Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Crofton Chums [Illustration: Jim was off with a clear field ahead.] Crofton Chums By Ralph Henry Barbour Author of âThe Crimson Sweater,â âCaptain Chub,â âTeam-Mates,â etc. With Illustrations By C. M. Relyea [Illustration] New York The Century Co. 1912 Copyright, 1911, 1912, by THE CENTURY CO. _Published, September, 1912_ To G. R. O. Who Helped CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. BACK TO SCHOOL 3 II. SUNNYWOOD COTTAGE 16 III. GARY RECONSIDERS 36 IV. MR. GORDON RECEIVES 52 V. MR. HANKS RENTS A ROOM 69 VI. PLATO SOCIETY 89 VII. JIM MAKES A PROMISE 103 VIII. POKE USES TACT 114 IX. OUT FOR THE TEAM 129 X. MR. HANKS ACCEPTS ADVICE 148 XI. ON THE SECOND 162 XII. GARY IS SURPRISED 172 XIII. POKE ON CANOES 183 XIV. UP THE RIVER 193 XV. THE âMI-KA-NOOâ 205 XVI. MR. HANKS AS A NOVELIST 216 XVII. THE GAME WITH ST. LUKEâS 227 XVIII. GARY CHALLENGES 235 XIX. POKE ADVERTISES 245 XX. AN EARLY MORNING PRACTICE 256 XXI. THE GREAT RACE 267 XXII. THE SWORD FALLS! 284 XXIII. FRIDAY AND ILL-LUCK 302 XXIV. HAWTHORNE COMES TO CONQUER 316 XXV. JIM PASSES AN EXAMINATION 332 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE Jim was off with a clear field ahead _Frontispiece_ âWell, what do you think of that!â ejaculated Poke 11 âThis is Mrs. Hazardâs, isnât it?â 27 âWhat is it, Jim? Is anything wrong?â inquired Mrs. Hazard 37 âThis certainly beats dining-hall,â declared Poke 61 âYou a football man, Hazard?â Sargent asked 75 âI am looking for accommodations, a room andââerââyes, board with itâ 83 âLook here,â he demanded, âwhat did you tell Duncan Sargent about me?â 125 âEver see a football before?â he asked 141 They found Mr. Hanks at his desk 153 Gil and Poke assisted in the household duties 181 Hope, being a rather wise young lady, prepared a tray 295 âWe thought you might send him a telegram,â said Gary, boldly 309 Jim takes his examination on the football field 329 CROFTON CHUMS CHAPTER I BACK TO SCHOOL âIn the good old football time, In the good old football time!â sang âPokeâ Endicott, as he pulled a nice new pair of fawn-hued football pants from his trunk and reverently strove to smooth the creases from them. âArenât those some pants, Gil?â he demanded. His room-mate turned from the window as the âmole-skinsâ were held up for inspection. âRather! You must have spent a yearâs allowance on those, Poke.â âHuh!â Poke folded them carefully and then tossed them in the general direction of the closet. âIâd hate to tell you, Gil, what they stood me. But theyâre good for ten years; anyhow, thatâs what the tailor man said. Those trousers, Gil, will descend from generation to generation, down through the ages, likeââlikeâââ âA mortgage,â suggested Gil Benton, helpfully, as he turned again to the view of autumn landscape framed by the open casement. Just under the window, beyond the graveled path, the smooth turf descended gently to the rim of the little river which curved placidly along below the school buildings barely a stoneâs throw away. (Joe Cosgrove, baseball captain, had once engaged, on a wager, to place a baseball across it from the steps of Academy Hall, and had succeeded at the third attempt. As Academy stands farthest from the stream of any of the buildings, Joeâs throw was something of a feat, and many a perfectly good baseball had been sacrificed since by ambitious youths set on duplicating his performance.) The Academy side of the river was clear of vegetation, but along the farther bank graceful weeping willows dipped their trailing branches in the water and threw cool green shadows across the surface. Beyond, the willows gave place to alders and swamp-oaks and basswood, and then, as the ground rose to the rolling hills, maples, already showing the first light frosts, clustered thick. Here and there the white trunks of paper-birches showed against the hillside. Gilââhis full name was Gilbert, but no one ever called him thatââviewed the familiar scene with eager pleasure and satisfaction. To-morrow began his third year at Crofton Academy, and he had grown very fond of the school; how fond he had scarcely realized until this minute. To the left, a quarter of a mile away, the old covered bridge was in sight, its central pier emerging from a wilderness of bush on Bridge Island. To his right, a little distance down-stream, lay Biscuit Island, a tiny round mound of moss-covered rock with here and there a patch of grass, and, in the middle, a group of four white birches asway in the westerly breeze. Opposite the island was the brown-stained boat-house and the long float, the latter as yet empty of the canoes and skiffs and tubs that would later gather there. By bending forward a little, Gil could catch a glimpse of a corner of the athletic field and the roofed portico of Apthorpe Gymnasium, the last of the buildings that formed a crescent along the curve of the river. He smiled companionably at the blue and green world, sighed onceââwhy, he couldnât have told youââand breathed in a lungful of the warm, scented air. It was good to be back again; awfully good! He wonderedââ Footsteps crunched the gravel beneath the window, and Gil leaned out. Then he turned and called to his chum: âSay, Poke, come and see âBrownie.â Heâs got a suit of âice-creamâ clothes on, and a Panama hat! Me, oh, my! Whoâd ever think Brownie could be so frivolous?â Poke stumbled over a pile of clothing and hurried across to the casement, leaning out beside Gil. Almost directly below was a tall man of thirty-odd years, attired modishly in light home-spun. When, in answer to Pokeâs âHello, Mr. Brown!â he looked up at the window, his face was seen to carry a rich coating of tan from which his very light blue eyes twinkled with startling effect. He waved his hand to them. âHello, Endicott! Hello, Benton! Youâre back early, it seems.â âCouldnât stay away, sir,â replied Poke laughingly. âMissed Greek awfully, sir!â âNot the first time youâve missed itââawfully,â retorted the instructor with a broad smile. The boys chuckled. âDonât forget the meeting to-morrow evening, fellows.â âNo, sir; weâll be there,â said Gil. âHeâs a dandy chap,â he added heartily, as the instructor passed on toward his room in the next dormitory. Poke nodded. âOne of the best. Thatâs why Platoâs the best society in school. What time is it?â âNearly one,â replied Gil, with a yawn. âDonât suppose we can get anything to eat here, eh?â âNot likely. We might try, but as weâre not supposed to come until after dinner, I guess it would look pretty cheeky.â âRight-O! Besides, it will be more fun eating in the village. Arenât you going to unpack?â âYes, but thereâs no hurry. Letâs get dinner now, Poke. Weâll go to Reddyâs; he has the best eats.â âGot you! But wait until I get some of this mess picked up. Howâs that for a swell suit of glad rags, Gil?â Poke held up the jacket for inspection. It was perceptibly green in color and decidedly âloudâ in style. Gil grunted. âIf you had a gray silk hat you could march in the minstrel parade with that, Poke. Bet you sent your measurements by mail with a ten-dollar bill.â Poke looked highly offended, and draped the garment over the back of a chair. Then he drew away and admired it silently. âThat,â he announced finally, âwas made by one of the best tailors in New York.â Gil grunted again. âWe wouldnât wear a thing like that in Providence,â he said. Poke laughed rudely as he hung the coat up. âProvidence! I believe you, Gil! Providence never saw anything like that.â âThatâs no joke,â replied the other. âGet a move on, Poke, Iâm hungry.â âAll right. Put that in the drawer for me, will you? No, the table drawer, you idiot! Whereâs my hat? Come on now. I could eat an ox!â They closed the door of Number 12 behind them, scuttled down a flight of well-worn stairs, and emerged on the granite steps of Weston Hall. They looked along the fronts of the buildings, but not a soul was in sight. Gil chuckled. âBet you weâre the first fellows back, Poke.â âSure. They wonât begin to get here until that two-twenty train.â They turned to the right, passed between Weston and Rogers, traversed a few rods of turf, and took a path leading downwards through a grove of maples and beeches. The path turned and twisted to accommodate itself to the descent. Gil walked ahead, hat in hand, since it was close and warm here in the woods, and Poke lounged along behind, hands in pockets and his merry, good-humored face alight with anticipation of the good things awaiting him at Reddyâs lunch counter. Pokeâs real name was Perry Oldham Kirkland Endicott, and the nickname had been the natural result of the first view of the initials on the end of his suitcase. In age he was sixteen, one year his companionâs junior. He was well set-up, with a good pair of shoulders and a depth of chest that told of athletic training. He had brown hair and brown eyes, a good-looking sunburned face, and a general air of care-free jollity. Like Gil Benton, Poke was a member of the Upper Middle Class, and consequently had two more years to spend at Crofton. Gilbert Benton, seventeen years old, was a good two inches taller than his chum, and somewhat slimmer. But the slimness showed wiry muscles and a healthy body. Gilâs hair was darker than Pokeâs, and his eyes were gray. His face spoke of determination and fearlessness. Seeing the two boys, you would have said that Gil was the sort to lead bravely a forlorn hope, and Poke the sort to shrug his shoulders, laughââand follow. Gilâs home was in Providence, Rhode Island, and Pokeâs in New York City. The latter had taken an early train and Gil had joined him at Providence, and the two had reached the station at Crofton well before noon. To arrive at school early and get settled before their fellows arrived had struck them as something of a lark. The woods ceased and the path led them out onto Academy Road, where Hill Street turned off and where the village residences began. Hereabouts most of the trim white-walled structures were used as boarding- and rooming-houses for the Crofton students who were unable to secure accommodations in the school dormitories. At the corner was Mrs. Hooperâs; across the road from it, Jonesâs; farther up Academy Road toward the school, Mrs. Sangerâs. To their left as they leaped the tumble-down stone wall was a comfortable-looking residence whose outbuildings nestled in the edge of the woods. [Illustration: âWell, what do you think of that!â ejaculated Poke.] âWonder who has the Timberlake place this year,â said Gil. âI see itâs rented.â âWhy did she give it up?â asked Poke idly. âWent out West to live with her son, I believe. I donât believe the old lady ever made much money here.â âWell, what do you think of that!â ejaculated Poke, stopping in his tracks and staring at the house in question. Perched on a short ladder was a boy of about Pokeâs age, nailing a sign over the front steps. A girl in a white dress and with a long braid of yellow hair aglint in the sunshine was steadying the ladder. As the boys stopped to look, the last screw went home and the sign stood forth for all to see: SUNNYWOOD COTTAGE The boy descended from the ladder, and he and the girl stepped a little distance down the short walk toward the gate to admire the result of their labors. Gil and Poke went on, the latter chuckling. ââSunnywood Cottage,ââ he murmured. âGuess there wasnât anything very sunny about the place when Mrs. Timberlake had it. I wonder who the girl is?â âMiss Sunnywood,â replied Gil instantly. âThanks,â said Poke, turning to steal another look at the young lady. âYouâre a veritable mine of information, Gil. The house is looking rather nice, isnât it? Must have painted it, I guess.â âYes, and her hair is very pretty,â laughed Gil. âOh, you run away,â Poke retorted. âWonder who the chap is?â âYou seem mighty interested in the family. Like to call there on the way back?â âThatâs not a bad idea! We might make believe we wanted to rent a room.â âWe might,â Gil laughed. He, too, turned for a glance at the cottage. âGuess a fellow could be pretty comfy at Sunnywood. Funny, isnât it, how some houses look homey and comfy and others sort of give you the creeps. Look at Jonesâs; wouldnât live there for a hundred dollars a month!â âI wonder if a fellow has more fun living in the village,â mused Poke. âOf course itâs nice being in hall when you know there are loads of chaps envying you your room, but, after all, we donât have much chance for larks, what with study hour, and being in at ten, and all that. I believe Iâd like to try a house next year, Gil.â âSunnywood?â asked Gil slyly. Poke grinned and nodded. âI wouldnât mind. That corner room in front on this side ought to be pretty nice. Youâd get lots of sun and lightââand thatâs more than we get in Number 12.â âWell, never mind about sun and light now. Letâs hit it up, Poke. What I need is food and drink. Thank goodness weâre nearly there! Itâs pretty hot for September, isnât it?â âI donât know how hot it is for September,â replied Poke with a grin, as they turned into Main Street, âbut itâs uncomfortably hot for Poke!â CHAPTER II SUNNYWOOD COTTAGE âItâs a perfectly jimmy sign!â declared the girl delightedly. The boy turned with an amused smile. âWhatâs a âjimmyâ sign, Hope? One made by Jim?â âN-no, not exactly. Jimmy means awfully niceââsomething veryââvery pleasingââquite _darling_! See?â âOf course,â answered her brother. âItâs as plain as the nose on your face.â âMy nose isnât plain,â was the retort. âItâs a real Hazard nose, just like yours and Ladyâs.â âSort of a jimmy nose,â laughed the boy. âSis, if you keep on coining words, youâll have to publish a vocabulary or no one will be able to understand you. What was it you called the back room upstairs yesterday?â âSnudgy,â replied Hope Hazard gravely. âAnd thatâs just what it is; small and hot andââand _snudgy_! Itâs the snudgiest room I ever saw, Jim.â âWell, donât let Jane hear you call it snudgy. She might leave. But, say, thatâs a pretty good-looking sign, isnât it? I donât believe any one could tell it was home-made, eh?â âN-no, not unless they looked real close. I guess that Y is a little bit wipsy, though, Jim.â Jim Hazard frowned intently for a moment at the letter in question. âWell, maybe it is kind of out of plumb with the others,â he acknowledged. âJust the same, I think Iâm a pretty good sign painter, sis. Now whatâs to do?â âCurtains in the front room upstairs; the rented one,â replied Hope promptly. âOh, hang the curtains!â grumbled Jim. âThatâs what I meant,â laughed Hope. âNever mind, theyâre the last ones. And we really must get them up because our star boarder may come any moment.â âAll right,â he answered resignedly, âbut Iâve got to cool off first.â He seated himself on the top step and Hope perched herself beside him. Jim fanned himself with the screw-driver, and they both laughed. Then the boyâs smile died away, and his forehead puckered itself into lines of worry. âHope, weâve got to do better than this or Sunnywood will be vacant again. Four rooms to rent and only one taken! Didnât you think from what Mr. Gordon said that weâd get all the fellows we wanted?â âYes, but maybe they donât look for rooms until they get here,â she answered cheerfully. âAnd you know they donât begin to come until this afternoon.â âI donât believe that,â he answered. âFellows wouldnât come and not know where they were going to live. I donât think Mr. Gordon has treated us fairly, Hope. That lady over thereâââ âMrs. Sanger.â âTook the sign out of her window this morning. I guess that means that her rooms are all taken. Iâll bet Mr. Gordon has been sending the fellows to the other houses and leaving us out of it.â âOh, he wouldnât do that,â Hope protested, âafter all the nice things he said to mama.â âYou canât tell. Besides, we donât know just what nice things he did say. You know very well that if a person doesnât actually call Lady names she thinks theyâve been as nice as pie to her. Wish I had her gift of thinking the very best of everything and everybody. Well, if something doesnât happen pretty soon, Iâm going to see Mr. Gordon and tell him what I think about it. One thing we do know is that he wrote Lady that if she took the house she wouldnât have any trouble in renting the rooms.â âWell, letâs hope for the best, Jim,â said his sister, laying a small brown hand on his shoulder and giving him a reassuring pinch. âThatâs you all over,â he muttered. âGuess they knew what they were about when they named you Hope.â âWell, they didnât name you Despair,â she laughed, âso donât try and play they did. Itâs most time Lady was back, isnât it?â Jim nodded and looked down the street toward the village a half-mile away. âThatâs her now, I guess; away down by the big elm; see?â âYes, it is. Letâs go and meet her, Jim. Sheâs probably got a lot of things to carry.â âAll right!â Jim laid down the screw-driver and pushed the ladder aside. âYouâd better put a hat on, though.â âNonsense! The sun wonât hurt me. Come on.â They went out of the gate together, and walked briskly down the sidewalk. Jim was half a head taller than his sister, rather thin, a bit raw-boned, in fact, but strong looking, and good looking, too, in spite of a smudge of dirt across his forehead and a generally begrimed appearance due to the fact that he had been sign-painting, carpentering, and house-cleaning all the forenoon. Besides this, he wore the very oldest clothes he owned, and that he managed to look prepossessing in spite of these handicaps speaks rather well for him. He had brown hair and brown eyes, but the hair was light, extremely light in places, as though it had been faded by sun and weather, and the eyes were very dark. Hope had told him once that he had perfectly lovely eyes, they looked so much like sweet chocolate! For the rest, Jim was tanned and hardy-looking, with more often than not a little puckery frown on his forehead, for at sixteen years of age he had already been head of the family for three years. Hope Hazard isnât quite so easily described, and Iâd flunk the task if I might. She was fourteen, slender, golden-haired, gray-eyed, light-hearted. As Jim had said, she had been well named, for hopefulness was the key-note of her nature, and Jim, who was somewhat prone to borrow trouble if he had none of his own, called her frivolous in moments of exasperation. But Hope came honestly by her sunny optimism, for her mother had always been the most hopeful, cheerful soul in the world, and even Mr. Hazardâs death and the immediate collapse of the family fortunes had failed to change her. Mother and daughter looked much alike. Mrs. Hazard was quite tall, still young looking, and still pretty. She had gray eyes, like Hopeâs, and if they were a trifle more faded, they still twinkled brightly at the slightest provocation. Jim was more like his father, a little more serious, with something of New England granite showing in his face, a heritage from a race of coast-dwelling Hazards. The Hazard nose, which Hope fondly believed she had inherited, and which was a straight and stern appendage, well shaped but uncompromising, was his, while Mrs. Hazardâs nose was an undignified, even flippant affair that looked for all the world as though, had it had proper encouragement at an early stage, it would have become tip-tilted. Truth compels the admission that in Hopeâs case the Hazard nose was more a matter of anticipation than realization, in spite of the fact that she religiously pulled it and pinched it in the attempt to make it conform to Hazard requirements. Perhaps it is a mean thing to say, but Hopeâs nose was more remarkable for the cluster of three big freckles on the end of it than for beauty of contour. Mrs. Hazard yielded her packages to the children and gave an account of her shopping expedition. âItâs lots of fun buying things in Crofton, my dears; quite exciting. You never know when you ask for a thing what you are going to get. I tried to buy some scrim to make curtains for Janeâs room, and what do you suppose I got? Why, some muslin for a next summer dress for Hope! It was really very sweet and pretty.â âAnd I suppose,â said Jim, with a smile, âthat when Hope isnât wearing it, Jane can hang it up at her window.â âI think youâll have to do the shopping, Jim,â continued Mrs. Hazard. âThey donât take me seriously, Iâm afraid. If I want a wash-board, they smile at me humoringly and sell me a nutmeg grater! And two or three things I meant to get, I forgot all about!â âDid you get the blankets, Lady?â asked Jim anxiously. âOh, yes; and the toweling, and the mat for the front door. But I forgot bluing and soap and meat for supper.â âWell, if we donât rent some rooms we wonât be able to afford supper,â replied Jim grimly. âI donât think Mr. Gordon has been treating us decently, Lady.â âOh, Iâm sure he has done all he could, dear. I canât doubt that after the nice way he talked.â âTalkâs cheap,â growled Jim. âWhy doesnât he send some boys here to rent our rooms?â âHe will, Iâm sure. You wait and see.â âThat woman over there has taken her sign down already.â âBut sheâs been here for years, Jim dear, while we are only starting. Itâs going to take time, of course. Meanwhile we have that Latham boyâââ âAnd heâs a cripple,â interrupted Jim, âand I dare say no one else would take him!â âI donât think that at all,â protested his mother as they entered the gate, âfor Mr. Gordon said that he was sending him to me because he wanted a place where the poor boy could be well looked after. Oh, how nice your sign looks! I suppose it is perfectly all right to have a sign, Jim, but I see none of the other houses have any.â âThatâs the point,â replied Jim. âThis is going to be different. Fellows who come here are going to be at home; this isnât going to be just a plain boarding-house, Lady. Isnât it most dinner time? Iâm pretty hungry.â âYou shall have it right away. Iâll tell Jane Iâm back.â She hurried through to the kitchen, and Jim, with a sigh, picked up his step-ladder and, followed by Hope, trudged upstairs to hang the curtains in the corner room. âI wonder what sort of a cripple he is,â mused Hope, as she paired the strips of flounced muslin. âI do hope he will be nice.â âI wish Mr. Gordon had sent his cripple somewhere else,â muttered her brother as he worked the brass pole through the heading. âAnybody can impose on Lady.â âJim, youâre perfectly awful to-day! Youâre just one long wail of despair. I guess you want your dinner. Boys are always grumpy when theyâre hungry. Hereâs a hole in this curtain. Iâll draw it together after dinner.â âItâs good enough for him,â growled Jim, who was working himself rapidly into a fit of ill-temper. âI dare say weâll have to lug him up and down stairs, too.â âOh, I donât believe heâs that kind of a cripple,â responded Hope. âAnd he has a perfectly jimmy name, hasnât he? Jeffrey Latham; itâs quite aââa romantic sort of name, Jim.â âHeâs probably a pasty-faced little milksop. There, thatâs the last, thank goodness! My, itâs no wonder Iâm hungry!â he added, as he looked at his nickel watch. âItâs half-past two and after!â âIt canât be!â âIt is, though. Hello, whatâs that?â He pushed the new curtains aside at a front window and looked out. âItâs a carriageââwith a trunkââand bags! Iâll bet itâs the cripple, Hope! Run and tell Lady!â His sister hurried downstairs, and Jim, lugging his step-ladder with him, followed more slowly, grumbling as he went. âItâs a wonder he couldnât stay away until the room was ready for him.â He put the ladder out of the way and went out onto the porch in time to see the driver of the carriage open the door and the rubber-tipped ends of a pair of crutches appear. Still resentful, Jim went down the path and reached the gate just as the occupant of the vehicle swung himself nimbly to the sidewalk. âThis is Mrs. Hazardâs, isnât it?â he asked of Jim. âYes. I suppose youâre Latham.â Jimâs tone was not very gracious and the newcomer looked a little surprised. He was a slight, nice looking boy of fifteen, with big wistful brown eyes set in a somewhat pale but cheerful face. He was dressed extremely well, even expensively, and was quite immaculate from the crown of his Panama hat to the tips of his smart tan shoes. As he turned to speak to the driver he looked like any healthy, normal boy, for he appeared well built, straight of back and limb, and it was only when he crossed the sidewalk to the gate that any imperfection showed. Then Jim saw that one foot, the left one, swung clear of the ground by several inches. âIf youâll tell the man where my room is he will take my baggage up,â said Jeffrey. Mrs. Hazard met him on the porch, while Hope, frankly curious, hovered in the background. [Illustration: âThis is Mrs. Hazardâs, isnât it?â] âIâm so glad to see you,â said Jimâs mother as she shook hands with Jeffrey. âIâll show you your room, and then you must come down and have some dinner with us. This is my daughter Hope, and my son youâve already met. And I am Mrs. Hazard. I almost forgot to introduce myself, didnât I?â Jeffrey bowed to Hope. âThank you, maâam,â he answered, âIâd like to go to my room, but Iâve had my dinner. I stopped at the lunch room.â âLunch room! Good gracious!â exclaimed Mrs. Hazard, âthatâs no dinner for a grown boy! Of course youâll have something with us; although weâre hardly settled yet, and our meals are still rather skimpy.â Jeffrey murmured thanks as he followed her upstairs, abandoning one of his crutches and helping himself along by the banister. The driver followed with his trunk, and Jim and Hope were left alone in the hall. âIsnât it a perfect shame?â cried Hope indignantly, when the star boarder was out of hearing. âHeâs such a nice boy!â âIsnât what a shame?â growled Jim. âWhy, his being like that! Having to go about on crutches! We must be awfully kind to him, Jim.â âHuh!â Jim picked up the boyâs bags and started upstairs. âGuess Iâd be willing to use crutches if I could wear clothes like his and buy bags like these!â âOh, Jim!â protested Hope. âThatâs an awful thing to say! You shouldnât talk like that evenââeven in fun.â Jim grunted and went on. âBet you,â he said to himself, âhe will kick about his room. The carpetâs worn out and there ought to be new paper on the walls.â But if Jeffrey Latham observed these things, no one would have suspected it. âWhat a bully room!â he was saying as Jim entered. âIsnât it nice and sunny? May I keep my trunk in here, Mrs. Hazard?â âWhy, certainly. Between the window and the bureau would be a good place, wouldnât it? Iâm so glad you like the room. Itâs the pleasantest in the house.â Jeffrey took out a pigskin purse and opened it, exhibiting what looked to Jim like a good deal of money. âHow much do I owe you?â he asked the driver. âOne dollar, sir. Fifty cents for you, sir, and the trunk and bags extry.â âNonsense!â said Jim sharply. âHeâs trying to do you, Latham. Seventy-fiveâs all it ought to be.â âWith a heavy trunk and two bags like them!â demanded the driver incredulously. Jeffrey laughed. âI dare say the trunk was heavy,â he said as he paid the amount asked. âThank you very much.â The driver, mollified, touched his hat and took his departure. Jim looked his disgust at such a reckless waste of money. âThe bathroom is just down the hall on the left,â explained Mrs. Hazard. âDinner is ready, but you neednât hurry. Your name is Jeffrey, isnât it? You see, I must know what to call you.â âYesâm, itâs Jeffrey, but Iâm generally called Jeff. Iâll just wash a bit and come right down, although Iâm really not hungry.â Perhaps Hope was right in her theory that what Jim needed was food, for after he had had his soup he forgot his peevishness. Mrs. Hazard did most of the talking, although Hope showed unmistakable symptoms of being quite willing to help out. Jeffrey answered questions unreservedly. They learned that his home was in Poughkeepsie, New York; that he was entered in the Lower Middle Class; that he had never been away from his folks before, although he had evidently traveled about a good deal; and that while others might pity him for his infirmity, he wasted no pity on himself, but was quite cheerful and contented. âYesâm, I like reading pretty well,â he said in answer to one of Mrs. Hazardâs questions, âbut I like to be out of doors better. There isnât much I can do myself, but I like to see other fellows have fun. Iâm crazy about football and baseball and things like that. At home Iâm always running around to the games.â âIt must be very hard,â murmured Mrs. Hazard sympathetically, ânot to be able toââto take part in them. But I do think you get about wonderfully on your crutches.â âI ought to,â laughed Jeffrey. âIâve been practising all my life. Iâve had this bum leg ever since I was born. Oh, you get used to it; used to not being able to do things like other fellows, I mean. Besides, Iâve seen chaps worse off than me. I _can_ row a little.â âWish I could,â said Jim, making his second remark of the meal. âI guess you could if you tried,â answered Jeffrey. âIt isnât hard. I suppose there are boats here?â âLots,â said Jim. âThey have crews, too, you know.â Jeffrey nodded. âYes, thatâs partly why I came here. Iâve always been fond of boat racing. At Poughkeepsie, you know, we have a lot of it every year. Are youââdo you go to Crofton?â âYes,â answered Jim, passing his plate for a second helping, âI begin to-morrow. Weâre in the same class, too.â âReally? And are there other fellows here?â âIn the house? No, not yet. Weâve got three other rooms, but yours is the only one taken.â âWe hope to rent the others,â explained Mrs. Hazard. âThis is our first year here. We have always lived in Essexport; thatâs on the coast, you know; but when Jim decided that heâd rather go to Crofton than anywhere else, we decided that we couldnât do without him. So we rented our house at home and took this. My husband died three years ago and since then Jim has looked after us. Hope and I are awful babies, arenât we, Hope?â âSpeak for yourself, Lady! Jim and Iââ Listen! Thereâs somebody going upstairs!â âIâll see who it is.â Jim laid aside his napkin, pushed back his chair and hurried out. In the hall he was just in time to see the end of a bag disappear about the turn of the landing. He ran up the stairs, wondering. At the open door of Jeffreyâs room stood, bag in hand, a big thick-set boy of apparently seventeen years of age. He had a good deal of color in his cheeks, very dark eyes and a mass of unruly black hair under the funny little crimson cap perched on the back of his head. He turned at the sound of Jimâs approach and scowled at him across the banisters. âHello,â he growled. âHello,â replied Jim, taking at the instant a strong dislike to him. âDo you want a room?â âNo, Iâm looking for four-leaved clovers,â he replied with a grin. âWho are you?â âMy name is Hazard,â answered Jim, beginning to lose his temper, âand I happen to live here, if you donât mind.â âOh, I donât mind,â laughed the other unpleasantly. âWhat I want to know is why isnât my room ready?â âYour room?â âSure! Those your things in there? If they are, dump âem out, Bunkerââor whatever your name is.â âIf you want a room Iâll show you one,â said Jim, âbut that roomâs taken.â âTaken? You bet itâs taken! I took it last year, and if you donât dump that trunk and those bags out I will.â âThat room is rented to a fellow named Latham,â answered Jim warmly. âWho the dickens are you, anyway?â âWho am I? Iâm Brandon Gary, thatâs who I am. And I engaged this room from Mother Timberlake last June. And whatâs more, I mean to have it!â CHAPTER III GARY RECONSIDERS The sound of the talking had brought the others from the table to the hall below, and now Mrs. Hazard came up the stairs to inquire anxiously: âWhat is it, Jim? Is anything wrong?â âThis fellow says he engaged this room last spring and means to have it,â replied Jim. âEngaged this room? Butââbut how could you?â Mrs. Hazard observed Brandon Gary bewilderedly. âWe only took the house last month!â The claimant had snatched off his crimson cap at Mrs. Hazardâs appearance on the scene and when he replied his tone was much more respectful. âI engaged it from the lady who had it last year, maâam, and itâs always been a rule here that when a house changes hands theââthe new landlady takes itââerââsubject toââtoâââ [Illustration: âWhat is it, Jim? Is anything wrong?â inquired Mrs. Hazard.] âI understand,â said Mrs. Hazard helpfully, smiling her sweetest, âbut I knew nothing about any reservations. You see, Mrs. Timberlake left early in the summer and I took the house from an agent. And he said nothing at all about any of the rooms being taken. Iâm awfully sorry. But there are three other very nice rooms for rentâââ She paused and looked at Jim with a look of comical despair. âUnless they are engaged too!â âDonât believe so,â said Gary. He had set his bag down, thrust his hands into his pockets and dropped some of his aggressiveness, although it was plain to be seen that he meant to have his rights. âYou see, maâam, the fellows never liked Mother Timberlake much. I didnât either, but Iâd always had my heart set on this room, and so, when Kidder graduated last June, I made a streak over here and nabbed it. I had a chance at living in hall, too, this year. Iâm sorry you didnât know about it, but I guess you canât expect me to give it up. This chapââânodding at Jimâââsays youâve rented the room to some one else. Well, all heâs got to do is take one of the other rooms. Thatâs easy.â Gary picked up his bag, walked through the door and took formal possession. Jim and Mrs. Hazard looked at each other at a loss. Jim was angry clear through, and yet the newcomer seemed to have the law on his side. âI suppose,â faltered Mrs. Hazard, âwe might let Mr. Gordon decide.â Jim frowned. Gary had set his bag on the table, opened it and was now unpacking. âIâd like to chuck him out the window!â muttered Jim. âPerhaps Jeffrey would just as soon have one of the other rooms,â suggested his mother weakly. âWhat do you think?â âI guess heâd take one and be decent about it,â answered Jim, eying the intruder with strong distaste, âonly I donât think itâs fair to ask him to. I donât care what theââthe custom is here; no one told us about this room being engaged, and I donât believe that fellow has any right to it.â At the back of the house a bell pealed and Mrs. Hazard went and leaned over the banisters. Jim followed slowly. âHave you any rooms left?â asked a voice at the doorway. âYes,â replied Hope. âIf youâll wait a moment I will call my brother. Will you come inside?â âWill you see them?â asked Mrs. Hazard. Jim nodded and went down. Hope rejoined Jeffrey in the dining-room. Near the front door stood two boys talking together softly. They had no bags with them, nor was there any conveyance to be seen outside. âYou wanted to look at a room?â asked Jim gloomily. âPlease,â replied the taller of the two. âThis way, then. Thereâs a back room on this floor to rent and one or two upstairs.â Jim threw open the door of the chamber opposite the dining-room and they looked in. It was not a very attractive apartment, however, and they didnât enter. âI think something upstairs would be nicer,â said one. He turned, crossed the hall and looked into the dining-room. âOh, I beg your pardon,â he said, âthatâs not a bedroom, is it?â But in spite of his apology he seemed in no hurry to withdraw. âThatâs the dining-room,â said Jim shortly. âI see.â The boy gave a final look at the roomââand its occupantsââand followed toward the stairway. âIs the corner room on that side rented?â he asked. âYes,â replied Jim grimly. âVery much rented!â Then he stopped on the landing and faced the two boys. âSay, you fellows arenât new here, are you?â âNo,â replied the elder, âwhy?â âI want to know something. We rented a room to a fellow about a week ago and he came to-day. Thatâs he in the dining-room. Now another chap comes along and says he engaged the same room from the lady who had the house last year. Itâs the corner room you asked about. This new chap says weâve got to stand by what Mrs. Timberlake did. I donât think thatâs sense. We never saw her and didnât know anything about it. At that rate she may have rented all the rooms, for all we know!â The two boys looked at each other doubtfully. âWell, the chapâs right in a way, I guess. It is customary. But if heâs a new boy how does he know so much about it?â This from the taller of the two. âHeâs not new,â said Jim. âI guess heâs been here two years or so from the looks of him. He said his name wasââGerry, or something like that.â âGerry? You donât mean Gary, do you?â âYes, thatâs it.â The two boys exchanged glances and began to chuckle. ââBullâ Gary! Sounds like him, doesnât it? Is he here now?â âYes, in the room,â answered Jim. âI think, then, you had better let us talk with him. Hold on, though. Did you rent the house from Mrs. Timberlake?â âNo. She left early in the summer. We rented from an agent, Mr. Simpson.â âAh, that simplifies the case, eh, Poke?â âLike anything,â was the cheerful response. âLead us to him.â âDo you fellows know him?â asked Jim doubtfully. âRather! Weâre very dear friends of his. You leave it all to us.â They went on up, bowed to Mrs. Hazard, who still waited in the hall, and made for the corner room. Jim dropped back. âWell, well, if it isnât Bull!â Gary turned with a doubtful grin. âHello, Poke! Hello, Gil! Whereâd you fellows come from? Arenât living here, are you?â âNo, weâre still at the old place,â answered Gil. âWhose room is this, Bull?â âMine, of course. Not bad, is it?â âNo, itâs fine and dandy, but I understood that some one else had taken this. Didnât that chap downstairs tell us that, Poke?â âSure he did. I guess Bullâs spoofing.â âI dare say he did tell you that,â said Gary. âBut I engaged this room last June from Mrs. Timberlake.â âOh, I see!â Gil nodded his head. âWell, that explains it. Too bad, too, for itâs a mighty pleasant room. Still, thereâs one across the hall that looks pretty decent and I dare say youâll be just as happy there, Bull.â âMe? Iâm staying here,â said Gary uneasily. But Gil shook his head gently and firmly. So did Poke. âNo, you canât do that, you see,â said Gil. âThis room belongs to the other chap. You see, Bull, Mrs. Timberlake gave up the house. That canceled everything. Then this Mrs.ââââMrs. Whatshername took it from Simpson. Get me, Bull? Your case isnât good, old scout.â âThat makes no difference!â blustered Gary. âI engaged this roomâââ âTut, tut! Donât be dense, Bull. Have we got to explain it all over again to you? Honest, Gil, heâs the prize dunce, isnât he?â âOh, he understands all right. Heâs just trying to tease us. Letâs have a look at the room opposite, Bull.â âI donât want to see the room opposite,â Gary protested with vehemence. âThen why not have a look at the back rooms? Of course, they arenât as sunny as this, but Iâve no doubt theyâre quite comfortable.â âIâll stay just where I am,â growled Gary. But there was a tone of uncertainty in his voice. Gil smiled indulgently. Poke flecked an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. âStrange how dense some folks are, Gil,â said the latter. Gary flushed, and tried bluster. âYou fellows think you can come here and bullyrag me into doing anything you like. Well, youâre mightily mistaken. I know my rights and I intend to stand up for them.â âNoble youth! But you havenât any rights in this case, Bull. Youâre just making a silly ass of yourself and being disagreeable. Donât letâs have any bother about it, Bull.â This from Gil. âI rented this roomâââ âS-sh! Remember, please, that thereâs a gentleman present,â remonstrated Poke. âBe sensible, Bull. Honest, youâve got your signals mixed.â Gary looked from one to the other for a moment, swallowed hard once and yielded. âAll right, but I donât have to give this room up unless I want to.â âYouâre doing it, Bull,â responded Poke sweetly, âbecause you are the soul of generosity. Ah, we know you, you rascal!â âWe will examine the other apartments,â said Gil. âNot for me,â growled Gary. âIf I canât have this room I donât want to stay in this hole. Iâll go back to Sangerâs.â He began to pile his things back in his bag. Gil and Poke eyed each other dubiously. âIââI donât believe Iâd do that,â said Gil finally. âThis is a perfectly good house, Bull, and the landlady hasnât let many of her roomsâââ âI donât care if she hasnât! I hope she wonât! You can make me give up this room, but you canât make me stay here!â Gil and Poke recognized the truth of that. Gary slammed his bag shut, seized his cap and strode wrathfully downstairs and out the door with neither a glance nor word for Mrs. Hazard or Jim. âIâm afraid weâve lost you aââa tenant,â said Gil to Mrs. Hazard. âWe didnât mean for him to leave the house.â âThat doesnât matter. It was very kind of you to straighten it out about the room. Weâre so much obliged to you.â âIâm glad heâs gone,â declared Jim. âI donât like him.â âJim dear,â remonstrated his mother, âyou mustnât say that. He may be a very nice boy for all we know. Has my son shown you the rooms we have to let?â she added, turning to Gil. âErââyes, thanks; that is, he was showing them whenâââ âThis room over here is quite pleasant,â she said, leading the way to the door across the hall. âIt has only one bed in it, but we can set up another one if necessary. Were you both thinking of coming?â Poke looked a trifle uneasy, but Gil came to the rescue. âWeâve been rooming in hall, maâam, and were just sort of looking around to see what there was. Weâre not decided yet.â He looked at the room. âI suppose this gets the afternoon sun until quite late.â âYes, indeed,â replied Mrs. Hazard. âItâs quite a warm room in winter, Iâm told.â Poke looked in over Gilâs shoulder. It really was a very jolly-looking room. It was big and square, with two broad windows on the front and a bay on the side. The furnishings were neither new nor elaborate, but there was a roomy bureau, a big library table that had seen better days, two good easy chairs, two straight-backed ones and a washstand. And of course there was a bed, a simple white-enameled iron bed that looked both clean and comfortable. On the walls were hung several pictures, the windows had neat dimity curtains and the floor was covered with a cheerful red and gray carpet which, if it showed wear in some places, was still quite presentable. There was a fireplace and mantel, too, and the fireplace looked as though it could be used. âItâs a very nice room,â said Poke warmly. âDandy,â said Gil. âI suppose weââI suppose whoever had it could have a fire there.â âOh, I should think so,â answered Mrs. Hazard. âBut I hope that the furnace will keep the house warm enough without having to use the grates.â âHow much would this room be?â asked Gil. âWell, I supposeâââ Mrs. Hazard turned to Jim for assistanceâââI suppose for two it would be ten dollars a week.â âEleven,â said Jim firmly. âBut we donât charge for board, of course, when you are away. Then you just pay three dollars for the room.â âThat seems reasonable,â declared Poke. âQuite,â agreed Gil. âI dare say if we wanted a fire any time we could have it by paying something extra?â Poke asked. âJust pay for what you burn,â said Jim. âI see.â Gil turned to Poke. âWhat do you think?â âWhy, weââwe might think it over a little,â gasped Poke. âBetter let us know pretty soon,â said Jim in businesslike tones. âWe couldnât hold it for you, of course.â âN-no,â replied Gil, âI suppose not.â There was a silence. Gil and Poke stared fascinatedly at each other. Finally: âI guess,â blurted Gil, âweâll say weâll take it!â âBut, Gil!â cried Poke. âDonât you thinkââ Hadnât we better talk it over a bit first?â âWell, maybe we had. Weââweâll let you know inââin an hour.â âMuch obliged,â murmured Poke as they made their escape downstairs. Once out of sight of the house Gil pulled up and leaned against the fence. âThatââthat was awful!â he gasped. âIn another minute weâd have rented the room!â âSure thing,â agreed Poke solemnly. âHow the dickens did we get started?â âHow did we get started?â exclaimed the other indignantly. âWhy, you insisted on going in there to look at rooms, you idiot!â âWell, you asked how much it was, didnât you? It was all safe enough until then.â âNow, hang it, Poke, I feel as though weâd ought to take it; as though it was our duty! After all, you know, we drove Bull away.â âHow can we take it, you simpleton? Havenât we got a room already? Honest, Gil, you oughtnât to be trusted out alone! If it hadnât been for me weâd been saddled with two rooms now!â âWell, why didnât you help me? You could see that I wasââwas hypnotized!â âI guess I was too,â laughed Poke. âI never knew before how easy it is to buy something you donât want! Not that I wouldnât like to have that room, though. Itâs a peach, isnât it?â âYes, itâs about twice the size of Number 12. I wonder what it would be like to have all the light and sunshine you wanted.â âIâm crazy about the windows,â said Poke. âWe could have a seat built in that bay, Gil.â âSure. And with our pictures and stuff to fix up with the
{'title': 'Crofton Chums by Ralph Henry Barbour', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}