group of youths chatting eagerly of the events which had just taken place passed a lad standing beneath a clump of trees. The latter, instead of coming to join the throng, turned away.
“Who’s that?” asked Jack of Bony Balmore. “I don’t remember to have seen him before.”
“He’s a new boy,” replied Bony, cracking three finger knuckles in his absent-minded way.
“What’s his name?”
“Will Williams.”
“Looks like a nice sort of chap,” added Nat.
“But his face is sad,” said Jack slowly. “I wonder why he should be sad when he’s at such a jolly place as Washington Hall?”
“Maybe he’s lonesome,” suggested Fred Kaler.
“Give him a tune on your mouth-organ, and he’ll be more so,” spoke Bob Movel, but he took good care to get beyond the reach of Fred’s fist, at this insult to his musical abilities.
“Let’s make friends with him,” went on Jack. “Hey, Williams, come on over and get acquainted,” he called.
But the new boy, instead of answering, or turning to join the happy crowd of students, kept on walking away.
“That’s funny,” said Jack, with a puzzled look at his chums. “Fellows, there’s something wrong about that boy. I can tell by his face, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“You’d better get dry first,” suggested Nat.
“I will, but later I’m going to make that lad’s acquaintance. He looks as if he needed a friend.”
CHAPTER III
A CURIOUS LAD
“There’s Hexter!” exclaimed Jack as he saw the chauffeur slowly running the automobile to the garage. “Hello, Hexter, is Snaith all right?”
“I think so,” replied the automobilist. “Dr. Mead says the hurt on his head doesn’t amount to much, and that he is suffering mostly from shock. He’ll be all right in a day or so.”
“That’s good,” said Jack. “I don’t want him to be laid up right after I won the race from him.”
The students began to disperse, Jack to remove his wet clothes, and the others to retire to their rooms to get ready for the summons to supper, which would soon sound.
“Why, Mr. Ranger!” exclaimed Socker, the janitor at Washington Hall, as he saw Jack entering the gymnasium, “you’re all wet.”
“Yes, it’s a trifle difficult to fall in the lake and keep dry, especially at this time of year,” went on Jack. “But I say, Socker, get me a couple of good, dry, heavy towels, will you? I want to take a rub-down.”
“I certainly will, Mr. Ranger. So you fell in the lake, eh?”
“No, I jumped in.”
“Jumped in? Why, that reminds me of what happened when I was fighting in the Battle of the Wilderness, in the Civil War. We were on the march, and we came to a little stream. The captain called for us to jump over, but – ”
“Say, Socker, if it’s all the same to you will you chop that off there, and make it continued in our next? I’m cold, and I want to rub-down. Get me the towels, and then I’ll listen to that yarn. If there’s one kind of a story I like above all others, it’s about war. I want to hear what happened, but not now.”
“Do you really? Then I’ll tell you after you’ve rubbed down,” and Socker hurried off after the towels. He was always telling of what he called his war experiences, though there was very much doubt that he had ever been farther than a temporary camp. He repeated the same stories so often that the boys had become tired of them, and lost no chance to escape from his narratives.
“There you are, Mr. Ranger,” went on the janitor as he came back with the towels. “Now, as soon as you’re dry I’ll tell you that story about the Battle of the Wilderness.”
“You’ll not if I know it,” said Jack to himself, as he went in the room where the shower-baths were, to take a warm one. “I’ll sneak out the back way.”
Which he did, after his rub-down, leaving Socker sitting in the main room of the gym, waiting for him, and wondering why the lad did not come out to hear the war story.
Jack reached his room, little the worse for his experience at the lake. He possessed a fine appetite, which he was soon appeasing by vigorous attacks on the food in the dining-room.
“I say, Jack,” called Nat, “have you heard the latest?”
“What’s that? Has the clock struck?” inquired Jack, ready to have some joke sprung on him.
“No, but Fred Kaler has composed a song about the race and your rescue. He’s going to play it on the mouth-organ, and sing it at the same time to-night.”
“I am not, you big duffer!” cried Fred, throwing a generous crust of bread at Nat, but first taking good care to see that Martin, the monitor, was not looking.
“Sure he is,” insisted Nat.
“Tell him how it goes,” suggested Bony.
“It’s to the tune of ‘Who Put Tacks in Willie’s Shoes?’” went on Nat, “and the first verse is something like this – ”
“Aw, cheese it, will you?” pleaded Fred, blushing, but Nat went on:
“You have heard about the glorious deeds
Of the brave knights of old,
But our Jack Ranger beats them all —
He jumped in waters cold
And rescued one whom he had beat
In a race that he had led,
And while he strove to find him,
Unto me these words he said:
“‘Never fear, I will rescue you, Dock —
Around you my arms I will lock.
I will pull you right out of the hole in the lake,
And then upon shore I will you safely take.
For though you tried to beat me,
In a boat race, tried and true,
I came out ahead, Dock, so
Wait and I’ll rescue you!’”
“How’s that?” asked Nat, amid laughter.
“Punk!” cried one student.
“Put it on ice!” added another.
“Can it!”
“Cage it!”
“Put salt on its tail! It’s wild!”
“Put a new record in; that one scratches.”
These were some of the calls that greeted Nat’s rendition of what he said was Fred’s song.
“I never made that up!” cried the musical student. “I can make better verse than that.”
“Go on, give us the tune,” shouted Sam.
“That’s right – make him play,” came a score of calls.
“Order, young gentlemen, order!” suddenly interrupted the harsh voice of Martin, the monitor. “I shall be obliged to report you to Dr. Mead unless you are more quiet.”
“Send in Professors Socrat and Garlach,” advised Jack. “They can keep order.”
“That’s it, and we’ll get them to sing Fred’s song,” added Sam Chalmers.
“Ranger – Chalmers – silence!” ordered Martin, and not wishing to be sent to Dr. Mead’s office the two lively students, as well as their no less fun-loving companions, subsided.
Quiet