[CHAPTER II]
WINNING THE PRIZE
Serge Belcofsky had departed early in the year, and Alaska was lost sight of by most of the New London boys amid the throng of more immediate, and to them important, interests that crowded thick and fast into their lives. These were Billy Bow’s birthday party, the opening of the gymnasium, the launch of the new yacht, theatricals for the library fund, the last skating-match of the season, and a score of other things demanding their undivided attention. Phil Ryder managed to take some part in all of these, though he was by no means so active nor so much of a leader as formerly. That Alaska trip was to him a living reality, and he was striving for it with all his might. Some of the other fellows were provoked that he should neglect sports, in which he had so excelled, for the mere purpose of studying, while there was still so much time left in which to attend to that.
“There are two whole months yet before graduation,” argued Al Snyder one day, when he was vainly endeavoring to persuade Phil to undertake the coaching of the nine. “Two whole months! And yet here you are grinding away as though examinations were to begin to-morrow. Catch me working like that!”
“Oh yes, you would,” laughed Phil, “if you had the prize held out to you that I have.”
“Pshaw!” ejaculated Al. “You know you can go on that trip no matter where you stand. Your governor only put it that way to try and make you work a little harder. It’s just one of his tricks. They’re all up to them.”
“It is nothing of the kind!” retorted Phil, hotly. “And you don’t know what you are talking about when you speak in that way of my father. He never said anything in his life that he didn’t mean. If I am inside of number five I’ll go to Alaska, and if I’m not, I won’t. That’s all there is about it. But I mean to be inside, and as I can’t make sure of that and watch the nine at the same time, you see it is impossible for me to do what you want.”
So Phil stuck to his books, and all of a sudden there came a letter from Mr. Ryder stating that, as his work was drawing to a close sooner than he had expected, and as he was more desirous than ever of having his son visit the wonderful country in which he was located, Phil might come out to him at once, without waiting to graduate, provided he stood better than number five in all his classes.
Here was a startling proposition! Did he stand better than five everywhere? The boy rapidly ran over his position in his several classes. He was within the magic number everywhere except in mathematics, and there he stood at exactly five.
“I could have stood better than five there too, if I had not given my chance to hump-backed Jimmy, the other day,” he reflected, though he was too honorable a fellow to even have hinted at such a thing aloud. He knew it, and he thought Jimmy himself knew it, for he had seen a quick flush rise to the cripple’s pale cheek when it happened; but he didn’t believe any one else did, nor did he intend they should. Still, what could he do under the circumstances? He was not inside of number five in all of his classes.
The struggle was too hard a one for the boy to make alone, and he carried his perplexities to Mr. Blake, the head-master of his school. After the latter had read Mr. Ryder’s letter, and listened attentively to Phil’s presentation of the facts, he laid his hand on the lad’s shoulder, and said,