with red-coated golfers either off to watch the semi-finals of the irish ladies, or else to sample the truly grand course on their own account. every train too brought in fresh relays of competitors, till the huge northern counties hotel had not a corner untenanted. the trophy of the irish ladies' golf union, which is a remarkably handsome worked silver bowl, had, after a good fight, together with much steady play, including some glorious long putts, been won by miss cox, miss maclaine being the runner up. an open meeting was held the day before the golf union championship, where the scratch prize was easily won, with the fine score of , by miss sybil wigham, the first scotch representative to attend one of these events. miss wigham's style was grand, being both easy and sure, and she proved herself equal to sending terrific long balls from any lie. it was much hoped that she and lady margaret might meet in one of the heats, but being unused to play before so large a crowd, miss wigham's nerve rather gave way in her match with miss dod, and she suffered defeat by two up and one to play. two of the finest matches of this championship were those between lady margaret scott and miss phillips, in the opening heat, and between lady margaret and mrs. ryder-richardson in the semi-final, wherein the latter player was four up at the eleventh hole to the champion, who after this gradually assumed the lead, and won in the end by two up. [illustration: _lady margaret hamilton-russell._ (_winner of the championship, , , and _)] perhaps the marvellous coolness and self-possession of lady margaret were never seen to better advantage than in this match. the course at portrush seemed to abound in bunkers at every conceivable and inconceivable corner. the greens were in excellent condition, and the whole links sporting as anyone could wish to play over. if anything the soil was a trifle too sandy, for it was dangerous to take the least scrap of turf with one's brassey or iron, for fear of a foozle. the end of the meeting found lady margaret for the third time champion, with miss lythgoe, of the st. anne's club, as silver medallist. the championship meeting, at hoylake, was remarkable for the number of very close matches, many of which were only decided on the eighteenth, nineteenth, or twentieth greens. miss pascoe ultimately became the winner after many hard tussles, with miss lena thompson, of wimbledon, as runner up, lady margaret scott not being among the eighty-two entrants. it was noticeable what an improvement in all parts of the game had taken place within the last three years, many of those who had witnessed the st. anne's championship being present, and stating this as their opinion. in the length of the tee shots and brassies, in getting out of difficulties, and in putting, the improvement was everywhere visible. the first visit of the union to the home of golf, viz., scotland, took place in the middle of may, , when gullane, on the east lothian coast, was the place of meeting. gullane is famed not only for the excellence of its links and the very superior quality of its turf at the present time, but in early years it was a great pictish burial place, and the ruins of an ancient church, dating from about , still stands in the middle of the village. in after years it was known as the birthplace of the celebrated racehorse, _blair athol_, as well as of several minor lights of the racing world. gullane indeed is a spot of many varied interests. the links are most sporting, and it is altogether a splendid course for a big event like the championship. the only regret murmured--and that but faintly--was that some would have liked more hazards to carry from the tee, as is the case at north berwick. however, this want was well atoned for by the manner in which the greens were guarded, a style of defence that would do credit to a first-class engineer, and which taxed the powers of approaching not a little. especially was this the case at the twelfth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth holes, where grief unlimited awaited the topped or foozled ball. starting with the record entry of one hundred and two competitors, the whole meeting, if one excepts the weather, was an unqualified success. for the first time, the scotch and english women-players met to do battle for the same trophy, but it was to be regretted that in so many instances the draw had coupled two very strong scratch players together, or in the same way put english players to do battle with each other, when it would have been both so much more exciting and interesting to have found them pitted north against south. in the first round two of the best matches were those between miss pascoe--the holder of the cup--and miss issette pearson, and between miss n. graham--the irish champion--and miss nevill, the holder of the midland counties championship. miss pearson, who gave one of the finest exhibitions of golf that she has ever shown, won after a hard fight by four up and three to play. miss pascoe too made some magnificent shots, but she certainly did not display the same deadly accuracy which characterised her game so much at hoylake, in the previous year ( ). however such thorough knowledge of the game was shown on both sides, that some of the old scotchmen in the crowd were heard to exclaim, "hoot, mon! this is fair golf, and worth coming to see." the match between miss nevill and miss n. graham was even closer, the latter losing only at the last hole. in the next round the matches of miss maud aitchison _v._ miss g. graham, miss a. l. orr _v._ miss frith, and miss a. maxwell _v._ miss m. r. nimmo, attracted the most attention, and in each case were won by the first-named player. round number three contained many more tight matches, especially those between miss titterton and miss maud aitchison, which was carried to the twenty-second hole, miss titterton winning ultimately. whilst mrs. edward smith beat miss n. haig, the yorkshire champion, only at the twenty-first hole, miss bertha thomson beat miss lugton at the nineteenth green, and miss dod only succumbed to miss blyth on the last green. the fourth round was not marked by any special feature, although all the matches were well contested. but the fifth heat had some grand fights, notably those of miss titterton and miss madeline campbell, which only finished on the eighteenth green, and miss kennedy and miss nevill, which was another display of real golf soundly well played, miss nevill losing by two holes only. the sixth and semi-final round was indeed exciting, miss kennedy playing a magnificent match against miss orr. the play on both sides was bold, free, and accurate, miss kennedy's shots from the tee and through the green were brilliant, especially so at the sixteenth hole from whence she reached the green in two, a distance of yards from the tee. it was in putting alone that she lost to her formidable and well-known north berwick opponent. miss e. c. orr, who was playing a most beautiful and steady game, downed miss titterton by two up after a fine match. the final between the two miss orr's was a good exhibition of steady golf, but miss e. c. orr out-played her sister somewhat easily, her shots all through being beautifully judged, especially the full iron shots or half iron approaches, which never failed to be within a putt of the hole. indeed it was in these shots that she obtained such an immense pull over her opponents throughout the whole of the meeting, and one might with advantage take a lesson from her in this most useful and necessary department of the game, for it is undoubtedly in approaching and putting that so many of us fail. there is nothing very hard in hitting a good long drive or brassey shot, but when it comes to pitching the ball _perfectly accurately_ on to the green, so that it may be within a putt's length of the hole, or at the outside within two such strokes, then it is that we seem to be "all over the place." perhaps once or twice during the round, we may lay an approach or two fairly dead, but to do this consistently for eighteen holes we cannot, and it was here that miss e. c. orr and several other scotch ladies, scored heavily. the competitions that are held at many open meetings for "approach shots," generally result in anybody but the scratch players being the winners, and show that this branch of the game is neglected by many good players. somehow far less pains are taken about this kind of shot, than for the drive. notice before the drive, how the player will fuss about the height of her tee, the position of her feet, the waggle and swing of the club, then notice the same player on nearing the hole, when she takes up her iron or mashie. just a glance at the hole, then a quick hit and the ball lights _somewhere_ on the green, perhaps with such a run that it is nearly as far off on the other side as it was on this side, before the stroke was played. no pains as to position, stance and angle of the club-head are taken; an iron shot in the _direction_ of the green being the stroke played, instead of an approach shot _at the hole_, which just makes all the difference. putting, too, is much more natural to some people than to others, but it is surely within the power of everyone to improve themselves in this useful science. it is after closely watching such a display of the game as we saw at the championship meeting at gullane, that one feels how much we might improve in our game by simply taking a little ordinary and common care. the lengths of the holes at gullane were about as follows: st, yards; nd, ; rd, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, ; th, . lengths that required every variety of shot, together with uphill and downhill lies innumerable, but as was mentioned a page or two back, the feature of the course lay in the grandly-guarded greens, where the consistent approacher had all the best of the game, and time besides to cogitate on the niblic shots of her less consistent opponent. besides arranging the annual championship, and settling any questions or difficulties relating to golf, the ladies' golf union undertook to organize a matter that had for years shown itself in need of revision. the union started the "handicapping scheme" among its associated clubs, in order that in crowded open meetings, the committee chosen to arrange the handicaps, should have some basis to work upon. it is a delicate matter to settle the points that one player shall concede to another, and till then this had been more or less guess-work, excepting for such little guidance as the local handicaps provided. the scheme is now in full working order, with a special sub-committee to guard over its interests, of which miss pearson is in command. this committee consists of four other ladies, to each of whom is portioned out six or eight clubs, and whose duty it is to work out by averaging the scores returned, what handicap each member of these several clubs shall receive, in accordance with the fixed par of the green, also to lower the various allowances when the players return scores under those from which they are already handicapped. once a month the whole of the medal, or other stroke competition returns are made up, and published in the golfing papers. to stimulate interest in this scheme the golf union offers a silver medal to every club, to be won by the member returning the best aggregate of four nett scores under their handicaps during the year, as well as a gold medal to be competed for annually by the winners of the silver medals. the rules for the guidance of those who compete, which will be found on the notice board in every associated club's golf room, run briefly as follows: " . any member of a club belonging to the union, and desirous of having a handicap for this competition, must have returned two medal scores, neither of which shall have exceeded the par of the green, as fixed by the union by more than twenty-five strokes. a member having a handicap in one club shall receive the same handicap at all clubs to which she may belong, when playing for the union medals, such handicap to be the lowest she shall receive at any one club. . each honorary secretary will receive monthly a form with members' union handicap, on which she shall enter the medal scores and return the sheet directly to one of the members of the sub-committee. . the par of the green is fixed from details sent by each club to the ladies' golf union hon. secretary, and all competitions for the medals must be played on the full medal course, but if circumstances such as ground under repair, etc., prevent this, a note must be made, and the difference explained when sending in the scores to the sub-committee." but a most able article on this subject from the pen of miss pearson will be found in volume four of the _ladies' golf union annual_. a neat little shilling publication, which not only contains a splendid map of the gullane golf course, but much useful information as to the associated clubs and their members throughout england. [illustration: _reinhold thiele and co._ _chancery lane._ _miss issette pearson._ (_hon. secretary ladies' golf union._)] golf has done much for many branches of trade, giving them a stimulus in out of the way corners. the revival of trade, indeed, that marks the opening of golf links, falls little short of a species of colonizing, resuscitating as it does decayed towns and villages, in which the game has fanned the almost extinct embers of industry into a glowing flame. while the men find work on the course, the boys have employment as caddies, or the sharper ones get a berth in the club maker's shop, whilst the players who come and go every day in the year, cause the hearts of the local butchers, bakers, and grocers to rejoice. in kent alone, such old places as sandwich, deal, new romney and rye, some of them famous in the by-gone days of the cinque ports splendour, owe a great deal in these bad times to the royal and ancient game. the membership of their respective golf clubs, number about as follows: sandwich, ; deal, between and ; littlestone, ; and rye, ; and some of these players at least, must visit one or other of the courses, and spend a certain amount of money in the place. new hotels and houses become necessities in the neighbourhood, and the old inns, too, have to look to their laurels that they keep up to date, and are well stocked with food, for the golfer's appetite is not renowned by reason of its smallness. in the "upkeep" of the links there are many and heavy expenses to be taken into account by the authorities, but clubs can generally amply recoup not only by subscriptions and entrance fees, but by that certain source of revenue, the green fees of visitors, provided of course the links are fairly sporting and well kept. taken all round, the number of green keepers and men employed on the various courses throughout the country, would alone make a respectable-sized army. then the industries in club and ball-making should be considered, and the thousands and thousands of dozens of the latter that are sold annually. in a recent number of _golf_ it was stated that some five hundred tons of gutta-percha are, within twelve months, converted into balls alone! to quote the paragraph on the subject: "the material is sold at four shillings and sixpence or five shillings per pound, but adding the cost entailed in producing good well-seasoned balls from the raw material, we find that there is an outlay approximately of £ , a year with manufacture and sale of golf balls. a fact like this tells not only a vivid story of the growth and popularity of the game, but of the commercial importance of the golf-ball trade." of course balls are at their best from six to nine months after being finished, but for a year or more they do not deteriorate to any great extent. the weight usually played with, is or - / drams. of different kinds there are no end, some people pinning their faith to "melforts," others to "woodley flyers," and so on, but very satisfactory makes are the "black a. .," the "silvertown," or the "eureka." recently the "agrippa" balls have been highly spoken of, and it is undeniable that even a gale of wind does not very perceptibly upset their flight, it they are struck true. having now touched on most of the subjects to do with the technical part of the game, it may be of interest to add a few more words on links and players generally, but before doing so, let it be said again, that golf is not a game that can be grasped or learned in a week, or yet in a year, but it requires steady perseverance for a very long period. if at any time you are off the game thoroughly, it is much better to go to a good professional, who will quickly put you on the right road again. in so doing you will avoid any chance of picking up bad habits, in your efforts to make the ball speed on its journey as it should. [illustration: _brown, barkes, and bell. liverpool._ _miss emma kennedy._ (_bronze medallist, ._)] of ladies' courses, that of the west lancashire will take a great deal of beating, for reasons that have been already stated. a course of eighteen holes, heaps of elbow room, and with a large and splendidly planned club house, in which a daily bill of fare is always to be found--the last, by the way, not met with every day in a ladies' club house--there is little left to desire. to mrs. alsop and her able committee the visitors at the last open meeting, which was held just before the hoylake ladies' championship in , were greatly indebted. not a hitch occurred in the starting of any of the seventy-eight competitors. it was on this course too that the southern ladies, when on their northern tour, in september of , sustained their first and only defeat. the west lancashire club can boast of one of the strongest match teams that it is possible to place in the field, seeing that it contains the names of miss kennedy--holder of the record with a score of --mrs. ryder-richardson, miss young, miss carr--a bronze medallist of the first championship--miss welch, mrs. fowler, and other scratch players. the next eighteen hole course is just south of london, at mitcham, viz., that of the princes ladies', one of the most delightful spots near london possible to find one's self detrained for a day's golf. the holes on these links vary in length from a full mashie shot to a distance that will require two or three strokes to reach the green. the chief hazards are dykes, gorse bushes, rushes, railways and turf bunkers, the trenches of which appear to be amply filled with sand. the putting greens are very good, especially the last seven holes, the other eleven being still rather in their infancy, as they were only opened in may, . the eighteen hole record of , is held by miss phillips. a very attractive object of competition at this club, is the monthly medal, a unique little gold charm mounted as a brooch. twice a year, in may and november, the club holds most successful open meetings. indeed for the last spring event, that of , the record entry of was received, and at the forthcoming spring meeting, a challenge cup is advertised to be competed for annually by representatives of all counties in great britain and ireland, one year's residential qualification being necessary. for this event any number of players are permitted to enter for each county, and the cup is to be held for a year by the county returning the four best medal rounds for thirty-six holes. miss langley is the untiring secretary and prime mover in all matters connected with the welfare of the club. in fact it is mainly due to her unrelaxed exertions, that the new piece of ground for the eleven holes was obtained, and worked into the excellent state that it now is. still another course of eighteen holes is that of the county down club in ireland, where play is over part of the famous newcastle links, some three miles round. the "bogey" and scratch score of these links is , and this has only been approached by miss maclaine, who has completed the course in . the hazards are principally of the lofty sand hill order. yards is the length of the longest hole, , , , to yards, being about the lengths of the others. the greens are magnificent, and the turf is of the proverbial billiard cloth smoothness. miss n. graham, the champion of ireland, hails from this club, which may justly be proud of such an able representative. a little further north, is the course of the royal portrush ladies', another sporting eighteen holes. this club is presided over by mrs. j. m. mccalmont, and contains among its members miss cox, the ex-irish champion. [illustration: _hembry. belfast._ _miss n. graham._ (_irish champion, and ._)] crossing over to scotland, we find only putting courses at st. andrews and at carnoustie. but at troon, musselburgh, north berwick, edinburgh, aberdeen, machrihanish (eighteen holes), prestwich, st. nicholas, dumfries, elie and earlsferry, bridge of weir, and ranfurly, etc., etc., there are some fine links with perfect greens and most trying hazards. returning once more to the south country, we have a splendid long eighteen-hole course at woking, where one gets every variety of hazard and lie imaginable. the wimbledon ladies' course too is most trying, thanks (!) to the conservators of the common, who have caused tarred circles to be daubed outside all the gorse bushes, so that when the player finds herself within one of these charmed rings, she is bound to drop and lose a stroke. flints too are rather prevalent, causing havoc to one's iron clubs. the eighteen, and nine-hole records of the green are both held by miss pearson, the former with , the latter in , the holes varying in length between to yards. for links that are of a lawn-like smoothness, excepting for the bunkers, eltham has no rival, and some pretty iron shots are to be had there. at eastbourne the holes differ in length from two hundred and twenty, to one hundred and fifteen yards, and the hazards consist of turf bunkers and hurdles. the record, held by miss m. e. phillips, is . one of the nicest short inland courses on the south coast is that of the brighton and hove ladies' at the dyke, the record for which is . gorse bushes are the principal hazards, but it is a course where good play is always soundly rewarded. being on down turf, the greens are always excellent, though perhaps a trifle small. not many miles away from the latter course is that of ashdown forest, a very tricky green abounding in heather. in fact, when on the long course, what with the fir trees scattered here and there, the burns and the heather stretching for miles on every side, you can imagine yourself anywhere but in the heart of sussex. seaford is another very short ladies' course, which is yet splendid practice for iron and mashie shots. miss gilroy holds the record with . the long course there is very taking, especially for anyone who drives a long raking ball both off the tee and through the green. a very successful open meeting was by kind permission of the gentlemen's committee held over the latter course in september, , there being forty-two entries. of all courses though, where accurate iron and mashie shots tell, the hoylake ladies' links at the dale, take any amount of beating. with holes varying in length from to yards, it is the most delightful practice course for short shots that can be well imagined. mrs. ryder richardson holds the record with . the hastings and the bexhill ladies both play over part of the gentlemen's courses, there being plenty of scope for brassey and cleek shots through the green. chorley wood, richmond, barham downs, folkestone, lelant, cheltenham, chester, malvern, and rhyl are all courses of some length, and in playing over which most of one's clubs are called into use. of links abroad, there are some eleven clubs in australia, eleven in new zealand, including four ladies' clubs, five in the straits settlements, twenty-four in india, twenty-one in canada, four in the west indies, one hundred and fourteen in the united states, where the game may be fairly said to have "caught on," and fifteen clubs in south africa, besides links at malta, in egypt, cyprus, algeria, arabia, ceylon, china, tasmania, mauritius, canary islands, and nearer home in belgium, holland, germany, sweden, switzerland, italy, and last but not least france, where we find fourteen clubs, most of them largely patronized by the leading players from scotland, england and ireland during the winter months. of all the colonies, new zealand and australia are said to be the keenest over golf, so far as ladies are concerned, and in both these countries they have even instituted an annual ladies' championship, thus following the lead of the mother country. as to the american ladies, they are intensely keen over the game and spare no pains to become proficient in it, their annual woman's championship being a very large gathering. this tournament is played upon the lines of the men's amateur championship, but only the eight lowest scores qualify in the medal round, and the final round, as in this country, is only eighteen holes, the thirty-six hole test being considered too tedious for a woman. between thirty and forty players usually enter; miss hayt, mrs. turnure, mrs. shippen, miss f. c. griscon, and miss sands appear to be some who play from scratch, and before long we shall hope to welcome some of these cousins from over the "herring pond" to one of our annual championships. recently, in america, a golf school has been started, in a large and well-lighted drill hall, where the game can be taught by the hour. the windows in the hall are protected by netting, and on the floor is a large square of rubber, from off which drives, brasseys, and iron shots can be practised. many other clever devices for learning the game and gaining accuracy are also in force in this school. local championships are now established in some of our counties, those of yorkshire and the midlands being the biggest events. a real golf treat on the south coast is a day at sandwich or deal, preferably the former, the st. andrews of the south, where the carries are indeed as big as one could wish for, especially at the third hole, or "unknown sahara," as the huge sandy desert of a bunker confronting the tee is called. again at the sixth hole, or "the maiden," as its world-renowned name is, a gigantic bunker some forty feet high, which grows on its steep side a prolific crop of rough bent rushy grass, gives full scope to your powers be they what they may. "hades," too, is a hole that requires a very well hit ball to carry the surrounding troubles, and numbers nine, fourteen, and seventeen are all holes where long drivers get a tremendous advantage. at the same time, one finds at sandwich a line marked out by blue guide flags, in the following of which the rather shorter driver will not be so severely punished. the total length of the course is some six thousand odd yards, the longest hole being about four hundred and eighty yards, and the shortest about one hundred and eighty yards. the gentleman's amateur championship was held over this course in , when mr. tait won, after some splendid fights with mr. c. hutchings, mr. j. e. laidley, mr. j. ball, junior, mr. horace hutchinson, and finally with mr. h. hilton. amongst the lady-players there are many dozen who might well claim notice, but space being limited it is only possible to refer to a few of the best known, lady margaret hamilton-russell, miss pascoe, miss e. c. orr, and miss issette pearson have already been mentioned. but to give the honour to scotland, at prestwich miss sybil whigham reigns supreme, with her splendid long raking drives and iron shots. this player takes a full easy swing, using her shoulders well, and turning but very slightly upon the left toe in driving. in the matter of getting out of bunkers, she is especially adept. from dumfries hails miss a. maxwell, another grand player, but one who has the half swing only, with a peculiar action of the left foot at the moment of driving. mrs. murray, of the torwoodlee club, was one of the best "all-round" players in the recent gullane championship, her approaching and putting being nothing short of grand. miss blanche anderson and miss madeline campbell of north berwick, are both shining lights in that club which is so rich in golfing talent, miss campbell's handling of her clubs being specially taking. but turning more southwards, at windermere, miss bownass, with her fine drives and approach shots, can hold her own on that very undulating course. twice she has accomplished the rather difficult eighteen holes in eighty-nine strokes. in lancashire, we find mrs. ryder richardson, whose play is too well known to need a description. besides taking endless prizes in the north, including the isle of man, mrs. richardson performed a marvellous feat at ranelagh, in april of , by doing that somewhat tricky course in seventy-nine strokes, the record for a woman. in north wales, miss kennedy keeps up the golf reputation, but her recent doings at gullane have already been discussed. in worcestershire, miss nevill and miss e. nevill carry all before them. both splendid drivers, they play a very bold game all through, besides which bunkers and other difficulties hold few terrors for them. at cheltenham, on the cleeve hill common, mrs. aylmer and miss johnson are formidable opponents. at westward ho! we find mrs. wilson-hoare, whose game is as well known as it is admired. she has a fine workmanlike swing, both in driving and brassey shots, and very few can touch her in extricating herself from a difficult lie. on links not far from london, we find such players as miss phillips, miss k. walker, mrs. worssam, mrs. willock, miss lena thomson[ ] and many others, who are looked upon in the light of towers of strength in club matches, or team competitions. [footnote : holder of the championship, .] but here a word on _esprit-de-corps_, that most essential qualification of all games, without which no sport can be worthily pursued. in these days of endless clubs, each containing many of the same members, the want is felt of some species of rule, or at least an understanding, on the subject of the same member--whose name may be on the books of several clubs--playing for or against such clubs promiscuously. if there be real _esprit-de-corps_, there can be but little doubt which club really claims one's sympathy and interest, when the inter-club match season is in full swing. [illustration: _reinhold thiele and co. chancery lane._ _ranelagh group, april, ._] yet another matter, is a word on the penalty stroke, namely, on dropping the ball, as put forth in rule : "in all cases where a ball is to be dropped, the party doing so shall front the hole to which he is playing, standing behind the hazard and dropping the ball behind him from his head." so many women throw the ball over the head, or else stand partly round and drop it with a kind of jerk over the shoulder, turning the head at the same time, so as to watch the place where it is desired the ball should alight. instead of doing this, you should step back a few paces in the exact line in which the ball entered the hazard, then stand erect, raise the hand over the head and drop the ball simply behind you. of the stymie, let it be said, that as it always has been a freak of the game, so let it continue to be. a stymie, is when the opponent's ball is on the line of your own putt. but though much is talked of its abolition, yet as it has always been a case of "fortune's fickle smile upon the player," why not let it remain so? having gone somewhat lightly through the various parts of the game of golf, it may not be amiss to close with a few remarks taken from an early volume of the _golf annual_, and occurring in an article written by mr. john thomson, which sets forth the advantages of the game in no mean manner. "good games should benefit both mind and body, and no game can stand this test better than golf. to the mind it shows the need of caution, courage, coolness, and many other good qualities. above all it teaches one to keep the temper under due control in all circumstances and situations. our royal game brings out the strength and weakness of character both in yourself and others, and gives an excellent chance to study human nature. some folks think they can know a man from his face, his mode of hand-shaking, or other such things, but if you wish to look a fellow through and through, play two or three stiff matches of golf with him. as to the healthy nature of the game, it is surely needless to say a word." here the writer quotes a favourable passage from burton's _anatomy of melancholy_, closing his remarks with the words, "all round we may thus say our game promotes that greatest of all blessings, sound mind and sound body." a. w. m. starkie-bence. [illustration: _lombardi and co. , pall mall east._ _mrs. spong._] croquet. in dr. prior's "notes on croquet," published in , the origin of the game is traced to pêle mêle, or pall mall, a game played with mallet and balls as long ago as , and written of by the celebrated mr. pepys in his diary about that time. pall mall was played with long handled mallets, with small balls, on gravel, and with long swinging strokes, and appears to have much more resembled golf than croquet; but dr. prior writes of a modified form of the game which only occupied a narrow but smooth space of ground, and in which two small arches and one iron peg were employed, while the strokes were made with a spoon-headed mallet, resembling the mace used at billiards. a hundred years later, a game bearing the name croquet was played by the peasants of brittany, a rough pastime, detailed accounts of which may be read in mr. a. lillie's work on croquet published last year, or in dr. prior's earlier book. the game, as first known in this country, seems to have come from ireland somewhere about , when it was brought out by mr. jaques as a social garden game; a trivial enough pastime from which gradually developed the more interesting game of the present day. it was to mr. walter jones whitmore that the first start of really scientific croquet is due, and he it was who organised the first tournament in , held at evesham, when mr. whitmore became the champion. in the following year, a much larger tournament was held at moreton-in-the-marsh, when the championship fell to the late mr. w. h. peel, whose interest in the game never flagged, and to whose untiring exertions much of the success of the present revival is due. he founded the present all-england croquet association, two years ago, ( ), and became its honorary secretary, his sadly sudden death last october leaving a blank hard to fill. in , mr. whitmore got up the all-england croquet club, and from this point the tactics of the game became its prominent feature. with the expulsion of tight croquet (viz., when two balls were together, placing your foot on your own ball to keep it in position, and hitting it so as to send the other ball away), and the introduction of the dead boundary, croquet became a game more of the head than the hands, the various positions in a game requiring perfectly different treatment according to the capabilities of the antagonists. at this time, too, a code of laws was drawn up by mr. whitmore and a few leading spirits, which in some respects differed materially from the rules of to-day, notably in that requiring the side stroke. from , the date of the first open tournament, held on the all-england club grounds, at wimbledon, till , yearly matches were played there for the championship and challenge cup, and for some years there was also a ladies' championship contest, but either the extreme narrowness of the hoops, the large size of the grounds, or the necessity for constant practice, so reduced the number of competitors that these matches were abandoned, and even the gentlemen's championship for three or four years practically dwindled down to a match between two players (mr. bonham carter and mr. spong), till in , the cup having been finally won by the latter, croquet became a thing of the past at wimbledon. the club grounds were then handed over to lawn-tennis players until , when a small body of enthusiastic croquet players started the game afresh, and in a few weeks several old players rallied round them, and one or two small but successful meetings were held. in the interval, croquet had not altogether died out. at brentwood, a small club had held its meetings for some time, and at maidstone, a yearly tournament had taken place since , while players were to be found in the remote village of budleigh salterton, and in the far west of somersetshire, dr. prior kept up a perfect lawn, on which in former years most of the well-known players had tried their skill. to make a croquet lawn as perfect as possible, it should be absolutely level, of fine hill turf, not mossy or intersected with plantains, and if possible there should be a layer of cinders or other ballast a few inches below the surface, as this serves to drain it more quickly and also prevents worms from working through. [illustration] the measurements now required are by yards, though until last year by yards was considered a match ground. the boundaries should be marked by a chalk line, and at each corner a white spot should be made exactly one yard from each boundary, to mark the position for replacing a corner ball, a matter of much importance in every game. the six hoop setting, with -inch hoops and two stout pegs is universally adopted. the hoops are of round iron half an inch thick, square topped, and painted white, no. being generally a light blue to shew the starting-point. they should be long enough to be driven quite nine inches into the ground, and stand the same distance above it, and they are generally painted black in the lower half to show when properly driven in. of the pegs, one should be plain white, the other (the winning peg) painted with the four colours, blue, red, black, yellow, in order, and both should have small crossbars inserted on which to place the clips. it is essential that the balls should be in these plain colours, and it would be well if the vendors of croquet implements would avoid the striped balls, so bewildering in sequence, and so much more difficult to aim at. every so-called set should be provided with four iron clips, painted to match the balls, which are used to indicate the position of the game, and are placed on the top of the hoops in the first half, and on the sides in the return journey. in the matter of mallets every licence is given, each player using the kind he likes best. the weight of these varies from - / to - / lbs., and the length of the head and shape is a matter of individual fancy. many well-known players keep a variety of mallets and sometimes change the weapon frequently in a game; but for my own part i believe in getting accustomed to one mallet and sticking to it. the shapes are some of them most peculiar, and one of the old players for years used a mallet head like a thick solid block with square ends, while a player recently appeared with a mallet head of extraordinary length, and somewhat resembling the bottom of a rocking-chair. some mallets are sliced at the bottom, with the idea that by this means the ball is hit more directly in the centre, and is not so liable to be topped. some again have a flat brass plate attached at the bottom for extra weight, while one lady plays with a beautiful ivory mallet, long in the head but of smaller diameter than the usual box-wood ones. heads of lignum vitæ are also used, and many players have india-rubber / -inch thick affixed to one end, by which means two balls can be rolled together a distance of nearly thirty yards without any undue effort. this is a great boon to lady players, as without the india-rubber a very powerful following stroke is required, a hard hit only separating the balls, the hinder or playing ball rarely reaching half the distance. the manner of equalising in a competition is by handicapping the strong players, who give bisques, viz., one or more extra turns in each game, which may be taken at any time in continuation of a break, but not more than one bisque in the same turn. the manner of holding the mallet and striking varies in the hands of different players, mr. c. e. willis the present champion at wimbledon and at maidstone being the finest example of a side stroke player, as set forth by mr. whitmore and and mr. peel, while mr. bonham carter, mr. spong, capt. drummond and many others consider the aim much more certain with the forward position, a kind of pendulum stroke in which the weight of the mallet tells more than any force used. some of the most successful of the lady players, too, use this method of striking, notably miss maud drummond (winner of the ladies' gold medal in , and of the wimbledon championship badge in ) and miss elphinstone stone (present holder of the maidstone ladies' cup), but miss de winton (gold medallist, ) and mrs. wood adhere to the older side stroke. since the early days of croquet, when six or eight players engaged in one game on a small lawn, with hoops often wide enough for a child to crawl through, and sometimes a cage and bell occupying the centre of the ground, the game has changed almost beyond recognition. then "tactics" were unknown, everybody's idea being to go into position for the hoop their ball was to pass through, and by tight croquet to send off every adversary to the greatest possible distance. players thus disposed of were often required to shoot back from a ground occupied by a second set of players, and a good long shot won more applause than anything else in the game; but with the introduction of the dead boundary, the game changed entirely. rules were made, more than balls were never employed in a game, and the terms "roquet," "dead ball," "live ball," "pioneer," "break," "rush," &c., soon became familiar words, a complete list of these, with detailed instructions for playing the game in a scientific manner, are so admirably set forth in mr. lillie's book, published last year, that intending players will do well to study it, but the meaning of a few of the terms may not be out of place here. a "roquet" is made when the playing ball strikes another ball; after a "roquet," croquet must be taken by placing the two balls together, and either striking your own ball so that it goes to some required point, only moving the other ball a little, which is called taking two off; or by sending each ball in a different direction (a splitting stroke); or again by rolling the two balls together. in taking croquet, if either ball touches the boundary line it is considered dead, and the turn ceases. the "live ball" is the next to play, and the "dead ball" is the name given to the adversary's ball which has just played. a ball is considered "in play," when in its turn it has made a point and has still to continue its turn, but is "in hand" after making a "roquet" until "croquet" is taken. the "rush" is a roquet sending the ball hit in some desired direction. thus in taking croquet, it is often advisable to get near another ball on some particular side, to "rush" it into position for a hoop, etc. the rush is one of the most telling strokes in a game, but requires some practice, as the ball must be struck low, with the mallet held freely and pointed rather in an upward direction. a ball hit at all on the top is apt to jump, and indeed a leapfrog stroke which will clear another ball and sometimes a hoop, is often successfully carried out by the best players, when their ball is blocked from the desired object. to "wire" is to place the balls in such a position that they are screened from the next player's shot, by one or more hoops. making a "point" is the hoop or peg made in order. the "pioneer" is the ball sent on to the hoop next but one in order, to assist the playing ball at that point. "break" is the name given to a succession of points made in the same turn. a "rover" is a ball which has passed through all the hoops, and only has to touch the winning peg. to "finesse" is to play into a corner so that the dead ball shall not be easily available to assist in the adversary's game, and that the friendly ball may join it when it's turn arrives. this is only done when the opponents' two balls are together. "counter finesse" is for the adversary next playing to send his partner's ball to join the dead ball in the corner, thus preventing the others getting together. to "peel" to put another ball through its hoop by croquet. this stroke is named after the late mr. w. h. peel, who was particularly successful with it, and only last autumn at a handicap meeting on the wimbledon grounds he won a game in which he "peeled" his partner's ball through the four last hoops. the option of beginning in a match falls to the winner of the toss, who always elects to do so, and by that means usually secures the first break. in a partner match, however, the winner of the toss often puts in the other side first, as it is an advantage for the captain to play immediately before his strongest opponent. in starting the ball is placed one foot from the first hoop, in position for making that point. it has been suggested that a change in this rule would be of advantage. for instance, if each ball started from a spot in the centre of the ground, it would make a greater variety in the opening tactics. [illustration] one of the advantages of croquet is its suitability to players of all ages and to those not in robust health, as, unlike golf, it requires no great physical strength. people who would not be able to walk miles across the rough ground of the links, exhilarating as this is to the strong, can yet enjoy the more gentle exercise on a level lawn. it is a well-known fact in the croquet world that many of its players attribute their improved health to the hours they have spent on the croquet lawn--the late rev. mark pattison, of oxford, being one of these, and the rev. d. j. heath another. there is a charm, too, in the equal terms on which men and women players can meet. i do not say but what men as a rule are the better players--their constant practise at aiming at billiards and other games giving them more accuracy of aim--but setting this aside, there seems no reason why women should not play equally well with practice. where they often fail doubtless is in attempting too much. not content with leaving the dead ball with their partner's ball, and laying its break by sending off the next player and going to act pioneer at the partner's hoop, it is said of women especially, that they often try a difficult hoop with the live ball, break down and thus let the other side in, which with the more cautious plan would have been avoided. again, croquet is a game in which success is by no means a matter of mechanical skill alone, for in croquet, as in chess, the player must look ahead not only for one move but must count on the probability of the adversary's success or failure, judging by the power already exhibited, and by the state of the ground, etc. thus it is often good policy if the opponents' balls are together in a corner on a fast dry lawn, not to risk a long "take off" with a probability of going over the boundary in an endeavour to separate them, but for the player to roll his own and partner's ball into another corner (if possible across the ground) leaving a rush for the partner's ball towards the adversaries, or to its own hoop, thus necessitating the opponent trying the difficult take off with hoops in the way, and the possibility of going over the boundary or catching in a wire, etc. i think, too, there is less of the element of "luck" in croquet than in many games, though of course we are all apt to cavil at our bad fortune now and then. the present condition of croquet may be considered as encouraging. its popularity has revived very rapidly, though it is only from the southern and one or two of the midland counties that we have as yet met players of any prominence. in scotland, it is true, there has long been a championship meeting held at moffat, where mr. and mrs. macfie, of borthwick hall, midlothian, are among its most liberal supporters. we have had one or two irish players at the recent wimbledon meetings, and i hear that in county down the game is much played. croquet lawns are, indeed, set out at the fashionable social clubs of hurlingham and ranelagh, but alas, the game and its requirements are little understood there. a well-organised tournament on the picturesque grounds of the latter club, at barn elms, in the height of the season, might do much to spread its popularity, for the large tournament at eastbourne last autumn, showed a marked increase in spectators, who displayed some knowledge of the tactics of the game, and the keenest interest in the contests. another interesting feature of each season would be inter-county matches. devonshire, gloucestershire, sussex, hertfordshire, middlesex, northamptonshire, bucks., &c., all furnish some strong players, and representative fours might be selected, and gentlemen's doubles, ladies' doubles, and mixed doubles might be arranged, as well as, of course, single matches. monthly club handicaps, too, we hope to see at wimbledon, and there are rumours of an international tournament with a strong contingent of american players, with whom the game is popular, though it is hardly played on the same lines as in england. [illustration] it is contended against croquet that the games are too long, and certainly, with some overcautious players, a close match becomes a very tedious thing. to obviate this difficulty, in all handicap matches in the big tournaments last year, time games were resorted to, an hour-and-a-half being generally the allowance for each single match, and two hours for doubles, ample time to finish a game in most instances, though, if not finished, the side ahead wins, and if points, are even when time is called, the first roquet afterwards constitutes a victory. this gives scope for some amusing strategy, when the contest is a very close one. reducing the size of the lawns has undoubtedly made the game easier and more equal, for the weaker players can now get a ball from end to end, which many women were formerly unable to do, while the opportunities of wiring one's adversary are more frequent. the main point resolves itself, not so entirely into a matter of skill, as in rightly estimating one's own strength and one's adversary's knowledge of the game. in handicap play this is specially needful, and it is only by match practice it can be gained. in double handicaps it is usual for the pairs to be drawn, the captain from one of the first four classes, and the partner from a lower class, and nothing gives an intelligent beginner a better insight into "tactics" than being guided by a really good partner. mr. bonham carter is an ideal captain, never leaving his partner a difficult stroke, and never making a long break himself with the partner's ball behind, thus being able to help the weaker player, who is not discouraged with the idea that it is her ball which is the laggard. it is only by match practice that this knowledge is gained, and to play in a good tournament handicap is excellent training. as a garden-party game, mr. lillie, in his book, suggests some amusing innovations, but croquet proper, as the rules now stand, is something better than a garden-party game, and stands among out-door amusements as chess and billiards do among in-door games. gertrude spong. appendices. appendix a. rules for the game of golf, as revised and adopted by the royal and ancient golf club, st. andrews. . the game of golf is played by two or more sides, each playing its own ball. a side may consist of one or more persons. . the game consists in each side playing a ball from a tee into a hole by successive strokes, and the hole is won by the side holing its ball in the fewest strokes, except as otherwise provided for in the rules. if two sides hole out in the same number of strokes, the hole is halved. . the teeing-ground shall be indicated by two marks placed in a line at right angles to the course, and the player shall not tee in front of, nor on either side of, these marks, nor more than two club-lengths behind them. a ball played from outside the limits of the teeing-ground, as thus defined, may be recalled by the opposite side. the hole shall be - / inches in diameter, and at least four inches deep. . the ball must be fairly struck at, and not pushed, scraped, or spooned, under penalty of the loss of the hole. any movement of the club which is intended to strike the ball is a stroke. . the game commences by each side playing a ball from the first teeing-ground. in a match with two or more on a side, the partners shall strike off alternately from the tee, and shall strike alternately during the play of the hole. the players who are to strike against each other shall be named at starting, and shall continue in the same order during the match. the player who shall play first on each side shall be named by his own side. in case of failure to agree, it shall be settled by lot or toss which side shall have the option of leading. . if a player shall play when his partner should have done so, his side shall lose the hole, except in the case of the tee shot, when the shot may be recalled at the option of the opponents. . the side winning a hole shall lead in starting for the next hole, and may recall the opponent's stroke should he play out of order. this privilege is called the "honour." on starting for a new match, the winner of the long match in the previous round is entitled to the "honour." should the first match have been halved, the winner of the last hole gained is entitled to the "honour." . one round of the links--generally holes--is a match, unless otherwise agreed upon. the match is won by the side which gets more holes ahead than there remain holes to be played, or by the side winning the last hole when the match was all even at the second last hole. if both sides have won the same number, it is a halved match. . after the balls are struck from the tee, the ball farthest from the hole to which the parties are playing shall be played first, except as otherwise provided for in the rules. should the wrong side play first, the opponent may recall the stroke before his side has played. . unless with the opponent's consent, a ball struck from the tee shall not be changed, touched, or moved before the hole is played out, under the penalty of one stroke, except as otherwise provided for in the rules. . in playing through the green, all _loose_ impediments, within a club-length of a ball which is not lying in or touching a hazard, may be removed, but loose impediments which are more than a club-length from the ball shall not be removed, under the penalty of one stroke. . before striking at the ball, the player shall not move, bend, or break anything fixed or growing near the ball, except in the act of placing his feet on the ground for the purpose of addressing the ball, and in soleing his club to address the ball, under the penalty of the loss of the hole, except as provided for in rule . . a ball stuck fast in wet ground or sand may be taken out and replaced loosely in the hole which it has made. . when a ball lies in or touches a hazard, the club shall not touch the ground, nor shall anything be touched or moved before the player strikes at the ball, except that the player may place his feet firmly on the ground for the purpose of addressing the ball, under the penalty of the loss of the hole. at the general meeting of the royal and ancient, held in the spring of , the following addition was made to rule :--"but if, in the backward or downward swing, any grass, bent, whin, or other growing substance, or the side of a bunker, a wall, a paling, or other immovable obstacle be touched, no penalty shall be incurred." . a "hazard" shall be any bunker of whatever nature--water, sand, loose earth, mole-hills, paths, roads or railways, whins, bushes, rushes, rabbit scrapes, fences, ditches, or anything which is not the ordinary green of the course, except sand blown on to the grass by wind, or sprinkled on grass for the preservation of the links, or snow or ice, or bare patches on the course. . a player or a player's caddie shall not press down or remove any irregularities of surface near the ball, except at the teeing-ground, under the penalty of the loss of the hole. . if any vessel, wheel-barrow, tool, roller, grass-cutter, box, or other similar obstruction has been placed upon the course, such obstruction may be removed. a ball lying on or touching such obstruction, or on clothes, or nets, or on ground under repair or temporarily covered up or opened, may be lifted and dropped at the nearest point of the course, but a ball lifted in a hazard shall be dropped in the hazard. a ball lying in a golf hole or flag hole may be lifted and dropped not more than a club-length behind such hole. . when a ball is completely covered with fog, bent, whins, etc., only so much thereof shall be set aside as that the player shall have a view of his ball before he plays, whether in a line with the hole or otherwise. . when a ball is to be dropped, the player shall drop it. he shall front the hole, stand erect behind the hazard, keep the spot from which the ball was lifted (or, in the case of running water, the spot at which it entered) in a line between him and the hole, and drop the ball behind him from his head, standing as far behind the hazard as he may please. . when the balls in play lie within six inches of each other, measured from their nearest points, the ball nearer the hole shall be lifted until the other is played, and shall then be replaced as nearly as possible in its original position. should the ball farther from the hole be accidentally moved in so doing, it shall be replaced. should the lie of the lifted ball be altered by the opponent in playing, it may be placed in a lie near to, and as nearly as possible similar to that from which it was lifted. . if the ball lie or be lost in water, the player may drop a ball, under the penalty of one stroke. . whatever happens by accident to a ball _in motion_, such as its being deflected or stopped by any agency outside the match, or by the fore-caddie, is a "rub of the green," and the ball shall be played from where it lies. should a ball lodge in anything moving, such ball, or, if it cannot be recovered, another ball, shall be dropped as nearly as possible at the spot where the object was when the ball lodged in it. but if a ball _at rest_ be displaced by any agency outside the match, the player shall drop it or another ball as nearly as possible at the spot where it lay. on the putting-green the ball may be replaced by hand. . if the player's ball strike, or be accidentally moved by, an opponent or an opponent's caddie or clubs, the opponent loses the hole. . if the player's ball strike, or be stopped by, himself or partner, or either of their caddies or clubs, or if, while in the act of playing, the player strike the ball twice, his side loses the hole. . if the player, when not making a stroke, or his partner or either of their caddies touch their side's ball, except at the tee, so as to move it, or by touching anything cause it to move, the penalty is one stroke. . a ball is considered to have been moved if it leave its original position in the least degree and stop in another; but if a player touch his ball and thereby cause it to oscillate, without causing it to leave its original position, it is not moved in the sense of rule . . a player's side loses a stroke if he play the opponent's ball, unless (l) the opponent then play the player's ball, whereby the penalty is cancelled, and the hole must be played out with the balls thus exchanged; or ( ) the mistake occur through wrong information given by the opponent, in which case the mistake, if discovered before the opponent has played, must be rectified by placing a ball as nearly as possible where the opponent's ball lay. if it be discovered before either side has struck off at the tee that one side has played out the previous hole with the ball of a party not engaged in the match, that side loses that hole. . if a ball be lost, the player's side loses the hole. a ball shall be held as lost if it be not found within five minutes after the search is begun. . a ball must be played wherever it lies, or the hole be given up, except as otherwise provided for in the rules. . the term "putting-green" shall mean the ground within yards of the hole, excepting hazards. . all loose impediments may be removed from the putting-green, except the opponent's ball when at a greater distance from the player's than six inches. . in a match of three or more sides, a ball in any degree lying between the player and the hole must be lifted, or, if on the putting-green, holed out. . when the ball is on the putting-green, no mark shall be placed, nor line drawn as a guide. the line to the hole may be pointed out, but the person doing so may not touch the ground with the hand or club. the player may have his own or his partner's caddie to stand at the hole, but none of the players or their caddies may move so as to shield the ball from, or expose it to, the wind. the penalty for any breach of this rule is the loss of the hole. . the player or his caddie may remove (but not press down) sand, earth, worm casts, or snow lying around the hole or on the line of his putt. this shall be done by brushing lightly with the hand only across the putt and not along it. dung may be removed to a side by an iron club, but the club must not be laid with more than its own weight upon the ground. the putting line must not be touched by club, hand, or foot, except as above authorised, or immediately in front of the ball in the act of addressing it, under the penalty of the loss of the hole. . either side is entitled to have the flag-stick removed when approaching the hole. if the ball rest against the flag-stick when in the hole, the player shall be entitled to remove the stick, and if the ball fall in, it shall be considered as holed out in the previous stroke. . a player shall not play until the opponent's ball shall have ceased to roll, under the penalty of one stroke. should the player's ball knock in the opponent's ball, the latter shall be counted as holed out in the previous stroke. if in playing the player's ball displace the opponent's ball, the opponent shall have the option of replacing it. . a player shall not ask for advice, nor be knowingly advised about the game by word, look, or gesture from any one except his own caddie, or his partner or partner's caddie, under the penalty of the loss of the hole. . if a ball split into separate pieces, another ball may be put down where the largest portion lies, or, if two pieces are apparently of equal size, it may be put where either piece lies, at the option of the player. if a ball crack or become unplayable, the player may change it, on intimating to his opponent his intention to do so. . a penalty stroke shall not be counted the stroke of a player, and shall not affect the rotation of play. . should any dispute arise on any point, the players have the right of determining the party or parties to whom the dispute shall be referred; but, should they not agree, either party may refer it to the green committee of the green where the dispute occurs, and their decision shall be final. should the dispute not be covered by the rules of golf, the arbiters must decide it by equity. special rules for medal play. . in club competitions, the competitor doing the stipulated course in fewest strokes shall be the winner. . if the lowest score be made by two or more competitors, the ties shall be decided by another round, to be played on the same or any other day, as the captain, or, in his absence, the secretary shall direct. . new holes shall be made for the medal round, and thereafter no member shall play any stroke on a putting-green before competing. . the score shall be kept by a special marker, or by the competitors noting each other's scores. the scores marked shall be checked at the finish of each hole. on completion of the course, the score of the player shall be signed by the person keeping the score and handed to the secretary. . if a ball be lost, the player shall return as nearly as possible to the spot where the ball was struck, tee another ball, and lose a stroke. if the lost ball be found before he has struck the other ball, the first shall continue in play. . if the player's ball strike himself, or his clubs, or caddie, or if, in the act of playing, the player strike the ball twice, the penalty shall be one stroke. . if a competitor's ball strike the other player, or his clubs, or caddie, it is a "rub of the green," and the ball shall be played from where it lies. . a ball may, under a penalty of two strokes, be lifted out of a difficulty of any description, and be teed behind same. . all balls shall be holed out, and when play is on the putting-green, the flag shall be removed, and the competitor whose ball is nearest the hole shall have the option of holing out first, or of lifting his ball, if it be in such a position that it might, if left, give an advantage to the other competitor. throughout the green a competitor can have the other competitor's ball lifted, if he find that it interferes with his stroke. . a competitor may not play with a professional, and he may not receive advice from any one but his caddie. a fore-caddie may be employed. . competitors may not discontinue play because of bad weather. . the penalty for a breach of any rule shall be disqualification. . any dispute regarding the play shall be determined by the green committee. . the ordinary rules of golf, so far as they are not at variance with the special rules, shall apply to medal play. glossary of technical terms used in the game of golf. _addressing the ball_: when the player puts himself in position to strike the ball. _approach_: when the player is sufficiently near the hole to be able to drive the ball to the putting-green his stroke is called the "approach shot." _baff_: to strike the ground with the "sole" of the club-head in playing. this sends ball high in air and causes it to fall "dead." _baffy_: a wooden club much lofted in the face. _bent_: rough, coarse grass on seaside greens. _bogey_, _colonel_: a score, usually par play, fixed for each hole. _bone_: a piece of ram's horn or other substance inserted in the sole of the club to prevent it from splitting. _borrow_: when the player, on a sloping putting-green, plays the ball up the slope a little way. _bottom_: putting back-spin on a ball. _brassey_: a wooden club with a brass sole. _break-club_: an obstacle lying near a ball of such a nature as might injure the club when played. _bulger_: a wooden club with a convex face. _bunker_: a sand-pit. _bye_: any hole or holes that remain to be played after the match is finished. _caddie_: a person who carries the golfer's clubs. _carry_: the distance the ball is driven before it touches the ground. _cleek_: iron-headed club used for driving. _club_: the implement with which the ball is struck. the heads are of various kinds--wood, aluminium, wood with a brass sole, and iron, steel, or gun-metal. _course_: that portion of the links on which the game ought to be played. _cup_: a small hole in the course, frequently one made by the stroke of some previous player. _dead_: a ball is said to be "dead" when it lies so near the hole that the "putt" is a _dead_ certainty. a ball is said to fall "dead" when it does not run after alighting. _divot_: a piece of turf cut out by club. replace carefully. _dormy_: a player is said to be "dormy" when he is as many holes ahead as there remain holes to play. _draw_: to drive widely to the left hand. (synonymous with "hook," "screw" and "pull.") _driver or play-club_: a wooden-headed club with a full-length shaft, and with which the ball can be driven the farthest distance. _duff_: to hit the ground behind a ball. _face_: first, the slope of a bunker or hillock; second, the part of the club-head which strikes the ball. _flat_: a club is said to be "flat" when its head is at a very obtuse angle to the shaft. _fog_: moss, rank grass. _foozle_: a bungling stroke. _fore!_ the warning cry to any person in the way of the stroke. (contracted from "before.") _fore-caddie_: a caddie employed to go in advance of the players and locate the balls. _foursome_: a match in which four persons play: two on each side. _gobble_: a rapid, straight "putt" into the hole, such that, had the ball not gone in, it would have gone some distance beyond. _grassed_: this is said of a wooden club whose face is slightly "spooned" or sloped backward. _green_: first the whole links; second, the putting-green around the different holes. _grip_: first, the part of the handle covered with leather by which the club is grasped; second, the grasp itself. _gutty_: a gutta-percha golf ball. _half-one_: a handicap of a stroke deducted every _second_ hole. _half-shot_: less than a full or a three-quarter shot. _halved_: a hole is said to be "halved" when each side takes the same number of strokes. a "halved match" is a "drawn game"--that is, the players have proved to be equal. _hanging ball_: a "hanging" ball is one which lies on a downward slope in the direction in which the hole lies. _hazard_: a general term for bunkers, long grass, roads, water, sand, whin, mole-hill, or other bad ground. (rule ). _head_: a head is the _lowest_ part of a club and possesses, among other mysterious characteristics, a _sole_, a _heel_, a _toe_ or _nose_, a _neck_, and a _face_! _heel_: first, the part of the head nearest the shaft; second, to hit from this part, thus sending the ball to the right hand. _hole_: first, the hole lined with iron; second, the whole space between any teeing-ground and the hole in connection therewith. _honour_: the right to play off first from the tee. _hook_: see "draw." a hooked club has the face lying in to the ball. _horn_: see "bone." _hose_: the socket of iron-headed clubs into which the shaft is fitted. _iron_: a club with an iron head, more or less laid back to loft a ball. _jerk_: in "jerking," the club should strike with a quick cut behind the ball. _lie_: first, the inclination of a club when held on the ground in a natural position for striking; second, the situation of a ball, good or bad. _lift_: to take a ball out of a hazard and drop it behind or tee it. _like_: see under "odds." _like-as-we-lie_: when both sides have played the same number of strokes. _links_: the ground on which golf is played. _loft_: to send the ball into the air. _long odds_: when a player has to play a stroke more than his adversary, who is much farther on--that is, nearer the hole. _long game_: driving from the tee and playing through the green. _mashie_: an iron club with a deep, short blade. _match_: first, the sides playing against each other: second, the game itself. match play reckoning the score by holes. _medal play_: reckoning the score by strokes. _miss the globe_: to fail to strike the ball is counted a stroke. _neck_: the bent part of the head where it joins the shaft. _niblick_: a small narrow-headed heavy iron club, used when the ball has a bad lie. _nose_: the point or front portion of the club head. _odds_: first, means the handicap given by a strong player to a weaker in a single match, consisting of either one, two, three, or more holes to start with, or one stroke per hole, or every alternate hole, or at every third hole, etc.; second, to have played "the odds" is to have played one stroke more than your adversary. _one-off-two, one-off-three, etc._: when your opponent has played two strokes more your next stroke is one-off-two, and so on. _play-club_: see "driver." _press_: to strive to hit the ball harder than usual. _putt_: to play close to the hole. (pronounce _u_ as in _but_.) _putter_: an upright, stiff-shafted, wooden, iron, or gun-metal headed club, used when the ball is on the putting-green. _putting-green_: the prepared ground round the holes. _rind_: a strip of cloth under the leather to thicken the grip. _rub of the green_: a favourable or unfavourable knock to the ball. (rule .) _run_: running the ball along the ground instead of lofting it; and also the run of a drive is the distance the ball runs after reaching the ground. _scare_: the narrow part of the club head by which it is glued to the shaft, and which is spliced over. _screw_: see "draw." _sclaff_: hitting the ground behind the ball first, thus not getting a clean stroke. _scruff_: slightly razing the grass in striking. _set_: a full complement of clubs. _shaft_: the stick or handle of the club. _slice_: to draw the face of the club across the ball, sending it with a curve towards the right. _socket_: that part of the head of iron clubs into which the shaft is fitted. _sole_: the flat bottom of the club head. _spoons_: wooden-headed clubs of three lengths--long, middle, and short: the head is scooped or grassed so as to loft the ball. _spring_: the degree of suppleness in the shaft. _square_: when the game stands level, neither party being any holes ahead. _stance_: the position of the player's feet when addressing himself to the ball. _steal_: to hole a long unlikely "putt" from a distance, not by a "gobble," but by a stroke which just succeeds in getting the ball as far as the hole. _stroke_: any movement of the club which is intended to strike the ball. _stymie_: when your opponent's ball lies in the line of your "putt"; from an old scotch word, meaning "obscuring." _swing_: the sweep of the club in driving. _tee_: the pinch of sand on which the ball is placed at the teeing-ground. _teeing-ground_: a space marked out within the limits of which the ground must be teed. _third_: a handicap of a stroke deducted every _third_ hole. _toe_: another name for the nose of the club. _top_: to top the ball is to hit it above the centre. _two-more, three-more, etc._: see under "odds." _upright_: a club is said to be "upright" when its head is not at a very obtuse angle to the shaft. _whins_, furze, or gorse. _whipping_: the pitched twine uniting the head and handle. _wrist-shot_: less than a half-shot, generally played with an iron club--the old saying was "played from the knee." appendix b the all-england croquet laws. . . _mallets._--there shall be no restriction as to the number, weight, size, shape, or material of the mallets; nor as to the part of the handle held. the ball must only be struck with either end of the head of the mallet. . _size of balls._--the balls used in match play shall be three and five-eighth inches in diameter, of even weight, each ball weighing not less than thirteen and three-quarter oz. or more than fourteen and a quarter oz. . _choice of lead and of balls._--it shall be decided by lot which side shall have choice of lead and of balls. in a succession of games the choice of lead shall be alternate, the sides keeping the same balls. . _commencement of game._--in commencing, each ball shall be placed on the starting spot. the striker's ball, when so placed and struck is at once in play, and can roquet any other ball in play or be roqueted whether it has made the first hoop or not. . _stroke, when taken._--a stroke is considered to be taken if a ball be moved in the act of striking; but should a player, in taking aim, move his own or any other ball accidentally, it must be replaced to the satisfaction of the umpire or the adversary, and the stroke be then taken. if a ball be moved in taking aim, and then struck without being replaced, the stroke is foul (see law ). . _hoop, when run._--a ball has run its hoop when, having passed through from the playing side and ceased to roll, it cannot be touched by a straight-edge placed against the wires on the side from which it was played, after the hoop has been placed upright. . _ball driven partly through hoop._--a ball driven partly through its hoop from the non-playing side cannot run the hoop at its next stroke, if it can be touched by a straight-edge placed against the wires on the non-playing side. . _points counted to non-strikers ball._--a ball driven through its hoop, or against the turning peg, by any stroke not foul, of its own side, or by any stroke of the adverse side, scores the point so made. . _points made for adversary's ball._--if a point be made for an adversary's ball, the striker must inform his adversary of it. should the striker neglect to do so, and the adversary make the point again, he may continue his turn as though he had played for his right point. . _the turn._--a player, when his turn comes round, may roquet each ball once before making a point, and may do this again after each point made. the player continues his turn so long as he makes a point or a roquet. . _croquet imperative after roquet._--a player who roquets a ball must take croquet, and in so doing must move perceptibly both balls (_vide_ law (_h_) (_i_)). in taking croquet, the striker is not allowed to place his foot on the ball. . _ball in hand after roquet._--no point or roquet can be made by a ball which is in hand. if a ball in hand displace any other balls, they must remain where they are driven. any point made in consequence of such displacement counts, notwithstanding that the ball displacing them is in hand. . _balls roqueted simultaneously._--when a player roquets two balls simultaneously, he may choose from which of them he will take croquet; another roquet will be required before he can take croquet from the other ball. . _balls found touching._--if at the commencement of a turn the striker's ball be found touching another, roquet is deemed to be made, and croquet must be taken at once, but if it be found touching two balls the striker can take croquet of which ball he chooses. but another roquet will be required before he can take croquet from one of the other balls. . _roquet and hoop made by same stroke._--should a ball, in making its hoop, roquet another that lies beyond the hoop, and then pass through, the hoop counts as well as the roquet. a ball is deemed to be beyond the hoop if it lies so that it cannot be touched by a straight-edge placed against the wires on the playing side. should any part of the ball that is roqueted be lying on the playing side of the hoop, the roquet counts, but not the hoop. . a rover can be pegged out by any stroke (not foul) of another rover, whether of the same or the adverse side. players can, however, mutually agree before the commencement of the game that rovers shall not be pegged out by adverse rovers. . _rover pegged out by roquet._--a player (rover) who pegs out a rover by a roquet loses the remainder of his turn because a rover when pegged out is out of the game and croquet cannot be taken from it. the law does not apply when there is no pegging out. . _balls sent off the ground._--a ball sent off the ground must at once be replaced three feet within the boundary, measured from the spot where it went off, and at right angles to the boundary. if this spot be already occupied, the ball last sent off is to be placed in contact with the other, but no ball is to be placed less or more than three feet from the boundary, the player merely having option whether he place the second ball going off at the same spot to the right or left of the first ball. if a third ball go off on the same spot it must be placed touching the first ball. . _ball sent off near corner._ a ball sent off within three feet of a corner is to be replaced three feet from both boundaries. if more than one ball be sent off within three feet of any corner, the ball last sent off is to be placed in contact with the ball occupying the corner spot, and three feet from one of the boundaries at the option of the player. when a player roquets one of the corner balls he is entitled to place the balls in any order, provided one is on the corner spot, and the others touch it or some other corner ball; but he must take croquet off the ball he has roqueted. if a player's ball be in a corner with two or more other balls the player is at liberty to choose off which ball he will take croquet, and previous to his doing so he may alter the position of the other balls to his liking, provided one is on the corner spot and the others touching it or some other corner ball. . _ball touching boundary._--if the boundary be marked by a line on the turf, a ball touching the line is deemed to be off the ground. if the boundary be raised, a ball touching the boundary is similarly deemed to be off the ground. . _ball sent off and returning to ground._--if a ball be sent off the ground, and return to it, the ball must be similarly replaced, measuring from the point of first contact with the boundary. . _ball sent within three feet of boundary._--a ball sent within three feet of the boundary, but not off the ground, is to be replaced as though it had been sent off; except in the case of the striker's ball, when the striker has the option of replacing his ball, or of playing from where it lies. . _boundary interfering with stroke._--if it be found that the height of the boundary interferes with the stroke, the striker, with the sanction of the umpire or the adversary, may bring in the balls a longer distance than three feet, so as to allow a free swing of the mallet. balls so brought in must be moved in the line of aim, and placed at the same relative distance. . _dead boundary._--if, in taking croquet, the striker send his own ball, or the ball croqueted, off the ground, he loses the remainder of his turn, unless (_a_) with the playing ball he make a roquet, or (_b_) the croqueted ball be caused to make a point in order (the striker's ball not passing the boundary). . _balls touched by adversary._--should a ball when rolling, except it be in hand, be touched, diverted from its course, or stopped by an adversary, the striker may elect whether he will take the stroke again, or whether the ball shall remain where it stopped, or be placed where in the judgment of the umpire or the striker it would have rolled to. . _balls diverted or stopped by umpire._--should a ball be diverted from its course or stopped by an umpire, he is to place it where he considers it would have rolled to. . _foul strokes._--if a player make a foul stroke he loses the remainder of his turn, and any point or roquet made by such stroke does not count. balls moved by a foul stroke are to remain where they lie, or be replaced at the option of the adversary. if the foul be made when taking croquet, and the adversary elect to have the balls replaced, they must be replaced in contact as they stood when the croquet was taken. the following are foul strokes: (_a_) to strike with the mallet another ball instead of or besides one's own, in making the stroke. (_b_) to spoon--_i.e._, to push a ball without an audible knock. (_c_) to strike a ball twice distinctly in the same stroke (except in the case of rolling two balls together if only one player use india-rubber). (_d_) to touch, stop, or divert the course of a ball when in play and rolling, whether this be done by the striker or his partner. (_e_) to allow a ball to touch the mallet [or any part of the player's person] in rebounding from a peg or wire. (_f_) to move a ball which lies close to a peg or wire by striking the peg or wire [_i.e._, to touch with the mallet a wire or peg in making the stroke]. (_g_) to press a ball round a peg or wire (crushing stroke). (_h_) to play a stroke after roquet without taking croquet. (_i_) to fail to move both balls in taking croquet. (_k_) to croquet a ball which the striker is not entitled to croquet. (_l_) to knock a wire of the hoop out of the ground when making a stroke. (_m_) to move a ball in the act of taking aim without replacing it to the satisfaction of the umpire or the adversary before striking it. (_n_) to hit a ball with any part of the mallet other than one of the ends of the head (_vide_ law ). (_o_) to improperly handle or touch a ball with foot or mallet (_vide_ laws , ). . _playing out of turn or with the wrong ball._--if a player play out of turn or with the wrong ball, no point made after the mistake can be scored unless as specified below. the balls shall be replaced by the umpire, or to the satisfaction of the adversary, where they were immediately before the mistake was made, and the player shall recommence or continue his turn as the case may be. but if the adverse side play without the mistake being discovered the turn shall hold good, and any point or points made properly (_i.e._, in order for the ball he is playing with) during the turn shall be scored. in the case when the error is not discovered the adversary cannot be penalised for playing with either ball (of his own side), provided that he can prove that a mistake was made in the turn immediately preceding. . _playing for wrong point._--if a player make a wrong point it does not count, and, therefore (unless he have, by the same stroke, taken croquet, or made a roquet), all subsequent strokes are in error, the remainder of the turn is lost, and any point or roquet made after the mistake. the balls remain where they lie when the penalty is claimed, or are replaced as they were immediately before the last stroke was made, at the option of the adversary. . _information as to score._--every player is entitled to be informed which is the next point of any ball. . _state of game, if disputed._--when clips are used, their position, in case of dispute, shall be conclusive as to the position of the balls in the game. . _wires knocked out of ground._--should a player, in trying to run his hoop, knock a wire of that hoop out of the ground with his ball, the hoop does not count. the ball must be replaced, and the stroke taken again. . _pegs or hoops not upright._--any player may set upright a peg or hoop, except the one next in order; and that must not be altered except by the umpire. . _ball lying in a hole or on bad ground._--a ball lying in a hole or on bad ground may only be moved with the sanction of the umpire or with the consent of the adversary. the ball must be put back, _i.e._, away from the object aimed at, so as not to alter the line of aim. . _umpires._--the duties of an umpire are: (_a_) to decide any questions that may arise during the game, if appealed to. (_b_) to keep the score, and if asked by a player to disclose the state of the game. (_c_) to move the clips or to see that they are properly moved. (_d_) to replace balls sent off the ground or to see that they are properly replaced. (_e_) to adjust hoops or pegs or to see that they are properly adjusted (_vide_ law ). (_f_) to inform the striker when he is about to play or has played out of turn, or with the wrong ball, or when he has made a wrong point. with the exception of the instances named in clause (_f_), an umpire shall not draw attention to, or give his opinion on, any mistake made unless appealed to by one of the players. the decision of an umpire on a question of fact shall be final, but on a question of law, if required by a player, he must appeal to the referee. . _absence of umpire._--when no umpire is present permission to move a ball or to set up a peg or hoop, or any other indulgence for which an umpire would be appealed to, must be asked of the other side. prize meetings, handicaps, etc. a committee must be appointed and a referee. they will issue a programme announcing the details of the matches, size of grounds, width of hoops, amount due for entry, date of the draw, hour of the match play. entries. no entry shall be valid unless the entrance money is paid by such date as the committee appoint. the draw. this is now conducted as in lawn tennis, the byes being got rid of in the first round. if the number of players should be , , , , , or any higher power of , there are no byes. if on the other hand the number of players is not a power of (let us say ) matters are arranged after this fashion. the names of the players are drawn out of a hat and written down in order. to ascertain how many of these shall be byes subtract the number of players from the next highest power of ( from ), which gives us . of these, half go to the top of the list, the other half with the odd one to the bottom. winners. winners. winners. first second third semi-finals. finals. round. round. round. a bye a \ > b \ b bye b / \ > c \ c bye c \ / \ > c / \ d bye d / \ \ e bye e \ > c \ > f \ / \ f bye f / \ / \ \ / \ g \ > g / \ > g \ / \ h / \ / \ > g / \ i \ / \ > j / \ j / \ > s k \ / > k \ / l / \ / > k \ / m bye m / \ / > o \ / n bye n \ / \ / > o / \ / o bye o / \ / > s / p bye p \ / > q \ / q bye q / \ / > s / r bye r \ / > s / s bye s / this leaves six players, g, h, i, j, k and l, to play the matches of the first round. let us suppose that g, j and k win. sixteen players now are left in. consequently there will be no more byes. the players are paired in order through the line for the remaining rounds. handicaps. for handicaps the players are divided into classes by the referee, class giving one bisque to class , two bisques to class , and so on. in partner handicaps the bisques of the partners are added together and then divided by two. thus if miss a. (class ) and mr. g. (class ), eight bisques in all, play miss b. (class ) and mr. f. (class ), eleven bisques in all, the weaker side gets one and a half bisques, the half being always changed to a whole one. these may be taken by either partner. time handicaps. these are often a necessity at croquet meetings. the all-england club laid down that there should be not more than eight players for singles and sixteen for double matches. one third of the time should be allotted to each game. if a game be unfinished the side ahead in points wins, a player being allowed to finish his break and take a bisque if one remains. if the points are equal the first roquet decides the contest. in time handicaps the side which receives more than one bisque can only take half its bisques, until both balls have passed the turning peg. index. a. a good bag of tarpon, _a matched pair_: story of wedding breakfast and accident to m.f.h. in, aberdeen, ladies' golf links at, aldenham restless. descendants winners at peterborough show, winning champion cup, , all-england croquet association, all-england croquet club, allgood kennels, archer's register, archery, by miss walrond, bow, lineage of, eastern ladies' exploits, improvement in, revival of, royal amusement, archery (practical) by mrs. berens, aiming, arm guard, arrow, weight of, before the draw, , , beginners, advice to, books recommended, bows recommended, club national round, club prize meeting, coach desirable for beginners, distances shot by women, drawing, dress suitable for, equipment needs care, full draw, gloves or tips, hereford round, loosing, nocking, standing, string recommended, stringing bow, targets, to form a club, weekly club meeting, archery dresses (about ), archery societies, - _art of golf_, sir w. c. sampson, _art of shooting_, by c. lancaster, ascham, roger, treatise on archery, association of masters of harriers and beagles, australia, golf clubs, ladies' championship, austria, hare drive in, b. _badminton library._ archery, golf, quoted on shooting, balfour, miss may, article on skating, portrait, banks, miss, on archery, banks, sir joseph, barham downs, ladies' golf course, beagle stud-book, beagles. breeding, , for rabbit-shooting, hunting with, , kennelling and feeding, bentley harriers, account of, berens, mrs., article on archery, portrait, berkeley, lady, using longbow, betham, miss, archery score, _book of archery_, hansard, quoted on persian ladies' archery, bowby, mrs., archery score, bownass, miss, golfing at windermere, brentwood croquet club, brighton and hove ladies' golf course, briscoe, mrs., whipping in hounds, bronwydd beagles, account of, by miss lloyd, budleigh salterton croquet club, burn, mrs., fox hunting, portrait, burton, _anatomy of melancholy_, quoted, "bush farm," meath, fences, butt, mrs. w., archery score, butterflies at captiva island, buxom (hound) account of, buxom, bentley harrier, c. caledon beagle kennels, campbell, lady ileene, hunting lord huntingdon's pack, canada, golf clubs in, captiva island (gulf of mexico). account of, tarpon, fishing at, vegetation, carnoustie, ladies' putting course at, carter, bonham, croquet playing, cartridges recommended for women, cheape, mrs., and her peterborough winners, bracelet, waterwitch, verity, woodbine, generous, worry, cheape, mrs., buying harriers, cheape, mrs., wellfield beagles and bentley harriers, cheetham. miss l., skating "a pass", cheltenham, ladies' golf course, cheltenham, lady golfers at, chester, ladies' golf course, chetwynd, miss h., archery score, chole, game of, chorley wood, ladies' golf course, clay bird shooting competition, clay pigeon trap, clorinda, moorish queen, skilful with bow, clumber spaniel, comet (property of lady gerard), county down ladies' golf links, cox, miss, ex-irish golf champion, croquet, all-england laws. appendix b., article on, by mrs. spong, advantages of, balls, beginning, option of, bisques, championships, clips, clubs, handicapping bisques, hoops, lawn measurements, lawns at hurlingham and ranelagh, lawns, size reduced, mallets, ; manner of holding, origin of game, pegs, qualities necessary for good player, revival of, "roquet", terms employed in, tight croquet, expulsion of, time games, tournaments, crusades, women prominent in sport during, crystal palace archery meeting, cub-hunting at brigstock, d. dahlia (hound), davies, george (whip), deal golf club, desmond, lady, skill with bow, "dinah," retriever, , _dog breaking, secret of_, dog breeding, by hutchinson recommended, dogs and dog-breaking, utilising land for, driving popular with shooters and owners of moors, dulcimer, pure harrier, ; account of, dumfries, ladies' golf links at, e. eastbourne ladies' golf course, edinburgh, ladies' golf links at, editor (frances e. slaughter). englishwomen and sport, hare-hunting, portrait, elie and earlsferry, ladies' golf links at, eltham ladies' golf course, englishwomen and sport, by the editor, f. "fallible," beagle bitch, fishing for tarpon, by mrs. murphy-grimshaw, bait used, bottom-fishing, catching first tarpon, clothes required for, first tarpon stuffed and set up, fishing at captiva, - , florida, arrival in, playing a tarpon, ; excitement of, rod suitable for, season for, flat-coated retriever, champion darenth, folkestone ladies' golf course, fort myers, on caloosakatchie river, , fishing for tarpon at, fox-hunting, by mrs. burn. "alone with the hounds," pleasure of being, beauty and fit surroundings, champion and wilton's safety stirrup, country in the shires, driving to and from hunting, falls, gates, opening, , gruel for horse, directions for making, "hands" cannot be taught, hunting in provinces advantage over shires, huntsmen, way to be made for, ideal hunter, mounting, need for pilot, people hunting like a flock of sheep, quick eye to hounds, quietness necessary, , riding a refuser, riding sane horses, riding slow, riding to hounds, advice on, safety habits, "seeds" "young grass", spurs, stirrup foot, position of, tired horse, jumping a, women in hunting field, why unpopular, women riding without third pommel, france, golf clubs in, g. gadfly (hound), gainer (hound), account of, _game of golf_, by w. park, junr., gentil on amazoni in retinue of indian prince, gifford, lady and her harriers, beagles-harriers, , carrying horn with harriers, cure for distemper, interest in kennel management, on hounds' food, _golf annual_, article by john thomson in, golf, by miss starkie-bence, approach shot, "approach shots," competitions for, balls, different kinds, "bap", "bogey" competition, books recommended, brassey, bunkers, cleek, clubs, clubs, choice of (instruments), "cuppy" lie, dress suitable for, driver, , dropping the ball, rule on, _esprit-de-corps_, etiquette to be observed, failing to sign card, faults--slicing, hooking, topping, foresome, founding of, green, grip ; wrong grip, grip of hands for driving, grip when at top of swing, handicapping, "handicapping scheme" ; rules, hazard, st. andrew's rules , ; , hazards, iron ; lofting iron, iron shots, ladies' courses, , lessons from professional desirable, lie, links, size of, links, "upkeep" of, mashie, , medal play, object of game, position for driving, , practice required for, , putter, , putting, , scores in match playing, scores in medal play, scotch and english players, styles of, short approach shot with thumb down the shaft, suited to all seasons, "smothering", stance, stimulus to trade given by, stymie, swing ; finish of, swinging upwards for three-quarter iron shot, glossary of technical terms, golf links abroad, _golf_ quoted on gutta-percha used for balls, golf rules, appendix a, golf school in america, _golfer's referee_, gone to ground (portraits of four b.o.h. prize-winners), graham, miss n., golf champion of ireland, portrait, grand national archery meeting, , grand northern archery meeting, grand western archery meeting, great yarmouth golf links, greeks and romans no word for skating, grey, lord de, grouper, red and black, grouse shooting, best method, gullane, ladies' golf union championship meeting at, , gullane links, lengths between holes at, guns suitable for women, , , h. hamilton-russell, lady margaret (_née_ scott) golfing, , portrait, hare drive in austria, hare-hunting, by the editor, cleanliness absolutely necessary in kennels, dwarf foxhounds, feeding hounds, harrier, advantage of pure, harriers, faults of, , hounds, drafting, hounds, kind of, hounds, signalling, hounds, signs of health in, hounds, standard for, lady m. h.'s pack, story of, quietness necessary for, , , stud-book harrier, training hounds, viewing the hare, whippers-in, harrier and beagle show, peterborough, hastings and bexhill ladies' golf course, hawking, women proficient in, hertfordshire society of archers, himalayan pheasants, _history of the cid_, by dr. southey, quoted on "star of the archers", horniblow, mrs., archery score, hoylake golf links, hoylake ladies' golf links, huntingdon, load, harriers in iceland, hutchinson, general, system of breaking pointers and setters, hutchinson, horace, golf, badminton library, hutchinson horace, on putting, i. india, golf clubs in, irish ladies' golf union, meeting at portrush, irish setters, champions shandon ii. and geraldine, irishman on gun, j. jacksonville, florida, jaques bringing out croquet, jew-fish, k. "kate coventry," heroine, giving up hunting when she marries, kennedy, miss emma: golfing in north wales, portrait, kildare, countess of, shooting deer, king-fish, l. ladies' golf union, "handicapping scheme," ; rules, outline of, _ladies' golf union annual_, miss pearson's article in, ladies' golf union championship meetings, great yarmouth, gullane, , hoylake, , , littlestone, , lytham and st. anne's, , portrush, , , lancer (irish horse), leake, sir f., extract from letter to lord shrewsbury, leamington and midland counties archery meeting, legh, miss, archery score, leicestershire, account of blank day in, lelant, ladies' golf course, lillie, a., work on croquet, ; suggestions in, littlestone golf club, littlestone golf links, lloyd, miss, of bronwydd: account of bronwydd beagles, whipping-in beagles, , lloyd, sir marteine: and some of the bronwydd beagles, beagle kennels, beagles, bronwydd beagles, , lloyd, sir thomas, started bronwydd beagles, lowther, hon. mrs. lancelot, portrait, lowther, hon. mrs. lancelot, shooting, lytham and st. anne's golf club, ladies' union, meeting at, m. m. f. h. advice to young lady, machrihanish, ladies' golf links at, maidstone croquet club, malvern, ladies' golf course, mandeville, a., k.h. and second whip to mrs. pryse-rice, mary, queen of scots, adept in golf, maxwell, miss a., golfing at dumfries, meath, hunting in, , melville, whyte, heroines in hunting field, meriden, archery assemblies at, midlands golf championship, mitcham, princes ladies' golf links, meetings, moffatt, croquet championship meeting at, monmouth, robert cary, earl of, extract from memories of, montecute, lord, entertaining queen elizabeth at cowdray, murphy-grimshaw, mrs.: fishing for tarpon, portrait, ; on board the tarpon boat, murray, mrs., golfing at gullane, mussellburgh, ladies' golf links at, n. nevill, misses, golfing, new zealand golf links in--ladies' championships, newcastle, duchess of, hunting harriers, nicholas', sir h., _household expenses of henry viii._, entries from, _nicol's progress_ quoted, north berwick ladies' golf club, north berwick, ladies' golf links at, norwich, deer parks owned by see, o. orr, miss e. c., portrait, our sisters in canada, p. park, w., junr., _game of golf_, paris, comtesse de, giving up woodnorton harriers, _partridge_, fur and feather series recommended, partridge shooting, , driving, over dogs, , walking up, partridge, work by stuart wortley on, pascoe, miss, portrait, pearson, miss issette, article in _ladies' golf union annual_, golfing, , portrait, records at wimbledon, peel, w. h., founded all-england croquet association, pelicans, persian ladies amusing themselves with archery, pheasant shooting, _pheasants_, by tegetmeier recommended, pointer on partridge, portrush golf links, portrush, irish ladies' golf union championship meeting, prestwich, ladies' golf links at, prior, dr., notes on croquet, pritchard, professor, cure for distemper, pryse-rice, mrs. account of harriers, and her harriers, kennels, aldenham bitches, kennels (woodmorton, _charity_ and _wilful_), m. h., on hares killed, on infusion of foxhound blood into harrier kennel, runs of hounds, pryse, vaughan, hunting harriers for forty seasons, punta gorda ; deserted by tarpon, purves, dr. laidlow, q. queen anne, lover of the chase, queen elizabeth, an ardent sportswoman, queen elizabeth at cowdray, skill with bow, queen victoria, benefactor of women, queen victoria riding after hounds, r. rabbit difficult to shoot, rabbit shooting, ranelagh club, ladies' golf meeting at, ranelagh ladies' golfing group, , ranfurly, ladies' golf links at, retriever breaking, rules for, rhyl, ladies' golf course, richardson, mrs. ryder, golfing, richmond ladies' golf course, rifle for small game, rigby, second for championship cup in , romans and greeks no word for skating, rook shooting, royal british bowmen, royal portrush ladies' golf links, royal rock beagles, started by colonel anstruther thomson, royal toxophilite archery society, _rural sports_, by daniel, recommended, rye golf club, s. st. andrew's, ladies' putting course at, st. nicholas, ladies' golf links at, salisbury, lady, hunting fox over hertfordshire, salisbury, lady, supporting archery, sandwich golf club, sandwich golf course, gentlemen's amateur championship at, lady golf players at, sampson, sir w. c., _art of golf_, scotch ladies' golf links, scotland, hunting in, scott, sir walter, excuses di vernon for sporting tastes, sea trout, serrell, miss, on colleen, shooters, cautions to young, shooting article on, by the hon. mrs. lancelot-lowther, _badmington library_ on, beginners, advice to, books recommended, dress suitable for, etiquette to be observed, judging distances, measuring distances, practice recommended, qualities necessary for, shrewsbury, lady, adept with bow, skates, bone, - mount charles, primitive, roller-skates, skating "a pass", beginning, club figures, dress suitable for, equality on both legs, exhilarating and healthful exercise, foreign style introduced in england, half-circle and circle, hand-in-hand skating, , ideal skater, in holland, introduced from north, mastery of both edges, outside edge, points to be attended to, rockers, scuds, transition stage in england, , turning a three, waltzing on skates, south africa, golf clubs in, spaniels for rabbit shooting, spicer, captain, of spye park, harriers sold to mrs. cheape, spong, mrs., article on croquet, portrait, sport for upper classes in middle ages, sporting dogs, grooming, starkie-bence, miss, article on golf, portrait, straits' settlements, golf links in, stuart-wortley, work on partridge, surtees, his hunting women, _system of figure skating_, by maxwell witham, t. tarpon boats, ; at captiva, tarpon fishing (see fishing for tarpon). temple, miss, archery score, thomson, colonel anstruther, started royal rock beagles, thomson, john, article on _golf annual_, trollope, sport no place in life of his heroines, troon, ladies' golf links at, tudor, margaret, journey to scotland, u. united states, golf clubs in, usbec tartary, incident during plundering of village in, v. verity (hound), vernon, di, excused for sport-loving tastes, villiers, miss, archery score, w. walrond, miss, article on archery, portrait, walsingham, lord, walters, john, huntsman, warlike (hound), waterwitch (hound), wellfield (hound), account of, wellfield beagles, welsh hares, speed of, west indies, golf clubs in, west lancashire ladies' golf links, , match team, whigham, miss sybil, golfing at prestwick, whitmore, walter jones, started scientific croquet, wilson-hoare, mrs., golfing, , wilton, elizabeth, countess of, on willoughby, wimbledon ladies' golf club uniform, wimbledon ladies' golf course, witham, maxwell, _system of figure skating_, woking, ladies' golf links at, women. at shooting parties, middle ages, hunting in, position in world of sport, proficient in art of falconry, woodbine, wellfield, buxom, bentley harriers, woodmen of arden, y. yonge, john, somerset herald, yorkshire golf championship, &/ * * * * * birmingham: printed at the guild press, , great charles street note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the more than original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) the scientific american boy or the camp at willow clump island by a. russell bond [illustration: fun in swimming.] new york munn & co., publishers copyright, , by munn & co., new york press of the kalkhoff company new york preface all boys are nature lovers. nothing appeals to them more than a summer vacation in the woods where they can escape from the restraints of civilization and live a life of freedom. now, it may appear to be a bit of presumption to attempt to advise the boy camper how to spend his time. surely the novelty of outdoor life, the fascinating charm of his surroundings, will provide him plenty of entertainment. but, after all, a camp generally affords but two major amusements, hunting and fishing. these have been fully covered by a vast number of books. however, there is another side of camp life, particularly in a boys' camp, which has been very little dealt with, namely, the exercise of one's ingenuity in creating out of the limited resources at hand such devices and articles as will add to one's personal comfort and welfare. it is, therefore, the aim of this book to suggest certain diversions of this character for the boy camper which, aside from affording him plenty of physical exercise, will also develop his mental faculties, and above all stimulate that natural genius which is characteristic of every typical american boy. to this end the story contains descriptions of a large collection of articles which can be made by any boy of average intelligence, not only in the camp but at home as well. the use of a narrative to connect the various incidents marks a departure in this class of book, and it is believed that the matter will thus be made more realistic and interesting. in all cases full directions are given for making the various articles. while it is not presumed that the directions will be slavishly followed, for this would defeat the general aim of the work, yet all the principal dimensions are given so that they can be used, if desired. i beg to acknowledge the courtesy of mr. daniel c. beard and mr. henry d. cochrane in supplying a number of photographs. the directions for making the lee boards (page ) were obtained from data furnished by the latter. many of the details recorded in the chapter on tramping outfits are to be accredited to mr. edward thorpe. in the preparation of this book i have received valuable assistance from my colleague, mr. a. a. hopkins. a. russell bond. new york, october, . contents chapter i. page "bill" the old trunk. christmas vacation. "bill's" skate sail. willow clump island. organizing the society. chapter ii. skate sails the double swedish sail. the single swedish sail. the lanteen sail. the danish sail. bat's wings. chapter iii. snow shoes, skis and swamp shoes chair seat snow shoe. barrel stave snow shoe. barrel hoop snow shoe. the sioux snow shoe. the iroquois snow shoe. the ainu snow shoe. the norwegian ski. the swamp shoe or swiss snow shoe. chapter iv. tent making farewell meeting. word from uncle ed. the canvas tent. adjustable ridge pole. tie blocks. the annex. chapter v. preparing for the expedition tent fly. provisions and supplies. umbrella rib crossbow. megaphone. the scow. chapter vi. off to the island a unique alarm clock. the trip to the island. preliminary exploration. a rustic table. the small filter. the barrel filter. the _klepalo_. chapter vii. surveying the surveying instrument. spirit levels. the tripod. surveyor's chain. surveyor's rod. a simple method of surveying. mapping the island. chapter viii. swimming swimming on a plank. shooting the rapids. restoring the drowned. how to work over a patient alone. chapter ix. bridge building the spar bridge. the rope railway. the suspension bridge. the pontoon bridge. the king rod truss. stiffening the bridge. the king post bridge. chapter x. canvas canoes uncle ed's departure. a visit from mr. schreiner. the sailing canoe. stretching on the canvas. the rudder. the deep keel. canoe sails. lee boards. indian paddling canoe. chapter xi. house building the grass hut. the goblins' dancing platform. dutchy takes a dare. a path up the fissure. rope ladders. the derrick. the tree house. sliding doors. chapter xii. trouble with the tramps the scow is stolen. a council of war. vengeance. a double surprise. tramp-proof boat mooring. chapter xiii. wigwagging and heliographing wigwag signals. the wigwag alphabet. abbreviations. wigwagging at night. the heliograph. the single mirror instrument. the sight rod. the screen. focusing the instrument. heliograph signaling. the international telegraph code. the double mirror instrument. chapter xiv. ice boats, sledges and toboggans breaking camp. the ice boat. the sledge. the toboggan. the rennwolf. ice creepers. chapter xv. the subterranean club a cave-in. excavating for the cave. covering the cave. the big bug club. midnight banquets. the club pin. the combination lock. chapter xvi. scooters a sail in the scow. our craft strikes the ice. the scooter scow. a sprit sail. scooter sailing. a meeting of the society. an interview with mr. van syckel. the scooter canoe. chapter xvii. an arctic expedition willow clump island in winter. kindling a camp fire. the outdoor fireplace. a stone-paved fireplace. a cold night in the hut. mountain climbing. a poor shelter. a costly camp fire. a friend in time of trouble. chapter xviii. tramping outfits sleeping bags. bill's "mummy case." the "a" tent. a camp chair. a camp bed. the camp bed in a shower. a nightmare. pack harness. riveting. chapter xix. the land yacht the frame of the yacht. a simple turnbuckle. stepping the mast. mounting the frame on bicycle wheels. the tiller. a "leg-of-mutton" sail. a sail through the country. chapter xx. easter vacation bill's cave. the barrel stave hammock. the barrel armchair. the summer toboggan. tailless kites. a five-foot malay kite. an eight-foot malay kite. the elastic belly band. putting the kites to work. the diamond box kite. chapter xxi. the water wheel the water wheel. surveying for the water wheel. towers for the water wheel. the wheel. the buckets. the paddles. the receiving trough. setting up the towers. mounting the water wheel. cooling the filter barrel. the canvas bucket. mr. halliday's water wheel. chapter xxii. the log cabin foundation of log cabin. a logging expedition. the log raft. the sail-rigged raft. building the log cabin. the roof of the log cabin. door and window frames. the fireplace. the proper way to build a stone wall. the floor of the cabin. the door hinges and latch. the window sash. bunks. stopping up the chinks. chapter xxiii. the windmill digging the well. the windmill tower. the crank shaft. the wind wheel. a simple brake. the pump. pump valves. action of the pump. chapter xxiv. the gravity railroad the car. the flanged wheels. car axles. mounting the wheels. the railway track. the carpenter's miter box. laying the track. the first railway accident. testing the track. chapter xxv. the cantilever bridge frames for the cantilever bridge. erecting the towers. setting up the frames. binding and anchoring the structure. the center panels of the bridge. a serious interruption. dispossessed. farewell to willow clump island. reddy's cantilever bridge. [illustration: map of willow clump island and vicinity.] the scientific american boy. chapter i. "bill." "bill," he was it, the scientific american boy, i mean. of course, we were all american boys and pretty scientific chaps too, if i do say it myself, but bill, well he was the whole show. what he didn't know wasn't worth knowing, so we all thought, and even to this day i sometimes wonder how he managed to contrive and execute so many remarkable plans. at the same time he was not a conceited sort of a chap and didn't seem to realize that he was head and shoulders above the rest of us in ingenuity. but, of course, we didn't all have an uncle like bill did. bill's uncle ed was one of those rare men who take a great interest in boys and their affairs, a man who took time to answer every question put to him, explaining everything completely and yet so clearly that you caught on at once. uncle ed (we all called him that) was a civil engineer of very high standing in his profession, which had taken him pretty much all over the world, and his naturally inquisitive nature, coupled with a wonderful memory, had made him a veritable walking encyclopedia. with such an uncle it is no wonder that bill knew everything. of course, there were some things that puzzled even bill. but all such difficulties, after a reasonable amount of brain-work had failed to clear them, were submitted to uncle ed. uncle ed was always prompt (that was one thing we liked about him), and no matter where he was or what he was doing he would drop everything to answer a letter from the society. the old trunk. [illustration: fig. . the old trunk in the attic.] [illustration: fig. . the black walnut box.] but hold on, i am getting ahead of my story. i was rummaging through the attic the other day, and came across an old battered trunk, one that i used when i went to boarding-school down in south jersey. that trunk was certainly a curiosity shop. it contained a miscellaneous assortment of glass tubes, brass rods, coils of wire, tools, fish hooks--in fact, it was a typical collection of all those "valuables" that a boy is liable to pick up. down in one corner of the trunk was a black walnut box, marked, with brass letters, "property of the s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i." on my key-ring i still carried the key to that box, which had not been opened for years. i unlocked the box and brought to light the "records and chronicles of the society for the scientific investigation, exploration and exploitation of willow clump island." for hours i pored over those pages, carried back to the good old times we used to have as boys along the banks of the delaware river, until i was brought sharply back to the present by the sound of the dinner bell. it seemed that the matter contained in those "chronicles" was too good to be kept locked up in an old trunk. few boys' clubs ever had such a president as bill, or such a wonderful bureau of information as uncle ed. for the benefit of boys and boykind in general, i decided then and there to publish, as fully as practicable, a record of what our society did. christmas vacation. this was how the society came to be formed. bill, whom i met at boarding-school, was an orphan, and that's why he was sent to boarding-school. his uncle had to go down to brazil to lay out a railroad, i believe, and so he packed bill off to our school, which was chosen in preference to some others because one of the professors there had been a classmate of uncle ed's at college. bill roomed with me, and naturally we became great chums. when christmas time came, of course i invited him to spend the holidays with me. my home was situated in the little village of lamington, on the jersey side of the delaware river. here we arrived late at night on the saturday before christmas. a cold wind was blowing which gave promise of breaking the spell of warm weather we had been having, and of giving us a chance to try our skates for the first time. true to our expectations, the next day was bitterly cold, and a visit to the canal which ran along the river bank, just beyond our back fence, showed that quite a thick skim of ice had formed on the water. monday morning, bright and early, found us on the smooth, slippery surface of the canal. "us" here includes, in addition to bill and myself, my two younger brothers, jack and fred, and also dutchy van syckel and reddy schreiner, neighbors of ours. it was the custom at the first of december every year to drain out most of the water in the canal, in order to prevent possible injury to the canal banks from the pressure of the ice. but there was always a foot or two of water covering the bottom of the canal, and this afforded a fine skating park of ample width and unlimited length, while the high canal banks on each side protected us from the bitter wind that was blowing. toward noon, however, the wind shifted and swept at a terrific rate down the narrow lane between the canal banks. we could scarcely make headway against the blow. it was too much for bill, who wasn't as used to skating as we were. he sat down in a sheltered nook and commenced to think. when bill sat down to think it always meant that something was going to happen, as we soon learned. "say, jim," said he to me, "have you got any canvas up at the house?" "no," i replied. "what do you want it for?" "i want to rig up a skate sail. if you have an old sheet, that will do just as well." "well, i guess i can find you an old sheet. do you think you can make one?" "sure thing," answered bill, and off we went to the house, where i received my first lesson on the practical genius of my chum. "bill's" skate sail. [illustration: fig. . laying out the sail.] [illustration: fig. . the tape tie strings.] [illustration: fig. . "bill's" sail complete.] the old sheet which mother furnished us was laid out on the floor and two corners were folded over to the center, as shown in the drawing, making a triangle with base feet long and sides each about feet inches long. the surplus end piece was then cut off, and a broad hem turned and basted all around the edges of the triangle. bill wanted to work the sewing machine himself, but mother was afraid he would break something, so she sewed down the hem for us. then, under bill's supervision, she re-enforced the corners by sewing on patches of cloth. along the diagonal a strip of heavy tape was sewed, leaving loops at intervals, which afterward were cut and provided means for tying the sail to the mast. tie strings of tape were also sewed at the corners, as shown in the illustration, and then a trip was made to the garden in search of suitable spars. a smooth bean pole of about the right weight served for the mast, and another stick with a crotch at one end served as the boom or cross-spar. the spars were cut to proper length, and the sail was then tied on, as illustrated, with the crotch of the cross-spar fitted against and tied to the center of the mast. a light rope, long enough to provide plenty of slack, was tied to the ends of the mast to assist in guiding the sail when in use. in the meantime i had procured another sheet from one of our neighbors, and bill helped me make a sail for myself. it was not until long after dark that we finished our work. willow clump island. the next day we tried the sails and it didn't take me very long to learn how to steer the device. the wind had changed again and this time blew up the canal. we took the line of least resistance, and went skimming up the ice lane like birds for several miles before we realized how far we were getting away from home. as we rounded a bend in the canal, much to my astonishment, i saw just before us the bridge at raven hill, eight miles from our town. we started to go back, but the wind was too strong for us, and there wasn't much room in which to do any tacking; nor could we make any progress when the sails were folded. i began to get extremely tired and rather exasperated at bill for not having thought of the return trip before he led me such a hot pace up the canal. but bill was getting tired, too. "look here, jim," he said, "we haven't covered a mile, and i'm worn out." "why in thunder didn't you think of this before we started?" i returned. "how much money have you with you?" was the reply. "what's that got to do with it?" "i'll tell you in a minute. how much have you?" a careful search of my dozen odd pockets netted the sum of twenty-seven cents. "i have fifty-nine," said bill, "and that makes eighty-six altogether, doesn't it? isn't there a railroad depot near here?" "there is one at raven hill, and the next is at lumberville. that is about eleven miles from home." "well," said bill, "at three cents each per mile that would amount to sixty-six cents. let's sail on to lumberville and then take the train back." on we sped to lumberville, only to find that the next train was not due until noon, and it was now just half past ten. time never hung heavy on our hands. out on the river we espied an island. i had heard of this island--willow clump island, it was called--but had never been on it; consequently i fell in with bill's suggestion that we make it a visit. owing to the rapids which separated the island from the jersey shore, we had to go up stream a quarter of a mile, to where a smooth sheet of ice had formed, over a quiet part of the river; thence we sailed down to the island along the pennsylvania side. "what a capital island for a camp," cried bill, after we had explored it pretty thoroughly. "have you ever been out camping?" i had to confess i never had, and then bill gave me a glowing account of his experiences in the adirondacks with his uncle the year before, which so stirred up the romance in me that i wanted to camp out at once. "shucks!" said bill, "we would freeze in this kind of weather, and besides, we've got to make a tent first." we then sat down and made elaborate plans for the summer. suddenly the distant sound of a locomotive whistle interrupted our reveries. "jiminy crickets!" i exclaimed. "that's the train coming through spalding's cut. we've got to hustle if we are to catch it." we were off like the wind, and a merry chase brought us to the lumberville depot in time to flag the train. we arrived at lamington at half past twelve, a trifle late for dinner, rather tired and hungry, but with a glowing and i fear somewhat exaggerated account of our adventure for the credulous ears of the rest of the boys. organizing the society. the camping idea met with the hearty approval of all, and it was decided to begin preparations at once for the following summer. dutchy, whose father was a member of a geographical society, suggested that we form a society for the exploration of willow clump island. by general acclamation bill was chosen president of the society, dutchy was made vice-president, reddy was elected treasurer, and they made me secretary. it was dutchy who proposed the name "the society for the scientific investigation, exploration and exploitation of willow clump island." it was decided to make an expedition of exploration as soon as we could make skate sails for the whole society. chapter ii. skate sails. the duties of the secretary, as defined in the constitution which dutchy van syckel drew up, were to keep a record of all the acts of the society, the minutes of every meeting, and accurate detailed descriptions of all work accomplished. therefore, while the rest of the society was busy cutting up old sheets, levied from the surrounding neighborhood, and sewing and rigging the sails under bill's direction, i, with pad and pencil in hand, took notes on all the operations. the double swedish sail. [illustration: fig. . dimensions of double swedish sail. n. b.--the mark (') means feet and (") means inches.] [illustration: fig. . halyards looped onto pole.] [illustration: fig. . the double swedish sail.] bill evolved some new types of sails which differed materially from the type described in the first chapter. one was a double sail--"the kind they use in sweden," he explained. one of the sheets which the foraging party brought in was extra large; it measured approximately two yards and a half square. this was folded on itself, making a parallelogram seven feet six inches long and three feet nine inches wide. the sheets we had were all rather worn and some were badly torn, so that we had to make our sails of double thickness, sewing patches over the weak spots. a broad hem was turned down at each end, and heavy tape was sewed on, leaving loops as before, to attach them to the spars. this reduced the length of our sail to seven feet three inches. the end spars were spaced apart by a light pole about ten feet long, to which they were tied at the points of intersection. the spars were also braced by halyards looped over the ends of the pole in the manner indicated in the drawing (fig. ). it took a crew of two boys to manipulate this sail. in use, the pole of the rig was carried on the shoulders, and the sail was guided by means of ropes attached to the lower corners of the vertical spars. these ropes in nautical language are called "sheets." the boy at the rear was the pilot and did the steering, because his position behind the sail gave him an unobstructed view in all directions. when changing tack the sail was lifted overhead to the other side of the crew. [illustration: fig. . changing tack.] the single swedish sail. [illustration: fig. . the single swedish sail.] another sail of similar form, but for use of one boy only, is shown in fig. . this had a height of six and one-half feet at the forward end and three feet at the rear; and its length was five feet. this sail was very satisfactory in light winds, owing to its great area. in use we found that it was very important to keep the lower edge against the leg, as indicated by the arrow. the rig was manipulated just like the double swedish sail, lifting it over the head when it was desired to change tack. the lanteen sail. [illustration: fig . the lanteen sail.] [illustration: fig. . hinge for spars.] [illustration: fig. . leather mast step.] [illustration: fig. . wooden mast step.] the lanteen sail we found to be a very good rig. it was made in the form of a triangle, measuring eight feet on one side, seven and one-half feet on another side and six and one-half feet on the third. the six and one-half foot side was secured to a boom, and the seven and one-half foot side to a yard. the yard and boom were hinged together by a leather strap nailed on as shown in fig. , and to this hinge a rope was attached, which served as a sheet. these spars were secured to a mast erected perpendicularly to the boom and intersecting the yard a little above its center. we had had some trouble with the first sails we made in keeping the base of the sail against the body, and to overcome this difficulty bill proposed tying the bottom of the mast to the leg. this was a rather risky thing to do, as we learned later, for in case of accident it would be difficult to get clear of the sail. it was reddy who finally solved the problem by rigging up a step for the mast. it consisted of a leather tag tied to the leg, and provided with a hole into which the bottom of the mast was fitted. to prevent the mast from slipping too far into the step the lower portion of it was whittled down, leaving a shoulder which rested on the leather. bill later devised another step, which consisted of a wooden block (fig. ) strapped to the leg and formed with a shallow socket to receive the end of the mast. the danish sail. [illustration: fig. . the danish sail.] [illustration: fig. . topsail of the danish rig.] but the most satisfactory sail we found to be the danish sail, though it was not until we had served quite a long apprenticeship and sustained many pretty bad falls that we mastered the art of manipulating these sails properly. our ideas on this sail were obtained from a french illustrated paper which dutchy van syckel picked up in his father's library. this sail was formed with a topsail so arranged that it could be lowered when the wind was too strong. the dimensions of the sail as we made it are given in the drawing (fig. ). the top of the sail was lashed to a spar, which was connected by a short stick to another spar tied to the mainsail about eighteen inches lower down. the sail was strengthened with an extra strip of cloth along the lower spar, and the tie strings were applied in the usual way. the connecting stick, or topmast we may call it, was hinged to the lower spar by means of a short piece of leather strap, which was passed round the spar in the form of a loop and its two ends nailed to the bottom of the topmast. the topmast extended above the upper spar a short distance, and to this we fastened the flag which our society had adopted. a couple of strong cords were secured to the center spar to provide for fastening the sail onto the skater. tied to the lower corners of the mainsail were two sticks which were used for guiding the sail when in flight. [illustration: fig. . before the wind. fig. . topsail lowered. fig. . skating against the wind. fig. . on the port tack.] the different methods of sailing with this rig are shown in figs. - . when sailing with the wind the skater would stand very erect, bending backward in proportion as the wind blew fresher. by inclining the sail in one direction or the other, the skater could tack to port or starboard. when moving against the wind by skating in the usual way, the body was bent forward in such manner that the sail lay horizontal, so that it would not offer a purchase for the wind. bat's wings. [illustration: fig. .] one more sail deserves mention. it was bill's idea, and it came near to ending his career the first day he tried it. it had no spars at all, but was merely a strip of cloth of somewhat triangular shape. the upper side was tied to the head, and the two corners to the wrists, while the lower portion was tied to the ankles. this converted him into a huge white-winged bat. bill had to try it at once, even though the rest of the sails were not finished, and a very comical spectacle he made as he flapped his wings in his endeavors to tack. when the wind was too strong for him he had merely to drop his arms and thus lower sail. at length he became tired of holding his arms out at full length, and i got him a stick to put over his shoulders and rest his arms on. but that stick was bill's undoing, for coming around a sudden bend in the canal he caught the full force of the wind, which knocked him flat on his back before he could disentangle himself from the stick and lower sail. it took us some time to bring him back to consciousness, and a very scared lot of boys we were for a while. however, the lesson was a good one, for after that we were very cautious in experimenting with sails that had to be tied on, such as the danish rig and the lanteen rig, before reddy invented the mast step. it was not until the day after christmas that the sails were all completed, but then there was scarcely any wind blowing and we could not attempt the expedition to the island. chapter iii. snow shoes, skis and swamp shoes. the next day, sunday, it began to snow, and we realized that our chance of skating up to willow clump island was spoiled. all the afternoon it snowed, and the next morning we woke to find the ground covered to a depth of eight inches and snow still falling. but who ever heard of a boy complaining because there was snow on the ground? here were new difficulties to overcome, new problems to solve, and new sports provided for our amusement. there was no disappointment shown by any of the members of the s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i., as they met in the woodshed immediately after breakfast to discuss proceedings for the day. there seemed to be but one way of reaching the island, and that was by means of snow shoes. bill had only a vague idea of how snow shoes were made. chair seat snow shoe. [illustration: fig. . chair seat snow shoe] the first pair was made from a couple of thin wooden chair seats which we found in the shed. they proved quite serviceable, being very light and offering a fairly large bearing surface. the chair seats were trimmed off at each side to make the shoes less clumsy, and a loop of leather was fastened near the center of each shoe, in which the toe could be slipped. this shoe possessed the disadvantage of being too flat and of picking up too much snow when used. barrel stave snow shoe. [illustration: fig. . barrel stave snow shoe.] another pair of shoes was made from barrel staves. at first one stave was made to serve for a shoe, but we found that two staves fastened together with a pair of wooden cleats were much better. jack was the proud inventor of these shoes and insisted that they were far more satisfactory than the elaborate ones which were later devised. barrel hoop snow shoe. [illustration: fig. . barrel hoop snow shoe.] now that jack had shown his ingenuity, fred thought it was his turn to do something, and after mysteriously disappearing for the space of an hour we saw him suddenly come waddling back to the shed on a pair of barrel hoops covered with heavy canvas. he had stretched the canvas so tightly across the hoops that they were bent to an oval shape. it was claimed for these shoes, and with good reason, that they were not so slippery as the barrel stave shoe, for they permitted the foot to sink slightly into the snow. after dinner, dutchy came back with a book of his father's, a sort of an encyclopedia in which several different kinds of snow shoes were illustrated. reddy, whose father owned a sawmill, volunteered to provide us with strips of hickory from which to make the frames. the sioux snow shoe. [illustration: fig. . sioux shoe.] [illustration: fig. . frame of the sioux shoe.] [illustration: fig . web of the sioux shoe.] [illustration: fig. . weaving needle] the sioux snow shoe was the first type we tackled. two strips of hickory feet long and / inch square in section, were bent over a pair of spreaders and securely fastened together at each end. the spreaders were about inches long and located about inches apart. they were notched at the ends, as shown in fig. , to receive the side strips, which were not fastened together until after they had been nailed to the spreaders. we found that the most satisfactory way of fastening together the ends of the hickory strips was to bolt them together. when the frame was completed, we began the tedious process of weaving in the filling or web of the snow shoe. first we cut notches in the edges of the spreaders, spacing these notches an inch apart. then we procured several balls of heavy twine at the corner store. tying one end of the cord to the right side stick about three inches below the forward spreader, we stretched a strand down to the notch at the left end of the lower spreader. the strand was drawn taut, and after making several twists around it the cord was tied to the left side stick three inches above the spreader. from this point the cord was stretched to the notch at the right end of the upper spreader, twisted several times and brought back to the starting point. the cord was now wrapped around the side stick for a space of about an inch, and then carried down to the second notch on the lower spreader, whence it was woven through the other two strands and tied about the left side stick about four inches from the spreader. thus the weaving continued, passing the cord alternately over and under any cross strands encountered. in order to make the left side correspond with the right, a separate cord was wound around it, filling up the space between the strands of the web. the filling above and below the spreaders could not be so methodically done, but we managed to weave the strands quite neatly with about the same mesh as used at the center. to facilitate the weaving we improvised a rough needle of a piece of wire. the latter was bent double to receive the cord which was wedged in between the two arms of the needle. the iroquois shoe. [illustration: fig. . bending the hickory strips.] [illustration: fig. . frame of iroquois shoe.] [illustration: fig. . iroquois snow shoe.] but the best snow shoe we made was the iroquois shoe. the frame of this shoe was made of hickory strips of the same width and thickness as used in the sioux shoe, but feet long. the strips were bent in a loop and the ends were bolted together. how to bend the wood without breaking it seemed a very difficult problem. wood, we knew, could be easily bent without breaking if boiled or steamed for a while; but we had nothing large enough in which to boil a strip of wood feet long. bill hit upon the plan of wrapping the stick with burlap and then pouring boiling water on it until it became sufficiently soft to bend easily. an old oats-sack was cut up into strips and wound onto the hickory sticks for a distance of inches at each side of the center. we then repaired to the kitchen to do the steaming. the hickory stick was held over a large dish-pan filled with boiling water, and from this we dipped out the water and poured it slowly over the burlap wrapping of the stick. after a little of this treatment the stick was sufficiently steamed to permit of bending to the required shape. the ends were then firmly secured by means of bolts passed through bolt holes which had been previously drilled. the frame was completed by fitting the spreader sticks in place, after which it was laid away to dry. when the frame was perfectly dry we started weaving the web. in this case, however, instead of cord we used cane strips, which we had bought from a chair caner. this necessitated drilling holes in the side sticks to receive the cane strips. the web consisted of strands crossing each other diagonally, as illustrated. our second pair of iroquois snow shoes was made with a web of rawhide which we bought from a hardware store at millville. the ainu snow shoe. [illustration: fig. . ainu snow shoe.] one of the snowshoes described in the book was very much like fred's barrel-hoop snow shoe in appearance. according to the description, it was a type used by the ainus, a peculiar people living in the cold northern islands of japan. as the shoe seemed quite simple and rather unique, we thought we would make one like it. two hickory strips each feet long were bent to a u-shape and lashed together, forming an oval about feet inches long by inches wide. the frame was held to oval shape by tying the sides together. then the filling was woven in, running the strands diagonally, as shown in fig. . we had excellent weather for snow shoes after that snowstorm. a thaw followed by a cold spell caused a thick crust to form on the snow which would nearly hold us up without the aid of our snowshoes. we were rather awkward with those shoes for a while, trying to keep them clear of each other, and we found it particularly hard to turn sharply without causing one shoe to run foul of the other. but with a little practice we soon felt quite at home on them. in order to prevent cutting the web with our heels, we found it necessary to wear rubbers. [illustration: fig. . the norwegian ski.] our vacation came to an end before we were prepared for the expedition to willow clump island. but before leaving the subject on snow shoes, two more shoes remain to be described, namely the swiss snow shoe and the norwegian ski. the swiss shoe was made during the summer and the ski during the following winter. the norwegian ski. [illustration: fig. . bending the ski.] [illustration: fig. . the ski stick.] the norwegian ski was made of close-grained wood, inch thick, - / inches wide and feet long. about inches from the forward end the wood was planed down to a thickness of / of an inch. this end was placed in the dish-pan of boiling water, and in a short time it was pliable enough to permit of bending. it was secured in the proper bent position by slipping the toe end of the shoe between the banisters on the back porch and nailing a cleat back of the heel end. when the ski was perfectly dry the toe strap was nailed on just back of the balancing point, and also another strap, to be secured about the ankle. then a cleat was nailed onto the ski to fit against the heel of the shoe. in use we found it best to cut a groove in the bottom of the ski, so as to give us a better grip on the snow in climbing up hills. with the skis we had to use short poles or "ski sticks" to assist in starting, stopping and steering when coasting. the ski stick was a bean pole provided with a wooden block near the lower end, to prevent it from being forced too far through the snow. the swiss snow shoe or swamp shoe. [illustration: fig. . the swiss snow shoe.] the swiss shoe was made primarily to assist us in exploring some boggy land a short distance up the river from our island. the original swamp shoes were made from the bottoms of two old baskets, and they worked so admirably that it was decided to equip the whole society with them. uncle ed, when told about them, informed us that that was the kind of snow shoe used in switzerland. of course, we could not afford to destroy a pair of baskets for each member of the club, and so we had to weave the shoes from the willows which grew on the island. chapter iv. tent making. we had a farewell meeting of the society the evening before bill and i had to return to boarding-school. at this meeting plans were made for the easter vacation. we also considered the matter of getting parental permission for our summer outing. so far we had been afraid to breathe a word of our plans outside of the society, since fred had said something about it in the presence of father and had been peremptorily ordered to banish all such hair-brained, wild west notions from his head. we realized from that incident that the consent of our parents would not be so very easily obtained. but bill came forward with a promising suggestion. he would write to his uncle ed and see if he couldn't be persuaded to join the expedition. at first we demurred. we didn't want a "governor" around all the time. but bill assured us that his uncle was "no ordinary man"; that he would not interfere with our plans, but would enter right into them and give us many valuable pointers. though not by any means convinced, we told him to go ahead and invite his uncle, as that seemed about the only means of winning over our fathers and mothers. the society was then adjourned until our easter vacation began, each member promising to earn and save as much money as he could in the meantime to buy the materials for a tent and provisions for the summer outing. word from uncle ed. [illustration: fig. . breadths sewed together for roof and side walls of tent.] bill's letter to uncle ed was answered as quickly as the mail could travel to brazil and back. uncle ed heartily approved of our plans, and said that he would be delighted to join the expedition. he could not be on hand before the st of july, but that would give us plenty of time to make all necessary preparations. he told us not to worry about gaining the consent of our parents. he would write to them and see them all personally, if necessary to win their approval. the canvas tent. [illustration: fig. . the sail stitch.] when at last spring arrived and we returned to lamington on our easter vacation, quite a sum of money had been collected, nearly $ . , if i remember rightly; at any rate plenty to buy the materials for a good-sized tent and leave a large surplus for provisions, etc. bill figured out on paper just how much canvas we would need for a tent feet wide by - / feet long, which he estimated would be about large enough to hold us. it took yards, inches wide. then we visited the village store to make our purchase. canvas we found a little too expensive for us, but a material called drill seemed about right. it cost ten cents a yard, but since we wanted such a quantity of it the price was reduced to a total of $ . . we repaired to the attic to lay out the material. [illustration: fig. . cutting out the door flaps.] [illustration: fig. . sewing on the door flaps.] first we cut out four lengths of yards and inches each. the strips were basted together, lapping the edges inch and making a piece feet inches long by feet inches wide. mother sewed the breadths together on the machine, using a double seam, as in sail making; that is, two parallel rows of stitching were sewed in, one along each overlapping edge, as shown in fig. . a -inch hem was then turned and sewed at the ends of the goods, so that the piece measured exactly feet long. it served for the roof and side walls of the tent. our next operation was to cut three strips feet long, and sew them together with a double seam as before. this piece was now slit along the center line _m_, fig. , making two lengths feet inches wide. the strips were then cut along the diagonal lines _a a_, forming the end walls or doors, so to speak, of the tent. in sewing on the door flaps we started first at the bottom of the side _c_, sewing it to the side edge of the main piece, as shown in fig. , and running the seam up for a distance of exactly feet inches. after all the door strips had been sewed along their _c_ edges the sewing was continued up the diagonal or _a_ edges. in cutting out the door pieces we had allowed inch on each side for hems and seams, so that the door pieces met without lapping at the exact center of the main or body piece, that is, at the peak of the tent. [illustration: the wall tent set up in the back yard.] [illustration: fig. . adjustable ridge pole.] [illustration: fig. . the tent set up.] our next step was to fasten the necessary ropes and loops. ten -foot lengths of light rope were procured. these were fastened at the top of the side walls, that is, feet inches from the ends of the main or body piece, one at each corner and one on each seam. the cloth was strengthened at these points with patches sewed on the inside. at the bottom of the side walls we sewed on loops of heavy tape. these were spaced about inches apart. along the _b_ edges of the door pieces tie strings of tape were fastened. a rope feet long was attached to the peak at the front and at the rear of the tent. the front and rear posts of the tent were made from scantlings measuring by inches, which were procured from mr. schreiner's lumber yard. they were planed smooth and sawed off to a length of feet inches. a slot was cut in the end of each stick to a depth of inches and measuring slightly over an inch in width. for the ridge pole a strip inch thick, - / inches wide and feet long was secured. this was fitted into the slotted ends of these posts, where it was fastened by wooden pegs slipped into holes drilled through the ends of the posts and the ridge pole. a number of these peg holes were provided, so that if the canvas stretched the ridge pole could be raised or lowered to prevent the walls from dragging on the ground. we set up the tent in our back yard to see if it was properly constructed. twelve stakes were required, ten for the sides and one for the ridge stays at the front and rear. the side stakes were driven into the ground at a distance of about feet from the center of the tent. first we tied the guy ropes to the stakes, but later we found it much easier to secure them with tie blocks. tie blocks. [illustration: fig. . the wood tie block.] [illustration: fig. . the wire tie.] [illustration: fig. . bottom of tent wall.] these were made of wood / inch thick, inch wide and each measured inches long. a hole was drilled into the block at each end and through these holes the rope was threaded. a knot in the rope then held the end from slipping out. the loop between the two holes, or the bight, as sailors would call it, was now slipped over the stake, and the rope hauled tight by drawing up the tie block, as shown in fig. . a still later improvement consisted in making ties of stout galvanized iron wire, bent to the form shown in fig. . the wooden ties were apt to swell and split open when exposed to the weather, while the wire ties could always be relied upon. the walls of the tent were held down along the bottom by railway spikes hooked through the tent loops and driven into the ground. wooden pegs with notches to catch the loops would have served as well, but dutchy happened to find a number of the spikes along the track and in his usual convincing manner argued that they were far better than pegs because their weight would hold the cloth down even if they were not firmly embedded in the ground. the annex. we were surprised to find out how small the tent was after it was set up. we could see at once that when we had put in all the stores and provisions we would need, there would not be room enough for six boys and a man to stretch themselves out comfortably in it. bill had evidently made a miscalculation, but he suggested that we remedy the error by building an annex for our kitchen utensils and supplies. [illustration: fig. . cutting out the annex.] [illustration: fig. . the annex applied.] this gave us a two-room tent, which we found to be quite an advantage. twelve more yards of drill were bought and cut into two strips, each feet inches long. the breadths were then sewed together, and the ends turned up and hemmed to make a piece feet long and feet inches wide. tape loops were then sewed on as before, and ropes were fastened on at the top of the side walls, that is, feet inches from the ends of the strips. we thought it would be better to have a slanting ridge on the annex, so we cut out a wedge-shaped piece from the center of the two strips, as shown by dotted lines _b b_ in fig. . this wedge-shaped piece measured feet at the outer end of the annex, and tapered down to a point at the inner end. the canvas was then sewed together along these edges. tie strings were sewed to the inner edge of the annex and corresponding ones were attached to the main tent a little ways back from the edge, so that the two could be tied together, with the annex lapping well over on the roof and side walls. a notch was cut out of the peak of the annex, so that it could be tied around the rear post of the tent, and notches were cut at the top of the side walls to permit passing the cloth around the wall ropes. instead of supporting the ridge of the annex on a ridge pole, we used the rear guy line of the tent, propping it up with a scantling about - / feet long. chapter v. preparing for the expedition. school closed on the st of june that year, just ten days before the expected arrival of uncle ed. the first thing we did was to set up our tent in the back yard and camp out so as to become acclimatized. it is good that we did this, for the very first night a heavy summer shower came up which nearly drenched us. the water beat right through the thin canvas roof of our tent. had we been able to afford the best quality of canvas duck, such an occurrence would probably have been avoided. but we solved the difficulty by using a tent fly; that is, a strip of canvas stretched over the tent and spaced a short distance from it to break the fall of the rain drops. [illustration: fig. . the wall tent with the fly fastened on.] tent fly. [illustration: fig. . the fly ridge pole.] again we had to visit the village storekeeper; this time we bought out his whole remaining stock, sixteen yards of drill. this was cut into four-yard strips, which were sewed together as before and the ends turned up and hemmed. tie strings were sewed to the ends of the strips so that the fly could be tied to the wall ropes of the tent. at the ridge the fly was supported about six inches above the tent rope by a second ridge pole held by pegs in the top holes of the tent posts. provisions and supplies. the ten days before uncle ed arrived were busy indeed. we had to gather together the necessary provisions and supplies. our personal outfits were very simple. each member supplied himself with a change of underwear, a bathing suit, a blanket and a toothbrush. a single comb and brush served for the entire society, and was used on sundays, the only day we really dressed up. all the rest of the time we lived in our bathing suits, except, of course, on cold rainy days. our kitchen outfit consisted of a large cooking pot, two kettles, a frying pan, a coffee pot, a small oil stove, a half-dozen each of plates, cups, saucers, knives and forks, a dozen spoons, two tablespoons, and, in addition, several large plates and bowls for pantry use. we also took with us a dish-pan and several dish-towels. for our larder we collected the following: a bag of flour, ten pounds of sugar, two pounds of salt, three pounds of coffee, four pounds of oatmeal, four pounds of butter, two pounds of lard, six pound of beans, six pounds of rice, three pounds of bacon, six cans of condensed milk, a dozen eggs, box of pepper, and several jars of canned peaches and pears, and also a half dozen glasses of jelly. it was dutchy who suggested that we have a chicken yard, in connection with our camp, to supply us with fresh eggs. it was a capital idea, and by the dint of some coaxing we managed to secure the loan of a half dozen hens and a rooster. our miscellaneous list included a spade, pick and shovel, an ax, a hatchet, two large pails, a barn lantern, a can of kerosene, a dozen candles, a cocoa box filled with matches, a pair of scissors, needles, buttons, pins and safety pins, a spool of white and another of black cotton, fishing tackle, a roll of heavy twine, a coil of rope, and a set of dominoes and checkers. but most important of all was a chest of tools belonging to reddy. these were all collected when uncle ed arrived. dutchy also contributed a large compass, which we found very useful later on, for surveying the island. crossbow. reddy had a shotgun which he wanted to bring along, but my father, and dutchy's as well, wouldn't let us go camping if there was to be any gunpowder along, so we had to leave it behind. of course we didn't miss it at all when we got to the island, because there was so much else to do; but we all agreed with dutchy, that "it wouldn't be no sort of a scientific expedition without takin' a gun along." as a substitute i suggested a bow and arrow. they all laughed at such a "kiddish" idea; all but bill, i mean. [illustration: drifting down the schreiners' brook.] [illustration: paddling in the old scow.] [illustration: fig. . binding the bow.] [illustration: fig. . the trigger.] [illustration: fig. . the trigger set for firing.] [illustration: fig. . the umbrella rib crossbow.] "it ain't such a bad notion," said he, "only a crossbow would be better. i've seen them made out of umbrella ribs so they'd shoot like greased lightning." of course we had to have one of these wonderful weapons. down in the ash heap we found two broken umbrellas with -inch ribs. bill selected ten good ribs, from which he wrenched off the spreaders with a pair of pliers. the ribs were then bound together by winding stout twine around them. the winding was very evenly and closely done, so that the cord completely covered the ribs, making a solid rod of spring steel. but before winding we had laid in between the ribs a piece of heavy twine, to which the bowstrings could be tied after the bow was all wound. the stock of our crossbow was cut out of a board of soft wood inch thick to as near the shape of a gun as we could get it. a hole was drilled through the muzzle end to receive the bow, and then the bowstring was tied fast. along the upper edge of the barrel a v-shaped channel was cut. the channel was not very deep, only enough to receive a tenpenny nail with the head projecting half-way above the sides. a notch was cut across the barrel, through this channel, at the trigger end, and a trigger made of heavy iron wire, bent to the shape shown in fig. , was hinged to the gun by a bolt which passed clear through the stock and through both eyes of the trigger. by using two nuts on the bolt, and tightening one against the other, they were prevented from working loose and coming off. when we wanted to fire the gun the bowstring was drawn back, and held by slipping it into the notch, and a nail was laid in the channel with its head against the bowstring. then, on pulling the trigger, the bowstring was lifted out of the notch, and sent the nail off sailing. the long-grooved barrel insured a very good aim. megaphone. [illustration: fig. . the megaphone.] [illustration: fig. . layout of the megaphone.] [illustration: fig. . brass fastener.] [illustration: fig. . the mouthpiece.] another device we made in preparation for the expedition was a megaphone. a sheet of light cardboard inches square was procured. at the center of one edge a pin was stuck into the cardboard, then a piece of stout thread was looped over the pin and the two ends were knotted together just inches from the pin. another knot was also made inches from the pin. now, with a pencil hooked into the loop, and resting first against the inner knot and then against the outer one, two arcs were drawn on the paper, one of -inch radius and the other of -inch radius. a line was now drawn from the pin to the point where the longer arc met the right hand edge of the paper, and a dotted line was drawn from the pin to a point - / inches from the edge at the other end of the arc. from a point inch to the left of the pin we then drew a line to the left end of the arc. with a scissors we cut the cardboard along the arcs and straight lines, all but the dotted line, leaving a piece of the shape shown in fig. . this piece was rolled into a cone with the right edge lapped over the left edge and lying against the dotted line. in this position it was held by means of several brass fasteners of the kind shown in fig. . a mouthpiece was formed out of a block of wood in which a large hole had been drilled. the block was then cut away until the walls were quite thin. the hole was reamed out at the top, as shown in fig. , and the outer surface was tapered so that the small end of the megaphone would fit snugly on it. we planned to reach our camping grounds by way of the canal, and had provided for that purpose a large scow, which we expected to tow up to lumberville and drag over to the river. the scow. [illustration: fig. . side pieces of the scow.] [illustration: fig. . frame of the scow.] [illustration: fig. . nailing on the bottom.] [illustration: fig. . sockets for rowlocks.] [illustration: fig. . thole pin.] [illustration: fig. . nailing on the decks.] [illustration: fig. . the oar.] our scow was made as follows: two / -inch pine boards, inches wide and feet long, were selected from reddy's father's lumber pile. these were used for the side pieces of the boat, and we tapered them off at the end to a width of - / inches. this was done by making a straight cut from the end to a point three feet back along the edge of the board and then rounding off the edge with a draw-knife. when one board had been shaped, it was used as a pattern for the other, which was thus cut to exactly the same size. for the end pieces two strips, inches wide and feet - / inches long, were sawed out of a -inch board. then for the bottom we procured a number of / -inch boards, feet long and inches wide, which we cut into -foot lengths. at bill's suggestion, before nailing the parts together, we secured some strips of flannel, which were saturated with paint, and laid between the seams so as to make the boat perfectly water-tight. the side and end boards were then nailed together, with the strips of flannel between, the side boards overlapping the end boards, as shown in fig. . after planing down the end boards until their edges laid flush with the edges of the side pieces, the bottom boards were nailed on, strips of cloth being inserted between them, as well as along the edges of the side and end boards. to brace the bottom a / -inch board was placed at the center, inside the boat, and bent down against the floor, to which it was nailed with wire nails. the nails were driven into the board from the outer side of the boat and were clinched inside. along the upper edges of the side boards two strips inches wide and inch thick were nailed. two notches were cut in the inner side of each strip before it was nailed on. the notches were / inch deep, - / inches wide, inches apart and about - / feet from the stern end. when the strips were nailed in place these notches formed sockets to receive the rowlocks. a strip was also nailed across the stern of the boat and formed with two central notches, to receive the rowlocks for a steering oar. this strip, however, was inches wide, and projected inch above the end board, so as to lie flush with the deck boards, which were later applied. six thole pins, / inch thick, - / inches long and inches wide, were cut out of an oak board. the lower end of each pin was reduced to a width of - / inches for a length of inches. the thole pins were then fitted snugly in the notches. two cleats, nailed to the side boards inside, inches below the upper edge, served to support a seat board inch thick and feet - / inches long. the aft edge of the seat was about inches forward of the rowlocks. the boat was completed by nailing on a couple of deck boards at each end. the oars were made of -inch pine boards, feet long and inches wide. they were blocked out at mr. schreiner's sawmill and then shaped and smoothed down with a draw-knife and spoke-shaved. they were - / inches at the handle and inches immediately below, tapering down to a diameter of - / inches at the top of the blade. the blades were inches long, inches wide, and planed down to a thickness of / inch along the edges. chapter vi. off to the island. the morning of july d dawned bright and clear, but long before daybreak the members of the s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i. were astir. the jolly red sun peeping over the eastern hills witnessed an unaccustomed sight. six greatly excited boys were running back and forth from the barn to the canal, bearing all manner of mysterious bundles, which were carefully deposited in a freshly painted scow. yes, all six of us were there. a unique alarm clock. we hadn't expected to see reddy schreiner at such an early hour, for he was always a sleepyhead, and no alarm clock would ever wake him. but this was an exceptional day, and, besides, reddy was quite an original chap. he had taken one of the borrowed roosters into his room the night before, and when, early in the morning, mr. chanticleer had mounted the footboard of the bed, flapped his wings and given vent to his opinion of a boy who persisted in sleeping at that late hour of the day, the noise was too much for even reddy's drowsy sensibilities. [illustration: fig. . off to the island.] the trip to the island. [illustration: the ledge below the goblins' platform.] [illustration: the camp at willow clump island.] our scow was not large enough to carry all the things we had to take with us, but as mr. schreiner was going to take uncle ed up in his wagon, we left the rest of our luggage for him to bring along. we boys walked the eleven miles up the canal to lumberville, towing the barge. it was a tiresome task; but we divided the work into two-mile shifts, two boys towing at a time and then each taking a mile ride as steersman in the boat. it was about noon when we arrived at lumberville, and then we had to unload our boat before we could haul it out of the canal and down to the river. the river on the jersey side of the island was so shallow that we waded across, pushing the boat ahead of us. the current was too swift to permit of rowing, and it was rather hard for us to keep our footing. but we managed to reach our destination finally without any mishap. the island was thickly wooded, except for a small clearing where we landed. the first thing we did was to unpack our eatables, and jack, the cook, soon had an appetizing pan of bacon and eggs sputtering on the kerosene stove. [illustration: fig. . dragging the scow over to the island.] preliminary exploration. as no better position offered at the time we pitched our tent in the clearing, pending a thorough search for a more suitable place elsewhere. around the tent we dug a trench about a foot deep to prevent water from entering our quarters when it rained. it was about time for uncle ed and mr. schreiner to appear with the rest of our luggage, so we did not have time to do much exploring, but sauntered southward along the shore, always on the lookout for their arrival. about a quarter of a mile from the tent we came across the wreck of an old bridge, which had been washed down by some freshet. this was a great find, and served us many purposes, as will appear later. while we were examining the wreck we heard a distant "halloa" from the mainland. there was uncle ed sitting on a pile of goods on the railroad bank looking for all the world like an italian immigrant. we answered with a shout and scrambled back to the clearing. then we ran splashing through the water, pushing the boat before us. it didn't take us long to load up and carry him back to the island. a rustic table. [illustration: fig. . the rustic table.] uncle ed entered into our fun at once. he was as enthusiastic as a boy over the surroundings, and when we told him of the old bridge he started right off to investigate, taking the ax with him. soon he had pried off a number of the planks, which we used for a flooring to our tent. then he built us a table out of four forked sticks, driven into the ground, and supporting two cross sticks, on which a pair of planks were laid. the small filter. "well, now, boys," said uncle ed, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "i am as thirsty as a whale. where do you get your drinking water? is there a spring on the island?" we told him that we used the river water. [illustration: fig. . the small filter.] "what, river water! that won't do at all," he cried. "you'll all have the typhoid fever. we must build a filter. i brought some charcoal with me for this very purpose." taking one of our pails he broke a hole in the bottom of it and stuffed a sponge in the hole. a layer of small stones was then placed in the pail, over this a layer of broken charcoal with the dust carefully blown out, then a layer of clean sand, and finally a layer of gravel. each layer was about two inches thick. the pail was suspended from a branch in a cool place and proved an excellent filter, the water trickling out through the sponge being perfectly pure and sweet, no matter how dirty it had been when poured in; but the capacity of the filter was too small, and uncle ed said he would make us a larger one on the morrow if no spring was discovered in the meantime. the sun was getting low in the west, and we therefore postponed the exploration of our island until the following day. we had been up since four o'clock that morning and had done some pretty hard work; so, immediately after supper, we turned in and, lulled by the murmuring of the river, were soon fast asleep. the barrel filter. [illustration: fig. . the barrel filter.] immediately after breakfast the next day we started out in two parties to search the island. the only discovery of any moment was that made by dutchy's party, which found a small island separated from ours by a narrow channel, through which the water ran like a mill-race. no spring was discovered, so uncle ed had to construct his large filter. bill and i went over to lumberville in search of a couple of cider barrels and a pailful of charcoal. the barrels were placed one on top of the other after cutting a large hole in the top of the lower barrel, and a smaller one in the bottom of the upper one. the latter opening was covered by an inverted saucer. over this we spread a -inch layer of coarse sand, then a -inch layer of charcoal, a -inch layer of clear, sharp sand, and a -inch top layer of gravel. the lower barrel was provided with a faucet, through which we could draw off the filtered water as desired. in order to keep the water cool we placed the filters in a shady place near the river, and piled up earth around the lower barrel. "now, boys," said uncle ed, "form in line there, and we will go through a fire drill." he arranged us about five feet apart in a line extending from the filter to the river. we had six pails, and these dutchy filled one at a time, passing them up the line to reddy, who emptied them into the upper barrel and then threw them back to dutchy to be refilled. working in this way it did not take long to fill up the filter, and the burden of keeping the barrels full, instead of falling on one person, was shared alike by all. [illustration: fig. . filling the barrel.] the klepalo. our camp outfit was further augmented by a dinner call. we discovered the necessity of such a call on our very first day of camping. dutchy was so excited by his discoveries of the morning that he started out alone in the afternoon to make a further search. the rest of us were lazy after the noon meal, and were lolling around taking it easy during the heat of the day, and discussing plans for the future. but dutchy's energetic nature would not permit him to keep quiet. he took the scow and waded with it against the strong current to the deeper and quieter water above the island. then he rowed a long way up stream. he was gone all the afternoon. supper time came and still he didn't appear. the sun was high, and i presume he didn't realize how late it was getting. finally, just at sunset, he came drifting down with the current, tired and hungry, and ready for a large meal. but we had finished our supper an hour before, and poor dutchy had to be content with a few cold remnants, because the cook had declared he wouldn't prepare an extra meal for a fellow who didn't have sense enough to know when it was meal time. then it was that uncle ed bethought himself of the _klepalo_. "you ought to have some sort of a dinner call," he declared, "so that any one within a mile of camp will know when dinner is ready." [illustration: the _klepalo_.] "did you ever hear of a _klepalo_? no? well, i was down in macedonia a couple of years ago inspecting a railroad, and i stopped off for the night at a small bulgarian village. the next day happened to be a _prasdnik_, or saint's day, and the first thing in the morning i was awakened by a peculiar clacking sound which i couldn't make out. calling my interpreter i found out from him that it was a _klepalo_ for calling the people to church. the people there are too poor to afford a bell, and so in place of that they use a beam of oak hung from a rope tied about the center, and this beam is struck with a hammer, first on one side, and then the other. sometimes an iron _klepalo_ is used as well, and then they strike first the beam and then the iron bar, so as to vary the monotony of the call. i found that the wooden _klepalo_ could be heard for a distance of about one and a half miles over land, and the iron one for over two miles. now we can easily make a wooden _klepalo_ for use in this camp, and then if dutchy, or any of the rest of us, keep within a mile and a half of camp there won't be any trouble with the cook." so we built a _klepalo_, getting from lumberville a stick of seasoned oak, - / inches thick, inches wide and feet long. a hole was drilled into the stick at the center, and by a rope passed through this hole the beam was suspended from a branch overhanging the camp. jack, the cook, regularly used this crude device to call the hungry horde to meals. chapter vii. surveying. one of the first things we did after getting fairly settled in our new quarters was to make a complete survey of willow clump island and its immediate surroundings. our surveying instruments were made as follows: the surveying instrument. [illustration: fig. . baseboard of the surveying instrument.] [illustration: fig. . sighting blocks on the baseboard.] out of a -inch board we cut a base inches long and inches wide. in the center we sawed out a circular opening of about inches diameter and covered this at the bottom by a circular piece inch thick and inches in diameter, thus forming a socket in which our compass fitted snugly. a hole inch in diameter was drilled through the center of this circular piece to receive the pivot pin of a tripod. across each end of the baseboard we secured a block inches long, inches wide and inch thick. a -inch sight hole was drilled through each block at its center. a ring of cardboard, on which uncle ed marked with radial lines the degrees of the circle, was placed over the compass socket, with the zero and degree marks pointing toward the sight blocks. the outer faces of the end blocks were now wet with mucilage and a hair was stretched vertically across the center of each sight hole. the hairs were then adjusted by sighting through the holes and moving the nearer hair sidewise until it was exactly in line with both the zero and the degree marks on the cardboard. then a hair was stretched horizontally across the center of each sight hole. great care was taken to place the hairs at exactly the same height above the baseboard. to protect the hairs after they were adjusted, they were covered with a piece of glass, which was secured in place by tacks driven into the wood with their heads projecting over the edges of the glass. spirit levels. from one of his pockets uncle ed produced two small bottles, the kind used for holding homeopathic pills. these he filled nearly to the top with water, corked them and wedged them into grooves cut lengthwise in the baseboard at opposite sides of the cardboard ring. these grooves were filled with putty, and to make sure that the bottles were level with the baseboard the latter was floated on a bit of quiet water and the bottles were pressed down at one end or the other until the bubble within rested at the exact center. the tripod. [illustration: fig. . the tripod head.] [illustration: fig. . the tripod leg.] [illustration: fig. . the surveying instrument complete.] [illustration: fig. . the protractor.] the tripod head was formed of a wooden disk inches in diameter, with a wooden pin projecting from its center adapted to engage the hole in the circular piece above referred to. to the bottom of the tripod head were nailed three blocks inches long and inch square in cross-section. the tripod legs were made of light strips of wood, / inch by inch by feet long, which we secured from one of the mills at lumberville. each leg was formed of two of these strips, nailed securely together to within inches of the top. at the upper ends the strips were spread to receive the blocks on the tripod head. in this position they were held by headless wire nails driven into the ends of the blocks and fitting into holes drilled in the strips. for a plumb line we tacked a cord to the center of the tripod head, and attached a good-sized sinker to its lower end. in connection with this plumb line we occasionally used a protractor consisting of a semicircle of cardboard inches in diameter, on which the degrees of the circle were marked off with radiating lines, as illustrated in fig. . by holding the straight edge of this protractor against the base of the tripod, and noting the number of degrees between the degree mark and the plumb line, we could tell at a glance at what angle from the horizontal the instrument was tipped. surveyor's chain. [illustration: fig. . the surveyor's chain.] [illustration: fig. . forming the links.] [illustration: fig. . a double-ringed link.] we made a surveyor's chain of wire links, each inches long, instead of . inches, which is the length of a standard surveyor's link. the wire we used was no. galvanized iron, which was rather stiff and difficult to bend. in order to make all the links of exactly the same size and shape we used a form, around which they were bent. the form consisted of a -inch board in which two / inch holes were drilled, just - / inches apart, measured from their centers. an oak pin, / inch in diameter, was driven into each hole and projected about an inch above the board. two blocks of oak were secured to the baseboard, just before each pin, as shown in fig. . this form gave great satisfaction. a groove was cut in the side of one of the pins to receive the ring of a completed link, while the wire was passed through this ring and bent around the peg to form the ring of the new link. after each link was formed it was carefully measured, and, if too long, was shortened by flattening the rings endwise, or, if too short, was lengthened by pinching together the sides of the rings. there were fifty links in our chain, and every tenth one was formed with a double ring at the end, so as to distinguish it from the rest (see fig. ). the surveyor's rod. [illustration: fig. . cutting out a disk.] [illustration: fig. . the sighting disk] [illustration: fig. nut fastened in block.] we completed our outfit by making a surveyor's rod out of a straight stick of wood about feet long. a target or sighting disk was mounted on the stick. this disk was inches in diameter, and was sawed out of a -inch square board by making straight cuts across the corners and then smoothing off the edge to a perfect circle with a draw-knife. the thickness of the disk was only / inch. at the back of the disk we fastened a block of wood with a slot cut in it to receive the rod, as shown in fig. . to hold the disk at different heights on the rod a small bolt was used. the nut on this bolt was slipped into a hole on the block at the bottom of the slot and held in place by driving in nails about it, as illustrated in fig. . the bolt was then passed through the hole and threaded through the nut, with its inner end bearing against the rod. the disk could thus be held at any desired position by tightening up the bolt. a piece of white paper was now pasted over the disk. the paper was marked off into quarters, and opposite quarters were painted black so that it would be easy to sight, from a distance, the exact center of the target. a simple method of surveying. of course, none of us had studied trigonometry, but uncle ed devised a very simple method by which we could determine distances quite accurately without much figuring. "if you will tell me the length of one side of a triangle and the angles it makes with the other two sides," said uncle ed, "i'll tell you the length of the other two sides and the size of the third angle. this is how i will do it: [illustration: fig. . diagram of our first lesson in surveying.] "say the line is inches long and one angle is degrees, while the other is degrees. let us draw a -inch straight line. this we will call our base line. now we will place the base edge of our protractor on the base line with its center at the right hand end of the line. at the degree mark we will make a dot on the paper so, and draw a line from the right hand end of the base line through this dot. now we will do the same thing at the opposite end, making a dot at degrees from the line, and draw a line from the left hand end of the base line through this dot. "if we extend these lines until they intersect, we will have the required triangle, and can measure the two sides, which will be found to be about inches and inches long, and the third angle will measure just degrees. it doesn't make any difference on what scale we draw the triangle, whether it be miles, yards, feet, inches or fractions of an inch, the proportions will be the same. if the base line had been half-inches, or inches long, and the same angles were used, the other two lines would measure half-inches, or six inches, and half-inches, or inches. if the base line were quarter-inches long, the sides would be inches and inches long. [illustration: fig. . determining the distance to the tree.] "now, for example, i am going to measure the distance to that tree over there. get out your chain and measure off a straight line feet long. now, i'll set the surveying instrument with the plumb-bob right over the end of this line, and sight through the two sight holes until i bring the two vertical hairs in line with each other and the tree. look at the compass needle. it points to the degree mark on the cardboard ring. now, bill, you hold the rod at the other end of our base line while i swing this instrument around and sight it. there, the needle points to degrees, and subtracting this from the difference, degrees, is the angle at the right end of our base line. we'll do the same thing at the other end of our line. see, the compass needle points to degrees, and now sighting to the pole at the other end of the line we find that the needle points to . the difference, degrees, is therefore the size of the angle at the left end of our base line. now we will draw this out on paper, as we did our first triangle, using quarter-inches to represent feet. our base line was feet long, and we will therefore draw a line quarter-inches, or - / inches long, on our drawing board. on this line we will construct the triangle, using the angles and degrees. there, that's how our triangle looks, and the right hand side measures - / inches, while the left hand side measures - / inches. that is, quarter-inches for one side and - / quarter-inches for the other. as each quarter-inch represents a foot, you will find that the tree is about feet from the right end of our base line and feet inches from the left hand end. of course, our instrument is not perfect, neither is our drawing; but if you measure it off with the chain you will see that i am not very far from correct." mapping the island. most of our surveying was done by actual measurement, the surveying instrument being used only to determine the exact direction of the measurement. however, there were some measurements which we could not make directly with the chain. for example, we wished to know just how far it was from our tent to the jersey shore of the river. we measured off a base line along our shore feet long and sighted to a point directly across the river from our tent. the angle in front of our tent was degrees, and at the other end of the base line was degrees. when we drew out our triangle on the scale of feet to the inch we found that the shorter side directly in front of the tent was almost exactly inches long. this meant that the river at this point was , feet wide, nearly a quarter of a mile. on the other side of the island we found, in the same way, that the river at its narrowest point was about feet wide. this portion of the river we named lake placid, as the water was very still and quite deep. this was due to a sort of natural dam formed at the lower end of our island. the small island that dutchy found was kite-shaped, with a tail of boulders which extended almost all the way across to a rocky point on the pennsylvania shore. the channel between "kite island," as we called it, and willow clump island was not more than fifteen feet wide in some places, and through this the water swept with a swift current down past a narrow neck of land to join the main current. this narrow stretch of land we named the tiger's tail, owing to its peculiar shape. it was in the hook at the end of this tail that we discovered the old bridge wreck above referred to. from the tip of the tiger's tail to point lookout, at the extreme upper end of willow clump island, it was a little under a half-mile. the shore all along lake placid was very steep, except near point lookout. at one place there was a shallow bay which we called the lagoon. chapter viii. swimming. [illustration: fig. . the diving tree.] lake placid was a favorite swimming place for us. we used to plunge in from the branches of a tree which overhung the water a little ways above the lagoon and made a natural springboard. we could all swim like ducks, except dutchy, who couldn't do anything but paddle. however, uncle ed was an expert, and he took dutchy in hand and soon made a pretty good swimmer out of him. he also taught us some fancy strokes. of course i took no record of these lessons. you would hardly expect me to sit on the bank with a book in hand jotting down notes while the rest were splashing around in the cool water having the best of fun in the world, and even if i had, i wouldn't republish the notes here, because whoever heard of a boy learning to swim while reading a book on the subject? a beginner had better leave books alone and plunge right into the water. he will soon learn to keep himself afloat and can then practise any fancy strokes that he sees others try. then, again, don't try to learn in shallow water, because you will never do it. of course it doesn't pay to jump into water that is over your head unless there is a good swimmer near by to help you out. but you will never learn to swim until you have become accustomed to putting your head under water. you can not swim with a dry face. the first time we went swimming, we couldn't persuade dutchy to try it. the water was deep right up to the very bank and he had never been in over his head. instead he sat up in the diving tree swinging his feet and trying to hide the fact that he was having a dull time. "say, we've got to douse that fellow," said reddy. "you're right; he needs a wash," said jim. "let's sneak up behind him and chuck him in." they landed a little ways up the stream behind a large bush and then crept down stealthily on their victim. but dutchy had his suspicions aroused and saw them coming. he scrambled out of the tree in a jiffy and tore off into the woods as fast as his legs could carry him. swimming on a plank. [illustration: fig. . swimming on a plank.] we didn't expect to see him again that afternoon, for the pace he was leading should have carried him miles in no time; but while he couldn't swim, dutchy had his own ideas of fun on the water. it was about twenty minutes later that we saw him coming down-stream lying full length on one of the -inch planks taken from the bridge wreck. he was paddling himself along with arms and legs hung over the sides of the plank. we all gave him a cheer, and then started out to have some fun with him. we tried to pull him off his raft, but he stuck on like a leech. it was only when we made his craft turn turtle that dutchy got his head under water. but it wasn't a moment before he scrambled back on top again, gasping and sputtering to get the water out of his nose and mouth. uncle ed all this time had been sunning himself on the bank, when suddenly he uttered a shout of warning. we were right at the mouth of the mill-race. for the moment we forgot about dutchy, and swam out for shore. before we realized it dutchy was caught in the current, and was being swept full tilt down the stream. my but wasn't he scared. i can see him yet clinging for dear life to the plank, his face the color of ashes and his eyes bulging out in terror. first he tried to make for the bank, but the water was so swift that when the front end of the board struck land the rear end swung around in a circle, carrying him on again, but backward this time, before we could reach him. two or three more times the plank struck the bank and turned him around, while we raced along the high bank, scrambling down to catch him every time he headed for shore, but each time just missing him. then he swung out past the tiger's tail into the open river just above the rapids. fortunately he was going along headforemost this time, and uncle ed, who had just arrived, panting and breathless, from running, shouted to him to keep his head and steer for a narrow opening between two jutting boulders. i don't know whether dutchy did any steering or not, but the raft shot straight through the opening, and was lost in a cloud of spray. in a moment he reappeared below the rapids, paddling like mad for a neck of land on the pennsylvania side of the river. dutchy would never own up that he was afraid. he never told a lie under other circumstances, but when it came to a question of courage he had the habit of stretching facts to the very limit. even in this case, he said that he started out with the idea of shooting the rapids, and if we hadn't flustered him so, he would not have bumped into the bank and turned about so many times. dutchy was a very glib talker. he nearly persuaded us that it was all done intentionally, and his thrilling account of the wild dash between the rocks and through the shower of spray stirred us up so that we all had to try the trick too. shooting the rapids. the next day, while uncle ed was taking a nap, we stole off to the upper end of lake placid, each one towing a plank. we needn't have been so afraid of uncle ed, for we found out later that he intended to try a plank ride through the rapids himself next time he went in swimming. down lake placid we paddled in single column to the mill-race. in a moment the current had caught us and we were off. i shall never forget the thrilling ride down the swirling mill-race, the sudden pause as we shot out into the open river, the plunge between the boulders and the dive through the spray. it was all over too soon. something like coasting--whiz, whiz-z-z, and a half-mile walk. were it not for the trouble of hauling the planks back by the roundabout course along the pennsy shore we would have thought shooting the rapids a capital game. restoring the drowned. [illustration: fig. . pressing the water out of the stomach.] [illustration: fig. . expanding the chest.] [illustration: fig. . squeezing out the air from the lungs.] it was on the second day after dutchy's exploit of the rapids that bill came so near drowning. he probably would have drowned if uncle ed hadn't been on hand to work over him. bill was a fine swimmer, but even the best of swimmers will sometimes get a cramp, so it is never safe for any one to go into the water without some one at hand to help him out in case of accident. in the present case bill was doing some fancy strokes by himself over near the pennsy shore, while the rest of us were watching uncle ed give dutchy a lesson in swimming. all of a sudden bill threw up his hands and sank. i happened to glance up as he did it. we thought he was fooling at first, but soon made out that he was in genuine trouble. uncle ed dropped dutchy to my tender care, and raced over with a powerful stroke to the spot where he had last seen his nephew. he failed to find him on the first dive, but the second time was successful and he carried the lifeless body to the pennsylvania shore. in the meantime i had landed dutchy and with the rest of the boys had crossed the lake. uncle ed first laid bill on his back and hastily wiped dry the mouth and nostrils. then he pried his jaws apart, holding them open with a piece of wood wedged in between the teeth. after which he turned him on his face over a log which was placed under his stomach. by stomach i do not mean the bowels, but the real stomach, which lies just under the ribs in front. then he pressed with a good weight on the back directly over the log for nearly a minute, causing the water to flow out of the mouth. dutchy had by this time rowed across in the scow, in which fortunately there happened to be some of uncle ed's clothing. this he took and rolled into a bundle, then bill was laid on his back over the roll of clothing, which was arranged to raise the pit of his stomach above the rest of his body. uncle ed now wrapped a handkerchief around his forefinger, and with it wiped out bill's mouth and throat. reddy, who was the least excited of the lot, was told to draw bill's tongue forward so as to prevent it from falling back and choking the windpipe. this he did with the dry part of the handkerchief, drawing the end of the tongue out at the corner of the mouth, and holding it there while uncle ed and i started the pumping action, which produced artificial respiration. i was directed to grasp bill's arms just below the elbows, and swing them vertically in an arc until the hands met the ground again above the head. this expanded the chest. uncle ed at the same time stood over the body with his elbows on his knees and hands extended, as illustrated in fig. . then i swung the arms up and back to the sides of the body, but just before the hands touched the ground uncle ed seized the body in both hands just below the ribs, and as soon as i touched the arms to the ground he swung forward with all his weight on his hands, squeezing the waist and pushing upward so as to force out the air in the chest. then he slowly counted, one, two, three, four, all the time steadily increasing the pressure, until at the signal four, with a final push, he shoved himself to the first position, shown in fig. . at the same signal i drew the arms up again over the head, and held them there while uncle ed again counted four; then i returned the arms to the sides, and uncle ed repeated the squeezing process. these movements were continued for about three minutes, and then bill gave a short, faint gasp. we kept on with the artificial respiration, assisting the gasps, which gradually grew stronger, until they had deepened into steady breathing. then we stripped off the wet bathing suit, and wrapping bill in uncle ed's clothing, laid him in the bottom of the boat. while dutchy hurried the boat across, uncle ed rubbed the patient's arms and legs. the rest of us swam over and ran for blankets from the tent. bill was wrapped in one of the blankets and the other was used as a stretcher, on which we carried him to the tent. then one of us was sent post-haste across to lumberville for some whiskey, which was diluted in hot water and given the patient a teaspoonful at a dose, every fifteen minutes at first, and then at less frequent intervals. uncle ed kept bill in bed all the next day for fear of congestion of the lungs. he told us that unless the patient kept perfectly quiet for a couple of days, he was liable to be seized with a sudden attack of hard breathing that might choke him to death in a short time. to stop such an attack he told us that the best plan was to apply a mustard plaster to the chest, and if the patient commenced to gasp, to start pumping the arms and squeezing the waist so as to help him breathe. after bill had come around and was himself again uncle ed gave us a thorough drill in methods of restoring the drowned. he laid down on the grass and made us practise on him the various directions which he gave us. how to work over a patient alone. [illustration: fig. . working alone over a patient.] "if you boys hadn't been so excited," he said, "i would have made you rub bill's body and limbs while we were pumping the air into him, but i knew you would get in the way, and be more of a bother than a help. you must learn to be calm in any accident; excitement doesn't pay. keep steadily and slowly at your pumping, for you might have to do it for four hours before the patient comes to." he taught us just how to swing the arms and squeeze the ribs to best advantage, and how to hold the tongue without getting in the way of the arms as they were pumped back and forth. there was also a special way of rubbing the arms and legs. the limbs were always rubbed upward, or toward the body, with the bare hands, or a dry cloth if there was one at hand, but this all had to be done without interfering with the pumping action. "if the patient doesn't come around in five minutes," he said, "turn him on his face again over the roll of clothing, or any other suitable substitute, and press out the water from the stomach, rolling him first to one side and then to the other; be sure to get all the water out." when we had learned our lesson well, uncle ed took dutchy for his patient, and proceeded to show us how a man could work over him alone. first he went through the operation of squeezing the water out of him, and drying his nose and mouth, much to the patient's discomfort; then he drew dutchy's tongue out of the corner of his mouth, holding it there by closing the jaws on it, and holding the jaws together by passing a handkerchief over his chin and lapping it over his head. after that he began to pump, seizing the patient's arms and swinging them up over the head and back, as before. just as the arms were dropped back to the sides of the body, he squeezed them in against the ribs, at the same time drawing upward toward the head and counting four each time, as he had done before. but the lesson was abruptly interrupted by dutchy, whose imagination was worked up to such a pitch that i actually believe he thought he had been drowning. anyway, he squirmed out of uncle ed's grasp, and wouldn't play patient any longer. for several days after that we couldn't persuade him to venture near deep water. chapter ix. bridge building. willow clump island was, for the most part, a trackless wilderness, and as soon as we had made our map we laid out roads to the different important points. our main highway ran from point lookout to tiger's tail. this road was made rather winding, to add to its picturesqueness, and from it a number of shorter roads branched off. spar bridge. [illustration: figs. and . frames for the spar bridge.] [illustration: fig . the spar bridge.] we ran a bridge across the mill-race at its narrowest point. this bridge was made of trees which we had cut down in making our road. it was quite a piece of engineering, built under uncle ed's guidance. two frames were made of the shape shown in figs. and . the side sticks were feet long and spaced about feet apart at the base by crosspieces. at the upper end one frame was made feet wide and the other feet wide. the side and cross spars were mortised together and secured by lashing a rope around them. to make the frames more rigid we braced them with diagonal braces nailed on. when completed we set the frames up on opposite sides of the stream and with ropes carefully lowered their upper ends until they interlocked, the side spars of each frame resting on the cross spars of the other. in the angles formed by the crossing side spars a center spar was laid, and a number of floor beams or spars were stretched to this from the opposite shores. on these a flooring was spread made of saplings, cut and trimmed to the right size. a rustic railing on each side of the bridge completed the structure. the rope railway. [illustration: fig. . the swing seat.] [illustration: fig. . tying the ropes to the seat.] the mill-race was crossed further down by a rope line on which we rigged a traveling carriage. a light manila rope was used, anchored to a tree at each side about fifteen feet from the ground. a pulley block with a wheel or sheave inches in diameter was mounted to travel on the rope. suspended from this block by means of fall and tackle was a swing seat. this, as shown in fig. , was merely a board fastened with four rope strands to the ring of the tackle block. a single rope was used, with the ends tied firmly together. the loop thus formed was passed through the ring of the tackle block and the opposite ends were twisted over the ends of the seat board in the manner illustrated in fig. . the tackle blocks were quite small, having -inch sheaves, and they, together with the large pulley or "traveling block," as we called it, cost us about $ . . two light ropes were fastened to the large traveling block, each rope long enough to reach across the stream. the ropes extended to opposite anchorages, where each was passed over a branch of the tree and belayed on a cleat within easy reach. a fellow could draw himself up clear of the ground by pulling on the free end of the fall, as a painter does; then tying the swing fast in this position, he would pull himself across the stream by means of the rope stretched to the opposite anchorage. the swing could be drawn back by the next one who wanted to cross. we also used this aerial line for transporting loads from one island to the other. [illustration: fig. . the rope railway.] suspension bridge. [illustration: fig . barrel-stave flooring.] [illustration: fig. . the suspension bridge.] our aerial railway didn't last long. we soon tired of it, and instead utilized the materials for a rope suspension bridge. we procured from lumberville half a dozen old barrels and used the staves as a flooring for the bridge. the staves were linked together by a pair of ropes at each end woven over and under, as indicated in the drawing fig. . notches were cut in the staves to hold the ropes from slipping off. the flexible flooring thus constructed was stretched across the river and secured to stakes driven firmly in the ground. a pair of parallel ropes were extended across the stream about three feet above the flooring, with which they were connected at intervals of five feet. the bridge was feet long, and while rather shaky, owing to the fact that there were no braces to prevent it from swaying sidewise, still it was very strong and did excellent service. pontoon bridge. [illustration: fig. . the pontoon bridge.] at the head of the mill-race, where the channel was fifty feet wide, we built a pontoon bridge. we were fortunate in securing six good cider barrels at low cost, also a quantity of "slabs" from one of the sawmills of lumberville. "slab" is the lumberman's name for the outside piece of a log which is sawn off in squaring up the sides. we made a raft of these materials and floated them down the river to lake placid. the bridge was made by anchoring the barrels in the channel about eight feet apart, and laying on them the floor beams, which supported a flooring of slabs. the floor beams were narrow planks inch by inches, taken from the bridge wreck, and they were placed on edge to prevent sagging. of course we had no anchors for securing the barrels, but used instead large stones weighing about pounds each, around which the anchor lines were fastened. we found it rather difficult to sink these improvised anchors at just the right places, for we were working at the very mouth of the mill-race, and were in constant danger of having our scow sucked down into the swirling channel. once we were actually drawn into the mill-race and tore madly down the rushing stream. by bill's careful steering we managed to avoid striking the shore, and just as we were off the tiger's tail reddy succeeded in swinging a rope around an overhanging limb and bringing us to a sudden stop. a moment later we might have been dashed against the rocks in the rapids below and our boat smashed. shooting rapids in a scow is a very different matter from riding through them on a plank. the king rod truss. our bridge building operations were not entirely confined to the island. two of them were built on the schreiner grounds at lamington. reddy schreiner's home was situated a little distance above the town where cedar brook came tumbling down a gorge in the hills and spread out into the schreiners' ice pond. thence it pursued its course very quietly through the low and somewhat swampy ground in the schreiners' back yard. over this brook reddy was very anxious to build a bridge. accordingly, before returning to school in the fall bill made out a careful set of plans for the structure, and after we had gone the rest of the society, under reddy's guidance, erected the bridge. [illustration: fig. . the king rod bridge.] the structure was a cross between a suspension bridge and a spar bridge. the banks of the stream were so low that, instead of resting the floor of the bridge on top of the inclined frames, as we had done over the mill-race, it was suspended from the spars by means of wires. the crossing ends of the spars were nailed together and their lower ends were firmly planted about four feet apart in the banks of the brook. a stick nailed to the apex of each pair of spars served temporarily to brace them apart. the center cross beam of the bridge was now suspended from the spars by means of heavy galvanized iron wire (no. , i should say). the beam was hung high enough to allow for stretch of the wire, making the roadway incline upward from both sides to the center. aside from carrying the floor of the bridge, this beam was used to brace the inclined spars when the temporary crosspiece was removed. the ends of the beam projected about thirty inches beyond the bridge at each side, and they supported braces which extended diagonally upward to the crossing ends of the spars. when this was done the temporary crosspiece above referred to was removed. as the span between the center cross beam and the banks was a little too long to provide a steady floor, a couple of intermediate cross beams were suspended from the inclined spars. the floor beams were then laid in place and covered with a flooring of slabs. stiffening the bridge. the bridge was a pretty good one, except for a slight unsteadiness between the center and either end. when uncle ed saw it he showed us at once where the trouble lay. our intermediate cross beams were hung from the center of the spars, and consequently made them bend, because the strain came across their length, while at the center of the bridge there was no chance for the spars to bend, because the strain was exerted along their length, that is, it tended merely to push the ends of the spars deeper into the banks. to remedy the trouble he proposed propping up the center of each spar with a brace running from the center crosspiece. the dotted lines in fig. show how these braces were applied. they made the floor perfectly solid throughout, and gave the bridge a much better appearance. uncle ed told us that the structure might be called a "king rod truss," except that in place of rods we had used wires. [illustration: the king rod bridge.] [illustration: the bridge over cedar brook gorge.] the king post bridge. the other bridge on the schreiner property was built in the following summer, just before we started on our second expedition to willow clump island. it spanned the brook at the gorge, and was therefore a more difficult engineering feat. mr. schreiner himself asked us to build it, and we felt greatly honored by the request. a search was made in the van syckel library for a suitable type. at last we found one that seemed properly suited to the requirements. it was called a "king post truss," and was very similar to the king rod bridge. while the design of the bridge was simple, yet it required some ingenuity to put it together. in setting up the other bridge the scow had been anchored in the center of the stream and used as a working platform, from which it had been an easy matter to put the various parts together. in this case our scow was obviously of no use, so we laid a couple of long logs across the chasm, and a few slats were nailed across them to provide a temporary bridge or working platform. the platform sagged considerably at the center, because the span was fully eighteen feet; but the logs were large, and we knew they were strong enough to support our weight. however, as an extra precaution, we tied the ends to stakes driven in the ground, so that they could not possibly slip off the banks. [illustration: fig. . the king post frame.] [illustration: fig. . the king posts set in position.] [illustration: fig. . the permanent cross beam made fast.] first we set about constructing the king posts, which were made as shown in fig. . two stout posts feet long were connected at the top by a tie stick, which spaced them feet apart. to make a secure fastening they were notched together and strengthened with diagonal braces. each king post was notched on opposite sides, at about thirty inches from the top. a temporary tie piece was also nailed across the lower ends of the king posts. the frame thus formed was set up at the center of the span and temporarily held by nailing the lower tie piece to the working platform. four stout spars were now cut, each about fifteen feet long. taking a pair at a time, we planted their lower ends firmly in the opposite banks and sawed off their upper ends until they could just be hammered into the notches in the king post. this required careful fitting, but by making the spars a little too long to start with, and then shaving them down with a draw-knife, we managed to make fairly good joints. a couple of long wire nails in each spar made the structure perfectly secure. the king posts were now sawed off just above the temporary tie piece, and the permanent cross beam was fastened to these ends with straps of heavy wire wound tightly about them. the working platform sagged so much that we were able to lay this cross beam above it. from the ends of the cross beam diagonal braces extended to the king posts (fig. ). our working platform was now removed and replaced with the permanent floor beams, which were firmly nailed to the center cross beam and to the inclined spars at the shore ends. the floor beams were quite heavy and needed no support between the king posts and shore. a rustic floor was made of small logs sawed in two at mr. schreiner's sawmill. light poles were nailed to the flooring along each edge, giving a finish to the bridge. we also provided a rustic railing for the bridge of light poles nailed to the king posts and the diagonal spars. chapter x. canvas canoes. like all inhabitants of islands, we early turned our attention to navigation. our scow was serviceable for transporting materials back and forth across the strips of shallow water between our quarters and the jersey shore. we never attempted to row across, because progress would have been entirely too slow, and we would have drifted down to the rapids long ere we could reach the opposite side. but on lake placid matters were different. although there was no settlement near us on the pennsylvania shore, to occasion our crossing the water for provisions and the like, yet the quiet stretch was admirably suited to boating for pleasure, and mighty little pleasure could we get out of our heavy scow. uncle ed's departure. owing to a sudden business call uncle ed left us after he had been with us nearly three weeks. but, before going, he explained carefully to bill just how to construct a canvas canoe. jack, the cook, who was anxious to lay in a second supply of provisions, accompanied uncle ed as far as millville, the next town below lamington. here uncle ed bought five yards of canvas, inches wide, several cans of paint and a quantity of brass and copper nails and tacks. these supplies, together with the food provisions that jack had collected, were brought to us late in the afternoon by mr. schreiner. mr. schreiner also brought the necessary boards and strips of wood for the framework of our canoe. a visit from mr. schreiner. we invited mr. schreiner to spend the night with us, and this he did after fording with some difficulty the swift-running river. in the morning we showed him our quarters, our filter, the roads we had built, the spar bridge across to kite island, our surveying instrument and the chart we had made of the vicinity. he was greatly pleased with our work, and it was then that he gave us an order for the bridge over the gorge. from that day on he became our staunchest ally, so that when my father and mr. van syckel complained that we were loafing away a lot of time which could be more profitably spent in study or work, mr. schreiner stood up for us and declared that our experiences on the island were doing us far more good, both physically and mentally, than any other work that they could conceive of; that before condemning us they should pay us a visit and see how we were employing our time. the sailing canoe. [illustration: exploring the river in the indian canoe.] [illustration: fig. . stern post of the canoe.] [illustration: fig. . stern of the canoe.] [illustration: fig. . center form.] [illustration: fig. . bulkheads.] [illustration: fig. . center braces.] [illustration: fig. . top view of the canoe frame.] [illustration: fig. . side view of the canoe frame.] immediately after mr. schreiner's departure we started work on the canoe. a strip of spruce inch thick, inches wide and feet long served as the keelson. at the stern a post - / inches thick, inches wide and inches high was secured to the keelson with brass screws. this was braced as indicated in fig. . at the bow a stem piece was attached to the keelson. this stem was cut to a somewhat semicircular form, as shown in fig. . the outer edge was tapered with a draw-knife to a thickness of / inch and a brace was nailed to the inner edge. our next work was to cut out three forms, one of the shape shown in fig. and two like that shown in fig. . the first form was set up on the keelson midway between the stem and stern, and the other two were spaced about four feet each side of the center form. the center form was used only for shaping the frame of the boat, and was not intended to be permanently affixed to the canoe. therefore, we fastened it to the keelson very lightly, so that it could be readily removed. the other two forms, however, were made permanent parts of the frame, serving as bulkheads. the gunwales were now secured in position. these were of spruce / inch thick and inches wide. the ends were beveled off so as to neatly fit the stem piece and the stern post, to which they were fastened by brass screws. then we applied the longitudinal strips, or rib bands, which were of / -inch thick spruce inch wide. ten of these bands were used, equally spaced apart on the center form, to which they were lightly tacked; but they were nailed securely to the bulkheads and the stem piece and stern post. the cross ribs were made of barrel hoops which we had soaked in water for a day or so to render them pliable enough to be bent into place. these hoops were split to a width of / inch, and secured first to the keelson, then to the longitudinal strips and finally to the gunwales. copper tacks were used for nailing the ribs in place, and these were long enough to be passed through the rib bands and clinched on the outside. forty cross ribs were nailed on, and at the center of the canoe they were spaced about three inches apart. the center form was then removed and cut along the dotted lines shown in fig. . the semicircular pieces thus obtained were now strengthened with strips on their inner edges, and wedged in between the keelson and the gunwales, to which they were nailed, as shown in fig. . a pair of cleats nailed to the cross ribs served as supports for the seat of the canoe. the frame of the boat was completed by nailing in place two deck beams of / -inch square pine and four corner pieces between the gunwales and the bulkheads, so as to make an elliptical well hole or deck opening. before laying on the canvas covering the edges of the gunwales, keelson, deck beams, stem and stern posts were smoothed down with sandpaper. [illustration: fig. . lacing the canvas on the frame.] stretching on the canvas. [illustration: fig. . tacking the canvas to the keel.] the frame was laid in the center of the canvas and the latter drawn around it. then with a large needle and strong twine we sewed both edges of the cloth together with long stitches, lacing the canvas over the frame as a shoe is laced over a foot. this done, the boat was turned deck downward and the canvas was tacked to the keelson. in each case, before driving in a tack a daub of white lead was applied, to water-proof the spot. at the stem and stern a gore (narrow triangular piece) was cut out of the canvas so as to make it lie smooth on the frame, and white lead was painted in between the overlapping edges. the canoe was then turned deck upward and the lacing tightened, while we carefully worked out all wrinkles in the cloth. after tacking the canvas along the gunwales on the outside, it was trimmed off, leaving sufficient margin to be brought over the gunwales and tacked inside. two triangular pieces were cut out for the decks, and these were lapped over the outer canvas and tacked to the gunwales. a narrow molding along the edge of the boat served to cover the tack heads and added a certain finish to the canoe. a keel plate inches wide and inch thick was attached to the outside of the boat, and then, after wetting the canvas, it was given a coat of white lead and oil. when this was perfectly dry it was sandpapered and the second coat applied. the rudder. [illustration: fig. . the rudder.] [illustration: fig. . the rudder hinge.] the canoe was now complete except for the rudder, which was cut from a / -inch board to about the shape shown in fig. . strips - / inches wide and / inch thick were nailed to each side of the blade, forming a post, to the top of which a crosspiece or tiller was fastened. a cleat nailed to the pillar at each side of the rudder post served to greatly strengthen the joint. the rudder was hinged to the canoe by a rod, which passed through four brass screw eyes, two threaded into the rudder and a corresponding pair screwed into the stern. for convenience in steering we ran our tiller rope clear around the boat, through screw eyes in the gunwales and a pulley at the stem, so that the steersman could guide his craft from any point in the canoe. the deep keel. [illustration: fig. . bottom of canoe, showing deep keel.] [illustration: fig. . end view, showing deep keel.] we planned to use our canoe as a sailboat, and had to provide a deep keel, which, for convenience, was made detachable. this keel was inches wide, / inch thick and feet long, and was fastened at the center of the canoe. screw eyes about twelve inches apart were threaded alternately into opposite sides of the keel plate. corresponding hooks were attached to the keel in position to hook into the screw eyes, and thus hold the keel firmly in place. canoe sails. [illustration: fig. . the mast step.] [illustration: fig. . the mainsail.] [illustration: fig. . the mizzen sail.] our boat was fitted with two masts, a mainmast and a mizzen or dandy mast. the former was feet long and the latter feet long, and each measured - / inches in diameter at the base, tapering to about inch diameter at the upper end. they were held in brass bands, or clamps, bent around them and secured to the bulkheads, as shown in fig. . the sails were of the lanteen type. the mainsail measured - / feet along the boom, - / feet along the yard and feet at the leach. the dimensions of the mizzen sail were: along the boom, feet; along the yard, - / feet; and at the leach, feet. the boom was attached to a strap of leather on the mast, and was thus given freedom to swing around in any desired position. the yard was similarly attached, and was raised by a cord, which passed through pulleys at the top and at the base of the mast and extended to a cleat within easy reach of the occupant of the boat. a double paddle was fashioned from a board inch thick, inches wide and feet long. the blades were shaved down to a thickness of / of an inch at the edges. it will be observed that we used no iron in the construction of this boat. uncle ed has warned us not to, because iron rusts out so easily and is apt to damage both the canvas and the wood with which it is in contact. [illustration: fig. . the double paddle.] a canoe is rather a tipsy thing to sail in, as we soon learned, and it was lucky that we could all swim, else our vacation might have ended very tragically; for the very first time bill and i tried the boat an unexpected gust of wind struck us and over we went. we were very poor sailors at first, but it didn't take us long to catch on. lee boards one thing that bothered us greatly in sailing was the keel of our canoe. it was forever getting twisted, particularly when we tried to make a landing. there were only a few places along the island where the water was deep enough to permit our coming right up to shore without striking the keel. the fastening was not very strong, and every once and awhile it would be wrenched loose. the matter was made the subject of a special letter to uncle ed, and in due time his answer was received. as usual, he offered a first-class solution of the difficulty. "don't use a keel," he wrote; "lee boards are much better." then he went on to explain what was meant by lee boards: "the leeward side of a boat is the opposite of the windward side; that is, that side of the boat which is sheltered from the wind. lee boards, then, are boards which are hung over the lee side of a boat to prevent it from drifting to leeward, and they serve to take the place of a keel or centerboard." [illustration: fig. . a lee board.] [illustration: fig. . section of the canoe, showing lee board.] [illustration: fig. . the lee boards in use on canoe.] following uncle ed's direction we fastened a strip of wood across the canoe about six feet from the bow, nailing it firmly to the gunwales. this provided a support to which the lee boards were secured. the lee boards were paddle-shaped affairs of the form and dimensions shown in fig. . each paddle near the top was hinged to the end of a board three inches wide and a foot long. the paddle was held at right angles to the board by means of a hook. each board was fastened with door hinges to a baseboard which extended the width of the boat and was attached to the crosspiece of the canoe by means of a couple of bolts. the bolt heads were countersunk, so that the hinged boards could lie flat over them. to the top of each lee board two ropes were attached, one passing forward around a pulley and thence back to a cleat within easy reach of the occupant of the canoe, and the other passing directly back to this cleat. by pulling the former rope the lee board was lifted out of the water, while the latter rope was used to swing the board into working position. when tacking to port (left), the board on the left side of the canoe was lowered and the other was raised, as shown in fig. , and when tacking to the starboard (right) the board on the right side was lowered, while the left one was raised. [illustration: the indian canoe fitted with lanteen sail and lee boards.] the indian paddling canoe. [illustration: fig. . center form.] [illustration: fig. . intermediate form.] [illustration: fig. . the stem piece.] [illustration: fig. . skeleton frame of canoe.] [illustration: fig. . section at center of canoe.] our sailing canoe proved such a good one that we decided to build a second. this was to be much lighter, for paddling only, and of the true indian shape, with wide, bulging sides and raised stem and stern. the dimension of the forms used are given in figs. and . these forms, it will be observed, were notched to receive the keelson and gunwales. the keelson was formed of -inch spruce inches wide and feet long. the stem and stern, which were both of the same shape, were cut from a -inch board to the form shown in fig. , and were firmly secured to the keelson. this made the boat feet long. the forms were then set in place on the keelson, one at the center and the others three feet each side. the gunwales were formed of / -inch by - / -inch spruce, and the twelve rib bands used were of the size used in our first boat. as none of these forms was to remain in the boat, nails were driven very lightly into them, with heads projecting so that they could easily be withdrawn when it was time to remove the forms. the cross ribs were passed under the keelson inside of the rib bands and outside of the gunwales, as shown in fig. . after they were set in place and firmly secured with copper tacks, a band was nailed to the keelson to form the keel. to produce the raised stem and stern, four wedge-shaped pieces were nailed to the tops of the gunwales, as indicated in fig. . the forms were then removed and were replaced with cross sticks braced between the gunwales. the center cross stick was provided with two corner pieces, as shown in fig. , adapted to fit under the gunwales and against the rib bands. the canvas was then applied in the manner described before, but was tacked to the upper edge of the gunwale instead of the outer side, and the tacks were covered by a half-round molding which extended around the entire boat. after the lacing was cut the edge of the canvas was secured to the under edges of the gunwales. the canoe was then completed by fastening on a -inch square keel and treating the boat with two coats of paint. the paddle was a duplicate of the one described in connection with the sailing canoe. [illustration: fig. . wedge pieces at the ends.] i remember that we eventually equipped our paddling canoe with a sail and a pair of lee boards, though no record of this fact appears in the chronicles of the society. [illustration: fig. . the cross braces.] chapter xi. house building. one afternoon fred, who had waded over to lumberville after some provisions, came splashing back holding aloft a large square envelope. it was from uncle ed and contained a photograph of a group of wichita indians building a large grass lodge. in a brief explanatory letter uncle ed suggested that we build a similar hut on our island. the grass hut. [illustration: fig. . making the frame of the straw hut.] [illustration: fig. . doorway of the hut.] the grass lodge appealed to us as very picturesque, and we set to work immediately on its construction. we made our hut much smaller, however, only feet in diameter, and or feet high. first we procured two dozen light poles between and feet long. these we set up about inches apart in a circle like a stockade, the sticks being buried in the ground to a depth of inches. at one side a space of feet was allowed for a doorway. inside the stockade we erected a working platform of planks supported on barrels, and standing on this we took two opposite poles, bent them inward and lashed their upper ends together. then a second pair of opposite poles were similarly bent inward and tied, and so we proceeded until the entire stockade had been converted into a dome-shaped cage. around these poles we laid lighter sticks, or bands, tying them at the points of intersection. at the doorway two posts were set firmly in the ground, projecting upward to a height of feet. a lintel nailed across the top of the posts completed the door frame. sticks were nailed to the lintel and to the side posts, extending to the main frame of the hut, to which they were tied. we were now ready to thatch our hut. reddy and dutchy went over to lumberville for several bales of straw. we tied the straw in bunches and applied it to the frame, copying, as best we could, the process illustrated in the photograph. but for its location the hut would have proved a very serviceable habitation. in order to have a good, dry dwelling without laying down a board flooring, we had selected for its site the sandy shore at point lookout. this part of the island was not sheltered with trees, and the hot sun beat down on our hut so strongly that we found the quarters very uncomfortable indeed. it was this fact that led to the construction of a tree hut--a building that would be perfectly dry and yet shaded and cool. bill had read of such houses in the philippines and felt confident that we could build one. we couldn't decide at first where to locate our hut until dutchy moved that we build it in the gnarled oak tree overlooking the "goblins' dancing platform." immediately the motion was seconded and unanimously carried. the goblins' dancing platform. just above the town of lumberville there was a cliff which rose sheer feet above the level of the river. so perpendicular was the cliff that a stone dropped from the overhanging ledge at the top would fall straight down to the railroad track below without touching a twig in its course. back of this broad ledge there was a very peculiar formation. a column of stone rose abruptly feet higher and was topped with a large slab about feet in diameter. this was known all over that region as the goblins' dancing platform. the only possible way of gaining the summit of the column was by climbing a scraggly oak tree which grew on the high ground back of the pillar, crawling out on an overhanging limb, and then dropping down to the platform below. it was in this oak that we decided to build our house. it was a very inaccessible spot, and to reach it we had to make a wide detour around the back of the hill, and through the fields of a cranky farmer, who more than once threatened to fill us with bird shot for trespassing on his property. how were we to carry all our building materials up to this great height? one would think that the difficulties would be enough to discourage us, but not so with the s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i. nothing daunted us. dutchy takes a dare. our first task was to try some other approach to the top of the cliff. at one side of the overhanging ledge there was a fissure in the rocks which ran from the base of the pillar to the foot of the cliff. down this zigzag crevice dutchy had scrambled, one afternoon, on a dare. we were rather frightened when he started, because it was a very hazardous undertaking, and we watched him anxiously, peering over the edge of the precipice. by bracing his back against one of the walls of the rock, and digging his feet into the niches and chinks of the opposite wall, he safely made his way to a shelf about half-way down, where he paused to rest. from that point on the fissure widened out, and a steep, almost vertical incline, sparsely covered with vegetation, led to the railroad track below. i think he must have become rather frightened at his position, because he hesitated long before he resumed his downward course, and when he finally did make the attempt his foot slipped upon the moss-covered rocks and down he fell, scratching and clawing at every shrub within reach. believing him to be killed, we rushed down the hill and around to the foot of the cliff. it probably took us about fifteen or twenty minutes, though it seemed ages before we came upon our venturesome comrade coolly trying to pin together a rent of inconvenient location and dimensions in his trousers. "say, dutchy, are you killed?" cried bill, breathlessly. "killed, nothing," he replied, with scorn. "i suppose you fellows think i had a fall. well, i didn't." "you didn't, eh? we saw you slip." "oh, go on. i came down that way on purpose. there was no use in picking my way down like a 'fraid cat, when i could just as well take a smooth and easy toboggan slide on the bushes all the way down." smooth and easy toboggan slide! well, you should have seen the hillside. the course was well defined by the torn and uprooted shrubs and the pile of branches and vines at dutchy's feet. whether the hare-brained dutchy really imagined he could glide easily down on the shrubbery, his frantic movements on the way certainly belied his story, and when, the next day, we proposed that he repeat the trick, somehow he didn't seem to be very enthusiastic on the subject. [illustration: wichita indians building a straw hut.] a path up the fissure. [illustration: fig. . the jacob's ladder.] it was up this fissure that we decided to haul materials for our tree hut. our first task was to build steps and ladders in the steepest parts. we had no tool for cutting out niches in the rock, but wherever natural depressions were formed we wedged in sticks of wood between the side walls to serve as ladder rungs. if no such niches appeared for considerable height, we would stretch a rope ladder to the next fixed rung. in most places the natural formation of the rock was such as to afford sufficient footing. rope ladders. [illustration: fig. . rope ladder.] the rope ladders were made of two parallel side straps, tightly stretched between the fixed sticks, and then at intervals of fifteen inches we inserted the ends of the ladder rung between the strands of the rope. below and above each rung the rope was bound with cord. the rungs were notched at the ends to prevent them from slipping out. [illustration: fig. . a ladder rung.] [illustration: fig. . the derrick.] after providing a means for scaling the cliff (we called it the jacob's ladder), we were still confronted with the problem how to cart our building materials to the top. it was a very hard task and you couldn't have hired us to do it under any other circumstances. first, bill planned out on paper just how the house was to be built, and we cut all the pieces to the right size so as not to carry up any superfluous matter. when all was ready the boards and sticks were loaded on the scow, and ferried over to the cliff. then we carried them on our backs, three or four at a time, up the slanting hillside to the first ledge. from there up, owing to the steepness of the ascent, we had to employ different tactics. the derrick. [illustration: fig. . the derrick in use.] a derrick was constructed of two sticks feet long, which were bolted together at the top, and secured about five feet apart at the bottom by a cross piece, as shown in fig. . the derrick was then taken apart and with some difficulty hauled piecemeal up to the next ledge above. here it was put together again. the fall and tackle used in our aerial railway was attached to the apex of the derrick, and the latter was then erected with the legs set into depressions in the ledge and the upper ends slanting outward but kept from falling over the edge by a rope tied to one of the fixed rungs set in the fissure. with this derrick we hoisted up the boards in a few hauls. the job was a very ticklish one, but bill used the greatest care to prevent accident. the derrick, rope and tackle were carefully tested before used, and as soon as the load was attached to the lower pulley block the two who did the loading were instructed to crawl back into the fissure so as to be out of danger in case anything gave way. at one time a stick which had been carelessly tied did fall, and it might have badly hurt some one had we not observed this precaution. when we had raised the material to the second ledge we transferred operations to the top ledge, and when the materials had been hauled up to this point we finally rigged up our fall and tackle in the old oak tree itself. the tree house. [illustration: fig. . main girder of the tree house.] [illustration: fig . top view of the platform.] the tree had two large limbs which extended out at a wide angle from the main trunk. across these two limbs, at about seven feet out, we laid our first girder, nailing it securely in place. then to the main trunk we nailed the second girder on a level with the first. diagonal braces were extended from the trunk to support the ends of this girder, and a tie piece was nailed to the braces, as shown in fig. , to prevent them from spreading. the girders were rough sticks about inches in diameter and feet long. we cut flat faces on them at the points where they were nailed to the tree, and then, to make them doubly secured, we nailed cleats, or blocks of wood, to the tree under them. the floor beams were then laid across and nailed to the girders. they were cut to a length of feet so as to project beyond the outer girder to provide for a piazza overhanging the goblins' platform. six floor beams were used, spaced inches apart. all branches projecting up between the beams were then cut away and a flooring of slabs was laid on. to the main trunk six feet above the flooring, a stick or (to use the technical term), "wall plate," was nailed on, and its ends were supported by upright posts resting on the platform. thirty inches from the outer end of the platform two more posts were erected eight feet high and secured by sticks nailed across from the other posts, and also by a second wall plate connecting their upper ends. four more posts were erected, one between each pair of the corner posts, and then we were ready to enclose the framing. [illustration: fig. . the frame of the house.] [illustration: fig. . nailing on the clapboards.] the sidewalls were first clapboarded, because we were afraid the roof would not hold us until the framing had been strengthened by nailing on the siding. slab boards were used for this purpose. beginning at the bottom, the boards were laid on, each lapping over the one below, as shown in fig. , so as to shed water. in each side we cut a window opening and nailed on a window casing of the type shown in fig. , which will be described in a moment. as soon as the clapboards were applied, we nailed on the rafters and then applied the roofing. the same principle was here used for shedding water. the lowest board was first laid on, and then the others were successively applied, each lapping over the one below. [illustration: fig. . the window casing.] [illustration: fig. . the window sash.] the window casings we used each consisted of a frame about inches square, but with the upper and lower pieces extending inches beyond one of the side pieces. on these extended pieces a slideway was formed for the window sash by nailing on two strips of wood about / inch square and over them a pair of wider strips projecting inward, so as to overlap the edges of the sash. the window sash consisted of a frame - / inches square, made of / -inch square strips over which canvas was tightly stretched and tacked. a spool was nailed on at one side for a handle. these windows were closed only in rainy weather, to keep the water out. sliding doors. [illustration: fig. . section of the door and frame.] we had two doors; one at the back of the house, from which a ladder extended down to the ground, and another opening out onto the veranda, from which we dropped a ladder down to the goblins' dancing platform. in order to save space we used sliding instead of swinging doors. the back door frame was - / feet high and the front door frame feet high. the doors were mounted on the outside of the building. the side posts of each frame were - / feet apart, and the lintel and sill extended feet beyond the side post at one side. the upper face of the lintel was planed down perfectly smooth, and its edges were tapered off to make a track for the rollers on the door. the rollers consisted of two spools, which turned on tenpenny nails driven into the top of the door. at the lower end two more spools were mounted, turning on nails driven in the bottom edge of the door. the rims of the spools extended slightly beyond the outer face of the door and rolled against the sill. to keep the water from leaking in at the top a slanting board was fastened above it, as shown in fig. . the back door was similarly constructed. our tree house was completed by a running balustrade around the veranda. it strangely happened that just after our tree house had been built we received a photograph from uncle ed of a filipino tree house made of bamboo. [illustration: a filipino bamboo tree house.] chapter xii. trouble with the tramps. we were a proud lot when the house was finally completed. from the veranda we had an excellent view up and down the river. we could see our camp on the island and keep watch of our goods. late one afternoon dutchy and i were lolling about on the goblins' platform, idly watching a hawk soaring above us. the rest of the boys had returned to the island in canoes an hour before and left the heavy scow for us to row back. it was drawing near supper time and we had about decided to start for home, when i chanced to see a scow up the river. it looked exactly like ours, and in it were two men, evidently drunk, from the way they carried on. a glance showed me that our scow was not at its moorings. how were we to reach the camp? one of the men had evidently seen us and was pointing us out to his companion. we rushed down the jacob's ladder, but by the time we reached the river bank they were in midstream and heading rapidly northward. our shouts merely brought forth derisive laughter. we were certainly in a predicament. first we ran back up the cliff, and tried from there to gain the attention of the rest of the fellows. they evidently saw us but couldn't make out what we wanted. then we ran down to a point opposite the island and called to them. but the wind was against us and we couldn't make them hear, so we had to plunge in and wade across. a council of war. immediately we summoned a war council. dutchy and jack were chosen by lot to guard the camp, while the rest of us started in pursuit in canoes. by the time we got under way the sun had dropped back of the pennsylvania hills and the shadows were climbing slowly up the jacob's ladder. swiftly we paddled up-stream, keeping close to the western shore, where the water was very quiet. we didn't expect to go far, because there were rapids less than three miles up, and we were sure that no tramps would ever be ambitious enough to row a heavy scow against the swift current at that point. as we rounded a sharp bend in the river, we noticed a camp fire a few hundred feet further up, around which five or six men were lounging, and there, just below them, was our scow. what were four boys to do against six grown men? we were each armed with a club, and could have made a pretty good fight if necessary, but after a whispered consultation we decided it would be best to wait until dark, when we could creep up quietly and steal away unnoticed with our boat. vengeance. it seemed as if darkness never would come. it was scarcely dusk when our patience gave out and we paddled up stealthily, hugging the shore. bill gained the scow unnoticed, but just as he was about to push off he discerned the body of a man within. it was one of the tramps lying there in a drunken stupor. what was to be done? every moment was precious. a yell from the fireside decided him. with a mighty push he launched the boat out into the current, while we threw him a line and towed the boat out to midstream. with a volley of curses the men sprang up and pelted us with stones. but they were poor shots, and we escaped without serious injury. our prisoner, in the meantime, was snoring heavily in the scow undisturbed. we took him down-stream and then unceremoniously picked him up and dumped him overboard within a few feet of the shore. it was a rude awakening, and nearly frightened the wits out of the man. but it brought him to his senses, and in a moment we were dodging more stones, sent with such good aim that we had to lie flat in the bottoms of the boats until the current carried us out of reach. a double surprise. it was now quite dark, and we had some difficulty in groping our way back to camp. there was no moon and the stars were obscured by clouds. our only course was to follow the shore line until we got around the bend, and then we steered for the beacon fire, which, by prearrangement, had been kindled on point lookout. but the spirit of mischief was in us. we thought we would have some fun with dutchy. we could see him silhouetted against the blaze. jim and i hung back in the canoes, while reddy and bill went on with the scow, splashing their oars and shouting and singing in disguised voices, like drunken men. dutchy was evidently very much agitated. his "hello, there! boat ahoy!" was greeted with derisive yells. [illustration: fig. . a joke on dutchy.] "say, we'll lick the life out of you, the same as we did them other kids," shouted reddy. this was too much for dutchy. he ran for all he was worth, yelling for jack to come quick. we had a merry laugh over the situation when suddenly the tables were turned. something whizzed past bill's ear; i was stung on the arm with a heavy nail; a large stone hit the scow; reddy had his hat knocked off, and fred upset his canoe trying to duck out of reach of the invisible missiles before we could make our assailants understand that we were friends and not the tramps. the joke was on us after all. we hadn't counted on dutchy's accurate aim or jack's skill with the crossbow. tramp-proof boat mooring. [illustration: fig. . a tramp-proof mooring.] around the camp fire that night we discussed our adventures and made plans to prevent their recurrence. it was evident, for one thing, that we would have to moor our boats off shore in such a way that they would be out of reach of meddlesome persons, and yet could be drawn in toward shore by any one who knew how. this was the way we did it. a pair of galvanized iron ring bolts were procured on jack's next trip to lamington for provisions, also a light rope about forty feet long. the ring bolts were screwed into a pair of stout anchor stakes about two feet from their lower ends. the rope was passed through the rings and the ends were joined by tying them to a galvanized iron link. then it was soaked for a while to shrink it before it was set in place. after the rope had shrunk sufficiently, the two stakes were driven into the bed of the river, one close to the bank and the other far enough out to hold the rope belt clear of the bottom. both stakes were sawed off under water, just above the ring bolts, so that they were hidden from sight. when we wanted to moor our boats we secured their anchor ropes or "painters" to the link. a large stepping stone marked the spot were the inner stake was driven, and standing on this stone we were able to reach down and haul in on the lower strap of the belt to draw the boat out a safe distance from shore, and then when we wanted to use our boat again we would haul in the upper strap to draw the boat in toward shore. chapter xiii. wigwagging and heliographing. our tramp adventure was really quite a blessing to us, for it taught us the necessity of a good signaling system between the goblins' platform and the island and led to our learning how to wigwag, and later to the construction of a heliograph. uncle ed, when he read of our experience, sent us the u. s. army "manual of signaling." fred, the tailor of our camp, made us two white flags with red centers. each flag was two feet square and was fastened to a light staff about five feet long. then we got out the manual and practised sending signals, at first within shouting distance, until we got to be quite expert. wigwag signals. [illustration: fig. - . ready, first movement, second movement, third movement.] there were only three different movements that could be made with flags, but in the book different combinations of these movements were given to represent each letter of the alphabet and the numbers from to . all these movements were begun and ended by holding the flagstaff upright, directly in front of the body, as shown in fig. . the first movement was to swing the flag down to the right and back (fig. ), the second to the left and back (fig. ), and the third forward and back (fig. ). the following table gives the different combinations used for various letters: the wigwag alphabet. a j s b k t c l u d m v e n w f o x g p y h q z i r tion numerals. [illustration: fig. . the signal for letter "b."] the numbers , and indicate respectively the first, second and third movements. for instance, a was represented by the combination , which means that the flag must be swept to the left and back twice. b is represented by the combination , that is, a sweep to the left, two sweeps to the right and a final sweep to the left, as shown in fig. . the end of a word was represented by a sweep forward and back; the end of a sentence by two sweeps forward and back, and the end of a message by three sweeps forward and back. it will be noticed that the same combinations are used for and z, and _tion_, and f, and j, and g, and v, and m, and and b. the following abbreviations were given in the manual: abbreviations. a after n not ur your b before r are w word c can t the wi with h have u you y yes these abbreviations saved a lot of time, for when we wanted to signal the word _after_ instead of spelling it out-- - - - - - --we used the signal for a-- --followed by to signify that it was the end of the word. before was represented by - , _your_ by - - , etc. it took quite a little practice to learn the different combinations. fred and reddy soon became experts, and could flash the signals back and forth at a great rate. wigwagging at night. [illustration: fig. . wigwagging at night.] at night we used a torch in place of a flag. the torch consisted of a roll of dried birch bark tied with wire to the end of a staff. it was found necessary to place another torch on the ground directly in front of the signaler so as to fix a central point and enable one to determine whether the moving torch was swung to the left or right. a later improvement was to use three lanterns, one in each hand and one attached to the waist to fix the central position. it was quite an advantage to have a lantern in each hand, for it saved changing over from one to the other when a second movement followed a first or a first movement a second. the heliograph. the book that uncle ed sent us had in it a description of a heliograph, that is, an instrument for sending signals with flashes of sunlight. although our wigwagging system was good enough for our requirements, yet we thought it would be more scientific to use the sun instrument, and besides, the latter could be used for signaling many miles. the single mirror instrument. [illustration: fig. . trunnion for mirror.] [illustration: fig. . the single mirror instrument.] the first thing we did was to procure a small mirror about inches square, mounted in a wooden frame. then we got a pair of small square head bolts about / of an inch in diameter and inch long, also two strips of brass / inch wide and inches long. in the center of each brass strip we drilled a hole just large enough to admit the shank of one of the bolts, and then the strips were fastened with screws tight against opposite edges of the mirror frame, with the heads pressed against the frame and the shanks sticking out at each side, as shown in fig. . these projecting shanks served as "trunnions" (that is, pivots) for the mirror to turn on when it was mounted in place. after the trunnions had been set in place we made a peep hole in the center of the mirror by cutting out a piece of the wooden back of the frame and scratching away the silver from the back of the glass. only a very small hole was required, about / inch in diameter. great care was taken to have the unsilvered spot exactly on a line with the trunnions and just half-way between them. this done, we took two sticks of / -inch wood, inch wide and - / inches long. in the upper end of each stick a slot was cut / inch deep and / inch wide. into these slots the trunnions of the mirror were placed, and then the nuts were screwed tightly on, clamping the sticks against the sides of the mirror. the sticks were now connected by nailing a / -inch strip at the bottom, and braced by a couple of corner pieces. this formed a swiveled frame for the mirror, which was clamped to the base of the instrument by means of a bolt - / inches long. the bolt passed through the bottom board of the frame, squarely under the peep hole of the mirror and through the baseboard of the instrument near one end. the baseboard was inches wide, inches long and / inch thick. the sight rod. [illustration: fig. . the sight rod.] [illustration: fig. . nut set in baseboard.] at the end opposite to where the mirror frame was swiveled we mounted a sight rod, which was merely a round stick of wood / inch in diameter and about inches long. we cut the stick from one of the rounds of an old broken chair. the upper end of the rod was whittled to a point and one side was flattened as shown in fig. . out of a piece of heavy white cardboard we cut a round disk about / inch in diameter, with a shank inch long sticking out at one side. this was fastened with a single tack to the flattened end of the rod in such a position that the point lay exactly against the center of the disk. the disk could then be turned up or down, to cover or uncover the point of the rod, as desired. the rod was fitted snugly into a hole in the baseboard, and could be raised or lowered to any extent desired, but we had to provide some sort of an arrangement for making it stay where it was put. a small hole was drilled from the edge of the baseboard through to the hole in which the rod was fitted. a square socket was chiseled out around the small hole to receive a nut. the nut was firmly wedged in and held in place by driving in nails along the edges. a bolt or machine screw was threaded through the nut, so that its inner end pressed against the sighting rod. by tightening this screw the rod could be secured at any height desired. the instrument was mounted on a tripod similar to the one used for our surveying instrument. to this it was attached by means of a bolt, which passed through the center of the baseboard and the tripod head. the screen. [illustration: fig. . section through shutter.] [illustration: fig. . general view of screen.] the screen, or shutter, of the heliograph was mounted on a separate tripod, so as to prevent shaking the mirror when it was operated. it was made something like a window shutter. we cut out two slats, each - / inches wide and inches long. they were made of hardwood / inch thick. the upper and lower edges were tapered down to a thickness of / inch. light nails were driven into the slats at the ends, and the nail heads were then filed off so that the projecting ends formed trunnions for the slats to turn on. the slats were linked to a connecting rod with double point tacks. a small double point tack was driven into the upper edge of each slat about / inch from the right hand end. then through each of these tacks we hooked a second double point tack and drove it into the rod. the tacks on the rod were placed just inches apart. a substantial frame was then made of / -inch stuff - / inches wide. the frame was square, with an opening that measured inches each way, into which the slats were fitted. before nailing the frame together we drilled holes in the side pieces for the trunnions of the slats to turn in. these holes were just - / inches apart. after the slats had been set in place, the frame was fastened together and then nailed to a baseboard, which was fastened by a bolt to the tripod. the shutter was operated by a key something like a telegraph key. it was made of a narrow stick of wood hinged at one end to the lower strip of the shutter frame, and a spool sawed in two was fastened to the other end to serve as a handle for the key. a string connected the key with the connecting rod. the slats were kept closed by a spring, which was fastened at one end to the connecting rod and at the other to the top of the frame. at first we used a rubber band for this purpose, but it soon wore out, so we then made a spiral spring out of stiff spring brass wire by wrapping it around a pencil. when the key was pressed down the slats would be turned open, as shown in fig. ; but as soon as the key was released the spring would pull them back again. focusing the instrument. [illustration: fig. . the heliograph in operation.] we were now ready to commence operations with our instruments. the heliograph was set up on the ledge at the top of the cliff. first the disk was turned down, uncovering the point of the sighting rod. then bill sighted through the unsilvered spot in the mirror and shifted the rod up and down until the tip end came squarely in line with the door of our straw hut, where jack was seated, notebook in hand, to take down our message. reddy stood by him with his wigwag flag to answer back. when the instrument was properly sighted the shutter was set up directly in front of it and the sighting disk turned up to cover the point of the sighting rod. then came the rather troublesome task of focusing the mirror. the mirror reflected a square panel of light, in the center of which there was a small shadow spot made by the unsilvered peep hole. the object was to get this shadow to fall on the center of the sighting disk. we knew that then the mirror would reflect the sunlight squarely on the straw hut. we found it quite easy to direct this shadow spot to the disk by holding a sheet of paper in front of the mirror six or eight inches away, and following up the spot on the paper until it reached the disk. heliograph signaling. [illustration: fig. . top view, showing position of mirror and shutter.] when at last we succeeded in properly focusing the mirror bill pressed the key down three times, sending three quick flashes to jack as a signal that he was ready to begin. reddy wigwagged back o. k., and then the first heliographic message was sent from the ledge to the island. it was a rather mixed-up message, and kept jim and reddy wigwagging back and forth very strenuously to straighten matters out. it was my duty to keep the mirror focused. as the sun moved across the sky the shadow spot would move off the disk, and i had to keep shifting the mirror to bring the spot back where it belonged. we used the international telegraph code, which we had been studying every evening for a week, but it was many weeks before we learned how to use it correctly, even slowly. the international telegraph code is as follows: a ·- b -··· c -·-· d -·· e · f ··-· g --· h ···· i ·· j ·--- k -·- l ·-·· m -- n -· o --- p ·--· q --·- r ·-· s ··· t - u ··- v ···- w ·-- x -··- y -·-- z --·· ·---- ··--- ···-- ····- ····· -···· --··· ---·· ----· ----- the three short flashes bill sent represented the letter s, which stood for the word "signal." a was formed by a short flash followed by a long flash; b by a long flash followed by three short ones, and so on. the key was held down three times as long for the long flash as for the short one. we found the best way of learning to send the signals properly was to count for each short flash, and for each pause between parts of the letter, and for each dash and for each pause between letters. between words we counted . thus, for the letter a the key would be down when we counted , up when we counted , down while we counted , , , and up while we counted , , , for the pause after each letter. it was rather a confusing code, i admit, but in time we mastered it, all but reddy and fred, who never would learn, but instead used the wigwag code, letting a short flash stand for , a long flash for and a double long flash for . the double mirror instrument. [illustration: fig. . the double mirror instrument.] [illustration: fig. . top view, showing position of the two mirrors and the screen.] our heliographing instrument did excellent service sending flashes from the cliff to the island, but we couldn't make it work very well sending messages from the island to the cliff, because we had to face almost due north, and then the sun was nearly always at our backs and couldn't shine squarely on the mirror. this led to our building a double mirrored heliograph the following summer. to begin with, we built an instrument which was the exact duplicate of our first heliograph; then, in addition, to fit in the socket of the sighting rod, we rigged up a second mirror, which was mounted in exactly the same way as the first. the second mirror was called the station mirror, and differed from the other, or sun mirror, in having a small patch of white paper pasted at the center instead of a peep hole. when using this instrument, we set it up so that the station mirror faced the ledge, then by sighting through the hole in the sun mirror at the reflection in the station mirror we could see just what was in focus. the station mirror had to be moved until the patch at its center hid the ledge from view. after that the sun mirror was shifted until the shadow spot fell on the white patch of the station mirror. when once the station mirror was focused, it could be clamped tightly in place by screwing up the trunnion and swivel nuts. but the sun mirror had to be constantly shifted to keep the shadow on the patch. another way of focusing the mirrors was to stand behind the instrument with the head close to the station mirror, shift the sun mirror until the entire station mirror was reflected in it, with the white patch squarely over the unsilvered spot; then still looking at the sun mirror, the station mirror was shifted until the reflection of the distant station was brought squarely in line with the unsilvered spot on the mirror. the station mirror was now firmly bolted and the sun mirror adjusted until the shadow spot fell on the paper patch. chapter xiv. ice boats, sledges and toboggans. as our vacation was drawing to a close, we began to make plans for the christmas holidays. our previous christmas vacation had been so completely taken up with preparations for the trip to willow clump island that we had had no time for the trip itself. we resolved this time to have everything ready beforehand, so that we could spend the entire two weeks in solid pleasure. our skate sails and snow shoes were stored in the attic, ready for use. if we were to make a trip in the snow we would need a sledge, and then, too, we wanted to make an ice boat. it would hardly pay to build these on the island and then cart them home, so it was decided to break up camp a couple of weeks before school commenced. breaking camp. consequently, on the first day of september we gathered up our belongings, corraled our chickens, packed our goods, and the next day started for home. mr. schreiner, in response to a letter from the secretary, came down with a large wagon in which the majority of the things were packed. the rest of our luggage was stowed in the scow and the canoes, and these were towed down the canal, as before. we reached home late in the afternoon, tired and hungry. it was a treat to sit at the table again and eat some of mother's appetizing dishes. and say, wasn't that pie great, though! my, how ravenous we were! and then a soft, comfortable bed with spotless white sheets and pillow cases. how soundly we did sleep that night! you can just bet we were all glad enough to get back to civilization, though, of course, no one could have dragged out the confession from a single one of us. the ice boat. [illustration: fig. . the backbone.] [illustration: fig. . frame of the ice boat.] [illustration: fig. . runner shoe.] [illustration: fig. . the rudder shoe.] school commenced on the th of september that year, so we hadn't much time to spare. work was begun immediately on the ice boat. our first ice boat was rather a crude one. a by inch scantling feet long was used for the backbone of the boat. the scantling was placed on edge, and to lighten it and improve its appearance it was tapered fore and aft from a point feet from the bow end. the thickness of the ends of the backbone was but inches, as shown in fig. . to the under edge of the backbone, feet from the forward end, a crosspiece was nailed. this crosspiece was a -inch board inches wide and feet long. braces were then run from the ends of the crosspiece to the forward and rear ends of the backbone, and at the rear end several boards nailed across the braces served as a seat for the boat. our next task was to rig up the runners. for these we used skates, which were so arranged that we could remove them whenever we wanted to. three blocks of wood were used for the runner shoes. two of them were cut from a by scantling and measured a foot in length. the third block was only inch thick, but was otherwise of the same dimensions. the skates were laid face downward on the blocks with the clamping levers open; then we marked the places where the clamping jaws touched the wood and drilled holes at these points. the forward end of each block was also tapered off to fit flat against the face of the skate. then by inserting the jaws in the holes and closing the levers, the skate was clamped to the block, just as it would be to a shoe. the two -inch blocks were bolted to the ends of the crosspiece, but the third block needed further attention, as it was to be used for the rudder or steering runner. [illustration: fig. . the tiller.] [illustration: fig. . drilling the mast step.] the rudder post was shaped from a block of hardwood inches square and inches long. two inches from the lower end saw cuts were made in the side of the block to a depth of / inch. then with a chisel the sides were split off, forming a large pin with a square shank inches long. next the corners of the shank were cut off, rounding it to a diameter of - / inches. the runner block was fastened securely to the head of the rudder post with screws. a - / -inch hole was now drilled into the backbone at the stern end to receive the rudder post. a tiller was next cut out of a -inch board to the shape shown in fig. . a slot was cut in the end of the tiller, and the latter fitted snugly over the top of the post, where it was held in place by screws threaded in through the sides. [illustration: fig. . the mainsail.] the mast of our boat was a pole feet long, tapering from a diameter inches at the base to - / inches at the top. a step for the mast was cut from a by block inches long. a -inch hole was drilled into the face of this block. we had no drill large enough to bore this hole, but accomplished the same result by drilling eight / -inch holes inside of a -inch circle (fig. ), and then used a chisel to cut off the projecting pieces. the mast step was firmly bolted to the backbone at its thickest part, that is, just four feet from the forward end. the mast was braced with stay ropes stretched from the top to the forward end of the backbone and to the ends of the crosspiece. a -foot pole, tapering from - / inches to inch in diameter, was used for the boom of the mainsail, and for the gaff we used a -foot pole of the same diameter. [illustration: fig. . jaws of the boom.] [illustration: fig. . a cleat.] the dimensions of the mainsail are given in fig. . for mast hoops we used curtain rings. five were attached to the sail along the luff, and one was fastened with a piece of leather to the end of the gaff. we used a different scheme for holding the boom to the mast. the forward end of the boom was flattened at the sides and a couple of cheek blocks were bolted on, forming jaws of the shape indicated in fig. . the jaws were whittled out to fit nicely around the mast, and were kept from slipping off by a piece of rope passed around the mast and threaded through the ends of the cheek blocks. half a dozen small pulley blocks were now procured, of the type used on awnings. a rope called the throat halyard was strung from the throat or forward end of the gaff through a pulley block near the top of the mast, and led down to the backbone, where it was "belayed," or wrapped around a cleat. the cleat, which was whittled out of a stick of wood, was made in the form indicated in fig. . a short length of rope was strung through a pulley block and tied with some slack to the upper end and to the center of the gaff. this rope is called a "bridle," and to the pulley block on this "bridle" a rope was attached called the "peak halyard." the peak halyard was passed through a pulley block at the top of the mast, and belayed on a cleat at the side of the backbone. for the main sheet (that is, the rope used for guiding the mainsail) two pulley blocks were fastened to the backbone, one just in front of the seat and the other a few feet further forward, and two more were lashed to the boom, midway between these blocks. the sheet was fastened near the aft end of the backbone and then strung through the blocks in the order illustrated, the free end of the sheet being brought back to the seat, where a cleat was provided, to which it could be secured when desired. [illustration: fig. . the jib-sail.] [illustration: fig. . the ice boat completed.] the jib-sail was now cut out to the dimensions given in fig. . the foot of the sail was lashed to a jib-boom feet inches long. the jib-boom was attached to the backbone at its fore end by means of a couple of screw eyes. the eye of one of these was pried open, linked through the other and then closed again. one of the screw eyes was now screwed into the head of the jib-boom and the other was threaded into the end of the backbone. the upper corner or "head" of the jib was tied to a jib-halyard, which passed through a block at the top of the mast, and was secured on a cleat on the backbone. on the jib we used two sheets. they were attached to the end of the jib-boom and passed on opposite sides of the mast through blocks on the crosspiece to the stern of the boat, where separate cleats were provided for them. this completed our ice boat, and a very pretty little boat she was. it was with great reluctance that we furled the sails, unstepped the mast, and stowed away the parts in our attic until old jack frost should wake up and furnish us with a field of smooth ice. the sledge. [illustration: fig. . a spacing block.] [illustration: fig. . the runners and rails spaced apart.] our sledge was patterned after a picture of one used by peary in one of his arctic expeditions. first we got four strips of hickory inch thick, - / inches wide and feet long for the runners and side rails. beginning inches from the ends, each stick was tapered gradually to a thickness of / an inch. then we made eight spreaders or spacing blocks, each - / inches thick, - / inches wide and inches long. in each end a notch / inch deep was cut to receive the runners and side rails. in the edge of each block, midway of its length, a slot inch deep was cut to receive the cross sticks of the sledge. first we nailed the runners and rails to the blocks, fastening them with screws, spacing the blocks inches from the ends, and inches apart from center to center. then we bent the ends of the rails and runners together, fastening them with bolts, as in fig. . four crosspieces, or floor beams, were cut out of a -inch board, each inches wide and inches long. these were fitted into the slots in the space blocks and secured with screws. a cross stick was also fastened between the rails and runners at the forward end. on the floor beams we nailed a flooring of / -inch slats, inches wide and feet long. at the rear end these slats projected inches beyond the last space block and over them a cross slat was nailed. a stick of hickory - / feet long was soaked in hot water, as described on page , and was bent to an u-shape. the ends were then fitted over the first cross stick, and under the first floor supports, and securely nailed in place. another stick of hickory feet long was similarly bent, and the ends slipped over the rear cross slats and fitted against the rear space blocks, in which position the stick was securely nailed. [illustration: fig. . the sledge.] it was our intention to shoe the runners with strips of brass, but these were not procurable in our village, and we had no time to go down to millville. however, the village blacksmith came to our rescue and shod our sledge with sleigh runner iron. we had planned to make two more devices for our winter sports--a toboggan and a peculiar looking contrivance called a "rennwolf," a picture of which dutchy happened to unearth in one of his father's books. unfortunately bill and i had to return to school before either of these was completed. however, the work was entrusted to reddy, who was quite handy with tools, and jack, who was made secretary _pro tempore_, took notes on the work. the toboggan. [illustration: fig. . tying down the head piece of the toboggan.] the toboggan was made of light flexible hickory boards, / of an inch thick, inches wide and feet long. three of these boards were used, and they were fastened together with cross sticks or battens, about inches wide and / an inch thick. there were six of these battens spaced about inches apart, and secured to the floor boards with flathead screws introduced from the under side and countersunk so that the heads would not project below the bottom of the toboggan. at the forward end we screwed on a head piece of oak, / of an inch thick, - / inches wide and inches long. the head piece was fastened to the under side of the boards, so that when they were curved up into a hood it would lie on top. the ends of the head piece, which projected inch each side of the boards, were notched to hold the rope, which was tied fast after the boards had been steamed. the boards were steamed by wrapping them in burlap for a distance of feet from the forward end, and pouring boiling water over them, as was done with the snow shoes (page ). before bending the boards we had fixed screw eyes in the ends of each batten, except the forward one; a rope had been strung through these screw eyes and the ends were now tied to the head piece and drawn tight so as to bend the boards into a graceful curve. in this way the ropes were of service not only for curving the front end into a hood, but also for side rails, to hold on by when shooting swiftly around curves. [illustration: fig. . the toboggan.] the rennwolf. the runners of the rennwolf were made of hickory strips, inch thick, inches wide and feet long. at their forward ends these strips were tapered down to a thickness of / an inch and curved upward. about inches from the rear end of each runner an upright post was nailed. the post was feet long and was braced by a diagonal brace inches long, as shown in fig. . a tie bar was nailed to the post about or inches from the bottom and connected with the forward curved end of the runner. [illustration: fig. . dimensions of rennwolf.] the two runners were now placed parallel to each other about inches apart, and connected by four cross bars, one at the forward end, and three on the upright posts, in about the positions illustrated. the upper cross bar was extended inches beyond the posts at each side, and served as a handle for guiding the queer craft. an -inch square board was used for the seat of the rennwolf. it rested on the second cross-bar of the post about inches from the runners, and the forward end was supported on legs nailed to the tie bars. on each runner back of the posts a loop of leather was nailed, large enough to receive the toe of one shoe. when using this odd sled one foot would rest on the runner with the toe in the strap, and by kicking out against the snow or ice with the other foot the rennwolf would be made to spin along at a rapid rate. of course, when coasting both feet would rest on the runners and the sled was steered by an occasional side push at the right or left. owing to the great length of the runners the rennwolf would easily ride over uneven surfaces and thin spots in the ice. [illustration: fig. . the rennwolf in use.] ice creepers. [illustration: fig. . the ice creeper.] in order to provide a better hold for the propelling foot, we fastened around the toe a strap of leather, through which a number of long tacks projected. their sharp points would stick into the ice, and prevent the foot from slipping. the seat of the rennwolf was convenient for carrying a coat or any light luggage, and it was often used to give a friend a very exhilarating ride. chapter xv. the subterranean club. i am afraid we were not very glad to get back to school that fall. it seemed very hard to give up the sport we had been having, and our heads were brimful of new schemes which we could hardly wait to put into practice. but we soon learned that there are many things that could be done during recreation hours at school. we had intended building a cave on our island that summer, but our vacation came to an end before we got around to it. there seemed no reason why we shouldn't dig one in the woods at the back of the schoolhouse. a cave-in. bill had read somewhere that if you dig a cave under a tree the roots of the tree will support the ground on top and make a natural and substantial roof. it sounded very reasonable, we thought; in fact, we never questioned the truth of the statement, because we had somehow gotten the notion that books were never wrong, and that whatever was set up in type must surely be so. but events proved that the man who wrote that book had never attempted to build a cave in the manner he described, at least not in the loose, sandy soil of south jersey. a large spreading cedar was selected as the tree which should support the roof of our cave. it was situated on a mound at the edge of the woods. first a passageway, or ditch, was dug at the bottom, and then we begun tunneling in the side of the mound under the roots of the tree. for a while the ground above held, and our tunnel had reached a length of about four feet, when suddenly, without the slightest warning, the sandy soil gave way and we were engulfed. bill, who was furthest within the cave, was almost entirely covered, while i was buried to the shoulders. a crowd of boys came to our assistance and dug us out. poor bill was almost smothered before they scooped the sand away from around his mouth and nose. the boys made slow work of it, having to dig with their hands and a couple of shingles, because the two spades we had were buried with us at the bottom of the cave. of course, this little episode gave us a scare, but it was only temporary. we swore every one to secrecy, so that mr. clark, the principal, wouldn't hear of the mishap and suppress any further cave building. it was obvious that the only roof we could depend on for our cave would be a wooden roof. if we had been at willow clump island we would have gotten any amount of slabs from the lumber mills across the river. one of our schoolmates, a day scholar, came to the rescue. his name was chester hill, a little bit of a chap, about the shortest for his age that i have ever seen. his name was so at variance to his size that we called him "hillock," for short. now hillock lived on a farm about eight miles from school, and used to drive in every day on a farm wagon. he had helped us dig the cave under the cedar tree, and when he learned that we would need some lumber to build a safe cave, he told us that he had an uncle who owned a lumber mill on the morris river, from whom he was sure we could get all the slabs we wanted. of course, we were delighted, and laid our plans for an elaborate cave house. hillock promised to be on hand on the following saturday afternoon with his load of lumber. excavating for the cave. we immediately set out to make the necessary excavation. the side of a bushy knoll was chosen as a suitable site. first we carefully transplanted the bushes that grew in the square we had marked out for the cave, and cutting the sod into squares, piled it all neatly to one side. then we shoveled away the top-soil and heaped it up for future use. after that we dug away the sandy subsoil. the cave proper we planned to make about feet by feet, with a passageway feet wide and feet long, leading in from a large bush at the base of the knoll. our excavation was therefore somewhat t-shaped (see fig. ). at the deepest part we had to dig down about feet. [illustration: fig. . excavation for the cave.] [illustration: fig. . framework of the cave.] the digging was all done by saturday, when hillock pulled up with a big load of slabs. slabs are a very unsatisfactory kind of wood for most purposes. being the outside cut, they are usually very irregular and weak in spots. in many places they are almost clear bark. of course, had our pocketbooks permitted, we would have used stout scantlings for the corner posts of our cave house and substantial boards for the walls, roof and flooring, but we had to be content with materials at hand. eight of the best slabs were selected for our corner posts; four of them we cut to the length of feet and the others to a length of feet. the long slabs were set up at the rear of the cave, two at each corner, one flat against the rear wall, with its edge buried in the corner, and the other against the side wall, with its edge tight against the rear slab, as in fig. . the same was done at the forward corners with the shorter slabs. a couple of slabs were now set up on each side of the passageway, and a corresponding pair against the rear wall. the upper and lower ends of the uprights were then connected with slabs, called stringpieces. [illustration: fig. . the siding and flooring.] the sides were now boarded up with upright slabs nailed to the stringpieces. an opening feet inches high was left in the forward wall for a passageway. several slabs were now placed on the edge across the bottom of the cave, to serve as floor beams, upon which a flooring of slabs was laid. next the rafters were set in place, one on each upright slab. slots were cut in the ends of the uprights to receive the rafters, which were slabs placed on edge. as the forward uprights were feet shorter than the rear ones, the rafters were given a good slant, so that the roof would properly shed any water that might soak in through the ground above. [illustration: fig. . notching in the rafters.] the roof was laid on the same way that we had made the roof of our tree house; that is, a slab was first nailed at the forward end of the rafters with its edge projecting far enough to make a good eave; then the second slab was nailed on, with its edge overlapping the first, and a third with its edge overlapping the second, and so on with the rest. at the rear end of the roof a hole was cut, into which we fitted a piece of stovepipe. we didn't plan to have a fire in the house, but set the stovepipe in place to provide the necessary ventilation. as the pipe had an elbow in it, there was no danger of rain or dirt falling through it. the upper end of the stovepipe was concealed among some rocks at the top of the knoll. a suitable flooring was now laid in the passageway, and the sides were boarded up to a height of feet from the floor at the entrance to a height of feet inches at the inner end. a roof of slabs was nailed on, and then we were ready to cover our slab house with dirt. covering the cave. we avoided piling on the dirt very deep, because there was danger of breaking in the roof with a heavy load. a thin layer of sand covered with the top-soil brought up the level to about that of the rest of the knoll. then the sod was laid back in place and well watered, and the few bushes planted back in their original positions. our sodding should have been done in the spring for best results. the frost soon killed the grass, and the bushes withered away. but a few cents' worth of grass seed was sowed in, and in time gave the knoll a very natural appearance. a bush at the bottom concealed the entrance of the cave, so that no one who was not in the secret would have suspected that beneath that innocent looking knoll were gathered the members of the "big bug club." the big bug club. [illustration: fig. . a section through the completed cave.] of course, we had to organize a secret society, to occupy our subterranean dwelling. in that i fear we overstepped the rules of the school. of course, mr. clark knew of our cave, in fact he visited us there once, lowering his dignity sufficiently to squeeze into the narrow passageway, and playing bill a game of chess at our club table. he seemed quite pleased with our work, and complimented us very highly on the masterful way in which we had built the underground house. we told him that we had organized a club of the older fellows to play indoor games and have occasional spreads, but we did not tell him that most of our spreads were held at the dead of night, when there was no moon and the stars were hidden by clouds. at o'clock each night the bell rang for us to turn out our lights, and after that the six members would each, in turn, keep a half-hour watch, that is, first one would sit up and try to keep awake for half an hour, after which he would waken the next fellow, who at the end of a half hour would rouse the third, and so on, until o'clock, when the sixth watcher would wake up the entire club. then we would all creep out the back window in the hall, onto the roof of the rear annex of the schoolhouse, and thence climb down a rope ladder to the ground. midnight banquets. i suppose we could have just as easily have tiptoed downstairs and out the back door, but it would have spoiled the romance of it all. the absolute stillness and the pitch-black darkness of the night were awe-inspiring. the roll of a pebble or the crack of a twig under foot would set us all atingle as we stole out to our cave house. sometimes the night was so black that we could hardly find the entrance of the cave. once inside, in the light of a few candles, the nervous tension was relieved, and we reveled in a banquet of cold victuals and dainties, purchased out of the monthly club dues. our meetings in the cave lasted scarcely half an hour. in fact, the meeting, and even the banquet, were mere incidentals. the main enjoyment consisted in stealing out to the cave and back again, always at the risk of getting caught. usually when we got to bed again we would be too excited to fall asleep right away, and when we did finally drop off our sleep was so sound that several times the breakfast bell caught one or more of us still napping. the club pin. [illustration: fig. . the club pin.] the only other charm our secret club afforded was the wearing of a mysterious club pin. it was a silver beetle, with the letter g engraved on the head and the letter b on the body, while down the center of the back was the letter i (see fig. ). in public we called ourselves the g. i. b.'s, but it was only the initiated members who knew that these letters were to be read backward, and, with the beetle on which they were engraved, signified the "big bugs." of course, we had some secret signs and signals, a secret hand grasp, a peculiar whistle as a warning to run, another meaning "lie still," and a third signifying "all is well." the combination lock. [illustration: fig. the notched washers.] [illustration: fig. . washers fastened on spools.] [illustration: fig. . the combination lock.] we found it necessary to close the entrance of our cave with a door fastened with a padlock, so as to keep meddlers out. the entire school had watched us build the cave house, and, of course, knew just where our entrance lay. then, in addition to the outer door, we put in another one, half-way down the dark passageway. on this bill rigged up a simple combination lock which would baffle any one who managed to pick the padlock. this inner door opened outward. it was hinged to the floor of the passageway, and swung up against a frame set in the passageway. at the top was a board whose lower edge lay flush with the edge of the door when it was closed. for the combination lock we used a couple of spools, each with one head cut off and the central hole plugged up with a stick of wood. in the floor and the top board of the frame, holes were drilled just large enough for the shanks of the spools to fit snugly in them. next we made a trip to a hardware store for a file and a couple of large copper washers, about - / inches in diameter. the washers were fastened to the inner ends of the spools after they had been pushed through the hole. the washer on the door came just to the edge of the door, while the other extended below the door frame and lapped under the door washer. then in the edge of the washer on the frame a notch was filed, while in the other washer two notches were filed, so as to leave a tooth which fitted snugly into the notch of the first washer (see figs. , ). the door was locked by turning both the washers until the notch and tooth came in line with each other, then pushing the tooth through the notch, and turning the washers so that the frame washer hooked over the door washer. then the door could be opened only when the tooth and notch were brought in line. on the head of each spool we pasted a disk of white cardboard, the edge of which was graduated, as in fig. . then we had a secret combination, say - , which meant that when the spools were turned so that the number on the door spool came in line with the number on the frame spool the tooth and notch would be in line, and the door could then be opened. of course, this combination was known to the members of the club only, and any one outside who tried to open the door might have tried for some time without bringing the tooth and notch into line with each other. occasionally we changed the combination by loosening the screws which held the washers, and turning them so that the notch and tooth came opposite different numbers on the dials. this was done so that if any one should chance to learn our combination he could not make use of it very long. chapter xvi. scooters. "hello, dutchy! what in thunder have you got there?" it was bill who spoke. we were on our way home for the winter holidays, and had been held up at millville by reddy schreiner, who had informed us that dutchy was down by the river with the boat to give us a sail up to lamington. a vision of a fleet ice boat skimming up the river at express train speed swam before our eyes. but the next moment, as we turned the corner into river street, we were surprised by the sight of our old scow just off the pier at anchor, and in open water. it was rigged up with a jib and mainsail, which were flapping idly in the wind. it had also been altered by decking over the top, with the exception of a small cockpit, evidently for the purpose of keeping out the water when she heeled over under the wind. we were disappointed and quite annoyed at not finding the ice boat on hand; furthermore, our annoyance was considerably heightened by dutchy's broad grin of evident delight at our discomfiture. "the river wasn't all frozen over," he explained, "and we couldn't bring the ice boat down, so we rigged up the scow and she came down splendidly." a sail in the scow. there was nothing to do but to jump in, though i, for one, would have taken the train in preference had there been one inside of two hours. dutchy, however, seemed to be in a surprisingly good humor, and kept up a lively chatter about things that the club had made in our absence. the skis, which have already been described on page , had been built under reddy's guidance, and they had already used them on willard's hill, coasting down like a streak and shooting way up into the air off a hump at the bottom. then there was the toboggan slide down randall's hill, and way across the river on the ice. our craft strikes the ice. dutchy talked so incessantly that we hadn't noticed the field of ice which we were nearing. just at this point bill turned around with an exclamation. "here, dutchy, you crazy fellow, where are you going to? hard to port, man--hard aport--or you will crash into the ice!" but dutchy only grinned nervously. "i tell you, you will smash the boat!" bill cried again, making a dive for the steering oar; but just then the boat struck the ice, and both bill and i were thrown backward into the bottom of the boat. but the boat didn't smash. [illustration: a sail on the scooter scow.] there was a momentary grinding and crunching noise, and, much to my surprise, i found that the old scow had lifted itself clean out of the water, and was skating right along on the ice. then dutchy could control himself no longer. he laughed, and laughed, as if he never would stop. he laughed until the steering oar dropped from his hands, and the old scow, with the head free, swung around and plunged off the ice ledge with a heavy splash into the open water again. then reddy, who was almost equally convulsed, came to his senses. "now you've done it, dutchy; you're a fine skipper, you are! how do you expect to get us back to shore again?" the steering oar was left behind us on the ice, and there we were drifting on the open water, with no rudder and no oar to bring us back. the scooter scow. [illustration: fig. . scow with runners nailed on.] the only thing we could do was to wait until the wind or current carried us to the ice or land. in the meantime dutchy, who had suddenly sobered down when we took our water plunge, explained how he had rigged up the scow to travel both on ice and on water. he called the rig a sled boat, but the name by which such a rig is now known is a "scooter." it was dutchy's idea primarily, but reddy had engineered the work. along the bottom of the scow two strips of hickory had been nailed to serve as runners. the hickory strips had been bent up at the forward end, as shown in fig. . each runner was shod with a strip of brass, fastened on with flathead screws, which were countersunk, so that the heads should not project below the brass. this virtually made a sledge out of the old scow, and didn't spoil it for use on the water. a sprit sail. [illustration: fig. . mainsail of scooter scow.] [illustration: fig. . the snotter.] [illustration: fig. . jib-sail of scooter scow.] a sprit sail and jib were rigged up. the dimensions of these sails, which were taken from a book in mr. van syckel's library, are given in the illustrations. a sheet of heavy muslin was made to measure feet square, as indicated by dotted lines in the drawing; then the corners were cut off along the full lines shown in the illustration. the edges were now hemmed all around, and the lower edge of the sail was lashed to a boom, feet inches long. to the luff were attached a number of mast rings, which were slipped over a stout mast projecting about feet inches above the deck of the boat. the peak of the sail was held up by a spar called a sprit. the sprit was sharpened at each end, and the point at the upper end was inserted in a loop of heavy cord fastened to the peak of the sail, while the lower point of the sprit rested in the loop of a rope on the mast, called a "snotter." the snotter was a short piece of rope with a loop at each end. it was wrapped around the mast, as shown in the drawing, with one loop holding it in place, like a slip knot, and the other supporting the end of the sprit. a single halyard was used to raise this sail. it was attached to the boat and passed over a block in the mast. when raising the sail it was first partly hoisted, then the sprit was hooked in the loop and the snotter, after which the throat halyard was drawn taut. then the snotter was pulled up the mast as far as it would go, flattening out the sail. the jib-sail was made out of the large corner piece left when cutting the mainsail. the dimensions of the jib-sail are given in fig. . it was such a small sail that no boom was used with it. in place of a rudder the steering oar had to be used. this was made of a rake handle with a large trowel blade fastened to the end of it. the sharp blade cut into the ice, and so steered the scow when it was running as an ice boat, and in the water the blade offered sufficient resistance to act as a rudder. scooter sailing. but to return to our sail home to lamington, we were not out on the open water long before the current carried us back to the ice ledge. reddy jumped off and soon returned with the steering oar; then we proceeded on our way homeward, now in the water and now on ice. once or twice the scow was unable to climb out of the water, because she had not sufficient headway, and was clumsy and heavy with four boys aboard. then we had to push off until we could get a sufficient start. it struck me that while dutchy was quite clever to think of such a rig, yet it was very clumsy and capable of much improvement. bill wasn't saying very much all this time, and i could see he was doing a lot of thinking. evidently he was planning some improvement, but bill was a very considerate fellow, and did not want to spoil dutchy's pleasure just then by telling him how much better a scooter he might have built. it wasn't until after supper, when a meeting of the s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i. was called, that bill came out with his scheme. a meeting of the society. "why not mount the sailing canoe on runners, instead of the scow? you would have a very light rig then, and it would sail like a streak." "mr. president," said reddy, "your plan sounds first-rate, but how are you going to fasten runners onto the canoe?" "i've thought all that out," replied bill. "if we can only get hold of a pair of sleigh runners it won't take long to rig up the sled boat." dutchy, who had looked rather crestfallen at a suggestion of an improvement on his pet invention, now suddenly brightened up. "i know where we can get the sleigh runners!" he exclaimed. "dad has an old ramshackle sleigh in the barn that is just falling to pieces with dry rot. i'll ask him for it to-night." "do you think you can get it?" inquired bill. "i guess so," dutchy answered, rather doubtfully. "but say, suppose we send a delegation to see him about it?" an interview with mr. van syckel. this was agreed upon, and in the morning, as soon as breakfast had been downed, the entire society marched in a body into mr. van syckel's library. i was appointed spokesman, with bill to back me, while the rest of the party were strung out behind, with dutchy bringing up the rear. mr. van syckel was not the man to take much interest in boys' work, but we happened to strike him at the right moment, and before our interview was over we had told him all our experiences of the summer before and all our plans for the future. then we did a good turn for dutchy, too. mr. van syckel had always considered his boy a "know-nothing," and was very much surprised to find that he had invented the scooter scow. why, he actually seemed proud of his son, much to dutchy's embarrassment. after that there was no trouble about getting the sleigh runners, and mr. van syckel forgot the objections he had offered at first. the scooter canoe. [illustration: fig. . runners of scooter canoe.] naturally we were very much elated at our success, and straightway made for the barn, where we began operations on the scooter canoe. the sleigh was an old-fashioned affair, with rather broad wooden runners. first we removed the body of the sleigh, and then the runners were cut down to a height of about inches. we spaced them apart about inches, and connected them with four crosspieces at the top. the runners were now placed over our larger canoe, with forward ends about on a line with the mast, and the crosspieces were fastened with screws to the gunwales. as an additional security, a pair of crosspieces were now run under the canoe at each end and fastened with screws to the keel. at the bow the keel was shod with a strip of brass. the rudder was taken off the boat, and an oar lock was fastened to the stern to hold the steering oar. in place of lee boards we nailed a couple of thin boards over each runner, as shown in the drawing. we were in a hurry to finish this, as our vacation was short, so we used on the scooter canoe the sails that we had made for our ice boat. this required a bowsprit, but as we had little time to spare we used the jib-boom of the ice boat, nailing it to the deck beam of the canoe. we decided that the jib-sail could be used without a boom, as we had done with the scow. the mast was braced by stays attached to the ends of the runners and bowsprit. this spread of canvas was far greater than that originally provided for sailing the canoe, but the heavy runners on each side helped to keep the boat on even keel, and then to further balance the sail a board was nailed across the aft end of the boat. this overhung the runners about inches each side, and in a strong wind we could sit out on the windward end of this board, thus preventing the scooter from heeling over too far. [illustration: fig. . the scooter canoe.] chapter xvii. an arctic expedition. as soon as our scooter canoe was completed we prepared for the long-planned winter expedition to willow clump island. the weather conditions were ideal. we had had ten days of steady cold weather, which had followed a heavy fall of snow, so that we could tramp up the island on snow shoes, or we could use our scooter canoe and scooter scow on the river. it was out of the question to use our skate sails or the ice boat on the river, and the canal would be serviceable only in case the wind should blow from a southerly quarter. but we stowed them on the sledge for use on lake placid. on the tuesday morning following christmas we made the start. bill in the scooter canoe and dutchy in the scooter scow sailed up the river, and the rest of us, on snow shoes, took the tow path of the canal, hauling the sledge along. we carried provisions for a week and a good supply of blankets. the island was reached without mishap, except that dutchy had to be helped several times in dragging the heavy scow around the rapids. bill reached the island long before we did, and after unloading the canoe came racing back under a stiff breeze for a second load. then he took his turn at hauling the sledge, while reddy sailed the reloaded scooter canoe up to the island. willow clump island in winter. we brought no tent with us, as we expected to take up our quarters in the straw hut. when we reached the hut we hardly recognized it. it was almost completely covered with snow and looked like an eskimo house. the snow had drifted well up over the north side, completely closing the entrance. we had to set to work at once with a shovel and open up a passageway, and then we had to shovel out a large pile of snow that had drifted into the hut from the open doorway. kindling a camp fire. in the meantime jack scoured the island for some dry wood. in this he was not very successful, because everything was covered with snow, and when he tried to kindle a fire in the open space in front of our hut he found the task an exceedingly difficult one. unfortunately we forgot to bring the oil stove with us, and the prospect of something warm to eat was exceedingly remote. we hadn't yet learned the trick of building a camp fire in wet weather. after exhausting our stock of paper fred and i started over to lumberville for several newspapers and a can of kerosene. we went to old jim halliday's, who had befriended us on one or two occasions the previous summer, and made known to him our troubles. "what! a can of oil to build yer fire with? well, ye won't git it from me. i know a man as got blowed up apourin' oil on a fire. why, shucks, boys, you don't need no oil ner paper nuther on that there island. its chuck-full of silver birch trees, and there ain't no better kindlin' than birch bark." birch bark! why, yes, why hadn't we thought of that? we had used it for torches the summer before and knew how nicely it burned. so back we skated to camp, and then, peeling off a large quantity of bark from the birch trees around us, we soon had a rousing big fire in front of the hut. the outdoor fireplace. [illustration: fig. . an outdoor cooking fire.] but there were more things to be learned about open fires. in our summer outing jack had done most of his cooking on a kerosene stove, and he soon found that it was a very different matter to cook over an unsheltered fire. the heat was constantly carried hither and thither by the gusts of wind, so that he could scarcely warm up his saucepans. we had to content ourselves with cold victuals for the first meal, but before the next meal time came around we had learned a little more about fire building. two large logs were placed about inches apart, and the space between them was filled in with pieces of bark and small twigs and sticks. the back of the fireplace was closed with stones. one touch of a match was enough to kindle the fire, and in a moment it blazed up beautifully. the logs at the sides and the stones at the back prevented the wind from scattering the flames in all directions, and a steady draft poured through the open end of the fireplace and up through the heart of the fire. the side logs were so close together that our cooking utensils could be supported directly on them. a stone-paved fireplace. [illustration: fig. . a stone-paved fireplace.] the following summer we continued our open fireplace experiments. instead of using logs we drove stakes into the ground, forming a small circular stockade about feet high and feet in diameter. a paving of small stones covered the floor of the fireplace, and a lining of stones was laid against the wall. the stakes were driven in on a slant, as illustrated in fig. , so as to better support the stone lining. a break in the stockade at one side let in the necessary draft. two of the stakes on opposite sides of the fire were made extra long, and were crotched at their upper ends. they served to support the cross stick from which our kettles were hung. this form of fireplace was more satisfactory for baking than the one in which logs were used for the side walls, because the stone lining retained the heat much longer. to bake biscuit, a pot of beans, or the like, the ashes would be drawn away from the stone paving and the pot placed directly on the hot stones, after which it was covered with hot embers and ashes. a cold night in the hut. but to return to our experiences on the island. we found it very cold on the first night in the hut. we were afraid to build a fire inside lest the straw thatchings would catch fire, and so we huddled together in the corner, rolled up tightly in our blankets. but it was cold, nevertheless. we had no door to close the opening into the hut, and instead had piled up branches of cedar and hemlock against the doorway. but a bitterly cold northwest wind was blowing down the river, and we couldn't keep warm, no matter what we did. most of the boys were ready to go right home, but we stuck it out until the morning, and then after we had toasted ourselves before a blazing bright fire, and had eaten a hot breakfast, we forgot much of the discomfort of the night and were ready for more "fun." we thought we would spend the next night in our tree house, and so, right after breakfast, we packed up our blankets and some provisions and started for the jacob's ladder. mountain climbing. each fellow was provided with a pair of ice creepers of the same sort as we had used in connection with the rennwolf (see page ). in addition to this each boy was provided with a home-made alpine stock, consisting of a stout wooden stick in the end of which a large nail was driven and the head filed off. thus equipped we came to the foot of the cliff, and much to our delight found it one mass of ice from top to bottom. now was our chance to try some swiss mountain climbing. bill took the lead, with an old hatchet in his hand, to hack out any necessary footholds in the ice wall, and the rest of us strung out behind him tied to a long rope, each boy about or feet from the one ahead. bill cautioned us to keep our distance, holding the rope taut in one hand, so that if a fellow stumbled he could be kept from falling either by the one in front or by the one behind. "besides," he said, "if the rope drags on the ice, it is liable to be cut or worn so that it will break when any strain was put on it." now, one would think from all these precautions that we were launched on a perilous expedition. that was the impression we were trying to make on ourselves, though, as a matter of fact, any one of us could have climbed the cliff unaided and without any ice implements if he had used ordinary care not to slip on the ice-clad ladder rounds or the snow-covered ledges. [illustration: fig. . winter expedition to the goblins' platform.] a poor shelter. the climb was without mishap and we reached our tree house, only to find it so badly racked by storm and weather that it was clearly out of the question to attempt to spend the night there. the wind howled around the house and whistled through dozens of cracks and chinks that had opened in the walls. all that we could do, therefore, was to turn back to the island and make the best of our straw hut again. on the way, however, we stopped at lumberville for some straw to be used for bedding. the afternoon was spent sailing around on lake placid and the large smooth stretch above the island. a costly camp fire. after supper bill and reddy went into the hut to arrange the straw bedding, while the rest of us gathered wood for a huge bonfire in front of the hut. the wind was blowing right down the river and we expected it to carry the warmth of the fire into the hut. the fire was built some distance in front of the doorway, so as to prevent the hut from catching fire. but we had evidently miscalculated the strength of the wind, for no sooner was the fire fairly started than a shower of flaming brands was blown right into the hut. in a moment the straw blazed up, cutting off all escape for bill and reddy. fortunately the framing was not strong and the frost had loosened up the foundations, so that a few frantic kicks opened an exit in the rear of the hut just in time to save our comrades from cremation. once it was fairly started we were powerless to put out the blaze until the hut was ruined. the snow that covered the walls checked the fire somewhat, but the thatching burned from the inside, melting the snow and dropping it suddenly into the flaming straw bedding on the floor. as we sat in a gloomy ring about the camp fire, watching the tongues of flame play about the charred ribs of our hut, we had reason to be thankful that the wind had played its pranks before we turned in for the night. what a risk we had run of being all burned to death! it made me shudder to think of it. well, our hut was burned. what next? that was the question put before the society. [illustration: bill gets tangled up with his skis.] [illustration: warming the lunch on a cold day.] "might build a snow hut," suggested dutchy. "now, be sensible," answered reddy. "we can't build a snow hut in five minutes." "the best plan," i volunteered, "would be to go over to jim halliday's and ask him to let us sleep in his barn." immediately the suggestion was acted upon. a friend in time of trouble. old jim halliday greeted us very gruffly. he said he wouldn't have us in his barn. "you'll be amussin' up the hay so't wouldn't be fit fer the horses to eat. any boy that is fool enough to build a fire on a straw bed ought to go right home to his mother, and he hadn't oughter be trusted with matches, nuther. he might get his fingers burned." but i caught a twinkle in the old man's eyes and wasn't surprised to have him end his lecture by taking us into the kitchen and seating us around an old-fashioned log fire while "marthy," his daughter, made us some hot coffee to take the chill out of our bones. we didn't sleep in the barn that night. the hallidays had only one spare bed, hardly enough for six boys, and the old man didn't want to be partial to any two of us, but his daughter solved the difficulty by dragging down two large feather mattresses and laying them on the kitchen floor in front of the hearth. before bidding us "good night," mr. halliday put on his sternest expression and bade marthy clear out all the matches from the room. "jest as like as not they'll set fire to the house," he growled. "i expect this is my last night on airth." and then, with a solemn warning not to hang our clothes on the flames, and to "keep them feather beds offen the embers," he left us to a comfortable night's rest. in the morning, after we had disposed of all the hot griddle cakes we could eat, and had sincerely thanked our host and hostess for their hospitality, we wended our way back to the island, silently packed up our goods and started home for lamington. "well, this isn't going to happen again," was bill's comment. "next year we'll have a log cabin on the island." [illustration: fast asleep in a sleeping bag.] [illustration: how the pack harness was worn.] chapter xviii. tramping outfits. our winter expedition to willow clump island filled us with a wholesome respect for arctic explorers. if we could find it so uncomfortable with the thermometer only at degrees above zero, what would it be to endure a temperature of , or even degrees below zero? we were interested to learn how they managed to stand it. this led to a study of the subject in mr. van syckel's library. sleeping bags. in one of the books dutchy came across the description of a sleeping bag. it was made of reindeer's skin sewed into a large bag with the fur side turned in. this bag was large enough to hold three or four sleepers, and each man was covered with a pair of woolen bags, one bag slipped inside the other. the woolen bags were made of blankets sewed together and provided with flaps at the upper ends to cover the head of the sleeper. of course, we had to make a sleeping bag, too. the innermost bag was made of an old quilt and the next one of a blanket that we were fortunate enough to get hold of. but when it came to the reindeer skin we were balked, until we happened to run across a piece of rubber sheeting at the village store. this was a lucky find, for i doubt if one country store in a hundred carries such stock. the piece was just large enough to cover the blanket bag and allow for an ample flap to cover the head. to be sure, this furnished a shelter for only one person, and there were six in the society. it was clear that the treasury could not afford the expense of six sleeping bags; but as such a device would be useful only under very unusual circumstances we decided that two sleeping bags would be all the society would need. we had been rather curious to explore the country back of the hills on the pennsylvania side of the river, and with some light provisions and these sleeping bags strapped to the back a couple of boys could make quite an extended tour, unmindful of weather conditions. on real hot nights a fellow could get into the quilt bag and sleep on the blanket and waterproof bag. in cold weather the combination of all three bags provided sufficient warmth. the rubber bag would protect the sleeper from any moisture in the ground, and would also keep him thoroughly dry, even in a pouring rain. bill's "mummy case." [illustration: fig. . bottom piece of sleeping bag.] [illustration: fig. . top piece of sleeping bag.] [illustration: fig. . headboards.] our second sleeping bag was bill's own design, and was, in many respects, an improvement on the first, though it looked ridiculously like an egyptian mummy case. the inner bags were just like those of the first sleeping bag, but as there was no more rubber sheeting in town we had to make the outer bag of enameled cloth, such as is used for carriage curtains. out of this cloth bill cut a piece of the shape shown in fig. to serve as bottom, sides and ends of the sleeping bag. the bag was sewed wrong side out; that is, the piece was laid with enameled side up, and then the corners were sewed together after painting the seams with white lead. then a top piece was cut out, of the size indicated in fig. . the edges were hemmed over a piece of rope, which thus formed a corded edge. now, with the enameled side of the cover piece turned inward, its edges were sewed to the edges of the first piece. the bag was now turned inside out, so that the enameled surface lay on the outside and the seams turned inward. the corded edge on the cover piece lapped over the sides, forming a watershed. [illustration: fig. . the mummy case.] [illustration: fig. . sleeping bag in use.] it was bill's idea to rig up the flap in such a manner that it would not lie against the face, so that the sleeper could have plenty of fresh air, even in rainy weather. this required the use of two headboards, of the form shown in fig. . the headboards were connected at the bottom by a thin board, and to this framework the sides of the bag were nailed. to the end flap several cleats were nailed, adapted to fit into notches cut in the headboards. the cleat at the end of the flap was laid on edge, as shown, and fitted into deep notches in the headboards just above the edge of the cover piece. this held the flap securely, preventing it from flying open in a heavy wind. at the same time the small space between the flap and the cover piece allowed for an ample supply of fresh air. when using this sleeping bag, if there was any indication of a shower, we took care to have the head pointed to windward so as to prevent entrance of rain through this air space. the "a" tent. [illustration: fig. . the "a" tent.] in connection with the sleeping bags it may be well to describe here a curious shelter dutchy and i came across in one of our tramps. it was just about dusk one day when we discovered a temporary camp at which a couple of men were preparing dinner. they informed us that they were naturalists on a two weeks' outing. at their invitation we joined camp with them. they had a small "a" tent of balloon silk, under which they kept their provisions. the tent had no ridge pole, but was supported instead by a rope stretched between two trees (see fig. ). a camp chair. [illustration: fig. . the camp chair.] [illustration: fig. . pockets in the canvas back.] the camp was also furnished with an easy canvas chair, made by driving a couple of short posts in the ground for front legs and a pair of longer ones for the back. a piece of canvas was hung over these posts, forming both seat and back. the posts were driven into the ground on a slant, as illustrated in fig. , and the canvas was formed with pockets at the corners which were hooked over these posts. this made a very comfortable chair, though, of course, it was fixed to one spot. when the men moved camp they would carry with them only the canvas piece, and at the next stopping place new posts were chopped and used for legs. [illustration: waiting for a bite.] [illustration: temporary shelter under an "a" tent.] the camp bed. [illustration: fig. . canvas bed.] but what interested us most was the form of bed they had. this, like the chair, consisted of a piece of canvas arranged to be supported on posts cut from the woods in the neighborhood of the camp. the canvas piece was feet wide and feet long, with a wide hem at each side, forming pockets through which poles were passed, as in a stretcher. the ends of the poles were supported on posts driven into the ground. the poles were also propped up at the center, as shown, the pockets being cut away and bound, so as not to permit any wear on the canvas. to prevent the posts from leaning inward under the weight of the sleeper, they were braced apart by cross sticks. [illustration: fig. . bed set up on posts.] the camp bed in a shower. [illustration: fig. . a poncho.] [illustration: fig. . camp bed in the rain.] [illustration: fig. . umbrella with fly.] as a precaution against rain, a tall post was set up at the head and another at the foot of the bed, and a rope was stretched over the posts with the ends fastened to stakes driven into the ground. over this rope a rubber "poncho" was laid to keep off the rain. a "poncho," by the way, is a blanket of rubber cloth about - / feet wide and feet long, in the center of which is a slit through which you can put your head; then the rubber cloth falls over you like a cape, as in fig. , and makes a perfect protection against rain. the ponchos these men had were not quite long enough to cover the whole bed, so they fastened umbrellas to the head posts, as shown in fig. . during a shower in the woods the rain comes straight down in large drops, caused by the water collecting on the leaves. to prevent these large drops from splashing through the umbrellas, they laid pieces of cloth over the umbrellas, which served, like the fly of a tent, to check the fall of rain drops. a nightmare. i slept in the mummy case that night and dutchy in the first sleeping bag. it must have been about midnight when i was awakened by a most unearthly yell. it sent the cold chills running up and down my back. a second scream brought me into action, and i struggled to throw back the head flap, which had become caught. it seemed an age before i could open it and wriggle out of the bag. dutchy was sitting up in bed with a look of horror on his face, and his whole body was in a tremor of fear. one of the men dashed a glass of water in his face, which brought him back to his senses. it was only a nightmare, we found. dutchy dreamed he had been injured in a railway accident and had been taken for dead to the morgue. he tried to let them know that he was alive, but couldn't utter a sound, until finally he burst out with the yells that roused the camp. then, as he awoke with the horror of the dream still on him, his eyes fell on the two stretcher beds that looked like biers and the black coffin-like sleeping bag. it was not much wonder that dutchy was frightened. the camp did certainly have a most ghastly appearance in the vague moonlight that filtered through the trees, and it must have been still more gruesome to see the coffin and biers suddenly burst open and the corpses come running toward him. to prevent any further nightmare we set dutchy's sleeping bag under the "a" tent, where he would be saved the horror of again waking up in a morgue. pack harness. [illustration: fig. . pack harness.] in the morning our friends broke camp and started westward. dutchy and i watched them packing up their goods into a couple of very compact bundles, which they strapped to their backs with a peculiar pack harness. i took careful note of the way the harness was put together, and when we returned to the island we made two sets for use on our tramping expeditions. a canvas yoke was first cut out to the form shown in fig. . we used two thicknesses of the heaviest brown canvas we could find, binding the two pieces together with tape. the yoke was padded with cotton at the shoulders and a strap was fastened to each shoulder piece. these were arranged to be buckled to a pair of straps fastened to the back of the yoke and passing under the arms. riveted to these straps were a pair of straps used for fastening on the pack. the yoke straps were attached with the rough side against the yoke, while the pack straps were riveted on with the rough side uppermost, as indicated in the drawing. riveting. [illustration: fig. . riveting the straps together.] the method of riveting together the leather straps may need a word of explanation. a copper rivet was passed through a hole in the two straps; then the washer was slipped over the projecting end of the rivet. this washer had to be jammed down tight against the leather, and to do this we drilled a hole of the diameter of the rivet in a block of wood, and putting this block over the washer, with the end of the rivet projecting into the hole, we hammered the block until the washer was forced down tight against the leather. then taking a light tack hammer we battered down the end of the rivet onto the washer. care was taken to do this hammering very lightly, otherwise the end would have been bent over instead of being flattened. chapter xix. the land yacht. only one thing of importance occurred between our christmas holidays and eastertide: this was bill's invention of the tricycle sailboat or land yacht. we had returned to school with sailing on the brain. our skate sail served us well enough while there was any ice, but as spring came on we wished we had our canoe with us, or even the old scow to sail on the lakes near the school. once we seriously considered building a sailboat, but the project was given up, as we had few facilities for such work. but bill wasn't easily baffled, and i wasn't surprised to have him come tearing into the room one day, yelling, "i've got it! i've got it!" in his hands were two bicycle wheels, which i recognized as belonging to a couple of bicycles we had discarded the year before. "what are you going to do with them?" i inquired. "i'm going to make a tricycle sailboat." "what?" "a tricycle sailboat, a land boat, or anything you've a mind to call it. i mean a boat just like our ice boat only on bicycle wheels instead of skates. we can sail all over south jersey on the thing. come on down and help me build it." the frame of the yacht. [illustration: fig. . the backbone and crosspiece.] i followed him to the shed at the back of the school and found that he had already procured a couple of scantlings for the frame of the boat. the sticks were inches thick and inches wide. the backbone was cut to a length of feet, and a -foot link was sawed off for the crosspiece. the two pieces were securely nailed together about feet from the forward end of the backbone. the crosspiece was set on edge, but a notch was cut in it about inch deep to receive the backbone. we might have braced the frame with wooden braces, as in the ice boat, but we thought that this time we would vary the design by using wire bracing instead, thus making the frame much lighter. i asked bill how he proposed to tighten the wire. turnbuckles were the thing, but i knew that they were rather expensive. "just you leave that to me," said bill. "i've a scheme that i think will work out all right." a simple turnbuckle. [illustration: fig. . an eye bolt.] [illustration: fig. . stretching the guy lines.] at the hardware store of the town we bought a pound of no. iron wire, eight large screw eyes and six eye bolts, with nuts and washers. both the screw eyes and eye bolts had welded eyes and the shanks of the eye bolts were inches long. a pair of screw eyes were now threaded into the backbone at each side about inches from the end, and at each end of the crosspieces an eye bolt was fastened. i began to see bill's plan. he was going to draw the wire taut by tightening up the nuts on the eye bolts. to get the best effect the hole for the eye bolt had to be drilled in on a slant, so that the bolt would pull directly in the line of the wire. to get just the right angle we ran a cord from the screw eye on one side to the point where the bolt was to be inserted, and traced its direction on the crosspiece. the hole for the eye bolt was now drilled parallel with the mark we had traced. the same was done at the other end of the crosspiece. a pair of screw eyes were now screwed into the backbone at the fore end and a pair of eye bolts were set at a corresponding angle in the ends of the crosspiece. the crosspiece was notched at each side so that the nuts and washers on the eye bolts would have a square seating. then we stretched on the wire guy lines, drawing them as tight as possible, with the eye bolts held in place by a turn or two of the nuts, after which we screwed up the nuts as far as we could, thus drawing up the wire until it was very taut. this done the second nut was threaded onto each bolt against the first so as to lock it in place and prevent it from jarring loose. stepping the mast. [illustration: fig. the frame with wire braces.] our next task was to step the mast. we found in the shed an old flagstaff feet long and inches in diameter. the lower end of this, for about a foot, we whittled down to a diameter of inches, and drove it into a hole in the backbone inches from the forward end. the mast was stayed by a wire stretched from the head to an eye bolt at the fore end of the backbone. the end of the mast which projected below the backbone was stayed with wire running forward to an eye bolt and aft to a screw eye on the backbone, and also with a pair of wires running to screw eyes threaded into the crosspiece near the ends. we couldn't very well use eye bolts on these wires except at the fore end, but we stretched the wires as tight as possible before the screw eyes were screwed all the way in, and then, as we turned the screw eyes, the wire was wound up on them and drawn fairly taut. fig. shows a side view of the frame, and wires marked and are the same as illustrated in fig. , which is a top or plan view of the frame. mounting the frame on bicycle wheels. [illustration: fig. . bracing the mast.] we were now ready to mount the frame on the bicycle wheels. we used only the front wheels of the bicycles with the forks in which they were journaled. the shanks at the top of the forks were firmly driven into holes in the crosspiece near the ends. for the steering wheel bill took the front fork and wheel of his new bicycle, letting the shank into a hole at the stern end of the backbone. the tiller. [illustration: fig. . the tiller.] [illustration: fig. . the seat.] for a tiller we used a piece of an old rake handle. a small hole was first drilled into the handle and the end of the stick was then split through the hole, permitting the projecting shank of the fork to be driven tightly into the hole. the split wood was now tightly closed onto the shank by means of a bolt (see fig. ). in the rubbish heap we found an old chair. the legs were sawed off and the seat was then firmly nailed to the backbone. the back of the chair was cut down so that it just cleared the tiller. a "leg-of-mutton" sail. [illustration: fig. . leg-of-mutton sail.] [illustration: fig. . the sailor's stitch.] [illustration: fig. . laying out the sail.] everything was now completed but the sail. this was a triangular or "leg-of-mutton" affair, of the dimensions given in fig. . it was made of light canvas, inches wide, of which we bought yards. out of this we took one strip feet long, one feet, one feet, and one feet long. we had no sewing machine, and therefore had to sew the strips together by hand. the selvedge edges of the strips were lapped over each other about an inch and then they were sewed together sailor fashion, that is, each edge was hemmed down, as shown in fig. . the strips were sewed together so that at the foot each projected at least inches below the next shorter one. this done, the sail was cut to the dimensions given, allowing - / inches all around for the hem. the hem was turned over a light rope, forming a strong corded edge. at the clew, tack and head loops were formed in the rope which projected from the canvas, and at intervals along the foot the canvas was cut away, exposing the rope so that the sail could be laced to the boom, as illustrated. the boom was a pole feet long attached to the mast by means of a screw hook threaded into the end of the boom and hooked into a screw eye on the mast, after which the screw hook was hammered so it would close over the screw eye to keep it from slipping off. the sail was raised by a halyard passing over a block at the top of the mast. the sheet was fastened near the end of the boom, passed through a block on the backbone, back of the tiller, and through another block on the boom, and was led to a cleat within easy reach of the chair seat. a sail through the country. [illustration: fig. . a sail on the land yacht.] our land yacht proved to be quite a successful craft in the flat country around the school. of course, we could not sail everywhere; a country road is too narrow for any tacking when it comes to sailing against the wind. we hadn't thought of that when we made our trial trip. a strong east wind was blowing and so we ventured forth on a road that led due west from our school. off we sped before the wind for two miles, until we came to a sharp turn in the road. then we began to think of turning homeward. but this was a very different proposition. the wind was dead against us and to try to tack from side to side of the road was useless, because we would hardly get under way on one tack before we had to swing around on the other tack, losing all our momentum. it ended up by our lowering sail and ignominiously trundling the yacht back to school. after that we carefully selected our course, and never sailed away from home before the wind unless we knew of a roundabout way that would lead us back to port on a couple of reaches (long tacks). chapter xx. easter vacation. just before easter that year bill's aunt dorothy invited him to spend eastertide with her and bring along his roommate. i accepted the invitation with alacrity. bill had once spent a whole summer at his aunt's home, and when we arrived there he had many old haunts to visit. we spent the first day rambling through the woods, in the hills and back of the house. bill's cave. he introduced me to a cave which he believed was known to only two other boys, both of whom had since moved to new york city. the mouth of the cave was almost closed by a large boulder that had lodged in front of it. we had to climb to the top of this rock, and then letting ourselves down with a rope we slid down the sloping rear face of the boulder into a crevice in the rocks. then after squirming under a ledge we emerged into a large chamber, which appeared to be as dark as night after our sudden entrance from the outer light. [illustration: fig . sliding down into the cave.] bill lighted a candle which projected from a chink in the wall. by its light i saw that there was a pool in the center of the cave fed from a spring at one point. from the pool the water trickled off into a tiny stream to the mouth of the cave, where it was lost in a crack in the rocks. the water was ice cold and clear as crystal. around the pool were several chairs and a table made by bill and his two friends. that was evidently where bill had gotten his idea of a subterranean club. the barrel stave hammock. [illustration: fig. . the barrel stave hammock.] [illustration: fig. . tying the staves together.] hanging between a couple of projecting rocks was a hammock made of barrel staves. the hammock was a very simple affair, made by drilling a -inch hole in each end of each barrel stave. the staves were then connected by two ropes on each side, woven alternately in and out through these holes, that is, one rope would be passed down through one stave, up through the next, down through the third, etc., and through the same holes another rope would be threaded in and out but in the opposite direction. the end staves of the hammock were provided with double holes, as shown in fig. , so as to make them lie flat, then the ropes were threaded through them. the barrel armchair. [illustration: fig. . the armchair frame.] [illustration: fig. . casters on the chair.] [illustration: fig. . tacking on the straw sandwiches.] [illustration: fig. . the barrel armchair.] aside from the hammock and the rustic furniture there was a fine armchair, made from a barrel that had been sawed off, as in fig. , to form the arms and back. the barrel was raised from the ground by setting it on a couple of boards arranged in the form of a v. then a caster was fastened to the point of the v and another at each end, making a three-legged chair of it. the chair was upholstered with ticking stuffed with straw. first a piece of ticking large enough for the back was laid on the ground and covered over with an even layer of straw. over the straw a second piece of ticking was laid, making what bill called a "straw sandwich." this was nailed to the chair back along the edge and at the bottom, drawing the cloth as taut as possible. to make a better finish for the chair, the ticking was covered with dark red denim. then strips of braid were laid on the chair back, crossing each other like a lattice. at the crossing points of the braid brass-headed tacks were nailed right through the sandwich into the wood, producing the padded upholstered effect. next a long, thin sandwich was made to run along the edge of the back, and another one to run around the chair just below the seat, also a couple of small sandwiches to cover the legs and the brackets leading to them. these were all covered with denim before being tacked to the chair and then they were bound with tape at intervals to produce the padded effect. the rest of the woodwork was covered with denim, and a neat ruffle made by aunt dorothy hung about the bottom of the chair. a thick, round sandwich was now made to cover the seat board. this was also given a padded effect by binding it with tape. the seat board was not nailed to the chair, but rested on four cleats nailed to the barrel on the inside. when the seat was lifted out it uncovered a shallow chest in which various things could be stored. the summer toboggan. [illustration: fig. . the summer toboggan.] bill informed me that he and his two chums used to spend hot summer afternoons in this cool place whittling out various ornaments and making furniture for the cave. in one corner were a number of home-made amusement devices, one of which struck me as rather odd. it consisted of a pair of large barrel staves, hollow side up and connected with two short boards, as in fig. . bill said it was a summer toboggan, to be used on grass instead of snow. i had never heard of such an affair, and, of course, had to have a demonstration. bill went to the top of the hill and from there coasted down the grassy slope in fine style. tailless kites. "there's a better place over on the other side of the hill," he said, and led the way to his favorite coasting spot. but here our attention was diverted from coasting by the curious sight of a full-grown man flying a kite. we found out afterward that he was a professor keeler, who had made a great scientific study of kites. professor keeler was very affable, and we soon got acquainted with him. his kite was way up in the air, almost out of sight, and was pulling like everything. neither bill nor i could hold it long. but the most remarkable part of it all to me was the fact that the kite had no tail. i had heard of tailless kites made like a box, but this one appeared to be very much like the kites i had made in my younger days, and i well knew the importance of a long tail to keep such a kite steady. we asked the professor about it, and were informed that this kite was of the malay type, which is so designed that the cloth bellies out into pockets on each side of the central stick or backbone, and these pockets balance the kite while the backbone acts as a rudder. finding that we were interested in the subject he gave us full instructions for making kites from to feet long, and these i jotted down for future use. in a -foot kite he said the stick should be / inch thick and / inch wide, in a -foot kite / inch thick and / inch wide, in a -foot kite / inch thick and / inch wide, and in an -foot kite / inch thick and inch wide. on the following summer we built a -footer and also an -footer. [illustration: fig. . coasting in summer.] a five-foot malay kite. [illustration: fig. . tying on the cleats.] [illustration: fig. . hook on the vertical stick.] [illustration: fig. . double hook.] [illustration: fig. . connection at corner.] for the -foot kite we used two sticks of hickory / of an inch wide, / an inch thick, and each feet long. according to directions, one stick was laid across the other at a point two-elevenths of its length from the top. two-elevenths of feet is a little less than inches, and so we fastened on the cross stick inches from the upper end of the backbone. the sticks were not nailed together, because this would have weakened the frame just at the point where it was under the greatest strain. instead we followed the professor's directions and tied cleats to each stick, as shown in fig. , so as to form sockets. then the sticks were laid across each other, each stick fitting into the socket of the other, just like a mortised joint. a coat of shellac on the bottom of each cleat glued it temporarily to the stick, after which it was very tightly bound with fine cord. the stick and cleats were now thoroughly shellaced. the end of each stick was tapered off to receive a brass ferrule of the kind used on chisel handles. they can be bought at any hardware store. at the end of the backbone we fastened hooks made of brass, bent to the form shown in fig. . the cross sticks were also provided with hooks, but these were double, as shown in fig. , so that a hook lay on both the front and the rear side of the frame. [illustration: fig. . bending the cross stick.] the frame was covered with a kind of cloth called "percaline." the cloth was hemmed along each edge over heavy picture wire, and at each corner the wire was twisted around a small solid ring of brass. the rings were now slipped over the hooks on the frame and then the cross stick was bowed back by fastening a wire to the rear hooks and drawing it taut. professor keeler told us to tighten this bowstring until the distance from the wire to the cross stick at the center was equal to one-tenth of the length of the stick. as our sticks were each feet long we tightened the wire until the cross stick bowed out inches, as in fig. . the belly band of the kite was fastened at one end to the lower end of the backbone and at the upper end to a wire hook at the juncture of the two sticks. the hook was fastened to the cross stick by flattening the ends and running them under the cord used for binding on the cleats (see fig. ). a buttonhole was made in the cloth covering to let this hook project through. the belly band was just long enough, so that it could be stretched over to one end of the cross stick, as in fig. , and at this point, that is, inches from the upper end of the belly band, a brass ring was made fast, to which the main kite string was tied. the kite possessed the advantage that it could be quickly taken apart and folded into a small space. an eight-foot malay kite. [illustration: fig. . belly band hook.] our -foot kite was made in the same way only the sticks were / inch thick, inch wide and feet long. the cross stick was fastened - / inches (two-elevenths of feet) from the top of the backbone and it was bowed back - / inches (one-tenth of feet). the wire in the hem of the covering was a double thickness of the heaviest picture wire obtainable. [illustration: fig. . the -foot malay kite.] [illustration: fig. . malay kite with elastic belly band.] the elastic belly band. an important change was made in the belly band of the kite. the lower strand was made elastic by tying it fast to a number of heavy rubber bands, as in fig. . when flying the kite, if a sudden, strong puff of wind struck it, the elastic belly band would give, tilting up the lower end of the kite so that the wind passed under; but as soon as the gust had passed the rubber bands would draw the lower end of the kite back against the wind. the elastic belly band had the effect of making the kite rise almost vertically. sometimes it would even sail square overhead. the -foot kite was a very powerful one. to hold it we had to use a very strong cord, the kind used by upholsterers for tying down the springs in a chair or a sofa. putting the kites to work. bill tested the strength of the kite once by hooking a spring scale to the kite string. the scale was made to register weights up to pounds. but our kite yanked the pointer immediately past the -pound mark as far as it would go. we judged from this that the kite would lift at least pounds. such a pull as this it seemed a pity to waste, but how to utilize the power was a problem until one day, when the kite was soaring up on a south wind, dutchy suggested that we tie it to one of the canoes and go sailing up-stream. we tried the trick at once, but it didn't work very well, because the canoe was too light. the kite would drop unless there was a heavy pull on the string. we had better success with the scow, however, which provided a sufficient drag on the kite, and with the two kites to pull us we sailed a long ways up-stream, drifting down with the current when we had gone as far as we cared to. the diamond box kite. [illustration: fig. . the scow towed by kites.] [illustration: fig. . cleat for spreader.] [illustration: fig. . corner stick and spreader.] [illustration: fig. . the narrow frame.] [illustration: fig. . tacking on the cloth.] [illustration: fig. . forked end of long spreader.] professor keeler also gave us instructions for making a diamond-shaped box kite, and though we never built one, it may not be amiss to publish his instructions here. i quote from the chronicles of the s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i.: "materials: four sticks, / inch thick by / inch wide by inches long, for the corner sticks. two sticks, / inch thick by / inch wide by inches long, for the short spreaders. two sticks, / inch square by about inches long, for the long spreaders. two strips of cloth inches long, hemmed at each edge to a width of inches. whittle out twelve cleats to the form shown in fig. . at the ends of the -inch spreaders nail cleats on each side with long wire brads, so as to form forks, as shown in fig. , in which two of the corner sticks are held. the short spreaders are fastened to the corner sticks, inches from the ends, with brads driven through the cleats, making the frame (as in fig. ). to prevent the frame from skewing off sidewise it should be braced with wire running diagonally across from one corner stick to the other. ordinary soft stovepipe wire will do. care must be taken to have the spreaders meet the corner sticks squarely or at right angles. now take one of the cloth strips and sew its ends together to form a band. the end should be lapped about an inch and fastened with the sailor stitch (see fig. ). the same should be done to the other cross strip, and then each band should be marked off with pencil lines at four points, all equidistant from each other. the two bands may now be tacked to the two ends of the frame with opposite pencil lines over the edges of the corner sticks, as in fig. . the two remaining corner sticks are then nailed to the bands at the two other pencil lines. these corner sticks will now be braced apart by the long spreaders, which are notched to the right length to stretch the cloth taut. a cleat is nailed over each notch, as shown in fig. , forming forks to hold the corner pieces. the long spreaders are now forced down until they meet the short spreaders, to which they are tied with waxed string. the long spreaders may be nailed to the corner sticks by driving brads right through the cloth into the cleats and the sticks. the belly band may be fastened to any one of the corner sticks at the spreaders, and from the points where it is tied it should measure about inches in length. the point where the main string should be attached to the belly band may be best determined by experiment." [illustration: fig. . the diamond box kite.] chapter xxi. the water wheel. summer found us again on willow clump island with heads full of new ideas. bill had come across an old copy of ewbanks' "hydraulics" in the school library. it was a book describing machines of the ancients--principally devices for raising water. rather dry reading, i thought, even though it was a wet subject; but bill seemed to find it absorbingly interesting. i came in late one afternoon, after a glorious game of baseball, only to find bill poring over the yellowed leaves of the "hydraulics" as fascinated as most fellows would be over a detective story. it exasperated me to note that he thought more of this old book than he did of our baseball team. "bill," i exclaimed, "what's got into you? i can't for the life of me see what is so entertaining in that prehistoric book." "oh, go way. don't bother me," was the surly reply. but i wouldn't be put off that way. quickly i snatched the book from his grasp and threw it out the window. "now, sir," i cried, "maybe you will kindly explain to me why you persist in studying that old volume, to the neglect of our baseball team." "don't get so excited, old chap," he replied. "that book is all right. i'm studying up some new schemes for next year's expedition to willow clump island. why, there are lots of things in that old book that we can make." and he proceeded to unfold his plans, sketching out some curious designs of water wheels and pumps. by the time school closed for the summer bill had thoroughly digested that volume, and was ready to reconstruct many of the ancient machines. the water wheel. our first work on reaching the island was to erect a water wheel, or "noria," as it was called in the book, in front of the camp. it had been a great nuisance to keep our filter barrel full. every few days we would have to form a bucket brigade, passing pails of water up the line until the barrel was filled. now bill proposed to do away with all this bother and let the river do the work for us. surveying for the water wheel. we first determined the height of the upper filter barrel above the level of the river. this was done with our surveying instrument, which was set level with the top of the barrel. we sighted with the instrument to a long pole that was held upright at the edge of the water. the pole had been marked off into feet with white chalk marks, and on sighting through the sight holes we found that the hairs came in line with the eleventh chalk mark. the top of the filter was, therefore, feet above the level of the river. bill figured that it would be necessary to construct a wheel about feet in diameter in order to raise the water to the proper height. [illustration: fig. . surveying for the water wheel.] towers for the water wheel. [illustration: fig. . frame for large tower.] first we built the towers to support the wheel. one tower was feet high and the other only feet. the large tower was made something like a very tall and narrow saw-horse. two stout poles feet long were flattened at their upper ends and nailed together, with the ends projecting about a foot, as shown in fig. . at the bottom these poles were spaced feet apart by a cross bar, and about - / feet from the bottom a pair of boards were nailed to opposite sides of the pole to serve as supports for the axle of the water wheel. another pair of -foot poles was now similarly fastened together and then the two pairs were spaced about feet apart and connected at the top and bottom with boards. [illustration: fig. . the large tower.] [illustration: fig. . v-shaped trough.] at the top two smooth boards were used and these were nailed to the inner sides of the projecting ends, which were tapered off. in this manner a v-shaped trough was formed. the boards were firmly nailed together at their meeting edges so as to prevent them from warping apart. a diagonal brace at each corner made the wedge-shaped tower very substantial. a number of cleats nailed to one of the poles provided a ladder by which we could mount to the top of the tower. the shorter tower was a three-legged affair, made of three -foot poles. at first two of these were flattened and nailed together at their upper ends, and they were braced at the top and bottom. the third leg was then nailed in place and braced by cross bars connecting it with the other two poles. the wheel. [illustration: fig. . the small tower.] [illustration: fig. . the hub.] we were now ready to make the wheel. from lumberville four / -inch boards, each inches wide and feet long, were procured; also a bar of iron / of an inch in diameter and feet long. at the center of one of the boards a block of wood inches long and inches in diameter was nailed on for a hub. a / -inch hole was now drilled through this hub and the board. holes were also drilled into the other boards at their centers. then they were all strung onto the bar and spaced like spokes at equal angles apart. bill had figured it out some way that the ends of the boards should be just about feet - / inches apart. when the boards were all arranged we nailed them together at the center, and connected the ends with narrow tie boards, as indicated in fig. . the buckets. [illustration: fig. . the water wheel.] eight large tomato cans were now procured and fastened to the spokes at the ends on the inner side, that is, the side the hub was nailed to. we couldn't very well nail on the cans, so we punched two holes in the side of each can and then secured them to the spokes by passing bolts through these holes and the boards. the paddles. [illustration: fig. . a paddle.] then we cut sixteen paddles of the form shown in fig. . eight of these were inches long, and the rest measured inches. a slot inches deep was cut in each paddle of just the right width to slip over the tie boards. the shorter paddles were fastened on just back of the spokes, and the rest were secured half-way between each spoke. the paddles were braced by stretching a wire from one to another all the way around the wheel. the receiving trough. [illustration: fig. . how the paddles and cans were attached.] [illustration: fig . the receiving trough.] our next task was to nail the receiving trough in place on the higher tower. we set up the towers on land and mounted the wheel between them with the axle resting in the crotch of the short tower and in a deep notch cut in the cross boards of the larger one. the cans on the wheel faced the larger tower, but the hub at the center and a block nailed to the larger tower spaced the wheel far enough out so that the cans did not strike the tower as they revolved. we carefully measured the distance between the spokes and the larger tower, and then built a square trough of a size to just fit into this space. this trough was nailed across the end of the v-shaped trough on top of the tower, but a notch was cut in the side so that the water would pour from the square or receiving trough into this v-shaped one. the square trough was about feet long and its sides were inches high; but at the ends we had to cut them down to a height of but inches, so as to permit the cans to pass without hitting them. setting up the towers. our filter was located nearly feet from the end of the river, and in order to get a good current of water to revolve our wheel we had to place it about feet from shore. this necessitated building a trough line feet long. ten feet of this line were already provided in the top of the tall tower. this tower was now set up in place with the legs firmly wedged into holes excavated in the bottom of the river. the legs on the shore side were sunk a little deeper, so as to tilt the trough slightly shoreward. the outer end of the trough was about feet above the level of the water. we needed but one more tower to support the remainder of the trough line. this tower was built like the first one, but was much shorter, as it was erected on land and the level of the trough at the top had to be or inches lower so as to make the water flow. we connected the towers by another v-shaped trough section. this we nailed to the under side of the first trough and to the inside of the second trough. the latter was then in the same way connected by a trough section with the upper filter barrel. we now rigged up our shorter tower about a foot from the taller one, wedging in the legs so that the top came level with the slotted boards of the other tower. mounting the water wheel. then came the task of mounting our wheel in place. we were working in a pretty strong current and found it no easy matter. in the first place, the wheel was floated down to the towers, but there it got jammed and we couldn't lift it up. one of the paddles was broken and a bucket wrenched off before we could disentangle the wheel from the towers, and then the wheel was carried quite a distance down-stream before we could drag it in to shore. our next attempt was more successful. this time we anchored the wheel so that it just cleared the towers, then fastening a couple of long guy ropes to it, we raised the wheel on edge, while a boy stood on each side holding the ropes to keep the wheel steady. the anchor rope was now slowly paid out and the wheel was rolled in between the towers. this done, the wheel was lifted up and the axle rod was pushed in, with the ends of the rod resting in slots of the boards on the tall tower and in the crotch on the shorter one. to prevent the axle rod from working endwise out of its bearings, we nailed pieces of wood across the crotch and the slots against the ends of the rod. then we cast off the anchor rope and our wheel started work, the cans dipping up the water as they were carried around by the wheel and pouring it out of the top into the receiving trough, from which the water flowed down into the filter barrel. cooling the filter barrel. [illustration: fig. . the water wheel in action.] the trough line was very leaky and a great deal of water splashed out of the buckets. but for all that, within a few moments our barrel was full and overflowing. we hadn't figured on its filling so rapidly, but we soon found a way of utilizing the surplus water. it was led to a half-barrel in which we washed our dishes, and from there it flowed through a ditch back to the river. the water for the wash barrel was taken from the top of the upper filter barrel. but we let the lower filter barrel flow over so that it would be kept wet on the outside. our filter was fortunately placed at a point where a good breeze struck it, and we shoveled away the earth that had been piled around it so that the wind playing on the wet barrel evaporated the moisture, making the water inside very cool. the canvas bucket. [illustration: fig. . bottom of bucket.] this same trick was used for cooling our drinking water whenever we went off on an expedition away from camp. we had a heavy canvas bucket, the kind used on ships. we would fill this bucket with water and then hang it up in the wind. the water seeping out of the pores of the bucket would be evaporated by the wind, and this would, in a few moments, make the water inside delightfully cool. such buckets may be bought for $ . to $ . apiece, but ours was a home-made affair, and made somewhat differently from the store kind. the canvas used was the heaviest we could find. a piece inches in diameter was cut out for the bottom. a ring inches in diameter, made of heavy brass wire, was laid on the canvas, and the cloth was turned over it and sewed down the inside of the ring. for the sides of the bucket we cut a piece inches wide and inches long. the upper edge was strengthened by a piece of light rope held in place by hemming the cloth over it. the lower edge was now sewed to the bottom, just inside the wire ring and then the ends of the piece were joined, completing the sides of the bucket. the bail of the bucket was formed of a piece of rope fastened to the roped upper edge of the bucket. [illustration: fig. . the canvas bucket.] but to return to the current wheel; the day after it was completed, when i went over to lumberville for the mail, i was met by old jim halliday, who wanted to know what sort of a rig we had out on the river. i told him, and after a dint of much persuasion, induced him to take a ride back in the scow with me. he had never visited our camp and hadn't realized how handy we were with the tools, because, with the exception of the current wheel, all our work had been done on the opposite side of the island. we made him a guest of honor, showing him over the whole place. the bridges struck him as remarkably clever, but what pleased him most was our current wheel. "i swan," he said. "ef that ain't jest the thing i have been awantin' for the past twenty year. what'll ye sell me the hull plant fer, boys?" mr. halliday's water wheel. [illustration: fig. . mr. halliday's water wheel.] we thought he was fooling at first, but when he had assured us that he was in earnest, bill told him that we needed our own plant, but we could build him a similar and even better current wheel for any amount he thought it was worth to him. the figure settled on was six dollars (a dollar apiece) for our work, mr. halliday paying for the material. it was not a large sum, but it seemed a lot to us, and considering the scarcity of money in that region it was pretty generous pay. we built mr. halliday's current wheel just like our own, except that the paddles were much broader, and instead of using cans for the buckets mr. halliday supplied us with small dinner pails. the method of fastening on the pails is shown in fig. . a stick was nailed across the end of each spoke and the bail of the pail was held by a screw eye threaded into this stick. the pails would hang straight, holding all the water without spilling a drop until the receiving trough was reached. this trough was fastened high enough to strike the bottom of the pails as they went by, tipping them over and emptying them of their contents. from the trough the water ran directly into a large cider barrel and from here was carried through a pipe to mr. halliday's barn. a stopcock was here provided so that he could turn the water on or off, as he desired. the use of pails was a great improvement on tin can buckets. fully three times as much water was poured into the receiving trough, because not a drop was spilled out on the way up. chapter xxii. the log cabin. immediately after fitting out jim halliday with his water wheel we set to work on our log cabin. as a model we had a photograph of a log hut which uncle ed had sent us. as the cabin was designed particularly for use in winter time, we decided that it should be located where it would be sheltered from the northern winds and would be exposed to the sun. the ideal spot seemed to be on the southern shore of kite island, which was backed by a thick grove of trees but gave an unobstructed view in front for a distance of about four miles down-stream. foundation of log cabin. first we staked out the plan of the house. it was to be feet long by feet wide, so we leveled off a space of this area, and at the corners, where the greatest weight of the building would come, large rocks were embedded in the ground. a logging expedition. the logs for the house were cut from a tract of wooded land about five miles up the river, belonging to mr. schreiner. to be sure we could have cut the timber from our own island, but when reddy had said something to his father about our building a log cabin, mr. schreiner had warned us not to cut down any of the trees without the owner's permission. all we could learn about the owner was that his name was smith, and that he lived somewhere in new york city. it seemed unlikely that he would ever have anything to say about our cutting down a few trees, but rather than run any risk mr. schreiner advised us to make use of his woods for any timber we might need. accordingly we started out early one morning on a logging expedition. we had no apparatus for handling any logs more than or inches in diameter, and bill reckoned it out that we would have to have about fifty logs of this size for the sides of the building alone. this did not mean that fifty trees had to be chopped down, because we could usually cut two logs from a single tree. as the logs would have to overlap about a foot at each corner, we had to cut the longer ones to a length of feet and the others to a length of feet. aside from these we had to have several -foot logs for the roof. only the straightest logs were chosen, and while bill and reddy wielded the axes the rest of us hacked off the small branches with hatchets and hauled the sticks down the river. here we tied them together to make a raft. the log raft. [illustration: fig. . tying the logs together.] this was done by running a pair of ropes alternately over and under the logs at each end (see fig. ). about fifteen were thus fastened together, and then as an extra precaution a log was laid across each end of the raft and tied fast. as soon as we had cut enough timber for our first raft, we all ceased work, to take a ride down the river on the logs. two of us, armed with poles, were to do the steering. there was one spot in the river of which we were rather apprehensive. that was a bit of shallow, swift water three miles from camp. a line of rocks jutted up from the river, forming a natural dam which was broken only at the eastern end. the water swirled madly through this opening, and veering off a huge rock which lay directly in front of the gap turned sharply westward. as we neared this dam the river became deeper and deeper, until finally we could no longer reach bottom with the poles, and could not properly steer the boat. for some time we drifted helplessly round and round in the still water above the dam. then suddenly the current caught us and we swept like a shot for the opening. the gap was quite wide, and had we only thought to provide ourselves with oars we could have steered the raft clear of the rocks below, but we were entirely at the mercy of the current, and with a terrific crash we were hurled head on against the boulder. [illustration: getting dinner.] [illustration: the photo after which our log cabin was modeled.] just what happened then i can not say. when i undertook to record the incident in the chronicles of the s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i., i found there were five entirely different versions of the affair besides my own. i knew that immediately after the shock i found myself struggling in the water just below the rock over which i must have been slung by the force of the impact. dutchy declared up and down that he had sailed fifty feet in the air astride of a log. bill had been almost stunned by a blow on the head and was clinging desperately to a jagged projection of the rock. the ropes that had held the raft together had parted, scattering the logs in all directions, and i could see the rest of the crew hanging on to them for dear life. shouting to bill to let go his hold on the rock. i swam over and caught him as he drifted down, then i helped him ashore. leaving bill to recuperate i rushed down the bank, shouting to the others to paddle the logs over toward shore. then i plunged in, and pulling myself up on the nearest log, paddled shoreward as we had done on the planks when shooting the rapids. in this way one by one we corralled the logs, and after tying them together again resumed our voyage down the river. we now had no swift water to fear and were able to guide the raft successfully down to lake placid. but here we moored it, not venturing to take it past the mill-race until we had gotten the oars from the scow and nailed on oar locks at each side and the rear, so that we could properly row and steer the raft safely to kite island. the sail-rigged raft. [illustration: fig. . a sail-rigged raft.] when we went up the river again we carried the oars with us, also the sail and mast belonging to our ice boat, as there was a good breeze blowing down-stream. our second trip was more successful. the mast was stepped in a small but solid box nailed to the logs. in the top of this box a hole was cut for the mast to fit into and then the mast was braced with guy lines. we came down the river in fine style, steering straight for the opening in the dam, and just as we were about to shoot through reddy and i plied the oars for all we were worth on the port (left) side so as to swing the raft around past the boulder. however, we didn't escape entirely without accident, for the raft rode up on a submerged ledge, dipping the starboard side clear under water and nearly tipping us over. but in a moment the raft had righted itself and we had smooth sailing for the rest of the way. building the log cabin. [illustration: fig. . foundation logs notched.] [illustration: fig. . foundation logs fitted together.] [illustration: fig. . a corner of the log wall.] our third expedition completed the number of logs we required for the log cabin. two large -foot logs were chosen for the foundation logs at the front and rear of the building. the logs were flattened along the bottom so that they would have a firmer bearing on the ground, and particularly on the corners, where they rested on foundation stones. each log was now notched about a foot from the ends. the notches were inches long and about inches deep. care was taken to place those on one log squarely opposite the notches on the other. a pair of -foot logs were now laid across the foundation logs and rolled along them until another half-turn would have dropped them into the notches (shown in fig. ). then notches were cut in the -foot logs to correspond, so that when the final half-turn was given one notch would fit over the other, making a mortise joint (fig. ). when the side logs were in position notches were cut in their upper surface to receive a pair of -foot logs which were rolled onto them, notched and dropped into place. then another pair of side logs were laid on, and so the work progressed. the notches in each log were cut to a depth equal to one-quarter the diameter of the log; that is, if the log was inches in diameter the notch was made inches deep, and if inches in diameter it was cut to a depth of - / inches. when the logs were laid in place no space intervened between them, as will be clearly understood by reference to fig. . we found, after a few logs had been set in place, that our cabin was growing faster at one end than at the other. the trouble was that our logs were not of uniform diameter throughout, and we had been laying the butt ends, which were larger, all at one end of the building. so we had to take down the logs and relay them with the butt end of the front foundation log at one end and that of the rear foundation log at the other. then the cross logs were laid on with their butt ends on the small ends of the foundation logs. the next end logs were laid with their small ends on the butt ends of the cross logs, and so on, taking care never to lay the butt end of one log across the butt end of another. in this way the walls were built up evenly to a height of feet. [illustration: fig. . piece cut out to admit saw.] we had planned to make a large open fireplace in the cabin, and this necessitated cutting an opening in the rear wall. but we did not want to cut the opening until the wall was built up to its full height lest it might buckle while the remainder of the logs were being placed in position. so we merely cut a piece out of the top log to make room for a saw when we were ready to cut the complete opening. as our fireplace was to be feet in width, a -foot piece was cut out of the center of the log. then the ends were supported by cleats nailed on each side, as shown in fig. . this done the building was continued as before, but as the walls grew we found it more and more difficult to raise the logs to position. we could not lift them directly to the top of the wall, but had to roll them up on "skids"; that is, on a pair of -foot logs which were laid against the top of the wall. when the walls had reached a height of about feet above the foundation logs, a length feet inches long was cut out of the top log to allow space for sawing out the front door and window, and also a -inch piece was cut out for the side window. cleats temporarily held the sawed ends of the logs, while the walls were carried on up to a height of a little over feet from the foundation logs. the roof of the log cabin. [illustration: fig. . skids] then we started laying the roof. a -foot log was now notched in place at each side, with its forward end projecting about feet over the front of the cabin to form a shelter in front of the building. a pair of -foot logs were then laid in position. the next pair of -foot logs were laid about inches in from the sides, and after a pair of the cross logs had been set in place a third pair of logs were laid about inches from the sides. finally, a single -foot log was set in place at the center, to serve as the ridge beam of the roof. the roof logs were all carefully tested to see if they were sound before we laid them in place, because we did not want to run any risk of the roof falling in, particularly in the winter time, when it would be heavily covered with snow. a chalk line was drawn from the ridge beam to the lower roof beam, and the cross logs were sawed off along this line, as indicated in fig. . several slabs were now procured and laid across the roof beams to serve as rafters. these rafters projected about inches beyond the side walls of the cabin, so as to support the eaves. over the rafters we laid a roofing of slabs, starting with the bottom and lapping them, as we had done on our tree house. [illustration: fig. . how the roof logs were laid.] the door and window frames. we were now ready to cut out and frame the doors and window openings. the front window of the cabin was to be close beside the door, so we merely widened the door opening at the top to include the window opening as well (see figs. and ). the door was made - / feet wide, and was cut down to the foundation logs. the window opening was cut to a depth of inches. before sawing out the opening we wedged pieces of wood between the logs along the line we were to follow with the saw, so as to keep them in place. after the opening had been made a couple of stout boards were nailed to the sawed ends of the logs at each side, to hold them securely in place and make a suitable framing for the door. the cleats were then removed. the foundation log and the one at the top of the opening were flattened, to serve as the sill and lintel of the door. between the door and window a short post was wedged in place. this post was flattened on opposite sides, so that the door jamb could be nailed against it on one side and the window frame on the other. the side window was next cut out and framed. after it had been framed it measured feet square. [illustration: fig. . the finished roof.] the fireplace. then came the task of building our fireplace. first we sawed out the opening, cutting right through the rear foundation log. then we gathered from the river a large number of the flattest stones we could find. with these we planned to build the three outer walls of our chimney. but the question of getting mortar to bind the stones together bothered us for a while. "if only we could find a bed of clay. don't any of you know of one around here?" queried bill. but none of us remembered seeing any clay bed in the vicinity. "if we were in south jersey now," i said, "we could use some of that red mud they have down there. it sticks like the mischief to shoes and pant legs. i bet it would hold those stones together." "red mud? why there's plenty of it over the hill, back of lumberville," said reddy. "all the roads over there are red shale roads, and i saw some red banks along the river when we went after the logs." that was just what we wanted. the banks reddy referred to turned out to be genuine red shale, and soon we had ferried several scow loads of the stuff down to kite island. when the shale was wet it made quite a sticky mortar. the foundations of the chimney were laid in a trench about feet deep, and the side walls of the chimney were carried inside of the cabin and covered the ends of the logs at the chimney opening. the side walls extended outward a distance of feet, where they were joined by the rear wall of the chimney. the proper way to build a stone wall. in making our chimney we could not rely on the red shale to hold the stones as firmly as good lime mortar would, so we had to be careful that each stone, as it was laid, had a firm bearing. the stones were embedded in a thick layer of mud, and if they showed any tendency to teeter we propped them up by wedging small stones under them until they lay solid. another thing that we were very careful about was to "break joints"; that is, to keep the joints in each layer of the stones from coinciding with those in the next layer, above or below. to make sure of this we made it a point to lay a stone over each joint in the top of the wall and then to fill in the space between the stones with smaller stones. in this way the wall was made very substantial. [illustration: fig. . how to build a wall.] when the masonry had been carried up to the top of the chimney opening, a heavy timber about inches wide was laid across the walls close against the wall of the building. this was to support the fourth wall of the chimney, and so we flattened its upper surface. to prevent it from catching fire it was covered with a thick plastering of mud, and then to keep the mud from cracking and flaking off we procured a piece of tin and tacked it over the log. the tin also extended over the top log of the opening. then we went on with the building of the chimney walls, carrying them up about a foot above the ridge of the roof. our chimney was completed by paving the bottom with stones, well packed in mud and nicely smoothed off to make the hearth. the hearth extended about inches into the cabin, and was framed with logs, as shown in fig. . the floor of the cabin. a number of logs were now laid on the ground to serve as floor beams. slabs were used for the floor. we had some trouble in making the floor perfectly even, because the floor beams were rather irregular, and a great deal of time was spent in smoothing the logs off to a common level. if we had the work to do over again we would have bought two or three planks and laid them on edge to support the flooring. [illustration: fig. . building the chimney.] [illustration: fig. . section through the fireplace.] the door hinges and latch. [illustration: fig. . the door hinges.] [illustration: fig. . the latch guard.] [illustration: fig. . door catch.] a door was now constructed by battening together a number of slabs. in place of a hinge a hole was drilled into the sill and another into the lintel directly in line with it. two sticks of wood were then whittled to fit snugly, but without jamming, into these holes. these sticks were then nailed to the inner face of the door, with their whittled ends projecting into the holes, forming pintles on which the door could turn. a narrow strip of wood was nailed to the outer jamb for the door to close against. the latch consisted of a stick of wood, fastened to the door at one end with a nail. it hooked onto a catch whittled out of hard wood to the form illustrated in fig. , and nailed to the jamb. then to keep the latch from dropping too far when the door was open, and to guide it when slammed against the catch, we whittled out a guard piece to the form illustrated in fig. , and nailed this to the door, with the latch projecting through the slot of the guard. a string was now fastened to the latch and passed through a hole in the door. a block was tied to the end of the latch string to prevent it from slipping back through the hole; but at night, when we did not want to be molested by any intruders, we untied the block and drew in the latch string. the window sash. [illustration: fig. . the latch.] for our windows we made wooden sashes which fitted nicely into the window openings. a small hole was drilled through the sash at each side into the frame, and nails inserted in these holes held the sash in place, and served also as hinge pins for the sash to turn on. the sash could be taken out at any time by removing these nails. as we could not afford to use glass for our windows, we covered the sashes first with cloth, and later, when it occurred to us that in winter time it would be difficult to keep the cold air out, we used oiled paper. bunks. [illustration: fig. . hinged window sash.] [illustration: fig. . bunks.] our next work was directed toward providing sleeping accommodations in the log cabin. a large log was laid on the floor the full length of the cabin, as far out as possible without interfering with the opening of the front door. stakes were laid across this log, with their opposite ends wedged in between the logs of the wall. a nail or two in each slab held it in place. this formed a sort of shelf feet long, which was divided at the center to form two bunks, each wide enough for two persons. but as there were six of us in the society, we had to provide two more berths. a stout post was set into a hole in the ground, and nailed firmly at the bottom to the lower berth log and at the top to one of the roof beams. this post supported a second berth log, which extended the full length of the building at a height of about feet from the floor, and was wedged at the ends between the logs of the house. cleats were nailed to the walls under this berth log to make it perfectly secure. then slabs were nailed across it to form the two bunks. stopping up the chinks. the log cabin was completed by stopping up all the chinks between the logs of the walls. strips of wood and bits of bark plastered with mud were driven into all the cracks and crevices until everything was made perfectly tight. chapter xxiii. the windmill. when our log cabin was completed we immediately transferred our camp from the tent to the hut. but at the very outset we were confronted with the problem of getting drinking water. we hadn't thought of that before. it was easy enough to move the filter barrels, but when it came to moving the water wheel we could find no suitable place for it anywhere near the log cabin. the water of lake placid was too quiet, while the mill-race and the rapids on the other side of kite island ran so swiftly that we were afraid the water wheel would be swept away with its course. the matter was carefully considered at a special meeting of the society. it occurred to bill that we might build a windmill in place of the water wheel, and use it to pump water from a well which could be dug near the hut. "we wouldn't have to use a filter, then," he said. "why not?" i asked. "why, because the sand of the island will strain out all the dirt in the water. you see, the water in the well will have to soak in from the river, and by the time it gets through all the gravel and sand between the river and the well it ought to be filtered pretty clear." digging the well. [illustration: fig. . digging the well.] that sounded logical, and so we adopted the plan at once. we chose a spot quite near the hut for our well. when we had dug down about feet we struck water, but continued excavating until the water lay feet deep in the well. while making the excavation we shored up the sides with planks, to prevent the loose soil from falling in on us and smothering us, as it so nearly did when we were digging our first cave. by "shoring," i mean we lined the walls with planks, which were driven into the ground with large wooden mallets. the planks were braced apart with sticks at frequent intervals. as the well hole grew deeper we had to rig up a bucket to haul the dirt out. our bucket was a soap box attached to a rope, which passed through a pulley at the top of the well. the pulley was supported by a tripod made by firmly lashing together the upper ends of three stout poles and spreading their lower ends far enough apart to straddle the mouth of the well, as shown in fig. . after the well had been carried down to a sufficient depth, we began laying the stone wall, which was to form the permanent lining. we knew that the wooden walls would not do, because they would soon decay. our stone wall, which was built up of flat stones like the chimney of the log house, was not very strong, i fear, and had not the soil around it been pretty firm it would probably have caved in. however, if it served no other purpose, it formed a fairly good finish for the well. the windmill tower. [illustration: fig. . frame for the tower.] the mouth of the well was carefully covered with planks while we constructed the windmill above it. for the tower of the windmill we chose four long sticks. they must have measured about feet in length, and were from to inches in diameter. with them we made two frames of the form given in fig. , using slabs to brace them apart. these frames were now set in position, with their lower ends firmly planted in holes in the ground, and the tower was completed by nailing on a number of diagonal braces. a couple of boards were nailed across the upper ends at opposite sides, and holes were drilled through them to provide bearings for the wind wheel shaft. the crank shaft. [illustration: fig. . the crank shaft.] the shaft was a piece of heavy iron rod which we procured from the blacksmith at lumberville. under bill's direction the blacksmith hammered a u-shaped bend at the center of the shaft, so as to form a crank, and then he flattened the rod near the ends (see fig. ). when the shaft was set in its place these flat spots lay just outside of the bearing boards, and then, to keep the shaft from sliding back and forth in its bearings, we fastened on two clamps over these flattened parts. the clamps were made of pairs of hardwood blocks bolted together in the manner indicated in fig. . the wind wheel. [illustration: fig. . a clamp.] [illustration: fig. . wedge for wind wheel.] [illustration: fig. . spokes of wind wheel.] [illustration: fig. . wind wheel blade.] our next task was to construct the wind wheel. first we procured three boards, each inches wide and - / feet long. a / -inch hole was drilled in the center of each board, and then, with these holes coinciding, the boards were nailed together, with their ends projecting, like spokes, equally distant from each other. six wedges were now made of the size indicated in fig. . these were made of a x -inch scantling, sawed diagonally in two and then planed down to the given dimensions. the wedges were now nailed firmly to the spokes, as shown in fig. . for the blades we used six thin boards, each about feet long. each blade measured inches in width at the outer end, and tapered down to a width of inches at the inner end, as illustrated in fig. . the blades were now securely nailed to the wedges, and their outer ends were braced together by means of wires stretched from the forward edge of each blade to the rear edge of the next one ahead. the wheel was then fitted onto the shaft and nailed to one of the clamps. in this way it was practically keyed to the shaft. we did not make any vane for our windmill. it did not need any. the wind nearly always blew either up or down the river, more often up the river, for the prevailing summer winds in that part of the country are southerly. but, aside from that, east and west winds could not very well reach us on account of the hills on both sides of the river. the wheel was set facing the north, because the strongest winds came from that direction, and as an extra brace against these winds we stretched wires from the projecting end of the shaft to the center of each blade. a simple break. [illustration: fig. . the wind wheel.] a brisk northerly wind was blowing when we set the wheel in place, and it began to revolve at once, before we could nail it to the clamp. to stop it we nailed a stick of wood to the tower, so that its end projected in the path of the blades and kept the wheel from turning around. this brake was swung up to the dotted position illustrated when we were ready to have the wheel revolve, but it could be thrown down at any time to stop it. the pump. [illustration: fig. . side view of the wind wheel, showing brake.] our pump was made of a galvanized leader pipe; that is, a pipe used to carry off rain water from the roof of the house. the pipe was only about feet long, and so we had to piece it out with a long wooden box pipe. a block closed the lower end of this box, and the leader pipe fitted snugly into a hole in the block (fig. ). a spout was set into the upper end of the box pipe to carry the water to the cask, which was to serve as our water reservoir. the pump valves. [illustration: fig. . the box pipe.] [illustration: fig. . the lower valve.] [illustration: fig. . the piston valve.] we plugged the bottom of the leader pipe with a block of wood, in the center of which a large hole was drilled. the hole was covered with a piece of leather nailed at one side, so that it could lift up to let water into the pipe. the piston was made of a disk of wood of slightly smaller diameter than the inside of the pipe, and over it was fastened a piece of leather just large enough to fit snugly against the walls of the pipe. this piston was fastened to a wooden rod long enough to reach from well within the pipe to the wind wheel shaft. a strip of brass was bent over the crank, or u-shaped bend in the shaft, and its ends were fastened to the rod. [illustration: the old windmill at work on a lumberville farm.] action of the pump. [illustration: fig. . connection of rod and crank.] it was rather a crude pump, but it did all the work we required of it. as the wheel went around the crank shaft would move the piston up and down. whenever the piston went down, the air in the pipe would press up the edges of the leather disk and squeeze past (see fig. ). then when the piston came up again, the leather disk, being backed by the wooden disk beneath it, was kept flat, so that no air could force its way back into the pipe. this made a partial vacuum in the pipe, and the water from the well rushed up through the valve at the bottom to fill it (see fig. ). when next the piston went down the bottom valve closed and more air forced its way past the piston. then on the next upward stroke more water flowed into the pipe, until, after a number of strokes, all the air was pumped out and the water which took its place began to force its way up past the piston and eventually to flow out of the spout into the cask. our old windmill was sold to a farmer near lumberville when we broke camp that fall. we carted it over and set it up for him. a number of years later i saw it still faithfully at work pumping water for his cattle. the original pump had been worn out and a new one substituted, but otherwise the old windmill remained just as we had first rigged it up. [illustration: fig. . fig. . action of the pump.] chapter xxiv. the gravity railroad. "about all we lack now," said dutchy, when the windmill had been completed, "is a railroad." "then suppose we build one," was bill's unexpected rejoinder. we all thought he was joking, but he wasn't. "i don't mean a steam railroad," he said, "but a gravity railroad." "a what?" "a gravity railroad. oh, you know what that is--a roller toboggan--the kind they have down at coney island." and he went on to explain how we could rig up a simple roller toboggan on our island. his plan was to build an inclined trestle on the high ground just below the lagoon, and then run wooden tracks along the shore down to the pontoon bridge, and across the mill-race to kite island. we started first to dig a road down to the bridge, because the bank was quite high at this point. the task was rather greater than we anticipated, but we kept steadily at it until we had cut a fairly good road through the bank, though the grade was rather steep. before proceeding with the trestle and track we thought the best plan would be to build our car, and then we could use it as a gauge to determine how far apart the rails should be set. the car. [illustration: fig. . putting the car body together.] first we got a x -inch scantling, and cut from it two lengths, each feet inches long. these were laid on edge just inches apart, and then a number of boards were nailed across from one scantling to the other and sawed off flush with their edges. the floor thus formed was now turned over so that the scantlings lay uppermost and the sides of the car were then nailed on with their edges overlapping the ends of the floor boards. the sides, which were about inches high, were each made of two boards firmly battened together. great care was taken to securely nail both the flooring and the sides to the scantlings, because these scantlings were to carry the wheels of the car. the car body was completed by nailing on the end pieces which overlapped both the flooring and the side walls. the flanged wheels. [illustration: fig. . the car wheel.] next we sawed out the wheels of our car. from a board of hardwood / of an inch thick four disks, inches in diameter, were sawed out. then from a board inch thick four -inch disks were sawed out. we cut these disks in the same way as we had made the disks for our surveying rod (see page ), by making cuts across corners and finally smoothing off the angles with a draw-knife. a half-inch hole was now drilled in the center of each disk. then on each large disk a smaller one was placed, with the center holes of the two coinciding and the grain of one lying across the grain of the other. in this position they were firmly nailed together, making a wheel like those used on a railway car, with the small disc forming the tread of the wheel and the large disk serving as a flange. the car axles. [illustration: fig. . car body with axles in place.] for the car axles we bought four / -inch bolts, inches long, with two washers and two nuts for each bolt. in each side of the car, about inches from the ends, we nailed face blocks; that is, blocks of wood for the wheels to bear against. these face blocks were only / inch thick. then in these blocks holes were drilled which were carried clear through the scantling. the holes were just large enough for the bolts to fit snugly in them. the bolts were inserted from the inside, so that their threaded ends projected out at each side of the car. a patch of wood was nailed to the scantling over each bolt head to prevent the bolt from slipping back into the car. then the wheels were mounted on these bolts, which served as axles. mounting the wheels. [illustration: fig. . section showing how to fasten on the wheel.] first a washer was placed on the axle, then the wheel was applied, with the larger or flange disk against the face block, after which another washer was slipped on. a nut was screwed against this washer just tightly enough to keep the wheel snugly in place, and yet let it turn freely on its axle. then to keep this nut from shaking loose a second nut was screwed on against it. while one fellow held the first nut from turning, another screwed the second nut against it as tightly as he could. the second nut is technically known as a "jam nut," or "lock nut." the car was completed by laying a couple of boards across from one scantling to the other to serve as seats. the railway track. [illustration: fig. . the inclined trestle.] [illustration: fig. . joints of the track.] the trestle was now begun. first we erected a level platform, which was to be the starting point of the railway. this was made very substantial by planting the corner posts firmly in the ground and then bracing them together with diagonal braces. a couple of planks leaning against the platform at one side provided a convenient means for mounting to the top. from the platform the trestle ran down at an easy incline to the ground. it was made of x -inch scantlings supported at intervals on posts driven into the ground. the opposite posts were firmly braced with boards fastened diagonally across them. the scantlings were to serve as rails, and so we fastened them at the proper distance apart with ties nailed to the under side. but to be sure that the rails were not too far apart or too close together, the car was rolled over the track and the rails were set to keep the tread disks of the wheels on them and the flange disks just clear of their inner edges. the ends of the rails were cut off at an angle, making a slanting joint, as shown in figs. and . they were fastened firmly together by nailing a piece of board on the bottom and also on the outer side. the carpenter's miter box. [illustration: fig. . carpenter's miter box.] to make sure that the ends were all cut to the same angle, we made a carpenter's "miter box." two sideboards were nailed to a baseboard, making a trough large enough for the scantling to be set in it. then we sawed through the sides of the trough at an angle of degrees. when we wanted to cut the end of the scantling at an angle it was placed in the trough, and with the saw set in the saw cuts, as a guide, we were sure that they would all be cut at the same angle. laying the track. [illustration: fig. . how the track was anchored.] from the bottom of the inclined trestleway we continued the track down the slope to the river; but for the sake of economy, instead of using x -inch scantlings for the rails, we bought a number of -inch planks at lumberville, and had them sawed up into strips inches wide. these -inch square rails were fastened together with slabs nailed on at frequent intervals. to maintain the proper gauge the car was rolled over each pair of rails, which were nailed first at the ends and center. to anchor the track we drove short posts into the ground so that their upper ends lay flush with the surface. a post was provided under each joint and one under the center of each rail, and then the slab ties were nailed securely to these posts. in imitation of a full-sized railway, we made it a point to "break joints" on our track; that is, to make the end of one rail come in line with the center of the opposite rail, as shown in fig. . our track was continued across the pontoon bridge and ran around the west shore of kite island. the track was straight as far as the shore of kite island, whence, by an easy curve, it was carried around to the log cabin. the first railway accident. dutchy was the first one to try the railway. he sneaked back to the platform while the rest of us were putting a few last touches on the track. the first we knew the car came tearing down the track at full speed, with dutchy yelling at the top of his voice for us to get out of his way. bill was on the bridge when the car came along and he had no time to run for shore, but with great presence of mind he jumped into the water and clung to one of the barrels. but the joke of it all was that dutchy himself got a wetting too. the track at the middle of the bridge was not quite true to gauge. it was this very spot that bill was fixing up when dutchy came along. the end of a rail was bent in far enough to catch the flange of one of the car wheels, and in a moment dutchy, car and all, was slung head over heels into the mill-race. fortunately no serious harm was done. dutchy landed a little ways down-stream, and reddy, by quick work, managed to rescue the car just as it was floating off under the suspension bridge. the car was undamaged except that the flange of a wheel was split off. of course, bill was as mad as a hornet at dutchy, and expressed his feelings in no mild terms. but his anger was somewhat tempered by the fact that dutchy received as bad a punishment as he had inflicted. [illustration: the start of the gravity railroad.] testing the track. we had to cut a new flange disk for the broken wheel, and to prevent the flanges from splitting off again we nailed a batten across the inner face of each wheel extending down to the very edge of the flange disk. this batten was fastened on across the grain. when everything was completed the car was started down the track empty to see if it would keep the rails. it went beautifully as far as the bridge, but was too light to run much beyond. the next time we loaded it up with stones and had the pleasure of watching it sail down hill, across the bridge and vanish out of sight around the shore of kite island. that was demonstration enough. we knew it would carry us safely and it did. the next time we tried it four of us piled into the small car, and in a moment we were off on a most thrilling ride, which ended right in front of the log cabin, where the car came to a sudden stop after riding off the end of the rails and plowing through the sand for a short space. chapter xxv. the cantilever bridge. there is one more piece of work done by our society which yet remains to be described, and that is the cantilever bridge. this we all voted to be the greatest of our achievements on the island. to be sure, it was uncle ed's design, but i think we justly deserve credit for the masterful way in which it was erected. in our search for types of bridges before building the king post bridge, we came across a simple cantilever bridge that didn't look very difficult to construct. to be sure, none of us knew a thing about stresses and strains, and ingenious though we were, bill realized that the task of designing a cantilever bridge was far beyond him. nevertheless, we were sure we could build one if only we had a good set of plans. a letter was therefore mailed to uncle ed, asking him for the required details. the answer came promptly from western australia, asking us to send him the exact width of the water we wished to span, the depth of the water, the distance from the top of one bank to the top of the other, and the exact height of the banks above water level. we decided we would build the bridge across the mouth of the lagoon. the distance here between the two banks measured a little over feet. the banks were very precipitous, and rose - / feet above the level of the water. all these details, together with soundings of the bottom, all the way across, were sent to uncle ed, and on the day after our railway was completed quite a bulky package was received in answer. it contained complete directions for building the bridge of wooden frames, which were so designed that they needed merely to be hooked together to form the bridge, though to make the structure perfectly safe uncle ed cautioned us to tie the frames together wherever they met. i am half afraid to tell my readers how to build this bridge, as it required the utmost care, and had to be built just so to avoid disaster. bridge building is a serious business, and i would not advise any one to attempt building this, of all bridges, who does not propose to follow instructions implicitly. uncle ed told us that if we built it properly, and with sound timbers, we would find the bridge strong enough to support a dozen boys, but he warned us not to crowd more than that number on it. frames for the cantilever bridge. [illustration: fig. . a frame (make four).] [illustration: fig. . b frame (make four).] [illustration: fig. . c frame (make four).] [illustration: fig. . d frame (make four).] the frames with which the cantilever bridge was built were made of saplings from to inches in diameter. we procured them from mr. schreiner's lands up the river. in making the frames the sticks were fastened together with / -inch bolts inches long. it was quite a strain on our pocketbooks to buy these bolts, but uncle ed had written that nails or spikes would be useless to stand the strains of so large a bridge, and that if we could not get any bolts we had better give up the idea of building a cantilever bridge. to make sure that we made no mistakes, uncle ed had made a drawing of each different size of frame we would need, designating each with a different letter, and then these same letters were marked on a general view of the bridge, so that we would know exactly where the frames belonged. these drawings are reproduced here in figs. to and . we had to make four frames each, of the _a_, _b_, _c_ and _e_ sizes, two each of the _f_, _g_ and _l_ sizes and one each of the _h_, _i_, _j_ and _k_ sizes. of the _d_ frames two were made with the ends cut away on the outer half, as illustrated in fig. , and two were cut away at the inner side, the reason for which will appear presently. when fastening the timbers together we cut notches in each stick, as shown in fig. . the depth of each notch was just one-quarter the diameter of the stick; that is, the notch was / of an inch deep in a -inch stick and inch deep in a -inch stick. care was taken not to exceed this depth, for fear of weakening the sticks. in the case of frame _d_, the sticks were not notched or mortised together. it will be noticed that the measurements are given to the inner edges of the sticks in some cases, and to the outer edges in others. the reason for this, as uncle ed explained it, was because the thickness of our sticks would vary considerably, and it was important that many of the measurements be exact, otherwise the frames would not fit into each other as they should. another thing to which he called our attention was the fact that frames _a_, _b_, _e_, _f_, _h_, _k_ and _l_ were stiffened with cross braces, while the rest were not. the braced frames, he wrote, were those which would be under a compression strain, while the others would be under tension; that is, when any weight was placed on the bridge it would push against the ends of the braced frames, trying to crush them, but would pull on the unbraced frames, trying to tear them apart. in fact, the bridge would have been just as strong had we used heavy iron wire in place of the unbraced frames, and the only reason uncle ed did not recommend our doing so was because we had no simple way of stretching the wire taut. [illustration: fig. . e frame (make four).] [illustration: fig. . f frame (make two).] [illustration: fig. . g frame (make two).] [illustration: fig. . h frame (make one).] [illustration: fig. . i frame (make one).] [illustration: fig. . j frame (make one).] [illustration: fishing off the cantilever bridge.] [illustration: the cantilever bridge in reddy's back yard.] erecting the towers. [illustration: fig. . k frame (make one).] [illustration: fig. . l frame (make two).] [illustration: fig. . notching the sticks together.] we built the complete set of frames before attempting to erect the bridge. then we began by building the towers. two _a_ frames were set on end and spaced feet apart at the top and feet apart at the bottom, measuring not from the inner but from the outer edges of the frames. in this position they were connected by short spars, notched in place. the notches for these connecting spars will be seen in fig. on the main or vertical timbers of frame _a_, just below the upper and middle cross sticks and above the lower cross sticks. the upper connecting spars were wedged tightly under the cross sticks, and served as an additional support for them. diagonal braces were nailed from one frame to the other, as illustrated in fig. . the towers were built on opposite banks, at the mouth of the lagoon, and when completed we lowered them carefully down the banks into the water. according to directions they were to be set just feet apart, measuring from the center of one tower to the center of the other. the water was quite shallow where the towers rested, but the bottom was pretty firm. holes were dug in the bottom for the legs of the tower to set into, and then large stones were piled around each leg to provide a firm foundation for the towers. setting up the frames. [illustration: fig. . view of part of the bridge, with letters indicating the various frames.] a _b_ frame was now hauled out to one of the towers and lifted by its narrower end, with fall and tackle, until its lower tie piece rested on the projecting ends of the center crosspieces of the tower. the upper end of the frame was held against the top of the tower, while a _c_ frame was hooked over the upper ends of the tower legs; then frame _b_ was allowed to swing outward until its smaller end locked with the outer end of frame _c_. it will be observed in fig. that the upper crosspiece or tie piece of frame _b_ was fastened to one side of the vertical sticks and the lower tie piece to the other side. this was done purposely, so that when the frame was set in position the bottom tie piece would be on the lower side of the frame and the top piece would lie on the upper side, as shown in fig , or, better still, in fig. . the rest of the frames were all arranged to be set in place with their tie pieces on the lower side, or facing the towers, as will be clearly understood by examining the illustrations. as soon as the _b_ and _c_ frames were set up on one side of the tower, another pair of _b_ and _c_ frames was set up on the other side of the same tower. a cantilever bridge must always be built out on both sides of the tower at the same time, otherwise it will be overbalanced on one side and topple over. after the _b_ and _c_ frames were in place we took two _d_ frames, with oppositely cut ends, and rested their tie sticks on the top of the tower, just under the ends of the _c_ frames. the ends of the two _d_ frames overlapped at the center of the tower, and, as one was cut away at the outer side and the other at the inner side, they fitted neatly together and were fastened with bolts. the _d_ frames were supported near their outer ends with _e_ frames, which rested on the _b_ and _c_ frames. fig. shows an _e_ frame set in position on the landward side of the tower, while two of the boys are climbing out on the opposite _b_ and _c_ frames preparatory to setting up the other _e_ frame. a cross stick was now bolted to each _d_ frame, just beyond the upper ends of the _e_ sticks. this done, the frame _f_ was hooked in between the ends of _b_ and _c_, at the shoreward side of the tower, and its outer ends were supported by frame _g_, which was hooked over frame _d_ and the upper ends of frame _e_. the frame _l_ was then rested on the ends of frame _f_ and _g_, and supported the shore end of frame _d_. a stick nailed across frame _d_ on each side of the upper ends of frame _l_ served to hold the latter in place. binding and anchoring the structure. [illustration: fig. . preparing to put an e frame in place.] as the different frames were coupled together, we bound the overlapping ends with soft iron wire. the place where frames _b_, _c_, _e_ and _f_ came together was quite a vital point, and we took pains to make the wire binding at this place doubly strong. as soon as the _l_ frame was in place we anchored the bridge to shore by running wires from the ends of the _d_ frame and the ends of the _g_ frame to stakes driven into the banks. the frames on the second tower were now similarly erected and anchored, after which we were ready to put in the center panels of the bridge. the center panels of the bridge. first, the frame _h_ was wedged into place and thoroughly fastened by a liberal winding of wire. next the frames _i_ and _j_ were set in place, and in order to do this we had to remove the upper tie pieces of these frames. then one frame was hooked in the other, and the two were carried out on the scow under the center of the bridge. ropes were tied to the ends of the two frames, and they were lifted together, like a wide _v_, to the position shown in fig. , after which the tie pieces were bolted on again, resting against the ends of the _e_ frames. as an additional security, two sticks were bolted to the under side of the frame _h_, one at each side of the _i_ and _j_ frames. the bridge was then completed by wedging the frame _k_ under the ends of the _d_ frames, and also placing a stick across each tower under the joints of the _d_ frames. we planned to run our gravity railway across this bridge, moving our platform and trestle to the opposite bank; so instead of flooring our bridge with slabs, we fastened ties across at intervals of or inches. these ties were sticks inches in diameter, which were secured to the _d_ frames. a serious interruption. [illustration: fig. . a general view of our cantilever bridge.] we were just preparing to lay the tracks across the bridge when we met with a serious interruption. mr. halliday had told us that a few days before our arrival that summer mr. smith, the owner of the island, and another man had paid a visit to the place. jim halliday himself had rowed them over, and learned from their conversation that mr. smith was trying to sell the island, and that the stranger, a mr. gill, was a prospective purchaser. all summer long we had been dreading the return of this customer, though, as time passed without his putting in an appearance, we almost forgot the incident. but now, at the end of august, just as we had about completed our cantilever bridge, who should arrive but this very man gill and three other men with a large tent and camping outfit. it was a sorrowful crowd of boys that watched the wagon with their belongings ford the shallow water over to our island. we felt that the island was ours by right of discovery and occupation, but we were powerless to force our claims. and what if they did not insist on our leaving the island? it would not be the same place with strangers around to meddle with our things. dispossessed. but the new owner of the island was even more of a boor than we had anticipated. as soon as he landed he wanted to know what we were doing on his property, and peremptorily ordered us off. bill answered that we were camping there, and politely asked if we couldn't stay out the summer. but gill would not listen to the idea. we must get off the island that very day or he would see to it that we did. i tell you it made us boil. we were just itching to give the pompous little man the sound thrashing he deserved, but knew that we would stand a very small show against his three powerful companions. at any rate, we were determined not to leave at once. instead, we repaired to kite island, taking our belongings with us. then we cut away the suspension, spar and pontoon bridges, so that we would not be annoyed by any of the gill crowd. we were resolved that they should not benefit by any of the things we had built. at the dead of night we paddled back to willow clump island, crept past the slumbering intruders and waded out to the old water wheel. after a good deal of exertion we managed to dislodge the smaller tower, letting the wheel drop into the river and float away. then we made for the cantilever bridge. it didn't take us very long to cut away the wire bindings, unhook the frames and drop them into the lagoon. but the task was quite a perilous one, as the night was pitch black. finally, nothing remained of the bridge but the two towers, which were left as monuments to mark the spot where our last piece of engineering on the island was done. [illustration: building the cantilever bridge over cedar brook.] farewell to willow clump island. we spent several days on kite island, knowing that we were safe from intrusion, because the gill crowd had but one boat, and that was on the jersey side of the island. we felt confident that they would not take the trouble of wading around point lookout with their boats, as we had done; nevertheless, to prevent a surprise, we kept a sentry posted on the lake placid side of the island and gathered a pile of stones for ammunition. but our fun was spoiled, and we finally decided to break camp and bid farewell forever to willow clump island and its vicinity. our goods were ferried over to jim halliday's farm, where we were given shelter. the windmill, as i have already stated, was sold to a farmer at lumberville, and we were kept busy for several days carting it over and setting it up in place. when everything had been done we stole back to kite island and set fire to the log cabin. the next day mr. schreiner took us home in a couple of his wagons. thus ended our "investigation, exploration and exploitation of willow clump island." the work of two summers was practically all destroyed in a few days. reddy's cantilever bridge. i believe i have given a careful account of everything that was recorded in the chronicles of the society. we were too discouraged to undertake anything new in the two weeks before school opened. i presume i might mention here reddy's cantilever bridge, which, however, had really nothing to do with the s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i., because our society was formally disbanded the day before bill and i returned to school. about a month after leaving home i received a letter from reddy inclosing three interesting photographs, which are reproduced herewith. reddy certainly had the bridge fever, because soon after we had left he started to work, with the rest of the boys, on a cantilever bridge across cedar brook. the brook was entirely unsuited to such a structure, because the banks were very low; but he made the towers quite short and built an inclined roadway leading up to the top of them. the legs of the towers were driven firmly into the bank, making them so solid that he thought it would be perfectly safe to build the frames out over the brook without building them at the same time on the shore side. but he had made a miscalculation, for when a couple of the boys had crawled out on the _b_ and _c_ frames to set up an _e_ frame the structure commenced to sag. the trouble was remedied by propping up the tower with a stout stick driven into the river bottom and wedged under the upper tie piece of the tower. the towers were really too short to make a well proportioned bridge, for the panels had to be made very long and narrow, so as to reach across. but on the whole it was a very creditable structure when completed, though it had only half as long a span as our cantilever bridge over the lagoon. index a "a" tent, abbreviations, wigwag, accident, railway, the first, ainu snow shoe, alarm clock, a unique, alphabet, wigwag, alpine stock, anchoring cantilever bridge, annex, the, arctic expedition, armchair, barrel, axles of railroad car, b bags, sleeping, banquets, midnight, barrel armchair, barrel filter, barrel hoop snow shoe, barrel stave hammock, barrel stave snow shoe, bat's wings, bed, a camp, bed in shower, belly band, elastic, bending wood, bicycle wheels, mounting frame on, big bug club, "bill," bill's cave, bill's skate sail, binding cantilever bridge, blades of wind wheel, boat, ice, boat mooring, tramp-proof, boat, scow, box kite, diamond, box, the black walnut, brake for wind wheel, bridge building, bridge, cantilever, bridge, king post, bridge, king rod, bridge, pontoon, bridge, reddy's cantilever, bridge, spar, bridge, stiffening, bridge, suspension, bridge wreck, bucket, the canvas, buckets for water wheel, bunks, c camp bed, camp bed in shower, camp, breaking, camp chair, a, camp fire, a costly, camp fire, kindling, canoe, indian paddling, canoe lee boards, canoe rudder, canoe, the sailing, canoe sails, canoe, scooter, canoe, stretching on canvas, canoes, canvas, cantilever bridge, cantilever bridge, anchoring, cantilever bridge, binding frames, cantilever bridge, center panels, cantilever bridge, frames for, cantilever bridge, reddy's, cantilever bridge, setting up frames of, cantilever bridge towers, canvas bucket, canvas canoes, canvas, stretching on canoe, canvas tent, car axles, car for gravity railroad, car, mounting wheels on, carpenter's miter box, cave, bill's, cave, covering the, cave, excavating for, cave, framing, cave-in, a, center panels of cantilever bridge, chain, surveyor's, chair, a camp, chair seat snow shoe, cheek blocks, chinks in log cabin, stopping up, christmas vacation, clamp for crank shaft, clapboards, nailing on, cleat, a, climbing, mountain, clock, a unique alarm, club, the big bug, club pin, club, the subterranean, code, international telegraph, combination lock, council of war, crank shaft, the, creepers, ice, crossbow, crossbow trigger, cutting out disk, d danish sail, derrick, the, diamond box kite, digging the well, disk, cutting out, disk, sighting, dispossessed, diving tree, door hinges, door latch, doors, sliding, double mirror heliograph, double surprise, drill, fire, drowned, how to restore, alone, drowned, restoring the, e easter vacation, elastic belly band, expedition, arctic, expedition, logging, expedition, preparing for, exploration, preliminary, f farewell to willow clump island, fastener, brass, filter, the barrel, filter barrel, cooling the, filter, the small, fire drill, fireplace of log cabin, fireplace, outdoor, fireplace, stone-paved, fissure, path up the, flanged wheels, fly, ridge pole, fly for tent, fly, umbrella with, focusing heliograph instrument, frame on bicycle wheels, frames for cantilever bridge, frames of cantilever bridge, setting up, friend in time of trouble, g goblins' dancing platform, grass hut, gravity railroad, h halliday, jim, hammock, barrel stave, harness, pack, heliograph, the, heliograph, double mirror, heliograph instrument, focusing, heliograph screen, heliograph sight rod, heliograph signaling, heliograph, single mirror, hinge for spars, hinges, door, house building, house, log, house, the tree, hut, cold night in, hut, log, hut, straw, i ice boat, the, ice boats, sledges and toboggans, ice, craft strikes the, ice creepers, indian paddling canoe, instrument, double mirror, instrument, single mirror, instrument, surveying, international telegraph code, iroquois snow shoe, island, mapping the, island, off to the, island, trip to the, j jacob's ladder, jaws of boom, jib-sail for ice boat, jib-sail for scooter scow, jim halliday, k king post bridge, king rod truss, kite, diamond box, kite island, kite, malay, -foot, kite, malay, -foot, kites, putting to work, kites, tailless, _klepalo_, the, l ladder, the jacob's, ladders, rope, lagoon, the, lake placid, land yacht, land yacht, a sail on, lanteen sail for canoe, lanteen skate sail, latch, door, latch string, lee boards, canoe, "leg-of-mutton" sail, levels, spirit, lock combination, log cabin, log cabin, building the, log cabin door hinges, log cabin door latch, log cabin door and window frames, log cabin fireplace, log cabin, floor of, log cabin, foundation of, log cabin, roof of, log cabin, stopping up chinks, log cabin window sash, log raft, logging expedition, m mainsail for canoe, mainsail for ice boat, malay kite, -foot, malay kite, -foot, mapping the island, mast of land yacht, stepping, mast step, ice boat, mast step, leather, mast step, wooden, megaphone, megaphone mouthpiece, midnight banquets, mill-race, the, mirror instrument, heliograph, miter box, carpenter's, mizzen sail of canoe, mooring, tramp-proof boat, mountain climbing, mouthpiece of megaphone, "mummy case," n needle, weaving, night, cold, in the hut, nightmare, a, noria, norwegian ski, numerals, wigwag, o oar, the, off to the island, organizing the society, outdoor fireplace, outfits, tramping, p pack harness, paddling canoe, indian, paddles for water wheel, panels, center, of cantilever bridge, path up the fissure, patient, how to work over, alone, pin, the club, plank, swimming on, platform, goblins' dancing, point lookout, pole, ridge, poncho, pontoon bridge, poor shelter, a, preparing for the expedition, protractor, the, provisions and supplies, pump, the, pump, action of, pump valves, the, r raft, log, raft, sail-rigged, railroad car, railroad car axles, railroad flanged wheels, railroad, gravity, railway track, the, railway accident, the first, railway, rope, railway spikes, rapids, shooting the, receiving trough for water wheel, records of the s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i., reddy's cantilever bridge, rennwolf, the, restoring the drowned, ridge pole, ridge pole, fly, riveting, rod, heliograph sight, rod, surveyor's, rope ladders, rope railway, rowlocks, sockets for, rudder, canoe, rudder shoe, ice boat, runner shoe, ice boat, runners of scooter canoe, runners of sledge, rustic table, s s. s. i. e. e. of w. c. i., records of, sail, jib, for scooter, sail, "leg-of-mutton," sail, mizzen, of canoe, sail-rigged raft, sail, sprit, for scooter, sail stitch, sail through the country, sailing canoe, the, sailor's stitch, sails, canoe, sails for ice boat, sandwiches, straw, schreiner, a visit from mr., scooter canoe, scooter sailing, scooter scow, scooters, scow, the, scow, a sail in, scow, scooter, scow, stolen, screen, heliograph, seat, swing, shaft, the crank, shelter, a poor, shooting the rapids, sight rod, sighting blocks, sighting disk, signaling, heliograph, signals, wigwag, simple method of surveying, single mirror heliograph, sioux snow shoe, skate sail, bat's wings, skate sail, bill's, skate sail, danish, skate sail, double swedish, skate sail, lanteen, skate sail, single swedish, skate sails, ski, norwegian, ski sticks, skids, slabs, sledge, the, sleeping bags, sliding doors, snotter, snow shoe, ainu, snow shoe, barrel hoop, snow shoe, barrel stave, snow shoe, chair seat, snow shoe, iroquois, snow shoe, sioux, snow shoe, swiss, snow shoes, society, meeting of, society, organizing the, spar bridge, spars, hinge for, spikes, railway, spiral spring, spirit levels, spring, spiral, sprit sail, stepping mast of land yacht, stitch, the sail, stitch, sailor's, stick, ski, stiffening the bridge, stone-paved fireplace, stone wall, how to build, straw hut, straw sandwiches, subterranean club, summer toboggan, supplies and provisions, surprise, a double, surveying, surveying, first lesson in, surveying instrument, surveying, a simple method of, surveying for water wheel, surveyor's chain, surveyor's rod, suspension bridge, swamp shoe, swedish sail, double, swedish sail, single, swimming, swimming on a plank, swing seat, swiss snow shoe, t table, a rustic, tailless kites, telegraph code, international, tent, the "a", tent, annex, tent, canvas wall, tent fly, tent making, testing the track, thole pins, tie block, wood, tie, wire, tiger's tail, tiller, ice boat, tiller of land yacht, toboggan, the, toboggan, the summer, tower, the windmill, towers of the cantilever bridge, towers for water wheel, towers of water wheel, setting up, track, laying the, track, the railway, track, testing the, tramping outfits, tramp-proof boat mooring, tramps, trouble with, tree, diving, tree house, the, trigger for crossbow, trip to the island, tripod, the, trouble with tramps, trunk, the old, truss, king rod, turnbuckle, a simple, u umbrella with fly, umbrella rib crossbow, uncle ed, word from, uncle ed's departure, v vacation, christmas, vacation, easter, valves, the pump, van syckel, interview with, vengeance, visit from mr. schreiner, w wall, how to build, wall tent, water wheel, water wheel buckets, water wheel, construction of, water wheel, mr. halliday's, water wheel, mounting the, water wheel paddles, water wheel receiving trough, water wheel, surveying for, water wheel, towers for, water wheel towers, setting up, war, council of, weaving needle, well, digging the, wheel, the wind, wheels for gravity railroad, wheels, mounting, on car, wheels, mounting frame on, wigwag abbreviations, wigwag alphabet, wigwag numerals, wigwag signals, wigwagging and heliographing, wigwagging at night, willow clump island, willow clump island, farewell to, willow clump island in winter, wind wheel, wind wheel blades, wind wheel brake, windmill, windmill tower, window hinge, window sash, log cabin, wings, bat's, wire tie, wood, bending, wood tie block, word from uncle ed, y yacht, land, yacht, land, frame of, the most popular scientific paper in the world scientific american established weekly, $ . a year; $ . six months this unrivaled periodical is now in its sixtieth year, and, owing to its ever-increasing popularity, it enjoys the largest circulation ever attained by any scientific publication. every number contains sixteen large pages, beautifully printed, 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