The Y. M. C. A. Boys of Cliffwood

Or The Struggle for the Holwell Prize

BY BROOKS HENDERLEY Author of “The Y. M. C. A. Boys on Bass Island” Etc.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

BOOKS FOR BOYS

BY

BROOKS HENDERLEY

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS SERIES

THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS OF CLIFFWOOD; or The Struggle for the Holwell Prize THE Y. M. C. A. BOYS ON BASS ISLAND; or The Mystery of Russabaga Camp

(Other volumes in preparation)

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY Publishers New York

Copyright, 1916, by Cupples & Leon Company

The Y. M. C. A. Boys of Cliffwood

CHAPTER I OUT WITH THE BOYS ON HALLOWE’EN

“How’s that, fellows?”

“Everything’s lovely, and the gate hangs high, not the goose!”

“Mr. Philpot is going to have some climb, believe me, before he gets it down out of that big oak, as sure as my name’s Dan Fenwick!”

“And say, wouldn’t you like to see Farmer Hasty in the morning when he rubs his eyes and stares up at his wagon, all taken apart, and strung along the ridge-pole of his barn roof?”

“That was a cracking good idea of yours, Dick, and no mistake!”

“Hurrah for Hallowe’en, and all its fun!”

“What’s next on the programme, boys? We’re out for a good time tonight, you know.”

“It isn’t much after eleven at that. Who’s got another clever joke laid out?”

[2]“I have; and when you hear what the game is you’ll all say it’s the boss scheme of the lot, barring none.”

“Listen to Nat, will you? I wondered why he was lugging that bundle around with him all the evening. I guess it’s got something to do with his grand Hallowe’en prank.”

“It has, and a whole lot, Peg Fosdick,” proudly admitted the boy upon whom all eyes were eagerly centered just then.

“Who’s the victim, Nat?” demanded one fellow, the same who had owned to the name of Dan Fenwick.

“Who but that crusty old storekeeper, Jed Nocker,” said the big, overgrown boy with a chuckle of delight. “Everybody else seems to have just gone and clean forgotten all about him tonight.”

At mention of this name all sorts of groans and catcalls arose from the group of seven lads standing on a corner in a quiet, residential part of the usually bustling mill town of Cliffwood.

“The meanest old codger in our town!” exclaimed one fellow, in sheer disgust.

“And he hates all boys worse than he does snakes!”

“Cuffed my ears more’n once, let me tell you, for some little thing I did in meeting.”

“Oh! my mother says Deacon Nocker believes[3] every boy is as chock full of original sin as an egg is of meat; and that the only way to get it out is to keep on whaling the boy.”

“His pet saying is ‘spare the rod and spoil the child,’ I’ve heard people say.”

“Huh! all the same that kind of tactics didn’t keep the Deacon’s only boy from being wild,” chuckled Dan Fenwick, wickedly, as though it gave him considerable pleasure to remember that in this particular case guidance didn’t begin at home.

“Oh! they say Amos always was a bad egg, and that the old deacon wrestled with him day after day. Then something came up, and Amos ran away. The deacon scratched his name off his books, and refused to send along a dollar, even when he heard Amos was married, and had a little boy of his own.”

“Well, it was an oversight for us to let Jed Nocker off this Hallowe’en, when we always had him on our list,” admitted the boy the others had called Dick, and who, despite the fact that his clothes looked well worn, seemed to be something of a leader among his mates.

“Then you agree to listen to my big scheme for giving him the scare of his life, do you, Dick Horner?” demanded Nat, eagerly.

He very well knew that once Dick had stamped the idea O. K. the others would hasten to follow suit, because they had great faith in Dick’s ability[4] as a pilot, whether in baseball, on the gridiron, or in such rough-and-tumble sports as all town boys pursue so strenuously.

“I want to hear it first,” replied Dick, cautiously, showing that he had a streak of discretion in his nature for all he was such a madcap. “Suppose we adjourn to the sand lot up the street. It’s more retired than this corner, and we can talk it over without any one running across us.”

“A bright idea, Dick!” exclaimed another boy who had not as yet broken into the conversation. Leslie Capes was known as a fellow of few words, preferring to listen until he had mastered all the points of a discussion before giving his particular views.

“Come along then, fellows,” urged the big, broad-shouldered Nat, eagerly, leading the way along the street; “and ten to one you’ll say my scheme is just the boss way to pay old Nocker back for all he’s done to the boys of Cliffwood.”

While they are hurrying along toward the open sand lot spoken of, a few explanations regarding the fun-loving lads may not come in amiss, since these boys and others of the rising generation of Cliffwood are destined to figure largely in our story.

Dick Horner was a clever young chap, though inclined to be headstrong and wild. He lived in an humble cottage home with his little sister Sue,[5] his mother, a widow, and old “Grandpop” Horner, a Civil War veteran, who had long been a striking figure in Cliffwood. The old soldier with his white locks down almost to his shoulders lived pretty much in the days of the dead and gone past, and could rarely talk without bringing up the times when he had fought so well.

Pretty much all the Horners had to live upon consisted of the pension a generous government paid the veteran yearly in installments, and a small yearly sum from a meager investment in some industrial stocks, so that Dick seldom saw anything like new clothes unless he earned the money himself.

Dan Fenwick and Leslie Capes were Dick’s two most intimate chums. The former was as full of the spirit of mischief as Dick himself, but when it came down to a question of leadership, both of them readily yielded the palm to Dick, whose will seemed to bend theirs.

Leslie’s folks were comfortably well off. In addition to this there was an old indulgent uncle living with them, who could be prevailed upon to keep Leslie well supplied with funds, though the money always came accompanied with good advice. Uncle Henry believed in boys.

Peg Fosdick had once broken his leg, and ever since had walked with a slight limp. At home and in school he was called Oscar, but the temptation[6] to dub him “Peg” had proved so strong that long ago he had yielded to the inclination of his companions and readily answered to that nickname.

The other boys were Andy Hale and Elmer Jones, both of them just ordinary chaps without any remarkable traits of character. Both were good-natured fellows, ready for fun, or even a little row for a change, the type of boy you can always run across by the dozen in any American town.

Cliffwood was something of a manufacturing town, by virtue of the output of several mills that depended on the water power yielded by the little Sweetwater River. Half a mile above the town lay the rapids, with a fall of some fifteen feet or more. This natural advantage in power had caused the erection of the big Bartlett Paper Mills, and several other manufacturing establishments.

Cliffwood, on this account, had more than its share of workers, who, as a rule, received fair wages, and were seemingly contented.

Dick Horner looked forward to the time when he would be big enough to start to work and earn enough money to supply his dear mother with more of the comforts of life. He hated to be so poor, and this desire to do something for his mother was really one of the best things in the boy’s nature.

Dick did not have so bad a reputation in the[7] town as the big bully, Nat Silmore, but all the same the stories that drifted to the ears of his anxious mother often caused her gentle heart pain. Dick, upon being appealed to, always promised to turn over a new leaf, and then in the end his natural overflow of wild spirits led him into some new mischief, for which in turn he would be sorry.

The vacant lot which Dick had in view was not far distant, so the seven boys out for Hallowe’en sport soon arrived there. Eager to hear what Nat had to say, the others clustered around the big fellow. As a rule the others rather preferred Nat’s room to his company.

“Here we are waiting for you to give us the particulars of your grand stunt, Nat,” remarked Dan, impatiently tugging at the other’s sleeve.

“Yes,” added Peg, “and the sooner you open up the quicker we can get busy; that is, of course, if we think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh! I ain’t worrying myself about you backing out,” said Nat, with fine scorn. “I’ve done some big things in my time, and if I do say it myself this takes the cake for boldness. We’ll pay the crusty old skinflint back for all the snappy things he’s done to the boys of Cliffwood.”

“Get busy, Nat,” said Dick, shortly.

Somehow these few words seemed to have more effect on Nat than all the urging of the other fellows. He knew Dick could veto the scheme if he[8] felt inclined, and since his own cronies were debarred from keeping him company on this one wild night of the year, by reason of sickness, and absence from town, Nat had to depend on Dick’s crowd for assistance in carrying out his plan.

“All right, Dick, here goes then,” he hastened to say, as he started to unwrap the bundle he had been carrying around with him. “You can see just what I’ve toted along so as to be ready for business when the right time came.”

“Why, it looks like a small drygoods store, I declare!” exclaimed Peg.

“Old sheets, fellows,” announced Nat, triumphantly. “D’ye know what they can be used for? Any of you ever play ghost in your lives? Well, I have, and a sheet is always needed in the game.”

“Go on and tell us what you aim to do with the old sheets, Nat!” urged Andy.

“Just this,” then replied the other eagerly. “We can creep through the grounds of the empty Brandon place that lies next door to Jed’s property. We’ll find some way to get inside his house, and just when the town clock is striking midnight, we’ll start to groaning to beat the band, and show up before the old chap. Dick here, who can throw his voice so well, will do the talking, and tell him we’ve come from the land of spirits to take him back with us. There, what d’ye think of my scheme, fellows? Ain’t it a dandy?”

CHAPTER II A SCHEME THAT WENT WRONG

For a brief interval after Nat had so triumphantly announced his grand scheme for frightening Old Deacon Nocker the other boys were still. Apparently, every one was digesting the idea, and coming to some sort of a mental decision. Dan Fenwick was the first to voice his views.

“It strikes me as a cracking good prank, Nat!” he exclaimed, “and I’m voting to help you carry the same out.”

“Count me in for one of your old sheets, Nat!” cried Peg, enthusiastically.

“Dick, what do you say?” asked Leslie Capes, a little anxiously, as though he rather hoped the other would veto the whole business by declaring it was too silly, or too full of danger.

If this was Leslie’s expectation, he was doomed to disappointment, for Dick immediately came out with a full endorsement of Nat’s proposal.

“I go you, Nat,” he said, presently; “the scheme is worth trying out. Of course, if any fellow chooses to stand back and miss the fun, he’s at liberty[10] to do it; but I’ll borrow one of your old sheets; and I’ll do my level best to throw my voice so as to make it sound like it came up from the grave.”

“Then we’re all in on the game, if you say so, Dick,” declared Andy Hale.

“Ditto here!” echoed Elmer, feeling that the die was now cast; and no one had ever called him a quitter.

“How about you, Leslie?” asked Nat, sneeringly, for he had noticed that the other seemed uneasy when the great scheme was first broached.

“Who, me?” replied the Capes boy, scornfully. “Did any one ever know me to back down when my chums were in for a lark? I speak for another of the sheets, Nat.”

“There, the clock struck the half hour,” interrupted Dick, “and if we want to be on deck at exactly midnight, we’d better get a hustle on.”

“Come along fellows, we’ll chase out along the road here to the Brandon place, and climb the fence there. Say, I prowled around today and got my bearings all right.”

It was not a great distance to the vacant Brandon place, and the seven mischief-loving boys scrambled over the old fence with the greatest of ease. Nat did not seem really to need any lantern to show him the way, so well had he stamped the lay of the grounds on his memory.

[11]Arriving at the dividing fence he showed the others where he had taken pains to pull off some boards, allowing a free passage to the adjoining grounds of the rich old storekeeper, who seemed to have such a poor opinion of all boys after his complete failure to bring his own son up by strict methods.

“Look there, I can see lights in his house!” whispered Elmer.

“Oh! that’s nothing unusual!” declared Dick; “they say the old man is awake all hours of the night, making up his accounts and reading. He puts on a bold front, but I reckon when he heard that his boy died away out West it hit him harder than he’ll ever own up.”

“Still he’s as hard as nails,” grunted Dan. “My folks say he had a letter from the girl his son Amos married, telling him that she and her little boy were awful poor; and the old skinflint had the nerve to get Lawyer Bodgkin here to write that if she sent the kid on he’d agree to stand for his education, but that he’d never set eyes on the woman who’d married Amos, thinking she’d fall into all the old man’s money.”

“But she never did send the child, you notice,” said Leslie. “Which proves that she cared more for him than Old Jed’s miser gold.”

“Stop jabbering there, you fellers,” muttered Nat, with a touch of his ordinary bullying authority,[12] for he was used to lording it over Dit Hennesy and several other boys.

“Yes,” Dick went on to say, “let’s creep up close to the house, and find out if we can get in through some window he’s forgotten to fasten. Quiet now, everybody.”

They wriggled their way through the new leafless undergrowth with considerable skill, and soon reached the side of the large building. Then a hasty search was made, which resulted in the discovery that one window fastening had been overlooked by Old Jed when going his rounds earlier in the evening.

Dick soon had the window raised without making any noise. Perhaps the hearts of several of those boys beat faster than customary as they crawled in through the aperture. They knew they were doing something that bordered on the lawless, for to break in and enter a house, even in pursuit of Hallowe’en fun, was an act that no court would sanction or forgive, no matter how lenient the judge might be.

What made it seem more realistic was the fact that Nat had come prepared to show them the way, for he carried a small electric flashlight, which, by constantly keeping in action, he could use to advantage.

“Whee! this makes me feel queer,” whispered Andy in the ear of Elmer, as they started to pick[13] their way across the room, avoiding such obstacles as chairs and tables.

“Wonder if this is the way a burglar always feels,” the other answered, in such a low tone that it could not have been heard three feet away.

Dick turned on them, and shook his head as if to intimate that even such communications were out of order. Then he started to get his sheet fixed, Nat having previously torn places in each covering so that they could be used for peep holes.

By the time four of them had rigged themselves out in these ridiculous costumes, the parlor of Deacon Nocker’s big house looked as though it might be the assembling place for the whole ghost tribe.

After glancing about to make sure all was ready, Nat gave Dick the signal agreed upon. From that time forward he wanted Dick to take the lead, since it was up to the other to do what speaking was required.

They could see that there was a light in the library, for a line under the connecting door betrayed this fact. The window being open, every one plainly heard the not far-distant town clock begin to strike the witching hour of midnight.

Hardly had the last solemn clang died away when a deep groan arose, Dick being the one to start the ball rolling. He waited to ascertain what the effect might be before repeating the performance.

[14]Evidently, Deacon Nocker had heard the groan, for they caught the sound of his chair falling over in his haste to jump to his feet. The question now was whether he would be afraid to look in on them as they hoped. But all doubt on that score was quickly dissipated, for the old man suddenly threw the door wide open, and then started back at sight of what he saw beyond.

The four who were covered with the sheets all pointed straight at the owner of the house, just as they had read supposed-to-be ghosts always did. Elmer, Dan and Andy, not possessing any ghostly apparel, had hidden themselves behind sundry articles of bulky furniture, whence they peered out as best they might in the endeavor to see all the “fun.”

At first sight it appeared as though Deacon Nocker was a badly frightened man, especially when a mysterious and solemn voice sounding very creepy, and coming from overhead, was heard.

“Be warned, rash mortal,” it said. “We have come from the land of spirits to tell you to mend your ways before it is too late. Love your neighbors, and do good. If they smite you on one cheek turn the other. Help the poor and needy when the cold winds of winter begin to blow. Your time on earth is short, and you will have no other chance. Listen, ponder, and act!”

Considering that Dick had such a short time in[15] which to think up what he ought to say when pointing his hand at the old deacon this was not so bad. Some of his companions considered it highly entertaining; indeed, Elmer, or was it Andy, safe in his place of concealment, even ventured to chuckle. This sound may have given the alarmed old man the first suspicion that his ghostly visitors were something more than they seemed to be in that half-darkened room.

They heard him utter a snarl. Then he reached in with one hand, there was a sudden “click” and the parlor was flooded with light, for the deacon had turned the electric switch!

Of course in that dazzling glow the nature of the precious “fake” was readily exposed. The boys saw the deacon stare angrily at them, and then whirling around rush back into his library as though for something with which to assail these unbidden guests.

“Cut for it, fellows; he’s gone for his gun!” exclaimed Nat, excitedly, at the same moment throwing his sheet aside and heading directly for the open window, through which he plunged headlong.

The others, seized with a panic after the collapse of Nat’s grand scheme, also jumped for the only exit. Some went through about as speedily as Nat had done, while others attempted climbing down a little more carefully.

[16]By great good luck every one managed to get outside the house before Old Jed appeared in the open window of the lighted parlor, carrying a rusty double-barrel shotgun in his hands. He was very angry it seemed, because of the fright to which he had been subjected, for without hesitation, he fired both barrels of his weapon, though aiming a bit high.

Seven panic-stricken boys plunged through a wilderness of bushes, colliding with sundry trees which they failed to notice, and reaching the fence by the road at various angles. Here there were exhibited all sorts of speedy “high and lofty vaulting,” as the circus posters term it, some of the fellows even landing on all fours in the dust of the road.