CHAPTER XXV

OFF FOR A SWIM

Bobby sat as if stunned. There was bitter revolt in his heart against the injustice of it all. And, in addition, he felt as though he would like to get at Hicksley and thrash him well.

But for the moment he was helpless. The evidence was against him, and he was too proud to make any further protest or appeal to Mr. Leith.

To the rest of the boys, the sentence came like a clap of thunder. They were fond of Bobby and believed he was telling the truth. They would have been sorry to see him punished for any reason. But it was not only the fact of the punishment, but the nature of it, that filled them with consternation. Bobby Blake off the ball team! Where would Rockledge be now in the race for the pennant of the Monatook Lake League?

The lessons proceeded, but the class might as well have been dismissed at once, for only one thought filled the minds of all. And when at last the gong rang, there was a rush for Bobby on the campus, and a buzzing arose that resembled a hive of angry bees.

It was well for the bullies that, sitting on the rear seats, they had slipped out of the door quickly and disappeared. They would surely have come to grief in the present excited condition of the boys.

Fred slammed his books so violently on the ground that he broke the strap that held them.

"Just wait!" he stormed, "just wait! I'll pitch into that Tom Hicksley the minute I see him, big as he is."

"It would have been bad enough of him to tell, even if Bobby had done it," growled Mouser.

"He ought to have his head knocked off," raged Skeets.

"Swell chance now we'll have of winning the pennant," groaned Shiner.

"Not a Chinaman's chance," mourned Pee Wee.

"I can see us coming in as tail-enders," prophesied Sparrow.

"Was such a dirty trick ever heard of?" wailed Billy Bassett, appealing to high heaven, as though even in his grief he was asking the answer to a riddle.

Bobby had had time now to get a grip on himself, and although his heart was hot within him, he was outwardly the coolest of them all.

"Tom Hicksley will pay for this all right," he declared. "Some time the truth will come out and I hope it will be soon. I haven't any doubt of course that he did it himself. Then he got cold feet when he saw how angry Mr. Leith was and fibbed out of it."

"Of course, he'd fib out of it!" exclaimed Fred. "Nobody who knows Tom Hicksley would expect him to do anything else. But why did he put it on you?"

"Because he's sore at me, I suppose," Bobby answered. "He's always hated me since that afternoon on the train."

"Yes, but he's just as sore at the rest of us who butted in, as he calls it," persisted Fred. "It's something more than that, Bobby. It's because you saved the game when he had almost lost it."

"He's never forgiven you for that," agreed Mouser.

"Well, whatever his reason was, I'm the goat all right," said Bobby, in a feeble attempt to put the best face on the matter.

"It isn't only you, but it's Rockledge that's the goat," amended Sparrow. "We'll be licked out of our boots."

"You fellows will have to play all the harder," said Bobby. "Mr. Leith may change his mind when he comes to think it over. I have a hunch that Hicksley isn't going to get away with such a whopper as that."

"I'd like to have him by the throat and choke the truth out of him," snapped Fred wrathfully.

"It would be a pretty big job to get any truth out of that fellow," grunted Mouser.

"What did the old weather want to go and get so hot for all of a sudden?" burst out Pee Wee. "If it hadn't been for that, the fan wouldn't have been going and the whole thing wouldn't have happened."

This kick against nature struck the boys as comical, and the laugh that followed cleared the air somewhat and relieved their excited feelings. But for the rest of the day and evening, there was but one topic that held the attention of any of them.

Bobby felt blue and depressed. He would rather have had any other penalty put on him than to be ordered not to play on the team. The very sight of his glove and uniform made him miserable.

It would have been bad enough, even if he had been guilty of that special bit of mischief. But then he would have "taken his medicine" with as good grace as possible. But it made him raging angry to feel that he had been made the victim of a contemptible plot by such a fellow as Tom Hicksley.

What made it still more exasperating was the fact that he did not see any way to get at the real truth. Hicksley had been on the rear row of seats, and his only companions were Bronson and Jinks, who were just as bad as himself. No one but they had seen the egg thrown, if, as Bobby felt sure, Hicksley had thrown it. And now that they had put it on Bobby, they had to stand by the falsehood. One was as deep in the mud as the others were in the mire, and there was not a chance in the world of their confessing.

It hurt Bobby, too, to know that he rested under a cloud in the eyes of Mr. Leith, who had practically told him that afternoon that he did not believe him. He was a truthful boy and it came hard to have his word questioned.

All the next morning he was gloomy and downhearted. In the afternoon, Fred, like the loyal friend he was, tried to get his mind off his troubles by suggesting that they go swimming.

"Don't let's go to the lake this time," said Fred. "Let's go to Beekman's Pond up in the woods. There's a dandy place there for diving."

It was a little early in the season yet for a swim, but the warm weather, which still continued, made the prospect an agreeable one. So, shortly after dinner, having received permission to go out of bounds, Bobby and Fred with half a dozen of the other boys started out for the pond.

"Say, fellows," asked Billy as they trudged along, "what's the dif--"

"There goes the human question mark again," interrupted Mouser.

"He's not to blame, he was born that way," said Skeets with large toleration.

"Honestly, Billy," chaffed Fred, "I don't believe you can say a single sentence that isn't a question."

"Can't I?" said Billy, a little nettled.

"There! what did I tell you?" said Fred, trapping him neatly.

The boys roared, and even Billy grinned.

"Well," he said, "I might as well have the game as the name. What's the difference--"

"Stop him, somebody," cried Sparrow, wringing his hands in pretended agony.

Billy looked at him scornfully.

"Oh, let him get it out," said Bobby resignedly. "Go ahead, Billy."

"Shoot," said Fred.

"What's the difference," asked Billy, "between a fisherman and a lazy scholar?"

"Ask Pee Wee," replied Skeets. "He ought to know."

"Pee Wee isn't a fisherman," objected Mouser.

"Who said he was?" retorted Skeets.

"If you're hinting that I'm a lazy scholar," remarked Pee Wee, "all I've got to say is that I'll never be lonesome among you boobs."

"Stop your chinning," said Billy, "and answer my question."

"One catches fish and the other catches a licking," ventured Fred.

"Each one sometimes finds himself in deep water," guessed Skeets.

"No," said Billy. "They're not so bad, but neither one's the real answer."

Finally the boys gave it up.

"One baits his hooks and the other hates his books," chirped Billy.

A groan went up from the sufferers.

"I think that's a pippin," remarked Billy proudly; "but I've got another one that's better still. Why is a--"

"Sic the dog on him!" ejaculated Mouser.

"What's the use of letting him live?" asked Fred.

"He seems to be human, but is he?" queried Sparrow.

As Beekman's Pond came in sight just then, they broke into a run, and Billy had to save his masterpiece for another time.

They found a secluded spot, and with a whoop and a shout were out of their clothes in a hurry. Then with a shiver each took the plunge into the clear waters of the pond.