Fred Fenton Marathon Runner: The Great Race at Riverport School

CHAPTER XIII

THE MUFFLED VOICE

"Fred, someone wants you on the 'phone!"

"All right, Sis, tell him I'll be right down, and to hold the wire!"

At the time his younger sister, Josie, called him. Fred was sitting in his own room at home. It was around eight o'clock, and he had just been studying, so as to get such matters off his mind until Monday swung around again. The next day being Saturday, he and the other selected contestants for honors in the big race expected to cover the course at a pretty good pace, so as to familiarize themselves with its numerous shortcomings and advantages.

Not wishing to keep anyone waiting, and suspecting that it must be either Colon or Bristles who had some sort of communication to make, Fred hurried down to the lower hail where the 'phone hung.

"Hello!" he called.

Evidently the other party was waiting, for immediately there came an answer.

"That you, Fred?"

"Yes," replied Fred, at the same time wondering who it could be, because there did not seem to be anything familiar about the half muffled tones.

"This is Bristles!" came the voice.

"What's that?" exclaimed Fred, wondering if his friend could be trying to play some trick on him by pretending to change his voice.

"Bristles, don't you know? Wait a minute till I cough," and then followed a series of explosive barks that sounded wonderfully realistic over the wire, after which the muffled voice continued: "Seem to have taken a beastly cold somehow, after school. Sneezing to beat the band, in the bargain. But I want to see you, the worst way, Fred. Can't you come over to my house, for I oughtn't to go out in the night air with this cold?"

"Now, you mean, Bristles?"

"Sure, right away. It's only eight o'clock, and I've got something to tell you that'll make you sit up and take notice. Excuse me while I bark a few times, Fred," which he accordingly did in a way that made the other remove the receiver from close contact with his ear.

"Well, you do seem to have a good dose of it, Bristles," Fred remarked, laughingly, when the bombardment had finally ceased. "I'm almost afraid that cold will be catching over the wire. Hope it won't be anything serious, old fellow."

"Oh! I'm not bothering about that, Fred," he was told, "but I'm just aching to tell you something great. You'll be tickled half to death when you hear what it is. Never mind asking me, either, because I won't whisper a word over the wire."

"All right, then, Bristles."

"You'll sure come, Fred?" anxiously asked his unseen chum.

"Why, of course I will," Fred hastened to assure him. "I meant to run over to your place to-night, anyway, because I've got a little news you ought to hear."

"And Fred, you'll take the short-cut, of course?"

"It's mighty seldom I go any other way, Bristles. Why do you ask?"

"I was only afraid you might have some errand down-town that'd take you the long way around, that's all, Fred. Now, hurry up, because I'll bust if I have to hold this great thing in much longer. So long, Fred!"

As the thick voice ceased to come over the wire Fred put the receiver on the hook, and there was a little frown on his face.

"Now I wonder if he's happened to learn about that Corny Ludson, and means to explode it on me?" Fred was saying, as he picked up his hat. As he did so, his glance happening to fall upon a heavy cane with a crooked handle belonging to his father, he took possession of it.

Perhaps it was the recollection of what pretty Flo Temple had said when jokingly telling him that he would presently be needing a walking stick, if he kept on dieting for the Marathon race, that suddenly tempted Fred to take this cane, for he had certainly never done it on any previous occasion.

Later on he was inclined to believe there might be some truth in that fable of the sea, to the effect that there is a "little cherub aloft, looking after the affairs of poor Jack," and keeping him in times of sudden peril. At any rate the sudden whim of Fred's, when he thought to play a joke on Bristles, and pretend that he needed a crutch or a cane, since he was becoming lame and decrepit, was fated to turn out one of the finest things he ever did.

When Fred stepped out of the front door, he found that it was fairly dark, as the moon happened to be past its full, and consequently had not as yet appeared above the eastern horizon.

When Fred and Bristles wished to exchange visits they were in the habit of taking a short-cut, that saved considerable distance. It wound in and out over the open lots, though there was only one fence to climb. So frequently had the boys made use of this way, in their endeavor to save themselves from needless steps, that they knew every foot of it like a book. Indeed, a plain trail had been worn by these innumerable trips.

Bristles had often declared he could go from his house to that of Fred with his eyes bandaged, and never once get off the track. No doubt it was the same way with the Fenton boy, who had impressed every little peculiarity of that short-cut on his mind.

Swinging the heavy walking-stick around by the crook, Fred hurried along, climbing the fence on the other side of the road. Just at that moment he chanced to notice a figure coming up the street, and while astride the topmost rail of the fence he stopped to see if his suspicions were confirmed, for he thought he ought to know that peculiar gait.

When the other started in at the Fenton gate Fred called softly:

"Hello there, Colon!"

The tall figure turned around at being thus addressed from across the street.

"That you, Fred?" he asked, starting to cross over.

"Nobody else," replied the other, with a chuckle, "and you happened along just in the nick of time, let me tell you. I'd have been gone in three shakes of a lamb's tail."

"Going across lots to Bristles's shack, I reckon?" ventured the tall boy, as he reached the side of his friend.

"Just what I'm meaning to do," he was told. "Bristles called up before I was ready to start across, and wanted me to hurry over. Said he had something to tell me that was simply great."

"You don't say!" exclaimed Colon.

"And I've been wondering whether he could have learned about that man being in town," continued Fred.

"Meaning Corny?" queried Colon.

"Yes," Fred replied, still sitting on the rail of the fence. "If you saw him, there'd be a chance that Bristles might have heard something along those lines. You know he's the greatest fellow going for picking up information about all sorts of things."

"It might be," mused the other, "and we could have some fun with Bristles by springing the racket on him before he got a chance to let the cat out of the bag."

"You'll go over with me, then?" asked Fred.

"That's my present intention," said Colon. "Fact is, I strolled around to see if you expected to drop in on Bristles, and put him wise. Didn't have anything else to do, this being Friday night, you know. And I'm that full of the race I seem to want to talk it over all the time. But what are you carrying that heavy walking-stick for? Hope there wasn't any truth in what Flo Temple said, and that you're getting weak in the knees, Fred?"

"I just happened to remember all that joshing," Fred told him, "when I saw dad's stick. So I picked it up, thinking I'd play a joke on Bristles, and make out to be lame. But looks a little as if we mightn't have Bristles along with us to-morrow."

"How's that?" Colon wanted to know, instantly.

"Why, it seems he's gone and taken a terrible cold all of a sudden," Fred told him. "You'd never have guessed who it was talking over the wire to me. He had to tell me who it was."

"When was this?" asked Colon, "because I called him up after I got home this evening, to sort of say we might be around, and I didn't notice anything out of the way with him then."

"Is that so?" remarked Fred, as though a little puzzled. Then he added, "Oh! these colds in the head come on with a rush, sometimes. He barked like a dog, and I even had to hold the receiver away from my ear. I told him he'd give it to me over the wire. But chances are he'll not be in a fit state for a twenty-five mile run to-morrow, more's the pity. It's queer about that heavy cold taking him so sudden, though, come to think of it."

"He wanted you to come over, you say?" continued Colon, as he threw one of his long legs across the top rail, and prepared to follow Fred, who had already dropped down on the other side of the fence, and was in the field that was to be crossed first of all, in following the short-cut to the Carpenter home.

"Yes, that was why he called me up," replied Fred. "And he kept urging me not to hold off a minute, because he said what he had to tell was so important he'd just burst if he held in much longer. And then he wanted to make sure I'd take this path across lots."

"But why would he say that, Fred?" continued the tall boy, as side by side they started off, with Fred keeping on the path, which could be seen readily enough in the starlight, once his eyes had become accustomed to the night.

"He said, Colon, he was afraid I might try to kill two birds with one stone, and go down-town first, to do some errand, and he just couldn't wait a minute longer than was necessary."

"Huh! that's funny," grunted Colon, as though he failed to understand exactly why the said Bristles should have been so very particular.

They walked along, with Colon clutching the left arm of his chum, for he depended upon Fred to show the way, not being very familiar with the crooked path himself.

They kept on talking as they walked, for there were any amount of things that interested them jointly, from the mystery concerning the actions of Corny Ludson, to the plans they had in mind concerning the winning of the glorious Marathon.

Here and there clumps of bushes caused them to turn aside, but that was the way the trail ran, very much like what Fred called a "cow-path." Indeed, it meandered along in a zigzag fashion, though always heading for the opposite side of the field.

The two boys were just in the act of passing the densest patch of bushes that the cow-pasture boasted, when without the slightest warning three figures suddenly confronted them. They leaped from the covert where they had been lying concealed, and, as though all their plans had been arranged beforehand, two of the figures instantly sprang past, so that from all sides of a triangle Fred and Colon found themselves furiously assailed.

CHAPTER XIV

A PLOT THAT FAILED

Although taken completely by surprise Fred and Colon were not the kind of boys to flinch, or run from sudden danger.

They could see that the three fellows who surrounded them were gotten up just as might have been expected under such circumstances. When men or boys lay out to do a mean thing, they generally try to arrange it so that their identity may not be disclosed. These fellows had their hats drawn low down, their coat collars turned up, and, unless Fred's eyes deceived him, they also had handkerchiefs or some other kind of disguise fastened over the lower part of their faces, just as they may have read of desperate footpads doing out West, when holding up stage coaches.

There was really no time to note anything more. Uttering all sorts of angry cries in falsetto voices, the assailants bore down upon the two chums.

"Whoop! give it to 'em, Fred!" cried Colon, his long arms immediately taking on the appearance of a couple of old-fashioned flails, such as farmers used before the time of machine threshers.

Fred was already busily engaged. A thrill of satisfaction seemed to fill his boyish heart over the inspiration that had caused him to pick up that heavy walking-stick before sallying forth to cross over to Bristles' house.

It was certainly a handy thing to have around just then, with the odds against them, and that whirlwind attack on in full force.

After Fred had swung his stick a few times, and several loud thumps told that it had landed on each occasion, grunts began to change into groans. Of course it hurt, no matter where it landed, and once a fellow ran up against such punishment, the chances were he would not feel just the same savage inclination to press the attack that he had before "taking his medicine."

Colon, too, was doing gallant work, though he possessed no club or cane, and had to depend upon his fists alone. He was tall, and had a terrific reach, so that he could land his clever blows without being severely punished in return.

One thing the two chums were careful to do, – not separate. Although they had had no chance to settle on any plan of campaign, they seemed to just naturally understand that in their case union meant strength. Accordingly they kept back to back, and in that way managed to hold off all assailants.

Afterwards Colon used to say that their defence had been conducted along the famous "hollow square" plan, peculiar to British troops for centuries, in that they kept their faces to their foes, and their lines intact.

Of course this sort of vigorous work could not last very long. It was too one-sided, with Fred pounding two of the unknown fellows with his father's walking-stick, as though that might be the regular mission of such heavy canes.

There was a final scramble, in which blows were given and taken on both sides. Then a gruff voice, considerably the worse for wear and lack of breath, gasped out:

"Scoot, fellows! it's all off!"

Immediately the three mysterious assailants turned and ran away. Fred noticed with more or less satisfaction that a couple of them seemed to wabble considerably, thanks to the whacks he had managed to get in with his heavy stick.

"Go it, you cowards!" shouted Colon after them. "For three cents I'd give chase, and hand you a few more good ones. But unless I miss my guess, one of you'll have a black eye to-morrow, for I plunked you straight. Whew! I'm out of wind with all that rapid action work, Fred!"

Fred himself was breathing rather hard, because of the way in which he had been compelled to exert himself in the melee. So neither of them made the slightest move to advance any further, content to stand there, puffing heavily.

Then Colon began to chuckle, louder and louder, until he broke out into a hearty laugh, at the same time doubling up like a hinge, after an odd way he had.

"Got 'em going and coming, didn't we, Fred?" he wanted to know, when his merriment had subsided in some degree. "They caught us napping, that's right, but say, did it do 'em much good? Not that you could notice. Let me tell you that's a sore lot of fellows to limp all the way home to Mechanicsburg to-night."

"What makes you say that, Colon?"

"About Mechanicsburg, you mean?" remarked the tall boy. "Why what else would we think, but that the trick was planned, and carried out by some of that gang of up-river fellows? Haven't we run up against the same lot before, and would you put it past them to try to lame a fellow, so he couldn't take part in a race, and let their side have a clear field? Huh! easy as falling off a log to see how the ground lies."

"But Colon," objected Fred, "remember what Felix Wagner said to us about playing the game fair and square? I don't believe he'd descend to any such mean dodge as this, nor most of the other fellows up there – Sherley, Gould, Hennessy, Boggs and then some. If this was a set-up job, I'd rather believe it originated nearer home than Mechanicsburg."

"A set-up job!" roared Colon. "You never heard of one with more of the ear-marks of a lowdown game than this has. Why, they planned to get you to cross here all by yourself, and then lay you out so you couldn't run for a month. Didn't I see how they kept kicking at my shins all the time, and I reckon that's what they did with you. I've a welt on my leg right now from a heavy brogan; and I'd like to bet you they put on that sort of foot-wear so as to make their kicks hurt like fun."

"Yes, they did seem to keep kicking at me, every chance they found," admitted Fred, as though partly convinced by the other's argument.

"See?" flashed Colon. "I told you how it was. They had that all laid out, and after it was carried through you'd be laid up and lame for the whole of the Spring. When a fellow means to run a twenty-five mile race, he's got to keep in tiptop condition right along, or he'll get soft; and if you couldn't practice every day, why what would be the use of your starting in? Five miles would make your ankle so sore you'd have to be carried home on a hayrick."

"They tried their level best not to give themselves away," continued

Fred.

"Hardly ever used their voices, – only when they just had to grunt and groan, after you touched 'em up with that bully walking-stick. Fred."

"And," continued Fred, "they had their hats pulled down over their faces, collars turned up, and some sort of thing over their chins, so their best friend wouldn't have recognized one of them."

"Oh! it certainly was a pretty smart trap, and it failed to work on account of a few things the plotters hadn't thought of," observed Colon, with a vein of satisfaction in his voice.

"One of which was my great luck in having you along with me, Colon."

"Oh! I don't know that that counted any to speak of," objected the other. "Why, when I saw the way you slung about you with that walking-stick, Fred, I knew as sure as anything they were in the soup. And chances are, it'd have been just the same if you'd come along here by yourself. The biggest piece of luck you had was when you took that notion to carry your dad's heavy cane."

"Perhaps you're right, Colon," admitted Fred, as he felt of the heavy stick, and then remembered with what a vim he had applied it without stint wherever he could get an opening. "And I ought to really thank Flo Temple for that, oughtn't I? Only for the way she joked me about needing a crutch or a cane, I'd never have thought of playing it on Bristles. And I want to tell you I'd hate to have this thing laid on me, good and hard. Wherever I struck, it's raised a whopping big welt, I calculate."