E-text prepared by Rick Niles, John Hagerson, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team
By RUPERT HUGHES
Author of "The Lakerim Athletic Club"
1899.
TO THE BEST
*Father*
A BOY EVER HAD
(EXCEPT POSSIBLY YOURS)
BELONGS THE DEDICATION OF THIS STORY
OF LIFE AT AN ACADEMY,
SINCE HIS GOODNESS ENABLED ME
TO KNOW IT AND WRITE IT
About half of this book was published serially in "St. Nicholas." Therest of it is here printed for the first time. If in this story oflife at a preparatory school I have neglected to say very much aboutbooks and studies, and have stuck to far less interesting matters,such as the games and gambols that while away the dull hours betweenclasses, I hope my readers will graciously forgive the omission.
Some people think it great fun to build a house of cards slowly andanxiously, and then knock it to pieces with one little snip of thefinger. Or to fix up a snow man in fine style and watch a sudden thawmelt him out of sight. Or to write a name carefully, like a copy-book,and with many curlicues, in the wet sand, and then scamper off and letthe first high wave smooth it away as a boy's sponge wipes from hisslate some such marvelous statement as, 12 × 12 = 120, or 384 ÷ 16gives a "koshunt" of 25. When such things are erased it doesn't muchmatter; but there are occasions when it hurts to have Father Time comealong and blot out the work you have taken great pains with and haveput your heart into. Twelve young gentlemen in the town of Lakerimwere feeling decidedly blue over just such an occasion.
You may not find the town of Lakerim on the map in your geography. Andyet it was very well known to the people that lived in it. And theLakerim Athletic Club was very well known to those same people. Andthe Lakerim Athletic Club, or, at least the twelve founders of theclub, were as blue as the June sky, because it seemed to them thatFather Time—old Granddaddy Longlegs that he is—was playing a meantrick on them.
For hadn't they given all their brain and muscle to building up anathletic club that should be a credit to the town and a terror tooutsiders! And hadn't they given up every free hour for two years toworking like Trojans? though, for that matter, who ever heard ofany work the Trojans ever did that amounted to anything—except thespending of ten years in getting themselves badly defeated by a bigwooden hobby-horse?
But while all of the Dozen were deep in the du