THE BULLY GETS A DUCKING
“Our man doesn’t have to eat another whole pie,” protested Bob. “If he just eats some of it he’ll win, Mr. Judge.”
“That’s right,” nodded the cook. “How about you, young feller? Are you able to tackle it?”
“Sure thing,” responded Jimmy. “Hand it over.”
He forced himself to cut and eat a small piece, and when he had finished, pandemonium broke loose. The judge declared him undisputed champion of the camp, and he was caught up and elevated to broad shoulders while an impromptu triumphal procession was organized that circled the camp with much laughter and many jokes at the expense of the defeated aspirants for the title.
After this was over, the boys held a little private jubilation of their own in the little cabin where they were quartered with Mr. Fennington. He had been away during the contest, but he returned shortly afterward, and laughingly congratulated Jimmy on his newly won honors.
“How do you feel?” he inquired. “Do you think you could manage another piece of pie? I’ll see that you have a large piece if you think you can.”
“No, sir! I’ve had enough pie to last me for a good while to come,” declared Jimmy positively. “I’ll be ashamed to look a pie in the face. For the next week or so I’ll have to stick to my favorite doughnuts for dessert.”
“Well, you did nobly, Doughnuts, and I love you more than ever,” declared Bob. “You were up against a field that anybody might be proud to beat.”
“And the best part of it, to me, is the feeling that our confidence in Jimmy’s eating powers was justified,” declared Joe. “After all the wonderful exhibitions he’s given in the past, it would have been terrible if he hadn’t come up to scratch to-night.”
“The way that fellow they call Jack started off, I never thought you had a chance, Jimmy,” confessed Herb.
“If he could have held that pace, I wouldn’t have had a look-in,” admitted Jimmy. “I figured he’d have to slow down pretty soon, though. ‘Slow but sure’ is my motto.”
“How would you like to take a nice three-mile sprint now?” asked Herb mischievously.
“Three mile nothing!” exclaimed Jimmy scornfully. “I couldn’t run three yards right now. I think I’ll lie down and give my digestion a chance,” and in a few minutes he was peacefully snoring.
The next morning he showed no ill effects from the prodigious feast, but ate his usual hearty breakfast. The others were forced to the conclusion that his table ability was even greater than they had suspected, and from that time on they firmly believed him to be invincible in his particular department.
By this time they were thoroughly familiar with the camp, and decided to make an excursion into the woods the following day, taking lunch with them and making it a day’s outing. The cook so far departed from his usual iron-clad rules as to make them up a fine lunch, making due allowance for Jimmy’s proven capacity.
They started out immediately after breakfast. Not being particular as to direction, they followed the first old logging road that they came to. It led them deeper and deeper into the forest that was alive with the sounds and scents of spring. Last year’s fallen leaves made a springy carpet underfoot, while robins sang their spring song in the budding branches overhead.
For some time the boys tramped in silence, breathing deeply of the exhilarating pine and balsam atmosphere and at peace with all the world. Soon there was a glint of water through the trees, and the boys, with one accord, diverged from the faint trail that they had been following and were a few minutes later standing at the water’s edge.
They found themselves on the shore of a large lake. It was ringed about with big trees, many of which leaned far out over it as though to gaze at their reflections in the water. The ripples lapped gently on a sloping sandy beach, and the invitation to swim proved irresistible to all but Jimmy.
“I know what lake water is like at this time of year,” he said. “You fellows can go in and freeze yourselves all you like, but I’ll stay right here and look after the things. Just dive right in and enjoy yourselves.”
“Well, we won’t coax you,” said Bob. “But that water looks too good to miss. It is pretty cold, but I guess that won’t kill us.”
Off came their clothes, and with shouts and laughter they splashed through the shallow water and struck out manfully. The icy water made them gasp at first, but soon the reaction came, and they thoroughly enjoyed their swim. They tried to coax Jimmy in, but he lay flat on his back under a tree and was adamant to all their pleadings.
The others did not stay in very long, but emerged glowing from the effects of exercise and the cold water. As they were getting into their clothes they heard voices coming toward them, and they had hardly finished dressing when the voices’ owners came crashing through the underbrush close to where the boys were standing.
The two groups stared in astonishment for a few moments, for the newcomers were none other than Carl Lutz, Buck Looker, Terry Mooney, and another older fellow, who was a stranger to the radio boys.
Buck’s expression of surprise quickly gave place to an ugly sneer, and he turned to his friends.
“Look who’s here!” he cried, in a nasty tone. “I wonder what they’re up to now, Carl?”
“We’re not hiding from the cops because we broke a plate glass window and were afraid to own up to it,” Bob told him.
“Who broke a window?” demanded Buck. “You can’t prove that it wasn’t a snowball that one of your own bunch threw that broke that window.”
“We don’t throw that kind of snowballs,” said Joe.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Buck.
“Are you trying to say that we put stones in our snowballs?”
“I don’t have to say it,” retorted Joe. “You just said it yourself.”
Too late Buck realized his mistake, and his coarse red face grew purple as Herb and Jimmy grinned at him in maddening fashion.
“Don’t you laugh at me, Jimmy Plummer!” he exclaimed, picking on Jimmy as being the least warlike of the radio boys. “I’ll make you laugh out of the other side of your mouth in a minute,” and he started to dash past Bob to reach his victim.
But to do so he had to pass between Bob and the bank of the lake, which just at this point was a foot or so above the water.
As he rushed past, Bob adroitly shot out a muscular arm and his elbow caught the bully fair in the side. Buck staggered, made a wild effort to regain his balance, and with a prodigious splash disappeared in the icy waters of the lake.
For a few seconds friend and enemy gazed anxiously at the spot where he had gone under, but he soon came to the surface, and, sputtering and fuming, struck out for the shore and dragged himself out on to dry land.
He made such a ludicrous figure that even his cronies could not forbear laughing, but he turned on them furiously and their laughter suddenly ceased. Then he turned to Bob.
“If I didn’t have these wet clothes on, I’d make you pay for that right now, Bob Layton,” he sputtered. “I’ll make you sorry for that before you’re much older.”
“Why not settle it right now?” offered Bob. “Your clothes will dry soon enough, don’t worry about that.”
“Yes, I know you’d like nothing better than to see me get pneumonia,” said Buck. “You wait here till I go home and get dry clothes on, and I’ll come and give you the licking that you deserve.”
“That’s only a bluff, and you know it,” said Bob contemptuously. “But if any of your friends would like to take your place, why, here I am. How about you, Lutz?”
But Carl muttered something unintelligible, and backed away. The others likewise seemed discouraged by the mischance to their leader, for they turned and followed his retreating form without another word.
“Some sports!” commented Joe.
“Game as a mouse,” supplemented Herb.
“That was a swell ducking you gave Buck,” chuckled Jimmy. “Just when he was going to pick on me, too. I owe you something for that, Bob.”
“Pay me when you get rich and famous,” laughed his friend. “You don’t owe me anything, anyway. It was a pleasure to shove Buck into the lake. I’m perfectly willing to do it again any time I get the chance.”
“Oh, it’s my turn next time,” said Joe. “I can’t let you hog all the fun, Bob.”
“All right,” replied his friend. “If we run into him again, I’ll leave him to your tender mercies. But I don’t imagine he or his friends will bother us any more to-day, so why not have lunch?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” remarked Jimmy, and they forthwith set to work to prepare what Jimmy termed a “bang-up lunch.”