  Brick burst out in a cry of derision. “Sunk!” he roared. “You sure scuttled yourself, all right! You don’t know any more about canoes than a baby! The Prince of Whales, that’s what you look like!” The other boys joined in laughing at the joke. Dirk still sat helplessly in the sunken canoe, his mouth half open. He didn’t know a boat could act like that. His clothes were drenched. He had thought he was making a brave show, pushing out boldly in his fine canoe, and now they were all laughing at him for a lubber. He scrambled out somehow, and splashed about in the shallow water, dragging the water-filled craft to the land beside the rock. A shout was heard, and a man came galloping down through the trees. It was Wally Rawn, who had witnessed the performance from the hillside, but who had arrived too late to stop it. “You there, with the canoe!” he hailed. “What’s your name?” “He’s Van Horn, the Prince of Whales!” put in Brick. “Old Sink-Easy, the boy sailor—that’s him!” “Well, Van Horn,” said Wally, looking down at the sodden, crestfallen figure, “stop trying to pull off that canoe’s bottom by dragging it on those rocks, and listen to me. I could see in a minute that you don’t know the first thing about a canoe. Where did it come from, anyway?” “It’s mine,” stammered Dirk. “My father gave it to me.” “H’mm. Well, before you can go out paddling in it, you’ll have to learn how to treat it. And you’ll have to learn how to step into it without sinking the poor thing. In the first place, you ought to know that this is no time for campers to go boating—when squad-duty period is over, and you have reported to whoever is in charge here at the dock, you might be given permission to go out. In the second place, no boy is allowed to take out a canoe unless he has passed his swimming and boat tests. You haven’t done that, I know.” “Well, you see, sir, I just wanted to try the canoe and see how it looked in the water——” Wally shook his head impatiently. “Look here, Van Horn—can you swim?” “Why, no, sir. That is, only a little——” “Whew! This beats me!” The councilor scratched his head, and turned to the other boys. “Isn’t there anybody here who has any sense? Here a new boy comes down without a leader, and without knowing how to swim, puts a canoe in the water and sinks it under him! Suppose you had launched it from the end of the dock, Van Horn, where the deep water is—what would you have done if you had gone over then? That’s the reason we have canoe tests—so a boy won’t go out unless he can take care of himself in the water, no matter what happens. Now, lift that canoe on the dock, drain the water out, and leave it to dry. Then get back to your work. When we have swimming instruction tomorrow morning, come down and I’ll try to show you how to swim. It will be several days before you know enough even to take out a rowboat; but if you work hard, maybe I can teach you how to take care of yourself and your canoe. That’s all.” He turned on his heel and went back to his work. Sheepishly, Dirk obeyed, and with the help of his grinning comrades, drew the canoe on the dock and tilted it so that it would drain. Then Dirk once more waded about, rescuing the drifting paddles he had lost. At last, dripping and downcast, he joined the others. Brick looked at him with a wry grin. “Well, if you’re not a sweet sight! It’ll be a long while before your old canoe gets another bath, believe me. She’ll be laid up until you pass your canoe tests—and you can’t even swim! The Prince of Whales!” “Aw, let him alone, Brick,” put in Slim Yerkes. “We should get back and help with that ice-cream.” “You can bet you should! Sax is sure mad. Well, if the Prince is ready, let’s go.” The group straggled up through the trees. Dirk stalked along, saying not a word; but Brick did not give him a chance to forget his misadventure. Instead, he kept up a running stream of ridicule that would have penetrated a skin much thicker than Dirk’s. Something of the bully still remained in Brick Ryan, even though he had spent three summers at Lenape; and now it came out in his words. Besides, he was still smarting from the punishment he had been given for his midnight hazing escapade, and he did not intend to let the despised tattler get off easily. They skirted the lower corner of the baseball field, and, crossing the wall, entered the meadow below the campus. Brick had not stopped jeering all the while, and now his remarks were growing more and more cutting. “Yeah, a baby, that’s all you are—a tattle-tale, canoe-sinkin’ baby. I haven’t forgotten what happened last night, and I’ll fix you for it, too, Baby.” For the first time, Dirk replied to the irksome words. He stopped, turned, and spoke with his head up. “Ryan,” he said deliberately, “you’re a mucker.” Brick stuck out his chin, and put his hands on his hips mockingly. “Oh, I am, huh? Did you hear that, boys? F. X. A. Ryan is a mucker! Dear, dear, it must be true—the Millionaire Baby says so! Well, what are you goin’ to do about it, Baby?” Dirk refused to lose his temper. “I shan’t listen to all your talk any longer, that’s all. From now on, please don’t speak to me unless it’s necessary. If we can’t be friends, we’d better keep apart.” “Dear, dear! Now he won’t speak to me! My heart is breakin’, boys!” Quickly Brick dropped his mocking tone, and his next words were threatening. He scowled fiercely into the face of his enemy. “Now, listen, you! I hate sissies, and I hate tattle-tales, and if you don’t like the way I talk, you may wake up with a ring around your eye, and a lily in your hand!” Slim Yerkes tried to interpose. “Come on, Brick—don’t pick on him too much. Let’s get back to the lodge.” Brick wheeled on the peacemaker. “He’s lookin’ for trouble, Slim, and he’s more than likely to get it. I’ve got half a mind to poke him one right now for good luck.” Dirk’s eyes flashed. “That might not be as easy as you seem to think!” “Huh! Tough, aren’t you?” His open hand darted out swiftly, and unexpectedly shoved Dirk off his balance. Dirk cried out, caught himself, and his fists clenched. He was pale save for two red spots that glowed in his cheeks. “That’s enough, Ryan!” he said, his lip trembling. “If you really must settle this by scuffling like a street boy, who—— I’ll fight you!” Brick’s laugh was unpleasant to hear. “He’ll fight! Listen, sissies like you take a chance on gettin’ murdered if they talk fight to Brick Ryan! Why, you mama’s boy, I’ll knock you so cold you’ll think you’re at the North Pole!” His words were louder than he thought. From a tent a hundred yards away, a tousled head appeared, and shouted something to those within the tent. “Fight! Fight!” In no time at all, the two Utway twins, followed by Al Canning, had run down from the tent and joined the little ring of boys from Tent One. Dirk was silently peeling off his wet gym-shirt. “You’re really going to go against Brick Ryan?” Slim Yerkes asked in astonishment. “I’m not to blame,” responded Dirk shortly. “It’s his lookout.” Brick, a grim smile on his pugnacious face, was secretly sizing up the lad whom he had driven by taunting words to defend himself with his fists. He was not quite so sure, now, that Dirk was the sissy he had proclaimed him to be; those shoulders and arms looked quite husky and muscular, now that he looked closely. Brick decided that the thing to do was to pitch in at once and overpower his opponent from the start. Jerry Utway was looking around the circle eagerly. The Utway brothers were never far away when a scrap arose; it would seem that they smelled the signs of battle from afar. “Gee, Jake!” he exclaimed, “the Van Horn fellow is going to tackle Brick! I’m going to be his second!” “And I’ll be Brick’s second,” responded his twin. “Come on, men, form a ring here. Let’s have this scrap with regular rules. Al, you can be referee. It’s a good thing no leaders are around to stop it!” Al Canning pulled out his watch. “Are you ready?” “Just a minute more,” answered Jake. “Come on, Brick, strip off your shirt. Gosh, this will be a real fight—bare knuckles to the finish!” Brick shook him aside. “Aw, I won’t need anything like that. It’ll take me just one good smack to finish this fight. He’s a coward.” But inwardly Brick was not so sure. Dirk Van Horn had said nothing since he had issued his amazing challenge. He had calmly prepared for the fray, and stood waiting quietly with no sign of fear on his set features. He did not cower in fright, or try to bolster up his courage with a string of biting words; and there was nothing amateurish about his pose as he stood with his clenched fists hanging loosely at his sides. “I am ready,” he said in answer to a question from the eager Jerry. “Good,” said Al. “When I say ‘Time!’, you can start. All set? Time!” At the summons, Brick Ryan plunged forward over the grassy ground, fists doubled, head down, and struck a sweeping blow at his enemy. To his surprise, his flailing arm landed on thin air. Dirk had side-stepped easily, and still stood with his arms hanging loosely at his side, his face still calm. Brick whirled about and spat. “Come on and fight, will you? None of this duckin’ like a snake. And you guys get back, so I can have some room.” He plunged again at his foe, and aimed a second wide swing at Dirk’s face. This time Dirk did not dodge. Instead, he parried with the palm of his left hand, and his right fist shot forward, taking the surprised Brick in the side. It was a stinging blow, and Brick stepped back with a grunt. He had not expected this. There were few boys at Lenape who would dare to stand up against Brick Ryan even in a friendly bout with gloves; yet here was the despised Van Horn, the pampered city boy who couldn’t even swim, not only defending himself skillfully from the Irish lad’s attack, but even striking back! The blow had made Brick more wary. This time he did not leap in with his head down—too much chance of getting caught off guard again for those tactics! He circled cautiously, trying to find an opening where a thrust would do most good. His anger was rising, too. The breathless watchers looked at his face, and waited awestricken for the terrible moment when the aroused Brick Ryan would wade in and demolish his daring opponent. Jerry Utway, his eyes ablaze with excitement, jumped up and down, urging his champion with delighted cries. “That’s the boy, Van Horn, old scout! Wade in and tap him one!” “Shut up, Jerry!” his brother Jake put in. “Let them alone, or there’ll be two fights going on here! Whee, look at that one! Go it, Brick!” Brick was again in the lists, this time depending upon speed and the violent fury of his attack. It seemed to the onlookers that no one could long withstand the force of his charge; his arms whirled and jabbed, and his face was red with the exertion of his onslaught. Indeed, Van Horn was quickly driven backwards, and more than once a doubled fist made its red mark on his naked chest. But he still kept his feet, and although he was given no chance to take the offensive, he guarded his face skillfully. Yet slowly he gave ground; Brick had maneuvered about until he was above where the other stood, and was driving him down the sloping hillside. Nig Jackson gave vent to a yell. “He’s got him now! Go it, Brick! Wow, he’s down!” Al Canning, in his capacity as referee, rushed forward. Dirk was sprawled out upon the uneven ground, crouched on one side. His face was whiter than ever. “Slipped on some grass,” he mumbled through swollen lips. “I—I’m all right.” Unaided, he staggered to his feet, and looked about in a dazed way. Brick, who had stepped aside when his foe had fallen, now advanced confidently for the final sortie. “Finish him off, Brick!” yelled Eddie Scolter. Ryan, encouraged by the shouts of the watchers, marched slowly and triumphantly to a stand just beyond arm’s length of where Dirk stood, dazedly shaking the sweat from his eyes. “Had enough?” Brick taunted. His blows had taken effect in more than one place on Dirk’s face and body, and one shoulder was badly scraped by his fall. But Brick himself did not go unmarked from the fray; his cheek was coloring where a clenched fist had got through his guard, and his right arm was weak from panting effort. Dirk Van Horn clenched his teeth without answering. For an instant, the watching boys saw a stab of fury flare up in his dark eyes. He set his feet, held his head high, and his arms swung into the guard position. Brick advanced still one further step. “Had enough, Baby? I won’t ask you again. If you’ll apologize, I won’t hurt you any more today——” He was too close for his own safety. Dirk grunted as he shot his arm forward in a telling blow straight from the shoulder. His bunched knuckles caught the surprised Brick on the point of the jaw. A ludicrous look of amazement came over Brick Ryan’s face. For an instant he tottered, grinning stupidly at the staring circle of boys; then, with a soft groan, he slid backward, his knees gave way gently, and he slumped senseless upon the ground. |
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