CHAPTER XX

FIRST BLOOD FOR YARDLEY

January dragged past and examinations came to an end with no serious results for any of these in whom we are interested. The hockey team defeated Greenburg easily, lost to Carrel’s school, 3 to 7, won from Warren Hall, 18 to 2, and finished the month with a well-played game in which the Yale Freshmen took its measure to the tune of 12 to 4. All the month the ice remained in perfect condition, although the team was kept pretty busy shoveling snow from the rink. Dan had settled down into his game at goal and, while he still pretended that Alf had persuaded him to join the team in the hope of having him killed, he enjoyed it all hugely and was fast developing into a strong and steady player. Gerald still adorned the edge of the ice most of the time, although in the Warren game he played part of one half and, being opposed to fellows not much heavier than he, played rather well and had two goals to his credit.

Basket ball had its devotees and regularly twice a week Yardley met an opponent. So far Tom’s team had been defeated but twice and had played seven games. The first Broadwood game had resulted in a tie at 17 to 17, although three extra periods had been played. Yardley had won the second contest at Broadwood by a decisive score, 22 to 12, and the third meeting, which it was hoped would decide the championship, was due in a week. Gerald was the only one of our friends who accompanied the basket ball team to New York on the thirtieth. It had been his custom since Thanksgiving to spend Sunday in the city with his father, and as there was no hope of his getting into the hockey game with the Yale Freshmen that afternoon, he elected to accompany Tom and the team to New York. The team met defeat after a hard battle and from the up-town gymnasium, in which the contest had taken place, Gerald walked down to his home, only a few blocks distant. When he returned to school early Monday morning February had arrived with mild weather. The next day, under the influence of a south wind and warm sunlight, the ice on the rink began to soften and rot, and, although the team managed to hold practice that afternoon, it proved to be the last for over a week. The Nordham game, set for the sixth, had to be cancelled and Alf went around like a bear with a sore head.

It was about this time that the Pennimore Cup arrived. Alf and Dan and Gerald walked down to the express office one noon and bore it back in triumph. They opened the box in Dan’s room, and after sprinkling the floor with excelsior, drew the cup from its flannel bag and viewed it with delight. It was of silver, some ten inches in height and most elaborately designed. On one side, in relief, were three figures of hockey players scrimmaging for the puck. On the other side was the raised inscription “Pennimore Cup for Hockey――Won By,” and below it a shield for recording the winners’ names. There were two curving handles in the form of hockey sticks and flag poles from which the rival banners of Yardley and Broadwood swept away around the rim of the cup. The inside was gilded and there was an ebony base to set it on. They placed it on the table and gazed at it enrapturedly.

“It’s the handsomest cup I ever saw!” said Dan.

“It’s a――a peach!” said Alf. “Gerald, your dad was certainly good to us.”

“I wish he could see it,” murmured Gerald.

“He will, for it’s going to stay right here at Yardley,” declared Alf. “We’ve just _got_ to win that, Dan!”

“You bet we have!”

“You look after it to-night and to-morrow we’ll take it over to Greenburg and get Proctor to exhibit it in his window for a week or so; that will give the Broadwood fellows a chance to see it.”

“I hope they’ll never get a better chance,” said Dan.

News of the trophy’s arrival was soon about school and during the evening there was a steady stream of visitors invading No. 28, and the following day Alf and Gerald and Dan took the cup to Greenburg and arranged with the amiable Mr. Proctor to place it in his window. Mr. Proctor conducted the principal book and stationery store and held the trade of both schools. Alf wrote an explanatory card to be placed with the cup: “Pennimore Cup, the gift of Mr. John T. Pennimore, to be contested for at hockey by Broadwood and Yardley, and to become the permanent possession of the school winning two out of three games.” Then they went out on the sidewalk and blocked traffic while they had a good look at it.

“Bet you that will make Broadwood’s eyes stick out,” said Alf. “Let’s wait here awhile until some Broadwoods come along and hear what they say.”

“Don’t you suppose they’d know who you are, you silly chump?” laughed Dan. “Come on home.”

“Not until I’ve had a hot chocolate,” returned Alf firmly, moving away from the window with a lingering look at the silver cup. “Want one? My treat.”

“In that case we’ll each take two,” answered Dan.

“I’ll have an egg-and-chocolate,” said Gerald.

“Why?” asked Dan innocently. “Is it more?”

“You dry up or you won’t get anything,” said Alf as he ushered them through the door of the drug store. “Two hot chocolates and an egg-and-chocolate, please,” he announced to the clerk at the fountain.

“Hold on a bit,” interrupted Dan soberly. “I haven’t decided what mine is.” He looked about at the signs dangling in front of him. “‘Walnut Fudge Sundæ’; what do you suppose that is, Alf?”

“I don’t know, but it’s too cold for ice-cream things.”

“That’s so. Let me see, then. ‘Hot Malted Milk’; that won’t do; I had to take that once when I had a cold and the doctor wouldn’t let me eat real food.”

“Oh, hurry up, can’t you?” begged Alf. “Have a hot choc――――”

“Ah! There it is, I’ll bet! ‘Hot Celery Wine’; sounds wicked, doesn’t it? Hot Celery Wine’s the drink for mine; it’s strong and fine and makes you shine――――”

“Give it to him!” Alf exploded. “Give him a fried egg with it and let him have a real party!”

“No, no, I guess Hot Celery Wine would be too strong. I’ll have a hot chocolate.”

The clerk, visibly amused, served the order and added a little dish of sweet crackers, and the boys removed their repast to one of the small tables near by from where they could view the street through the big window.

“There are some Broadwoods now,” said Alf, “looking at the cup. I’d like to hear what they’re saying.” Dan leaned past him so that he could see Proctor’s window.

“The big fellow is Rhodes, their full back,” he said. “Here come a couple of them over here.”

The two Broadwood fellows entered, ordered raspberry college ices, and sat down at a table a few feet distant. They had recognized Alf at once and possibly Dan, but they strove to hide the fact.

“What did you think of it?” asked one.

“Oh, not so bad,” was the reply. “Of course it isn’t really silver; you can see that quick enough.”

“Of course,” replied the other scornfully. “Probably tin, don’t you think?”

“Or pewter. They’re using pewter a good deal for cups.”

“Ugly shape, isn’t it? I suppose, though, that Yardley thinks it’s quite wonderful. I guess they don’t see many cups over there.”

They laughed softly and bent over their ices in order to exchange glances. Gerald was angry clean through and Alf was scowling into the bottom of his glass.

“Who’s this fellow Pennimore?” asked one of the Broadwood lads.

“He’s a rich guy that lives over on the point. He’s got a son at Yardley. The kid tried to get into Broadwood but couldn’t pass, and they say the old man promised to pay off the school debt at Yardley if they’d take the kid. Anyhow, he’s there.”

Gerald set his glass down and started to his feet with blazing cheeks, but Dan’s hand went out and caught his arm.

“No, you don’t,” said Dan firmly. “You sit down again.”

“But――――”

“You sit down!” Gerald obeyed. Alf had stopped frowning. He finished his chocolate, wiped his lips with the little paper napkin and leaned across smilingly to Dan.

“You and Gerald walk to the door,” he said softly, “and be ready to get away quick.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Dan.

“Well, I’m not going to touch them, if that’s what you mean,” answered Alf. “Go ahead and I’ll follow.”

Dan and Gerald arose and sauntered toward the door, the Broadwood boys observing them uneasily, although defiantly. Alf took up the three empty glasses and started toward the counter. To reach it he had to pass the table occupied by the Broadwood fellows, and as he did so he stumbled, fell against the table and sent the college ices to the tiled floor where the cups broke and their contents splashed about for yards. One of the boys saved the table from going over and both jumped angrily to their feet.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Sorry,” answered Alf indifferently, “but you ought to keep your feet out of the way.”

“Our feet weren’t in your way! You did it on purpose!”

“How absurd,” said Alf haughtily, as the clerk hurried up with towels. “As though I would intentionally upset the table. I have more respect for cups than you have.”

He sauntered over to the counter, set his glasses down and joined Dan and Gerald at the door. The Broadwood boys were excitedly explaining to the proprietor who had followed his clerk to the scene. Dan and Gerald and Alf slipped quietly out of the door, trying hard to keep sober countenances. But once out of sight of the window they hugged each other ecstatically and laughed to their heart’s content.

“They’ll have to pay for damages,” gurgled Alf, “and I’ll bet they haven’t got fifty cents between them!”

“Maybe Wallace will get after us for it,” said Dan.

“Oh, no, he won’t. He isn’t taking any chances. He’s got those chaps and he knows he may not see us again. Besides, he wouldn’t suspect for a moment that I’d do a thing like that on purpose! Perish the thought! First bloodshed in the conflict for the Pennimore Cup results in a Yardley victory! Ex-tra! Ex-tra!”