FRANK ARMSTRONG AT QUEENS

By MATTHEW M. COLTON

Author of

"Frank Armstrong at College," "Frank Armstrong's Vacation," "Frank Armstrong, Drop Kicker," "Frank Armstrong, Captain of the Nine," "Frank Armstrong's Second Term."

A. L. BURT COMPANY

Publishers New York

Printed in U. S. A.

[Pg 2]

Copyright, 1911, BY HURST & COMPANY

MADE IN U. S. A.

[Pg 3]

CHAPTER I.FRANK ENCOUNTERS A BULLY.

"Can you tell me how to get to Warren Hall, please?"

The question was addressed by a slender youth of fourteen to a group of lads lolling on the grass at the foot of a great elm in the yard of Queen's School.

"Well, I guess the best way would be to walk, unless you have an automobile," was the flippant answer of a freckle-faced and aggressive member of the group, who, lying with his hands under his head, gazed up at the questioner with an impish grin. The rest of the crowd laughed loudly at the sally.

"I mean," said the newcomer, visibly embarrassed[Pg 6] with this unkindly reception, "in which direction is Warren Hall?"

"Follow your nose and your two big toes, kid, and you'll get there all right," was the rude response from the self-appointed guide, and at this several of the recumbent youths rolled around on the ground with laughter. It was great, this exhibition of wit. Chip Dixon considered himself brighter than the morning sun, and through a certain strength of his own held sway over his satellites, some of whom were with him this particular afternoon.

The boy asking for information, at the second rebuff looked the speaker coolly in the eye. His embarrassment had gone now, and in its place came a look of disdain. He threw his head back.

"I asked for Warren Hall because I'm going there, and I'm not sure which one it is, but this smart fellow," indicating Chip, "doesn't have sense enough to answer a straight question. Can anyone tell me?" He cast his eye around the group. A look of amazement that a new boy should dare to cross words with this rough and ready fire-eater, spread over the faces of several of them, and a titter ran around, for Chip was not over well liked in the school.

[Pg 7]

Before anyone had time to answer, Chip himself sprang to his feet with clenched fists. He liked to say sharp things, but like many others, young and old, he could not stand his own medicine, and the titter angered him no less than the cool looking boy who had drawn it forth.

"Smart, am I?" he yelled, rushing up to the newcomer. "I'll show you whether I'm smart or not," and he pushed his face up close to that of the new boy, who held his ground bravely in the rush of the fellow who evidently meant fight. In an instant the two were surrounded.

"Ow! ow!" yelled Chip, just at the moment he appeared to be ready to land his fist on the unoffending boy, "ow! ow! I'll kill you for that," and he grabbed one of his feet and danced around on the other in agony. The heavy suit case, which the newcomer carried had been dropped on the toes of Chip's thin pumps, and must have hurt cruelly. And it looked as if it had been dropped intentionally.

"I'll pay you for that, you fresh kid," and Chip made another rush.

"Cheese it, Chip, here's Parks. Cut it out."

Chip subsided quickly, assumed an air of easy indifference, and began to talk with those of his[Pg 8] cronies nearest to him as if nothing had happened.

Mr. Robert Parks, the assistant master of the school, and a martinet for discipline, was swinging rapidly down the walk, unaware that anything out of the ordinary was taking place. He was a young man in appearance, perhaps not over thirty-five, but he had trained for the army, and showed it in his bearing. A railroad accident had deprived him of his left arm, and as army service was impossible for him, he took up the work of teaching. He nodded pleasantly to the boys as he approached them, and then stopped suddenly.

"Hello, Armstrong," he said with surprise, as he saw the strange lad standing there, "I was just going across to your room. Been talking with your father on the telephone and I promised him I'd see you settled all right. He said that he had been unable to come up with you, but described you so well I knew you at once. Glad you fell in with friends, though," added Mr. Parks, glancing around the circle of faces.

"They are not friends of mine. I was just asking for directions when you came up," answered Frank, for the new boy was none other[Pg 9] than Frank Armstrong. He had made up his mind to enter Queen's in the fall term after all, and as his health was so robust owing to the great vacation he had had at Seawall and in the Everglades, his mother and father offered no objections, and so here he was faring forth alone.

"They have given you a room in Warren Hall, I believe, haven't they?" said Mr. Parks.

"Yes, sir; eighteen is the number."

"Alone?"

"No, a fellow named Gleason is with me, from New York State, I think. I don't know him."

"Well, come along," said Mr. Parks, and led the way in the direction of Frank's future domicile.

"So that's Frank Armstrong, is it?" growled Chip, still with his feathers ruffled from the setback he had received. "I've heard of him and he's what I call a pretty fresh guy. If old Parks hadn't showed up when he did I would have knocked a little freshness out of him."

"He wasn't as fresh as you were," broke in little Willie Patterson. "He asked a civil question and you began to be funny before any of us had time to answer. And, besides, it mightn't have been so easy to knock what you say is[Pg 10] 'freshness' out of him. I notice he didn't back up much when you rushed him. Was the suit case heavy?" he added mockingly. Willie's diminutive size made him bold, and, besides, wasn't his sturdy but slow-witted room-mate, A. B. C. Sinclair, commonly called Alphabet, there to fight his battles for him in case his sharp tongue ran him into difficulties?

Dixon knew he was at a disadvantage, shut his jaws tight and said nothing, but if his look meant anything it meant that a heavy hand was to fall on Frank at the first opportunity.

"That's the fellow the papers have been talking about. Call him the 'great swimmer boy of Milton' because he got in a race with the champion Darnell down in Florida somewhere," sneered one of Chip's cronies, anxious to find favor in the eyes of his boss.

"Swimmer! My eye," grunted Chip. "I could tie one hand behind me and beat him out." Chip boasted of being something of a swimmer himself, and he could not believe that the slender boy, whom he had tried to jolly and later to scare, had the strength to swim against him. "If I get him in the water some time I'll drown him."

[Pg 11]

"I don't know about that," said Willie. "I think he's all right, and I'm going up to his room and tell him we are not all grouches like you are," and picking himself up he steered rapidly for Warren Hall to square matters with his own conscience. The bearing of the new boy had won him completely.

Without a hint of the storm of injured feelings left behind, and consequently unheeding, Mr. Parks walked rapidly with Frank across the school quadrangle to Warren, and shortly arrived at the quaint old doorway of the second entry.

"Warren was the first of the buildings of Queen's," said Mr. Parks as they trudged along. "It used to be the whole school when there were only about twenty-five boys. That was fifty years ago, but as the number of pupils increased these other buildings were added, and we have room now for a hundred and eighty boys altogether."

"Yes, I know the school has been growing. Father says it's the best in the state."

"Well, I think there are none better, even though our friends of the Warwick school up the river put on airs occasionally," said Mr. Parks.

[Pg 12]

"That's Russell Hall across the north end of the yard where the recitation rooms are," he continued, "and the school library and the social hall; and at the north end of Warren there, is the chapel. Just across from Warren is Honeywell where the school officers are. Doctor Hobart, the head of the school—you know him, of course—has his quarters in Warren. So you'll have to be on your best behavior." And Parks smiled down on the lad to whom he was much attracted.

They were now at the foot of the entry where was located No. 18. Mr. Parks plunged up the stairs and Frank followed at his heels, taking time to note the queer old crooked stairway, the newel post which was nothing more than a round block of wood carved with many initials, and the hand rail scarred with many a knife line where the ambitious initial cutters had dug deep to impress their fame on succeeding generations. The painted plaster of one side of the stairway was scrawled with initials, impromptu verses and rude sketches, caricatures evidently of school characters.

"Here we are," said Frank's guide, stopping[Pg 13] before a door on the second landing. "Let's see if Gleason's in," and he tapped lightly. There was no response, and turning the knob he stepped within. Frank followed at his heels, and entered what was to be his new home for a number of months at least.

"Well, I wouldn't say Gleason was much of a hand at keeping things tidy," observed Mr. Parks. "Maybe you can help him. I wish you luck. If I can assist in any way, just call on me. I have an office in Russell Hall, ground floor, first entry, and my office hours are printed on a slip on the door. Come and see me when you get settled. Good day."

"Good day, sir, and thank you for your kindness," replied Frank, and the door shut.

Parks was right when he said Gleason was not a tidy housekeeper, for the place was in heaped up disorder. Evidently Gleason had not yet succeeded in settling himself. His clothes were scattered around the room, and mateless shoes bestrewed the floor. A laundry box lay tipped on the window seat with half its contents on the cushion and half on the floor, and the center table was filled with a promiscuous assortment of books, writing materials, a tennis racket,[Pg 14] and several tennis balls reposing on a battered flannel cap. Out of this crazy jumble on the table, the drop light rose like a mushroom-topped lighthouse. The fine fireplace was piled full of crumpled papers.

Frank's own things had been tumbled into his bedroom, and there lay his first work of straightening things out. He was busily engaged in setting things in order when there came a tap on the outer door, and following the tap, without waiting on ceremony, a hand pushed it open. Frank turned and saw his visitor, noticing at once that it was one of the group he had encountered a little while before.

"You're Frank Armstrong," said the newcomer.

"That's my name."

"Well, my name's Patterson, Wee Willie they call me because I'm so big." The manner was friendly and genial.

Frank grinned. "Glad to see you," he said as Wee Willie stuck out his hand.

The visitor continued: "I happened to be in that bunch of fellows this afternoon, and I came up to apologize for Queen's, and to tell you that[Pg 15] Chip Dixon made me sick. He didn't speak for the school when he cut into you this afternoon so heavy."

"Who is he?"

"He's in my class, a Junior, and belongs to the society that thinks it runs this school, but he's a big bluff, if anyone should ask you about it. He's got most of us scared to death because he's so handy with his tongue and his fist, but it tickled me to death to see you stand up to him this afternoon. Christopher is his name, but 'Chip' is a nickname they've given him."

"I couldn't do anything else, could I?"

"No, of course not, but it is going to put you in bad with Gamma Tau all right. They are awfully clannish."

"Do you belong?" asked Frank.

"No, they didn't think enough of me to give me a bid, but I don't care. I don't like the bunch they took from our class, and I would rather be outside looking in, than inside looking out. Gamma Tau used to be looked up to, but lately they have stopped giving the election for merit. It's all politics now, and the master, old Pop Eye Hobart, said he would abolish it if they[Pg 16] didn't stop their monkeying and get down to first principles."

"Well, I'm sure I don't care whether I get an election or not, if it's that kind of a society. I'd rather stay out."

"The trouble is that the society runs the athletics of this school," continued the diminutive oracle, "and it's a hard job to make any team if you don't have the Gamma Tau pin. If you do have it, no matter how rank you may be, you're IT with a large capital I."

"Then that's what's the matter with your teams up here, is it?" queried Frank, who had kept an eye on Queen's school athletics for some time, and knew that victories were rarities.

"Hit it first time, right in the eye. We are punky to the state of rottenness, and we'll remain that way till the Gamma gets its head knocked off, and the best athletes in the school get a chance. As it is now, the best we have don't try.

"Well, I must be off," said Wee Willie, as he slid from the window seat. "I just wanted to tell you we're not all like Chip Dixon. He's a crab and walks backward and doesn't know it.[Pg 17] Ta ta, see you later," and the Wee One swung himself out of the door and clattered down the stairs, leaving Frank to straighten out his effects as best he might, and puzzle on the first tangle of life at school in which he found himself.

[Pg 18]

CHAPTER II.AN AFTERNOON OF FOOTBALL.

Frank had succeeded, after some hard work, in getting order out of chaos, and was in the act of unpacking his suit case when there was a thundering clatter on the stairs, and Jimmy, followed more leisurely by Lewis, broke into the room without even the ceremony of knocking.

"Well, if it isn't my old eel from Seawall," shouted Jimmy boisterously. "We thought you were never coming."

"You certainly took your time," said Lewis. "You were only going to be a week late and here half the month is gone and half the football schedule's been played. Give an account of yourself."

"Well, you see, they weren't prepared to have me go till the winter term, and it takes father a long time to change his mind after he gets it made up to one thing. But mother and I got[Pg 19] at him and proved to him that I was as fit as a race horse and there would be no more breaking down. So here I am."

"And about time, too. You're going out for the football team, I suppose," said Jimmy. "You see the school isn't a very big one, and everyone who is heavy enough takes a try at it. Even Lewis here is on the squad."

"Sure thing," nodded Lewis from the window seat. "I didn't intend to try for it, but the captain sent over one day and said it wouldn't be fair to the school if I hid all my talent under a bushel."

"Yes, and it's been hid under a sweater ever since. Lewis is a fine ornament to any sideline," said Jimmy.

"Are you on the team, Jimmy?"

"O, no. I'm just on the squad doing what they tell me to. I got a chance yesterday afternoon to play tackle, but I'm about as much at home playing up in the line as a tadpole in a haymow. The tackle opposite me played horse with me. And the coach glared at me savagely whenever the play went over me, and that was every time, I guess."

[Pg 20]

"Didn't he know you were a back?" asked Frank.

"I ventured to tell him that, but he told me in the most courteous fashion to shut up, and I shut."

"Don't you think you have a chance?"

"About as much chance as I have to be president, which, considering that there are somewhere about ten million possible candidates, is a problem that even Lewis could figure."

"Jimmy hasn't got a chance to make the team, Frank. I haven't been here but three weeks, and it's as plain as the nose on your face that if you haven't a Gamma pin on you, you might as well go way back and be comfortably seated. Tom Harding, the captain, is a Gamma, the manager is a Gamma, and I know for a fact that ten out of the eleven are in the same society."

"It's a regular open and shut game," added Jimmy.

"Isn't there another society here?" inquired Frank. "What's the matter with it?"

"Alpha Beta. It doesn't count," said Lewis contemptuously. "Gamma Tau is the oldest society, and has had things all its own way for[Pg 21] some years. Then some of the fellows, about six years ago, got together and ran in Alpha Beta, and for a little while it made a good fight against its older rival. But as every one was trying for the Gamma, the Alpha got the second run of fellows until now it isn't an honor to belong to it, and the fellows who don't get Gamma turn the other down flat, preferring to have nothing."

"Seems like a chance for a third," observed Frank. "Wonder it hasn't been started."

"No one has the nerve to start it," said Lewis. "They growl and growl at the Gamma like nice little dogs, but they never bite."

"Gee whiz, it's nearly practice time," cried Jimmy. "We go out from four to five every day, and we've just time to make it. Stop your prinking, and come along. You can sit on the bleachers and see football as she is played by Lewis and me."

Frank, nothing loth, banged shut the suit case, and putting on his cap was soon scampering with the two friends toward the playground.

Queen's school playground was the gift of a wealthy graduate of the school who had kept his interest in the old place. Its equipment was most complete. The playground lay to the west of the[Pg 22] line of school buildings,—gridiron, diamond, and boat-house, and beyond the latter the tennis courts, all models in themselves, and ample in size for the needs of the school for many years to come.

Nature had done her share in the first place with a tract of land almost as level as a floor and some thirty acres in extent, but the hand of man completed the job, and the playground was one of the show places of Queen's School. Its rather low level, as it bordered on the Wampaug river, insured a greenness of verdure no matter how dry the season. Trained ground keepers kept the place like a gentleman's garden. Stands which would accommodate several thousand people were ranged on both sides of the gridiron, and a much smaller but prettily covered stand gave ample room for spectators at the diamond. The boat-house was well furnished with canoes, pair oars and gigs, and even boasted a fine cedar eight-oared shell and a heavier eight called a barge. But Queen's rowing had declined in late years, and it had been some time since the shell held a victorious crew. Around the gridiron was the running track, a pretty and well kept cinder path on which the track meets of the[Pg 23] school were held, and where every other year Queen's met Warwick in their annual struggle.

"Isn't she a beauty?" cried Jimmy, waving his hand with a proprietor's sense of ownership over the whole fair prospect, as the boys reached the crest of the little hill behind Warren Hall. The whole of the playground dotted with exercising boys lay open to their view.

It surely was a beauty; and Frank felt his heart swell with pride in the knowledge that he was now a part of it. What worlds there were to conquer here! Would he be able to win his place in these fields?

"I'll do my best," he whispered to himself.

"This is the gymnasium," said Lewis, pointing to a low structure between the gridiron and the diamond. "Let's make tracks. There's the coach now. You go right over to the bleachers, and we'll be dressed on the field in a few minutes. Practice will begin very soon."

They parted, and Frank went on alone. When he reached his seat, a score of fellows, who had dressed early, were tumbling around on the ground like so many kittens, falling on the ball which was being tossed to them by the[Pg 24] coach, big Harry Horton, who at the same time belabored them with words.

"Fenton, you fall on that ball like a hippopotamus; what are you doing, playing leap-frog? That's not the way. Dive for it, and gather it in to you. Try again." Fenton tried again, but with no better success.