The Girls of Central High at Basketball Part 19

"And did they?" asked Jess, interested.

"Well, I'll tell you. He was taking the names of all us children, and he got along all right till he came to Hebe. Hebron was the ring leader. He always gave the sign for trouble. When the master asked his name Hebe leaned back in his seat, put his feet up on the desk, and looked cross-eyed at the new teacher. Of course, all the little follows thought it was funny--and some of the girls, too, I guess.

"'Please tell me your name,' said the master, without seeming to notice Hebe's impudence.

"'Wal,' drawled Hebe, 'sometimes they call me Bob, and sometimes Pete, and sometimes they call me too late for dinner. But don't you call me nothin', Mister!'

"The teacher listened until he got through," said Eve, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng at the remembrance of the scene, "and then he doubled his fist and struck Hebe a blow between the eyes that half stunned him.

Hebe was the bigger, but that teacher was awfully strong and smart. He grabbed Hebe by the collar and hauled him headlong over the desks and seats, stood him up before the big desk with a slam, and roared at him:

"'What is your name?'

"'He--Hebe Poc.o.c.k,' exclaimed the fellow, only half sensing what had happened to him.

"'Hebe?' repeated the master, with a sneer. 'You look like a 'Hebe.'

Go take your seat.'

"And do you know," laughed Eve, "that Hebe was almost the best behaved boy in the school all that term?"

"Oh!" laughed Jess, "it must be lots of fun to go to an ungraded school like that one."

"It's all according to the teacher," Eve said. "When we had a poor teacher it was just a scramble for the scholars to learn anything. The big ones helped the little ones. But our present teacher, Miss Harris, is a college girl and she is fine. But some funny things happen because we have the old-fas.h.i.+oned district system of government, with 'school trustees' elected every year. This year at the far end of the district they put in old Mr. Moose, a very illiterate man, for trustee. And one of the girls was telling me about the day he visited school to 'examine' it. That is the method, you know; each trustee makes an official visit and is supposed to find out in that visit how the teachers are getting along."

"Tell us about it, Eve," urged Laura.

"Why," laughed Eve, "Mr. Moose came in and sat on the teacher's platform for a while, listening and watching, and showing himself to be dreadfully uncomfortable. But he thought he had to make some attempt to examine the school, so when Miss Harris called the spelling cla.s.s he reached for the speller and said he'd put out a few words. So he read to the first boy:

"'Spell "eggpit."'

"'E--double g--p--i--t,' says the boy.

"'Nope,' says Mr. Moose. 'Next.'

"Next scholar spelled it the same way and that didn't suit Mr. Moose, and so it went on down the line, everybody taking a shy at 'Eggpit.'

Finally Miss Harris asked to see the book.

"'These young 'uns of yourn air mighty bad spellers,' said Mr. Moose.

"'But they have all spelled 'eggpit' right,' said Miss Harris. 'Where is the word?'

"And what do you suppose Moose pointed out?" chuckled Eve.

"Give it up!" was the chorus of her listeners.

"'Egypt!'"

"My goodness!" cried Jess, choked with laughter. "Can you beat that for a school trustee?"

They arrived at the sloping hollow at the end of Peveril Pond, where they proposed to picnic, very soon after this. It was a pretty glade, and the smooth road went down to the sh.o.r.e and skirted it for half a mile.

Off on a rocky point were several boys or men fis.h.i.+ng; but they were not near enough to disturb our friends. Of course the boys clamored for lunch at once; but while the girls prepared it the boys were shooed off to begin the nut gathering.

Lance Darby, with a perfectly solemn face, set Pretty Sweet to work thumping an oak tree with a huge club to "rattle off the nuts;" and he might have been whaling away at the trunk of the tree until luncheon had not Chet taken pity on him and showed him that neither chestnuts or sh.e.l.l-barks grew on oak trees, and that that particular oak didn't even have an acorn on it!

Suddenly, just as the girls had the good things spread on the seats of the two cars, a chorus of screams arose from the fishermen. There were three of them, and when our friends' gaze was attracted by the shouts they saw that the bigger one was down in the water and the other two were leaping about on the sands.

"Guess they've caught a whale," said Chet.

"They are in trouble--serious trouble," declared his sister, leaving the car herself to start for the scene of the difficulty.

"That's little Mike Poc.o.c.k," said Eve, grabbing her arm. "And I believe the fellow in the water is Hebe."

"Never mind. He's in some difficulty. See! he can't stand up," cried Laura.

"But weally!" gasped Prettyman Sweet. "The lunch is just weady----"

"Come on, you cannibal!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lance. "Let's see what's wanted over there."

The whole party, girls as well as boys, trooped along the sh.o.r.e of the pond toward the rock where the fishermen had been standing. They saw in a moment that this boulder had rolled over--probably while Hebe Poc.o.c.k was standing upon it to make a cast--and that Hebe was caught by the rock and held down to the bottom of the pond. He was barely able to keep his head out of water as the boys and girls of Central High approached.

CHAPTER XVIII

MOTHER WIT TO THE RESCUE

The young ruffian who was so notorious about the Four Corners was really in a serious predicament. In making a long cast the boulder had rolled under him and, being precipitated into the pond, he was pinned to the bottom by his legs. The two boys with him had sprung into the pond, and were now wet to their necks; but they could not roll back the heavy boulder.

Just as Laura and Chet, with their school mates, arrived Hebe sank back with a gurgle, and the water went over his head. He had been barely able to keep his mouth and nostrils out of water until that moment.

"Hebe's gettin' drowned! Hebe's gettin' drowned!" yelled Mike, the victim's young brother, dancing up and down on the sh.o.r.e.

"Get in there at once and hold his head up!" commanded Laura Belding.

"Then we'll roll away the stone. But he _will_ drown if you don't hold him up."

Mike did as he was bid. When Hebe got his breath again he began to use language that was unfit for the girls to hear, at least.

"Say!" exclaimed Chet, his eyes blazing, "you stop that or I'll hold your head under the water myself. What kind of a fellow are you, anyway?"

Hebe gasped and kept still. Perhaps he had scarcely realized who the people were about him. Laura said:

"Can't you boys, all together, roll away that stone?"

"We'll try," said Lance, already beginning to strip off his shoes and stockings. "Come ahead, Chet."

They made even Purt Sweet join them, bare-footed and with their trousers rolled up as far as they would go. They waded in and got around the rock. Hebe was in a sitting posture, and the weight of the stone bore both his legs down into the muddy bottom. But there was hard-pan under the mud, and it was impossible to drag the victim from beneath the huge rock.