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Boys of Oakdale Academy

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2017
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Roger Eliot laughed outright, which was unusual for him.

“That’s plain enough,” he said. “A great many people find it necessary to play the part in order to be accepted as the real thing.”

Grant flashed him a look from those deep brown eyes; to his surprise, here was a fellow who seemed to understand.

Barker shrugged his shoulders. “My dear chap,” he said patronizingly, “I’m afraid you were rather careless in letting us get onto your curves. Tell us, how much did that rig-out cost you? I presume you bought it from some fake cowboy in a dime museum.”

“I’ve already noticed,” returned Rodney, “that you’re a presuming sort of a gent. Being of a forgiving nature, I’ll overlook it and charge it up to your ignorance.”

Barker flushed with anger. “Cut it out, you freak!” he exclaimed. “Why, you’re a sight! Folks around here weren’t born yesterday, and you can’t fool anybody with your bluff. Next thing we know you’ll be calling us tenderfeet; but we’re not so tender we can’t tell the difference between a fake and the genuine article.”

“I pray thee, be not so harsh, Berlin,” chuckled Cooper. “Why, we can all see by looking at his clothes that Mr. Grant is a real, genuine, bona fide cow-puncher from the Texas Panhandle, just as he claims to be. At least, he not only looks it, but he’s slinging the lingo.”

Sleuth Piper shook his head doubtfully. “He hasn’t yet said ‘whoop’ or ‘galoot’ or ‘varmint’,” he muttered.

“Thanks, my friend,” bowed Grant, beaming on Cooper. “It’s sure a relief to know that at last I’m making an impression on one person, at least.”

“Have a peanut,” invited Chub Tuttle. “Can you shoot a pistol?”

“I’m a rip-roarer with a gun.”

“Know how to throw a lasso?”

“Sure. I can rope and tie a wild steer in thirty-six seconds. The world’s record is something like forty-one and a half. But that’s because I’ve never competed in a public steer-roping contest.”

“Bah!” sneered Barker. “Did you ever see a longhorn steer in your life?”

“At least,” returned Grant, gazing fixedly at him, “I’ve seen a long-eared donkey.”

“Score one for the gent from the Panhandle,” snickered Cooper.

“You insolent puppy!” breathed Barker, in a low, savage voice. “You want to be careful of your language, or you’ll have a fight on your hands. Somebody will – ”

“I never fight with my fists.”

“No, I don’t suppose you ever fight with anything but your mouth. You showed the white feather when Hunk Rollins got after you. It’s my opinion you’re a big case of blow.”

“Your opinions are of so little value that they don’t disturb me any at all.”

“Quit it, fellows!” interposed Eliot, stepping forward to keep them apart in case Barker should go at Grant. “You know what it means to have a scrap here, Berlin.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t touch him – here; but, if he isn’t more civil, I’ll catch him somewhere and teach him a lesson.”

With which threat Berlin turned disdainfully and walked away, watched as he departed by the eyes of Grant, in which there shone a strange gleam of mingled anger and amusement.

“Yeou better not git that feller stirred up, Mr. Cow-puncher,” advised Sile Crane. “He’s a bad critter when he’s mad. He never forgits a grudge.”

“I ask you fair and square, gents,” said Grant, “did I begin it? Didn’t he start the rumpus by spurring me a plenty with slurs and insults? Never mind, I won’t fight him anyhow, because, as I before stated, I don’t fight.”

“How about fighting cattle thieves and Injuns?” questioned Cooper.

“That’s a heap different. Having a right violent temper of my own, I reckon it’s best for me to keep it hobbled constant and regular. Gents, when I’m riled I’m bad – I sure am. I opine I’ve caused my old man no end of disturbance and worry. This yere is the first school I’ve never been expelled from – and there’s enough time for that. Last school I attended, the master allowed it was his duty to give me a ferruling. It certain was the mistake of his life, for he got me going some, and I clean lost my head. As a result, I threw him, traddled him, and lifted his scalp.”

“You wha-what?” gasped Phil Springer. “You don’t mean that you actually sus-scalped a schoolmaster, do you?”

“Sure. I removed a portion of the gent’s topknot with my trusty scalping knife. I opine it was a severe shock to his system, but he recovered in time, though he remained baldheaded in a spot as big as the palm of your hand.”

“You must be dangerous,” laughed Cooper. “I suppose you learned the scalping business that time you was captured by Injuns. You know you said you were captured once.”

“Such was the fate which befell me.”

“Tell us abaout it,” urged Crane. “Haow did yeou escape?”

“By breaking the bonds with which the savages tied me. I am the possessor of sure enough amazing strength, which enabled me to accomplish the seeming impossible. There were three of the onery redskins. They caught me when I was sound asleep, and they were taking me to their tribe for the self-evident purpose of amusing themselves by burning me at the stake, or something like that. It was a journey of two days or more. The first night we camped in a dark and lonely valley. My captors regaled themselves on roast beef cut from one of my father’s steers which they had stolen, but not a morsel did they offer me, although I was mighty near starved to death. When they had eaten their fill they rolled themselves in their blankets and slept. There I was, tied hand and foot, and apparently helpless. I watched the campfire die down and the stars twinkle forth in the lonely sky. I knew it was up to me, and so when the aborigines were securely wrapped in the arms of Morpheus I proceeded to put forth my energies to burst my bonds, and finally succeeded.”

“I s’pose yeou sneaked off and took to your heels then, didn’t ye?” questioned Crane.

“No, indeed, not any. I knew they would awaken and follow me. I knew there was only one salvation for me: I must destroy all three of those red fiends.”

“Did yeou kill ’em?”

“I confess that I did, but never in the history of the world have redskins died in such a manner. They laughed themselves to death.”

“How was that?” asked Tuttle, so interested that he had forgotten to eat peanuts.

“As they slept I crept upon them, one by one, seized them, gagged them, bound them all. This I did to each one in turn, without arousing the others. Having them securely bound, I meditated on my future course. It sure seemed some inhuman to hike off and leave them trussed up to starve or to be eaten by coyotes. I shuddered a plenty at the thought of tomahawking or shooting them. It was a right long time before I finally hit upon a mode of execution. Finally I removed their moccasins – stripped their feet bare. Then from the topknot of the chief I plucked some feathers. With those very feathers I proceeded to tickle first one and then another of the redskins upon the soles of his feet. In about two jiffys I had all three laughing and squirming, and the more I tickled them the more they laughed. I kept it up, gents, until those redskins laughed themselves to death.”

“Ge-gee!” exploded Phil Springer. “What a whopper!”

“Pretty fair,” nodded Roger Eliot – “pretty fair.”

Prof. Richardson entered. He paused a moment to peer over his spectacles, and his eyes fell on Rodney Grant. Slowly an expression of wonderment crept over the old man’s face.

“What’s this, young man – what’s this?” he inquired, coming forward and removing his knit woollen gloves. “What are you doing here in such a rig?”

“I reckon you’ll pardon me, Professor, but people around this neck of the woods seem to think I’m a fake Texan because I don’t look it, and therefore I took a notion to wear my cowboy regalia this afternoon.”

The professor shook his head disapprovingly. “Go home,” he said – “go home at once and change those clothes for civilized garments. I certainly shall not approve of your wearing such a rig while you attend this school.”

“Fate is against me,” murmured Rodney Grant, as he turned toward the door.

CHAPTER III.

ROD’S WONDERFUL JUMP

Prof. Richardson was giving his attention to the class in physiology when Rod Grant returned to the academy. The boy from Texas walked quietly down the center aisle and took his place in the class. In truth, as he now appeared, there was nothing about him, save possibly the deep tan of his cheeks, to give him an appearance different from that of any clean, healthy, manly-appearing Eastern youngster. He wore a well-fitting suit of dark blue serge, a negligée shirt, and a carelessly knotted crimson four-in-hand tie. On his feet were stout, serviceable, yet distinctly well made and stylish tan shoes.

Berlin Barker, who had been reciting, sat down. The principal surveyed Rod over his gold-rimmed spectacles, which perched precariously on the end of his nose, nodding his head slightly as if inwardly approving of the change in the new boy’s appearance.
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