The New Boy at Hilltop, and Other Stories

"Ah, Raymond," he said, "all ready? Suppose we start with the Latin!"

There wasn't any use not studying, because he didn't play fair. No man has any right to starve you. So I studied some every day after that. Old Gabbett, the chap I had before Twigg, used to shrug his shoulders when I wouldn't study, and tell me I was a good-for-nothing and would live to be hung. Then he'd go off to his room and let me alone. Browning, the chap before old Gab, used to get jolly mad and throw books at me, and swear to beat the band. I used to swear back and call him Sissy. He was a Sissy; he was about nineteen and didn't have any mustache or muscle, and he couldn't do a thing except study and play patience. It was rather good fun, though, getting him mad; it was mighty easy, too. But Twigg was different from any of them. When he wasn't putting it onto me he wasn't such a bad sort—for a tutor.

Anyhow, he wasn't a Sissy. He could catch fish and ride fine, and he could beat me at target shooting with a .32 rifle. He told me one day that he was stroke on his crew for two years. I guess that's where he got his big shoulders and muscles. You ought to see his muscles. We went in swimming one day and I saw them. I'll bet he was the strongest chap up our way. After he had been there a couple of weeks he went to the city again; and I read his diary. But there wasn't anything in it about me except one thing which he had written on June 15th. It said:

"R.'s propensity for eavesdropping and similar ungentlemanly actions renders it unadvisable to write anything here that I do not want read by others. Were it not for the aforesaid propensity and one or two lesser faults I could like the boy immensely. I have hopes, however, that when he realizes how contemptible and petty these things are he will cease doing them. He told me once that his favorite book was Froissart. I wonder if he thinks Froissart was ever guilty of listening behind doors, spying into others' diaries and swearing like a tough?"

Wonder how he knew?

* * * * *

Two days after he went to town I met him going out of the house with some golf sticks. I went along with him to the meadow and watched him hitting the little white ball. After a bit he let me try it. It wasn't easy, though, you bet! But when I'd sort of got the hang of it I could hit them right well. He said I did bully and if I liked I could help him lay out a nine-hole course the next afternoon and we'd have some games. So we did. We paced off the distances between the holes and put up sticks with bits of white cloth on them. The housekeeper gave us an old sheet. And the next day we played a game. Of course he beat me. But he said I would make a good player if I tried hard and kept at it. After that we used to play almost every day, if it wasn't too hot. Only if I didn't have my lessons good he wouldn't play.

One day I got behind the stone wall—we called it Stoney Bunker—and couldn't get out, and said "darn." And Twigg picked up the balls and started back to the house.

"Golf's a gentleman's game, Raymond," he said. "We'll wait until yon get your temper back."

That made me mad and I swore some more. And there wasn't any more golf for nearly a week. He won't get mad, too; that's what makes it so beastly. It got pretty hot the last of the month and there wasn't much to do except lay around and read. We had lessons before breakfast sometimes while it was nice and cool on the veranda; and in the forenoon we went swimming. One day he asked if I wanted him to read to me. I said he could if he liked. I wanted him to, but I didn't want him to know it. So we sat on the lawn and he read "Kidnapped," the book he'd spoken about. It was a Scotch story and simply great. After that when the afternoons were too hot for golf or riding he'd read.

I forgot to say that dad went away about the middle of the month and stayed a week, I guess.

"Hello," said Twigg, "where are you going?"

"Oh, just for a ride," I said. He was on the porch and so I pulled Little

Nell up alongside the rail.

"All right; wait a minute, and I'll go along. Do you mind?"

"She doesn't like to stand," I muttered.

"She won't have to long." He grabbed the railing and vaulted over onto the drive, and I saw that he had his riding breeches and boots on.

"All right," I said. "I'll wait here."

He nodded and went over to the stables. When he was out of sight I jammed Little Nell with the spurs and tore down the drive lickety-cut. I was going over to Harrisbridge to see Nate Golden, but I didn't want to tell Twigg because he was so cranky; always trying to keep me at home. It was Sunday morning, and kind of cloudy and sultry. When I got to the road I turned Nell to the right before I remembered that I'd be in sight of the house for a quarter of a mile. But I wasn't going to turn back then, so I made for the beginning of the woods as fast as Nell could make it. I knew it would take Twigg two or three minutes to saddle Sultan, and by that time I could be out of reach.

But Twigg is always doing things you don't expect him to. When I got to the edge of the woods I looked toward the house and what did I see but Twigg on Sultan trying to head me off by riding across the meadow. Just as I looked Sultan took the panel fence with a rush, got over finely and came thundering across the turf.

"All right," I said to myself. "If it's a race you're after you can have it with me now!"

Through the woods the road is a bit soft and spongy in places and so I pulled Nell down a little. Then came a long hill; and by the time I was on top of that I could hear Sultan rushing along behind. I gave Nell her head then, for it was a good, solid road and straight as a die for over a mile. She hadn't been out of the stall for two days, and maybe she didn't tear things up! Pretty soon I looked back. There was Twigg and Sultan just coming up over the hill. They'd gained some. I touched Nell with the spur and she laid back her ears and just flew! That mile didn't last long, I tell you. When I got to the Fork I switched off to the left toward Harrisbridge; it was dusty, and I was pretty sure Twigg wouldn't know which way I'd gone. The road wound sharp to the left and I'd be out of sight before Twigg reached the Fork. Two or three minutes later I pulled up a bit and listened. I couldn't hear a sound. I chuckled and let Nell come down to a trot, thinking, of course, Twigg had kept the right-hand road and was humping it away toward Evan's Mills. Then I got to thinking about it and somehow I kind of wished I hadn't been so darned smart. It seemed sort of mean because I'd said I'd wait for him and I hadn't. You see, Twigg had such fool ideas on some things, like keeping his word to you and all that. I had half a mind to turn around and go back and look for him. But just then I heard a crashing in the brush on the left and looked back and there was Twigg and Sultan trotting through the woods toward the road. He'd cut the corner on me! I made believe I didn't see him, and pretty soon he rode up to the stone wall and jumped Sultan over into the road almost beside me.

"Well," he said, smiling, "you gave me quite a run!"

"Yes; but I knew Nell could beat that beast and so I slowed down."

"That's all right, then. I thought at first you were trying to give me the slip, but I knew you'd said you'd wait and so I concluded you wanted some fun."

"Yes," I said.

"This is the Harrisbridge road, isn't it?" he asked.

"It goes to lots of places."

"Harrisbridge among them?"

"Yes."

"Then we can keep on, eh? We might call on that friend of yours; what's his name? Nate something?"

"Nate Golden," I muttered.

"That's it. I suppose he'd be at home?"

"He doesn't like swells," I said.

"Am I a swell?"

"Yes, you are."

"And he wouldn't like me?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Oh, just because he wouldn't; that's why. I'm going back now."

"Very well; Harrisbridge some other day, Raymond."

We turned the nags and walked them back toward the country road. Nell was puffing hard and Sultan was in a lather; he was a bit soft. Pretty soon Twigg said:

"I'm going in to town to-morrow, Raymond; want to come along?"

"Yes," I said. Dad never would let me go to the city more than once in six months.

"Good enough; glad to have you. I'm going to run out to college in the afternoon to get some things from my trunk. Ever been out there?"

I shook my head.

"Maybe it'll interest you," he said. "I suppose you'll go there when you're ready, eh?"

"Might as well go to one as another, I guess," said I.

"Perhaps; but I'd like you to go to mine," he answered, kind of gravely. "I think it's a little better than the others, you see."

"I suppose you won't be there," I said, flicking Nell's ear with my crop.