The Putnam Hall Rivals

A moment later they came upon a thrilling scene. George Strong was in the grasp of one man, who held him from the back, while a second man was going through his pockets.

CHAPTER XIX

ANOTHER CHALLENGE

“I know those fellows!” whispered Jack, as he and Andy came to a halt behind convenient trees.

“So do I. They are Mr. Strong’s two crazy relatives, Bart Callax and Paul Shaff.”

The cadets hardly knew what to do.

“I want that million dollars!” cried the man named Callax. “Give it to me!”

“And I want the order for an airship,” put in Paul Shaff.

“Bart! Paul! Let me go!” said George Strong. “You are making a mistake, I tell you!”

“If you don’t give us what we want we’ll tie you to a tree and burn you up!” cried Shaff.

“They are certainly crazy,” whispered Andy. “They ought to be in an asylum.”

“I wonder how they got here?”

“Ran away from those other relatives in the west, I suppose,” returned the young major, and he spoke the exact truth. The relatives had been looking all over for the crazy men, but without success.

Suddenly the two crazy men threw George Strong flat on his back and began to beat him with their fists.

“Come, we must do what we can!” cried Jack, and ran forward.

The man named Callax was closest to him, and raising his stick he dealt the fellow a blow that caused him to fall dazed on the sward.

At the same time Andy hit Paul Shaff a glancing blow on the shoulder. The crazy man turned, leaped up, and caught the cadet by the throat.

“Le – let go of – of m – me!” gasped Andy.

“Boys! I am glad you came!” burst from George Strong’s lips. He scrambled up and caught Shaff by the arm. “Let him go, do you hear, Paul! Let him go, I say!” And after an effort he managed to draw the crazy man back.

By this time Bart Callax was getting up. The blow Jack had dealt seemed to take much of the fight out of him.

“Do – don’t hit me again!” he whined.

“Then leave Mr. Strong alone,” answered the young major.

“I want my million dollars!”

“And I want my airship,” put in Paul Shaff. “I have an order to go to the North Pole, to get fifty polar bears for the circus!”

“If you’ll behave yourselves I’ll see that you get what is coming to you,” said George Strong. “But you mustn’t attack me in this fashion.”

“Too bad! We are so poor!” cried Callax, and suddenly began to weep. Then Shaff sat on the ground and looked the picture of despair.

“What do you want to do, Mr. Strong?” whispered Jack.

“Where is the horse and buggy?”

“The horse ran away, up the road, but maybe I can find him,” answered Andy.

“Then do so, if you can. If it can be done, I wish to place these poor chaps where they can do no further harm.”

“Better place them in a regular asylum after this,” suggested Jack.

“No asylum for me!” yelled Bart Callax, leaping up. “Good-bye!” And he dove into the bushes.

“Stop him!” cried the teacher, but it was too late. In the excitement Paul Shaff also got away, and that was the last seen of the pair for some time to come.

In the meantime Andy had gone after the runaway horse. As he surmised, the steed had not gone a great distance, and a third of a mile up the road was found in a hollow, quietly cropping the grass. Fortunately the buggy was not damaged in the least, and he had no difficulty in returning to the scene of the encounter with the turnout.

“They came upon me so suddenly that I was taken off my guard,” said the second assistant teacher, when telling his story. “I tried to reason with them and said I would take them to the Hall, but they pulled me from the buggy and dragged me into the wood. They might have killed me if you had not happened along.”

“I am glad to be of service to you,” said Jack. “But if I were you I’d make a strong effort to catch them. They are too dangerous to be left at large.”

“I’ll put some officers of the law on their track,” said the teacher, and this was, later on, done.

“Mr. Strong, perhaps this explains it!” cried Jack, as they were driving back to Putnam Hall.

“Explains what, Ruddy?”

“Those orders for goods sent out in your name. Those crazy men might do something like that?”

“That is so!” ejaculated the teacher. “It never struck me before. I must look into it without delay. No doubt they are guilty.” And this proved to be the fact.

With the coming of warm weather the thoughts of many of the students had turned to baseball. Several teams had already been organized, including one by Reff Ritter. Baxter had wanted to organize a team, but Ritter got ahead of him. However, the bully of the Hall was made pitcher, with Ritter as catcher, so he was content. Coulter played first-base and Paxton short-stop. They called themselves the Medals, and issued a challenge to any team in the school.

“That means us,” said Jack. “Baxter and Ritter are bound to get ahead of us if they possibly can.”

Since the previous summer there had been some changes made among the boys when playing baseball, and now a team was made up with Bart Conners, the captain of Company A, as captain and short-stop. Jack was pitcher, Dale catcher, Andy first-base, Pepper second-base, Stuffer third-base, Hogan center-field, Harry Blossom right-field, and Henry Lee left-field. Dave Kearney and two others were substitutes. This team was called the Browns, for all of the players got suits of brown. The Ritter and Baxter crowd procured suits of blue, with red stockings.

After a good deal of talk it was decided that the Medals and the Browns should play a game a week later, on a Saturday afternoon. Both teams at once began to practice vigorously.

“Baxter is taking private lessons from a professional pitcher who comes to Cedarville from Ithaca,” said Pepper one day. “I got the word from Hampden, who saw him.”

“Did Hampden say anything more?”

“He said Baxter was going to fool us on a new kind of a curved ball.”

The news was true. From a friend in the city the bully had gotten the name and address of the professional pitcher, and the latter was now giving Baxter as many lessons as the cadet’s spare time would allow.

The new curved ball was a difficult one to pitch, and had to be delivered by a certain swing of the wrist and the elbow. At first Baxter could not “get the hang” of it, as he said, but presently it came to him, and then he delivered the ball very well.