CHAPTER XIII
THE PRIZE POEM
Jack sent the watch to the lady he had seen with Margaret the next day, Dr. Wise being satisfied that it belonged to her, and suggesting that it be forwarded to her by express without delay.
The next day he received a very pleasant letter from the lady, together with a handsome locket to wear at the end of his watch chain.
"I suppose I can take this, Dick?" he said to his chum. "It is really a reward for having found the watch, and I did not expect any. However, it is not money, which I could not have taken, but it cost money just the same."
"Keep it, Jack," said Dick. "The lady feels that you ought to have something for your trouble, and you cannot very well refuse her gift."
"No, I don't suppose I can, but I did not want it, nevertheless.
My mother is fond of things like that, and I can give it to her."
"Well, the lady could hardly object to that, but I would wear it for a time. She might see you shortly, and she would miss it."
"Very good," said Jack carelessly. "I will do it."
Just now the doctor was offering a prize for a poem to be written by one of the boys, not to exceed a certain length, and to be written upon some historical event, preferably one connected with the Hudson.
The poem must be entirely original, but must be unsigned and accompanied by a sealed envelope containing the writer's name, this not to be opened until the prize had been awarded to the best poem, at which time the name of the winner would be made known.
"That makes it fair for everybody," declared Percival. "I am not much of a poet, Jack, but you might try for this."
"You have had as much training in this line as I have, Dick," replied Jack. "There are plenty of subjects to choose from, Arnold's treason, the capture of Stony Point by Wayne, the firing upon the Highland Forts, Montgomery and Clinton, the burning of Kingston and the hanging of the man with the silver bullet and a lot more. Let your imagination loose, Dick, and I think you can win."
"If it were a case of letting my temper loose," laughed Percival, "it would be a sure thing, but the imagination is different."
Jack knew that his mother would be pleased if he won the prize, and so he determined to try for it, and began setting himself to work on some verses having to do with the very location where the Academy was situated.
When Billy Manners heard of the contest he said to Arthur, Harry, young Smith, and a few others who were down on the shore fixing their boats:
"Oh, say, can you see by the dawn and so forth!" he exclaimed, "that is fine. Think of the inspiration we get from this historic river. Look at the mountains all around us, full of patriotic memories, and then say that you can't do anything. Why, the poetry fairly bubbles out of me."
"Give us a sample, William," chuckled Harry. "There was another poet named William once. Perhaps you inherit some of his genius. I never saw any suspicion of it on you, but it may be there all the same. Give us a sample, There's a good fellow."
"Why, certainly," Billy rejoined. "Historical subject, eh? And one that occurred on the Hudson? Why, that's easy. Listen to this:"
Then Billy threw up his arms, gazed straight up into the sky, and delivered himself of his poetic thoughts as follows:
"When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her banner to the skies, Not a creature was stirring, not——-"
"You've got things mixed, Billy," roared Harry. "Try again.
Besides, that is not original. It must be original to pass."
"Oh, well, all poets are plagiarists more or less," said Billy, "but this time I will give you something of my own."
Then Billy struck a pensive attitude, and began again:
"'Twas midnight; in his guarded tent,
Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note,
By thy cold, gray stones, oh, sea!
Once upon a midnight dreary,
A gentle knight was pricking on——-"
"Worse and worse!" yelled Arthur. "Halleck, Poe, Tennyson, Spenser, and I don't know who else in a regular literary hash! That will do for you, my boy.' A little of that goes a long way."
"Didn't I tell you I was bubbling all over with poetry?"
"You're a bubble yourself," laughed Harry, "and you'll burst if you get too full of that sort of stuff."
"You wait till I really put my mind on it," said Billy with a droll look. "You'll be surprised, my boys."
"We don't doubt that in the least," said Harry. "Why, I never heard such poetry," chuckled young Smith.
"It actually makes me cry," said Arthur.
"You will be surprised when I take the prize," answered Billy, taking all this chaff good-naturedly.
"Yes, I think we will be," replied Seymour. "Surprised is no name for it. We will be actually thunderstruck."
"Oh, you boys are jealous," grinned Billy. "Shall I give you another sample?"
"Another piece of patchwork, you mean," grinned Harry. "No, please don't. I have not recovered from the other yet."
"You fellows do not appreciate real genius, and here is the river right at your feet to inspire you to noble thoughts. Come on, let's take a spin."
"You have set our brains to spinning already," said Arthur.
"No, one good turn deserves another," quoted Jesse W., with a broad grin. "Come on, boys, before Billy breaks out again."
"I may astonish you boys yet," laughed Billy, as he got into his boat and set off down stream.
Jack worked industriously on his poem, and Percival became serious and did some really good work on one that he had begun when he knew that Jack was at work, a number of the boys getting to work at the same time.
"I don't expect to do better than Jack," Percival said to Arthur, "but if he knows I am going in for this he will do all the better, and I want him to come out on top."
"He may anyhow, Dick," returned Arthur. "He has been doing something of this sort for the News in Riverton. They have not been signed, but I know that they were his from a line or two that I heard him repeating to himself in the tent when he did not know that any one was around. I recognized them afterwards in one of the poems published in the paper. Jack is a modest fellow and does not blow his own trumpet."
"Did any one else hear him, Art?"
"Yes, Harry. We did not say anything about it, but we know the pieces were his. Then you know that he has done something in that line for the Hilltop Gazette, of course?"
"To be sure I do. The Academy paper is doing fine since Jack took the editorship. It is some magazine now."
"I should say it was. Jack will write something good I know, and I want to see him win the prize."
"So do I, Art, as I told you before," replied Percival heartily.
Percival let it be known to Jack that he was trying for the prize and this, instead of making the boy feel envious, as some would have done, encouraged him and caused him to put forth his best efforts.
"I hear that you are going to compete for the poetic prize, Dick," he said to his friend. "That's fine. I hope you will get it. You used to do a lot of good things, and I don't see why you should not do them still. I'd like to see you get it, Dick."
Dick chuckled over this to Harry and Arthur and Billy, and said:
"Jack is putting his best foot forward, as I hoped he would. He thinks that I will beat him, and so he is doing his best. That's just what I wanted, and I hope he will win the pennant."
"H'm! you talk as if this was a baseball series," laughed Billy.
"Well, you know what I mean anyhow," returned Dick.
The boys put in their poems and the blank sealed envelopes containing their names and the titles of their productions, the envelopes not to be opened till after the prizes were given.
The doctor had all the manuscripts in his study, and was to go over them with the professors, the majority to decide which was the best.
On the night when the various manuscripts were in the doctor's study in the little cottage he occupied in the camp, Billy Manners was a bit restless, not from his literary efforts, but from having eaten something which greatly disagreed with him.
He occupied a tent with young Smith, and at a late hour awoke for the third or fourth time, and suddenly heard some one say in a whisper:
"It's all right, I've got it!"
Billy thought the voice was Herring's, but was not certain in his sleepy condition, and with pains gripping his bowels.
"Can you fix it?" somebody asked, and Billy thought this might be either Holt or Merritt, not being sure which it was, for the same reason that made him uncertain of the other.
"Fix it?" the first speaker retorted with a low chuckle, "of course
I can fix it, and fix his winning the prize, too."
"There's some mischief going on," thought the young joker. "I wonder what it is?"
The voices he had heard had come from the next tent, but whether it was the next on the right or the left he could not tell, not knowing whether he may have turned in his sleep or not, having a habit of finding himself in all sorts of queer positions when he awoke.
While he was thinking the matter over, and trying to locate the tent from which the voices proceeded he fell asleep, his pain having left him for a time.
He did not know how long it was when he was awakened again, as well by the pain as by hearing voices.
"That will do first rate," he heard some one say, and then he thought he detected a light in the tent next to his.
Young Smith was fast asleep, and oblivious of everything, "and Billy did not think it worth while to arouse him.
"They won't notice the difference?" asked either Merritt or Holt,
Billy was not certain which.
"No, and now to put it back."
"Put what back, I wonder?" said Billy to himself, as he sat up.
"And give the doctor a surprise."
"Huh! he won't be the only one surprised!" growled some one, and
Billy thought it was Herring this time.
"That fellow is up to some mischief," he muttered, "and I must find out what it is."
Then he jumped out of bed, put on his trousers and shoes, and crept softly outside.