Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail
“That’s good,” said Jack. “I don’t want him to be laid up right after I won the race from him.”
The students began to disperse, Jack to remove his wet clothes, and the others to retire to their rooms to get ready for the summons to supper, which would soon sound.
“Why, Mr. Ranger!” exclaimed Socker, the janitor at Washington Hall, as he saw Jack entering the gymnasium, “you’re all wet.”
“Yes, it’s a trifle difficult to fall in the lake and keep dry, especially at this time of year,” went on Jack. “But I say, Socker, get me a couple of good, dry, heavy towels, will you? I want to take a rub-down.”
“I certainly will, Mr. Ranger. So you fell in the lake, eh?”
“No, I jumped in.”
“Jumped in? Why, that reminds me of what happened when I was fighting in the Battle of the Wilderness, in the Civil War. We were on the march, and we came to a little stream. The captain called for us to jump over, but – ”
“Say, Socker, if it’s all the same to you will you chop that off there, and make it continued in our next? I’m cold, and I want to rub-down. Get me the towels, and then I’ll listen to that yarn. If there’s one kind of a story I like above all others, it’s about war. I want to hear what happened, but not now.”
“Do you really? Then I’ll tell you after you’ve rubbed down,” and Socker hurried off after the towels. He was always telling of what he called his war experiences, though there was very much doubt that he had ever been farther than a temporary camp. He repeated the same stories so often that the boys had become tired of them, and lost no chance to escape from his narratives.
“There you are, Mr. Ranger,” went on the janitor as he came back with the towels. “Now, as soon as you’re dry I’ll tell you that story about the Battle of the Wilderness.”
“You’ll not if I know it,” said Jack to himself, as he went in the room where the shower-baths were, to take a warm one. “I’ll sneak out the back way.”
Which he did, after his rub-down, leaving Socker sitting in the main room of the gym, waiting for him, and wondering why the lad did not come out to hear the war story.
Jack reached his room, little the worse for his experience at the lake. He possessed a fine appetite, which he was soon appeasing by vigorous attacks on the food in the dining-room.
“I say, Jack,” called Nat, “have you heard the latest?”
“What’s that? Has the clock struck?” inquired Jack, ready to have some joke sprung on him.
“No, but Fred Kaler has composed a song about the race and your rescue. He’s going to play it on the mouth-organ, and sing it at the same time to-night.”
“I am not, you big duffer!” cried Fred, throwing a generous crust of bread at Nat, but first taking good care to see that Martin, the monitor, was not looking.
“Sure he is,” insisted Nat.
“Tell him how it goes,” suggested Bony.
“It’s to the tune of ‘Who Put Tacks in Willie’s Shoes?’” went on Nat, “and the first verse is something like this – ”
“Aw, cheese it, will you?” pleaded Fred, blushing, but Nat went on:
“You have heard about the glorious deedsOf the brave knights of old,But our Jack Ranger beats them all —He jumped in waters coldAnd rescued one whom he had beatIn a race that he had led,And while he strove to find him,Unto me these words he said:“Chorus:“‘Never fear, I will rescue you, Dock —Around you my arms I will lock.I will pull you right out of the hole in the lake,And then upon shore I will you safely take.For though you tried to beat me,In a boat race, tried and true,I came out ahead, Dock, soWait and I’ll rescue you!’”“How’s that?” asked Nat, amid laughter.
“Punk!” cried one student.
“Put it on ice!” added another.
“Can it!”
“Cage it!”
“Put salt on its tail! It’s wild!”
“Put a new record in; that one scratches.”
These were some of the calls that greeted Nat’s rendition of what he said was Fred’s song.
“I never made that up!” cried the musical student. “I can make better verse than that.”
“Go on, give us the tune,” shouted Sam.
“That’s right – make him play,” came a score of calls.
“Order, young gentlemen, order!” suddenly interrupted the harsh voice of Martin, the monitor. “I shall be obliged to report you to Dr. Mead unless you are more quiet.”
“Send in Professors Socrat and Garlach,” advised Jack. “They can keep order.”
“That’s it, and we’ll get them to sing Fred’s song,” added Sam Chalmers.
“Ranger – Chalmers – silence!” ordered Martin, and not wishing to be sent to Dr. Mead’s office the two lively students, as well as their no less fun-loving companions, subsided.
Quiet finally reigned in the regions of Washington Hall, for the students had to retire to their rooms to study. There were mysterious whisperings here and there, however, and occasionally shadowy forms moved about the corridors, for, in spite of rules against it, the lads would visit each other in their rooms after hours. Several called on Jack to see how he felt after his experience. They found him and Nat Anderson busy looking over some gun catalogues.
“Going in for hunting?” asked Sam.
“Maybe,” replied Jack. “Say, there are some dandy rifles in this book, and they’re cheap, too. I’d like to get one.”
“So would I,” added Sam.
“And go hunting,” put in Bony, cracking his finger knuckles, as if firing off an air-rifle.
“It would be sport to organize a gun club, and do some hunting,” went on Jack. “Only I’d like to shoot bigger game than there is around here. Maybe we can – ”
“Hark, some one’s coming! It’s Martin,” said Fred Kaler in a whisper.
Jack’s hand shot out and quickly turned down the light. Then he bounded into bed, dressed as he was. Nat followed his example. It was well that they did so, for a moment later there came a knock on their door, and the voice of Martin, the monitor, asked:
“Ranger, are you in bed?”
“Yes,” replied our hero.
“Anderson, are you in bed?”
“Yes, Martin.”
“Humph! I thought I heard voices in your room.”
Jack replied with a snore, and the monitor passed on.
“You fellows had better take a sneak,” whispered Jack, when Martin’s footsteps had died away. “He’s watching this room, and he may catch you.”
The outsiders thought this was good advice, and soon Nat and Jack were left alone.
“Did you mean that about a gun club?” asked Nat.
“Sure,” replied his chum, “but we’ll talk about it to-morrow. Better go to sleep. Martin will be sneaking around.”
Jack was up early the next morning, and went down to the lake for a row before breakfast. As he approached the float, where he kept his boat, he saw a student standing there.
“That looks like the new chap – Will Williams,” he mused. “I’ll ask him to go for a row.”
He approached the new lad, and was again struck by a peculiar look of sadness on his face.
“Good-morning,” said Jack pleasantly. “My name is Ranger. Wouldn’t you like to go for a row?”
Will Williams turned and looked at Jack for several seconds without speaking. He did not seem to have heard what was said.
“Perhaps he’s a trifle deaf,” thought Jack, and he asked again more loudly:
“Wouldn’t you like to go for a row?”
“I don’t row,” was the answer, rather snappily given.
“Well, I guess I can manage to row both of us,” was our hero’s reply.
“No, I’m not fond of the water.”
“Perhaps you like football or baseball better,” went on Jack, a little puzzled. “We have a good eleven.”
“I’m not allowed to play football.”
“Maybe you’d like to go for a walk,” persisted Jack, who had the kindest heart in the world, and who felt sorry for the lonely new boy. “I’ll show you around. I understand you just came.”
“Yes; I arrived yesterday morning.”
“Would you like to take a walk? I don’t know but what I’d just as soon do that as row.”
“No, I – I don’t care for walking.”
The lad turned aside and started away from the lake, without even so much as thanking Jack for his effort to make friends with him.
“Humph!” mused Jack as he got into his boat. “You certainly are a queer customer. Just like a snail, you go in your house and walk off with it. There’s something wrong about you, and I’m going to find out what it is. Don’t like rowing, don’t like walking, afraid of the water – you certainly are queer.”
CHAPTER IV
BULLY SNAITH
“Hello, Dock, I’m glad to see you out of the hospital,” remarked Jack one morning about a week later, when his boating rival was walking down the campus. “You had quite a time of it.”
“Yes,” admitted Snaith, “I got a nasty bump on the head. Say, Ranger, I haven’t had a chance to thank you for pulling me out. I’m much obliged to you.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Don’t mention it,” answered Jack. “If I hadn’t done it, some one else would.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. But say, I still think I can beat you rowing. Want to try it again?”
“I won’t mind, when you think you’re well enough.”
“Oh, I’ll be all right in a day or so.”
“Be careful. You don’t want to overdo yourself.”
“Oh, I’ll beat you next time. But I want to race for money. What do you say to twenty-five dollars as a side bet?”
“No, thanks, I don’t bet,” replied Jack quietly.
“Hu! Afraid of losing the money, I s’pose,” sneered Dock.
“No, but I don’t believe in betting on amateur sport.”
“Well, if you think you can beat me, why don’t you bet? It’s a chance to make twenty-five.”
“Because I don’t particularly need the money; and when I race I like to do it just for the fun that’s in it.”
“Aw, you’re no sport,” growled Snaith as he turned aside. “I thought you had some spunk.”
“So I have, but I don’t bet,” replied Jack quickly. He felt angry at the bully, but did not want to get into a dispute with him.
“Hello, Dock,” called Pud Armstrong, as, walking along with Glen Forker, he caught sight of his crony. “How you feeling?”
“Fine, but I’d feel better if there weren’t so many Sunday-school kids at this institution. I thought this was a swell place, but it’s a regular kindergarten,” and he looked meaningly at Jack.
“What’s up?” asked Pud.
“Why, I wanted to make a little wager with Ranger about rowing him again, but he’s afraid.”
“It isn’t that, and you know it,” retorted our hero quickly, for he overheard what Snaith said. “And I don’t want you to go about circulating such a report, either, Dock Snaith.”
With flashing eyes and clenched fists Jack took a step toward the bully.
“Oh, well, I didn’t mean anything,” stammered Snaith. “You needn’t be so all-fired touchy!”
“I’m not, but I won’t stand for having that said about me. I’ll race you for fun, and you know it. Say the word.”
“Well – some other time, maybe,” muttered Snaith, as he strolled off with his two cronies.
It was that afternoon when Jack, with Nat Anderson, walking down a path that led to the lake, came upon a scene that made them stop, and which, later, was productive of unexpected results.
The two friends saw Dock Snaith, together with Pud Armstrong and Glen Forker, facing the new boy, Will Williams. They had him in a corner of a fence, near the lake, and from the high words that came to Jack and Nat, it indicated that a quarrel was in progress.
“What’s up?” asked Nat.
“Oh, it’s that bully, Snaith, making trouble for the freshman,” replied Jack. “Isn’t it queer he can’t live one day without being mean? Snaith, I’m speaking of. He’s a worthy successor to Jerry Chowden.”
“Well, you polished off Chowden; maybe you can do the same to Snaith.”
“There’s no question but what I can do it, if I get the chance. He’s just like Jerry was – always picking on the new boys, or some one smaller than he is.”
“Come on, let’s see what’s up.”
They did not have to go much closer to overhear what was being said by Snaith and his cronies on one side, and Will on the other.
“I say, you new kid, what’s your name?” asked the bully.
“Yes, speak up, and don’t mumble,” added Pud.
“My name is Williams,” replied the new lad. “I wish you would let me go.”
“Can’t just yet, sonny,” said Glen. “We are just making your acquaintance,” and he punched Will in the stomach, making him double up.
“Hold on, there,” cried Snaith. “I didn’t ask you to make a bow. Wait until you’re told,” and he shoved the lad’s head back.
“Now you stop that!” exclaimed Will with considerable spirit.
“What’s that! Hark to him talking back to us!” exclaimed Pud. “Now you’ll have to bow again,” and once more he punched the new boy.
“Please let me alone!” cried Will. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
“No, but you might,” spoke Snaith. “Have you been hazed yet?”
“Of course he hasn’t,” added Glen. “He came in late, and he hasn’t been initiated. I guess it’s time to do it.”
“Sure it is,” agreed the bully with a grin. “Let’s see – we’ll give him the water cure.”
“That’s it! Toss him in the lake and watch him swim out!” added Pud. “Come on, Glen, catch hold!”
“Oh, no! Please don’t!” begged Will.
“Aw, dry up! What you howling about?” asked Pud. “Every new boy has to be hazed, and you’re getting off easy. A bath will do you good. Let’s take him down to the float. It’s real deep there.”
“Oh, no! No! Please don’t! Anything but that!” begged Will. “I – I can’t swim.”
“Then it’s time you learned,” said Snaith with a brutal laugh. “Catch hold of his other leg, Pud.”
They quickly made a grab for the unfortunate lad, and, despite his struggles, carried him toward the lake. It was not an uncommon form of hazing, but it was usually done when a crowd was present, and the hazing committee always took care to find out that the candidates could swim. In addition, there were always lads ready to go to the rescue in case of accident. But this was entirely different.
“Oh, don’t! Please don’t!” begged Will. “I – I don’t want to go in the water. Do anything but that.”
“Listen to him cry!” mocked Glen. “Hasn’t he got a sweet voice?”
Nearer to the lake approached the three bullies and their victim, who was struggling to escape. He was pleading piteously.
“I can’t stand this,” murmured Jack. “Williams is afraid of water. He told me so. It’s probably a nervous dread, and if they throw him in he may go into a spasm and drown. They should do something else if they want to haze him.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Nat. He and his chum were hidden from the others by a clump of trees.
“I’m going to make Snaith stop!” said Jack determinedly as he strode forward with flashing eyes. “You wait here, Nat.”
CHAPTER V
A GERMAN-FRENCH ALLIANCE
“Oh, fellows, please let go! Don’t throw me in the lake! I – I can’t swim!”
It was Will’s final appeal.
“Well, it’s time you learned,” exclaimed Snaith with a laugh. “Come on now, boys, take it on the run!”
But at that moment Jack Ranger fairly leaped from behind the clump of trees where he and Nat Anderson stood, and running after the three mean lads who were carrying the struggling Will, our hero planted himself in front of them.
“Here – drop him!” he cried, barring their way.
Surprise at Jack’s sudden appearance, no less than at his words and bearing, brought the hazers to a stop.
“What – what’s that you said?” asked Snaith, as if disbelieving the evidence of his ears.
“I said to drop this, and let Williams go.”
“What for?” demanded Pud.
“For several reasons. He can’t swim, and he has a nervous dread of the water, as I happen to know. Besides, it’s too chilly to throw any one in the lake now.”
“Are those all your reasons?” asked Snaith with a sneer.
“No!” cried Jack. “If you want another, it’s because I tell you to stop!”
“S’posing we don’t?”
“Then I’ll make you.”
“Oh, you will, eh? Well, I guess we three can take care of you, all right, even if you are Jack Ranger.”
Snaith had a tight hold on Will’s arm. The timid lad had been set down by his captors, but they still had hold of him.
“Please let me go,” pleaded Williams.
“We will – after you’ve had your dip in the lake,” said Glen.
“Yes, come on,” added Snaith. “Get out of the way, Ranger, if you don’t want to get bumped.”
“You let Williams go!” demanded Jack, still barring the way.
“We’ll not! Stand aside or I’ll hit you!” snapped Snaith.
He and his cronies again picked Williams up, and were advancing with him toward the lake. Snaith had one hand free, and as he approached Jack, who had not moved, the bully struck out at him. The blow landed lightly on Jack’s chest, but the next instant his fist shot out, catching Snaith under the ear, and the bully suddenly toppled over backward, measuring his length on the ground.
He was up again in a second, however, and spluttered out:
“Wha – what do you mean? I’ll fix you for this! I’ll make you pay for that, Jack Ranger!”
“Whenever you like,” replied Jack coolly, as he stood waiting the attack.
“Come on, fellows, let’s do him up!” cried Pud. “We’re three to one, and I owe him something on my own account.”
“Shall we let the freshman go?” asked Glen.
“Sure!” exclaimed Snaith. “We can catch him again. We’ll do up Ranger now!”
The bully and his cronies advanced toward Jack. Will, hardly understanding that he was released, stood still, though Jack called to him:
“Better run, youngster. I can look out for myself.”
“Oh, you can, eh?” sneered Snaith. “Well, I guess you’ll have your hands full. Come on, now, fellows! Give it to him!”
The three advanced with the intention of administering a sound drubbing to our hero, and it is more than likely that they would have succeeded, for Jack could not tackle three at once very well. But something happened.
This “something” was a lad who came bounding up from the rear, with a roar like a small, maddened bull, and then with a cry Nat Anderson flung himself on the back of Pud Armstrong.
“Flabgastered punching-bags!” he cried. “Three to one, eh? Well, I guess not! Acrimonious Abercrombie! But I’ll take a hand in this game!”
“Here! Quit that! Let me go! Stop! That’s no way to fight! Get off my back!” yelled the startled Pud.
“I’m not fighting yet,” said Nat coolly, as he skillfully locked his legs in those of Pud and sent him to the ground with a wrestler’s trick. “I’m only getting ready to wallop you!”
Snaith, who had rushed at Jack with raised fists, was met by another left-hander that again sent him to the ground. And then, to the surprise of the rescuers, no less than that of the would-be hazers, Will, who had seemed so timid in the hands of his captors, rushed at Glen Forker, and before that bully could get out of the way, had dealt him a blow on the chest.
“There!” cried Will. “I guess we’re three to three now!”
“Good for you, youngster!” cried Jack heartily. “You’ve got more spunk than I gave you credit for. Hit him again!”
“Now, Pud, if you’ll get up, you and I will have our innings,” announced Nat to the lad he had thrown. “Suffering snufflebugs! but I guess the game isn’t so one-sided now.”
But, though Pud got up, he evinced no desire to come to close quarters with Nat. Instead, he sneaked to one side, muttering:
“You wait – that’s all! You just wait!”
“Well, I’m a pretty good waiter. I used to work in a hash foundry and a beanery,” said Nat with a smile.
Snaith, too, seemed to have had enough, for he sat on the ground rubbing a lump on his head, while as for Glen, he was in full retreat.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you, Snaith,” said Jack politely.
“Don’t you speak to me!” snarled the bully.
“All right,” said Jack. “I’ll not.”
“I’ll get square with you for this,” went on Snaith as he arose and began to retreat, followed by Pud. “You wait!”
“That’s what Pud said,” interjected Nat. “It’s getting tiresome.”
The two bullies hurried off in the direction taken by Glen, leaving Jack, Nat and Will masters of the field.
“I – I’m ever so much obliged to you,” said Will to Jack after a pause.
“That’s all right. Glad I happened along.”
“I – I don’t mind being hazed,” went on the timid lad. “I expected it, but I have a weak heart, and the doctor said a sudden shock would be bad for me. I’m very much afraid of water, and I can’t swim, or I wouldn’t have minded being thrown into the lake. I – I hope you don’t think I’m a coward.”
“Not a bit of it.”
“And I – I hope the fellows won’t make fun of me.”
“They won’t,” said Jack very positively, for, somehow, his heart went out to the queer lad. “If they do, just send them to me. As for Snaith and his crowd, I guess they won’t bother you after this. Say, but you went right up to Glen, all right.”
“I took boxing lessons – once,” went on Will timidly. “I’m not afraid in a fair fight.”
“Glad to hear it, but I fancy they’ll not bother you any more. Do you know Nat Anderson?” and Jack nodded at his chum.
“I’m glad to meet you,” spoke Will, holding out his hand.
“Same here,” responded Nat. “Unified uppercuts! but you went at Glen good and proper!”
“You mustn’t mind Nat’s queer expressions,” said Jack with a smile, as he saw Will looking in rather a puzzled way at Nat. “They were vaccinated in him, and he can’t get rid of them.”
“You get out!” exclaimed Jack’s chum.
“Going anywhere in particular?” asked Jack of Will, as he straightened out a cuff that had become disarranged in the scrimmage.
“No, I guess not.”
“Then come on and take a walk with us.”
The lad appeared to hesitate. Then he said slowly.
“No – no, thank you. I – I don’t believe I will. I think I’ll go back to my room.”
He turned aside and walked away.
Jack and Nat stared after him in silence.
“Well, he certainly is a queer case,” remarked Nat in a low voice. “I don’t know what to make of him.”
“I, either,” admitted Jack. “He showed some spunk when he went at Glen, but now it appears to have oozed away.”
The two chums continued their walk, discussing the recent happening.
“Do you know, I think something is about due to happen, fellows,” announced Fred Kaler that night, when he and some of Jack’s and Nat’s chums were in the latters’ room.
“Why, what’s up, you animated jewsharp?” asked Nat.
“I don’t know, but it’s been so quiet in the sacred precincts of our school lately that it’s about time for something to arrive. Do you know that Socrat and Garlach haven’t spoken to each other this term yet?”
“What’s the trouble now?” asked Jack, for the French and German teachers, with the characteristics of their race, were generally at swords’ points for some reason or other.
“Why, you know their classrooms are next to each other, and one day, the first week of the term, Professor Socrat, in giving the French lesson, touched on history, and gave an instance of where frog-eaters with a small army had downed the troops from der Vaterland. He spoke so loud that Professor Garlach heard him, his German blood boiled over, and since then neither has spoken to the other.”
“Well, that often happens,” remarked Nat.
“Sure,” added Bony Balmore, cracking his finger knuckles by way of practice.
“Yes,” admitted Fred, as he took out his mouth-organ, preparatory to rendering a tune, “but this time it has lasted longer than usual, and it’s about time something was done about it.”
Fred began softly to play “On the Banks of the Wabash Far Away.”
“Cheese it,” advised Nat. “Martin will hear.”
“He’s gone to the village on an errand for the doctor,” said Fred as he continued to play. Then he stopped long enough to remark: “I’d like to hear from our fellow member, Jack Ranger.”
“That’s it,” exclaimed Sam Chalmers. “I wonder Jack hasn’t suggested something before this.”
“Say!” exclaimed Jack, “have I got to do everything around this school? Why don’t some of the rest of you think up something? I haven’t any monopoly.”
“No, but you’ve got the nerve,” said Bony. “Say, Jack, can’t you think of some scheme for getting Garlach and Socrat to speak? Once they are on talking terms we can have some fun.”
Jack seemed lost in thought. Then he began to pace the room.
“Our noble leader has his thinking apparatus in working order,” announced Nat.
“Hum!” mused Jack. “You say the trouble occurred over something in history, eh?”
“Sure,” replied Fred.
“Then I guess I’ve got it!” cried Jack. “Wait a minute, now, until I work out all the details.”
He sat down to the table, took out pencil and paper, and began to write. The others watched him interestedly.