THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE ICE

OR

Out for the Hockey Championship

BY GRAHAM B. FORBES

AUTHOR OF "THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH," "THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE DIAMOND," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

The Boys of Columbia High Series

BY GRAHAM B. FORBES

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price, per volume, 50 cents, postpaid.

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH Or The All Around Rivals of the School

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE DIAMOND Or Winning Out by Pluck

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE RIVER Or The Boat Race Plot That Failed

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE GRIDIRON Or The Struggle for the Silver Cup

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE ICE Or Out for the Hockey Championship

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright, 1911, by GROSSET & DUNLAP The Boys of Columbia High on the Ice

CHAPTER I

RULE OR RUIN

"Hi! there, Frank! Don't you want to take a little spin with me aboard my new ice-boat?"

"Why, hello Lanky, is that the Humming Bird you've been building on the sly?" and Frank Allen as he spoke, looked up from his task of locking a glittering skate to his shoe.

"Ain't she a corker, though?" demanded the proud owner and builder, Lanky Wallace, as he sprawled upon the framework of his strange craft, with its sails flapping in the breeze.

"Well, honest Injun, Lanky," observed Frank, with a smile, "I can't say that she's a beauty so far as looks go; but I like her lines, and it strikes me that she ought to be a hustler to get along."

"That's just what she is, a regular screamer. I'm sorry I called her by such a modest little name, for she deserves a better. Drop aboard, and see if she doesn't outshine the boat I made last winter," continued the ice sailor, eagerly.

"Sorry, but another time will have to do," replied Frank, seeming to hesitate as though deciding between pleasure and duty.

"Why not now?" tempted the other, artfully; "the sun is good for nearly an hour, and there's more'n half a moon up yonder. Say yes, Frank. It's seldom we have the ice like this; and there's some breeze, though not all I'd like. Come right along!"

"The trouble is," explained Frank, with a sigh, "I've just got to skate up to Clifford before dark. The athletic committee of Columbia High had a meeting this afternoon, and commissioned me to carry a challenge up to the boys of Clifford High. So you see I must be off."

"What's that? A challenge for what? Don't tell me we're going to rub up against those nifty hockey boys, who have cleaned out everything on the Harrapin these last four years, until they crow like the cock of the walk?" and Lanky threw up both hands to indicate intense excitement.

"That's just what it means; and now you understand what all that practice with our team has been standing for," returned the boy who sat on the bank, as he again bent over his skates.

"But hold on," cried Lanky, "what's to hinder our whirling up the river to Clifford on this same contraption? Why, we can beat your best time on runners to flinders. No more arguing now, but hop aboard, and we're off!"

Frank looked up, gauged the breeze, glanced along the smooth stretch of ice on which some dozens of Columbia boys and girls were gliding hither and thither; and immediately unfastened the one skate he had clamped tight.

"I'll go you, old fellow! It's too good a chance to be lost; and I'm anxious to find out whether this new boat is better than the old Hurricane you had last winter. Make room there!" with which remark he cleared the distance separating the shore line from the ice-boat, and threw himself down beside the skipper.

As they began to move off under the influence of the dying breeze a number of the skaters gave utterance to loud cries, and made out as if about to give them a race. The fleetest of them quickly fell astern, however, and presently a bend in the river shut them completely out of sight.

While Frank and his chum are thus whirling up the Harrapin River toward the town of Clifford, some miles above, it may pay us to cast just a fleeting glance backward, and see who these lads were, and what aims and ambitions influenced their actions.

The Harrapin boasted of three progressive towns along its banks, each ranging from seven to twenty thousand inhabitants. Columbia was the largest, though Bellport some eight miles further down the river possessed numerous factories, and was a business community.

Each town had its own high school, that of Columbia being especially famous on account of its almost perfect equipment. Between the scholars of the three seats of learning there naturally arose a most persistent rivalry, and from year to year this was carried on in all the sports which up-to-date American boys enjoy.

In the first volume of this series, "Boys of Columbia High; or, The All Around Rivals of the School" will be found many interesting, as well as thrilling, encounters, in which victory was only won after a bitter struggle.

With the coming of balmy Spring the sports of course took on an outdoor flavor, and consequently the second story had to deal with that truly American National sport, baseball, under the title of "The Boys of Columbia High On the Diamond; or Winning Out By Pluck."

The arrival of a new eight-oared shell for the boat club of the school brought both delight and alarm in its train. If you want to experience all the sensation of being present on the beautiful Harrapin on that Glorious Fourth when the wonderful water carnival was celebrated, and read of the astonishing things that happened to the rival students, then read the third volume of the series, which is called "The Boys of Columbia High On the River; or, The Boat Race Plot That Failed."

Vacation over, and with the coming of the two hundred and fifty scholars back to the charge of Professor Tyson Parke and his able assistants, of course the tang of the sharp, early Fall air brought one subject forward. What this was you can readily guess by the title of the fourth book in the series, preceding the present volume: "The Boys of Columbia High On the Gridiron; or The Struggle for the Silver Cup."

Frank Allen was the son of the proprietor of Columbia's great department store. He had one sister, Helen, just a couple of years younger than himself. Lanky Wallace, who had played a prominent part in all the sports through which the school had this year won imperishable renown, was the son of a banker, who was also a lawyer, and meant to follow in his father's footsteps later on.

When the bend above Columbia had been turned, there lay a pretty straight course up to Rattail Island, which was situated about half way between Frank's home town and Clifford. There was not a single skater in sight, as the afternoon had waned, and the lapse of time had caused a gradual retreat to a point nearer home.

"Hurrah!" shouted Lanky, as he guided the spinning craft along over the even surface of the famous little stream; "isn't this the limit? We own the whole river! How does she compare with the clumsy old Hurricane, Frank?"

"Not at all," came the quick reply.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" gasped the disappointed builder, reproachfully.

"There isn't any comparison," laughed Frank, "she's in a class by herself, Lanky! Given some breeze, and I reckon she'd just hit the high places of the ice. She's like a thistledown floating along. You've sure gone and done it with this dandy craft."

"Bully for you, old fellow! You make me feel good all over. Say, what's that?" and Lanky stretched his neck in the effort to see ahead.

"Looks like a sail behind that point. As sure as you live it's moving! There's another ice-boat coming out at a whooping pace!" exclaimed Frank, his voice filled with both satisfaction and wonder.

"Wow! now, what do you think of that for luck? Why, of course it's Lef Seller and his blessed tub the Harrapin Flier! He beat me every time last year, and he's just been laying for me in that cove, meaning to show me a clean pair of heels to-day. It's going to be a race, Frank! There he comes out, and he's got Bill Klemm along with him, as usual!"

"He's heading up the river, Lanky. That's a challenge for you. Are you going to stand for it?" demanded Frank, who, like the vast majority of boys, never liked to let a plain dare pass by without accepting it.

"Watch me haul up on him hand over fist! Before we're past Rattail Island this little darling is going to make the Harrapin Flier look like thirty cents. She's a has-been, and belongs to a slow age!" said the skipper, jauntily.

He shifted his weight and asked Frank to do the same. In so doing the result was immediately shown in an accelerated pace on the part of the ice-boat; either that, or else a slant of fresh wind caught her sail, coming from out behind that same cove where the rival craft had been hidden.

Up the river they flew like a pair of frightened gulls; only such salt water birds were never seen around the neighborhood of Columbia.

Both skippers seemed to be jockeying for all the advantage there was to be had in position. The river was well known to Lanky, and he had been over this course so many times in every kind of water craft that he was familiar with each little turn; and not only the sweep of the current in summer, but the passages in the wooded shores through which squalls of wind might be expected to swoop down.

"We're gaining!" declared Frank, almost immediately, when both ice-boats had taken a straight-away course, so that comparisons could be made.

"WE'RE GAINING!" DECLARED FRANK.

"Are we? I should say yes, and just creeping up on the duffer so fast that he'll soon look like he's standing still! Why, I could cut circles around that ancient tub. To the woodpile with her, Lef; that's all she's good for!" and he raised his voice in a taunting shout that must have stung the ears of the chagrined owner of the rival boat.

"They're trying to move around some, I notice; shifting their ballast to coax a little more speed out of the thing," announced Frank, quickly.

"No good trying. I've got the Injun sign on that boat, as sure as you're born. This pays up for all his joshing last year. Now will you be good, Lef? You had an idea you would show me up, hey? Well, you've got another think coming, that's all."

They were now so close to the leading ice-boat that even an ordinary call could have been heard. Lef, who was quite a stalwart lad, did not dare look back, for fear lest he lost control of his craft, which was flying along at quite some speed, considering the light breeze. But his companion kept tab on all the movements of the pursuer, and posted him constantly.

"There's the island ahead, Lanky. Which channel are you going to take?" asked the passenger of the Humming Bird.

"The one to the left of course," came the ready reply. "Think me so green as that, with the breeze coming from the west? A fellow would get blanketed by the trees on the island if he chose the other side. And ten to one Lef knows that too. See, I told you so; he's already heading that way."

"But that channel is only half as wide as the other, and unless you are mighty careful you'll come to a bad end in there. I hope we don't try to pass Lef before we get up above the island," added Frank, with a suspicion of impending trouble making itself felt in his voice, though as a rule he seldom winced when difficulties arose.

"We're climbing up on him fast," declared Lanky, grinning, "but I don't think we'll pass him while in the narrow part of the river; so there ain't going to be any mix-up, unless——"

"Unless what?" asked his chum, instantly.

"He might be mad enough to want to upset us in a heap, hoping to smash my jolly little new boat. It would be just like Lef Seller, and his rule or ruin policy of running things. All the same I don't take that other passage, and let him crow over me; nixy not. Now for it, my hearty!"

The island was at hand, looming up gloomy and forbidding on the right. At that moment the pursuing boat did not seem to be more than a dozen feet behind the one in the lead, and with every second even this distance was being wiped out.

"Watch him!" exclaimed Frank, as he felt sure he saw a furtive movement on the part of the tricky skipper of the Harrapin Flier that told of desperation.

Hardly had the words left his lips than Lanky gave a shout. There was reason for excitement, yes, and even consternation; for Lef Sellers, knowing that his ice-boat could no longer be looked upon as the queen of the river, had deliberately thrown his tiller in such fashion that the craft just ahead swerved from her course and was thrown directly across the bows of the oncoming Humming Bird.

A crash was inevitable, despite the frantic efforts of Lanky Wallace to avoid a collision that might mean the wrecking of his jaunty little craft even in the moment of her triumph!

CHAPTER II

THE CLIFFORD SEVEN GET A CHALLENGE

Crash!

Frank had acted on the spur of the moment, and torn the halliards loose from the cleat that held them, so that the sail of the ice-boat dropped just at the very second she plunged into the side of the other craft.

Instantly there was a great confusion, mingled with the sound of breaking planks and loud, angry cries. Strange to say Lanky's boat came through the smash with hardly any damage, while the offending craft was reduced to almost a jumble of mast, sails and thin splintered boards, in the midst of which the two reckless boys found themselves huddled.

Immediately all of them commenced crawling out of the mess. Lef was holding his hand to his face, endeavoring to quench the flow of blood from his bruised nose; while Bill Klemm's usually sarcastic countenance looked doubly grim as he grunted, and rubbed his leg where it had been rudely jolted in the collision.

"Now see what you've done, Lanky Wallace! You'll have to pay me for that damage as sure as you live!" roared Lef, dancing around in his impotent anger, and shedding gore copiously.

"Will I, nit," mocked the other, as he anxiously turned his gaze upon the bow of his own craft, to ascertain the extent of the damage. "It was all your fault, and you know it. Why, you deliberately turned square across our course! You just wanted this to happen, because it was settled that the old Flier had to take a back seat. You got all you deserved, and I don't feel sorry a bit."

"Here, take my handkerchief, Lef, and try and stop that bleeding. Work your jaws hard, and throw your head back, breathing through your nose," and Frank as he spoke stepped forward with the honest intention of rendering such aid to the injured as lay in his power.

"Mind your own business, Frank Allen!" spluttered the wounded boy, furiously, as he reached for his own handkerchief, and glared at the pair before him, with a malicious look in his eyes. "If it wasn't that I'm knocked out by your nasty work I'd feel like pitching in and giving you what you deserve, Lanky Wallace!"

"Oh! is that so!" jeered the party threatened, cheerfully; "well, make your mind easy about that, for I'm to be found any old day, and I know the boss place to adjourn for a fight. Frank, shall we go on our way? That errand of yours in Clifford is important, and we've got no more time to waste with these duffers."

"Huh! talk's cheap, with some fellers," shouted Lef, angrily. "Make up your mind you've just got to pay me the full value of that boat. I'll go and see your father about it. My word against yours, and Bill here will back me up against Frank. You did it on purpose! You hated my boat because it beat you every time last winter, that's what."

"You wouldn't dare," replied Lanky; for like every one connected with a lawyer's household, going to law was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Won't, hey? You just wait and see," declared Lef, bitterly. "My word's as good as yours, and there ain't no witness, you know!"

"Oh, yes there is," said a voice just then; and the boys turned to survey with some surprise a figure that stood close by, near the shore of the island.

He was apparently a tramp, though his bearded face just then bore a smile, and did not look unprepossessing at all.

"I happened to be fishin' right here, through a hole in the ice," this party continued, as he advanced, "and I saw all the racket. That feller Lef deliberately swung his boat across the bow of the other. He done it on purpose. He saw he was gettin' beat, and wanted to bust everything up higher than a kite. I'm right glad he was the only one to get it in the neck."

Lef scowled at the speaker as though he felt he would like to spring upon him, and do some hammering with his fists. But the fisherman seemed to be quite a husky chap, although privation had stamped a look of hunger on his bronzed face.

Lanky stared at him, too, a puzzled expression coming over his countenance, as though he could not for the life of him tell where he had seen this stranger before.

"And who are you?" demanded Lef, still glaring at the other as if he considered him an interloper. "I don't ever remember meeting you before. Guess you must belong in Clifford. Better keep there, and not come nosing around Columbia where you ain't wanted."

"Where can I find you, in case you're needed as a witness?" asked Lanky, exhibiting a bit of the shrewdness that had made his father the best-known lawyer in the county.

"Well, you see, just at present I'm fishing right here. That's my shack over yonder on the island. 'Taint much of a place, but then beggars oughtn't be choosers, they say, and it keeps me from freezing to death. Reckon I'll hang out nigh here a little spell, always waitin' and hopin' for somethin' to turn up."

Frank could detect a trace of bitterness in the voice of the tramp. Somehow it aroused his curiosity very much. There was certainly something bordering on the pathetic in the spasm of pain that flashed across his thin face as he said these last few words, "waitin' and hopin' for somethin' to turn up!"

Lanky kept staring at him, and shaking his head. He had not uttered a single word since the tramp fisherman appeared on the scene; so that it was Frank who presently took him by the arm and led him to the side of the ice-boat, saying:

"I don't think she's been hurt any, Lanky; suppose we make a fresh start. It's to be hoped we won't meet with any more adventures on the way, because that challenge has just got to be delivered to-day, sure!"

"Challenge! What's that?" exclaimed Lef, shooting a quick look in the direction of his crony, Bill Klemm, who was still grunting, and rubbing his left leg, with a sour expression on his face.

Without paying more attention to the disgruntled skipper of the broken ice-boat, both Lanky and his chum climbed aboard the Humming Bird, the sail was pulled aloft, and with a quick movement Frank tied another length of cord to that which he had broken in his frantic efforts to prevent a collision.

All this while his mate was turning his head again and again to glance toward the man; who did not seem to particularly fancy such scrutiny, for he kept his back toward them under the pretense of watching the other boys.

"My name's Frank Allen, and his is Lanky Wallace. We belong in Columbia. Perhaps if you get hard pushed we might be able to do something for you. If you happened to ask for me how'd I know it was you?"

Of course in calling out in this manner, Frank was only trying to get a line on the name of the lone fisherman who was seeking the bass and pickerel known to frequent the deep waters near Rattail Island.

"Call me Bill," muttered the man, after a brief hesitation; and Frank somehow concluded that this could hardly be his real name.

"No doubt he's ashamed of his own, or else don't want his folks to know he ever sank so low as this," was what Frank said to his chum, after they had once more started along the up-river course.

"Oh! shucks! what ails me? One second I think I've got it, and when I start to say it, blessed if the pesky thing don't seem to just slip away from me. I never had anything happen to me so dopey," muttered Lanky, fiercely.

"What's that?" demanded Frank, his curiosity excited, of course.