And as his words brought silence, he and Jerry rushed to the edge of the embankment, while the others followed.
Fortunately Harry had landed in a pile of underbrush, and as the white-faced boys and girls lined the rail he was picking his way out, none the worse for his experience save a few rents in his clothes.
The sight of the boy, safe and sound, brought a reaction from the terror, and wildly the scholars cheered, while Paul, Jerry and Longback ducked under the guard-rail and slipped and slid down to meet the hero.
“Hurt?” asked Jerry, anxiously.
“Nowhere, except in my clothes,” returned Harry – and again prolonged cheers greeted his ears.
Many were the willing hands that were extended to help draw him up into the road, and when they had succeeded, he became immediately the centre of an excited, admiring group.
“I think that was just perfectly splendid of him!” exclaimed Viola. “Some of you boys introduce me to him, won’t you?”
As she spoke, the girl, whose beauty and wealth made her the favorite of the school, looked straight at Elmer – but he gave no sign that he noticed her.
Their leader having thus given the stamp of approval to Harry, the other girls quickly pressed forward, all talking and chatting at once.
But no one responded to Viola’s request and, flushing, she turned away while the new student grew very red, as he looked from one to another of the boys who had invited him to steer the double-runner.
The situation was awkward in the extreme and Harry, diffident and sensitive as he was, felt it keenly. Yet he was the one to relieve it.
“Hey, you Snooks, you’d better go down and get your sled – or do you want me to do that?” he called.
“So it was one of Pud’s tricks?” exclaimed Nettie. “We might have known it, Viola. Pud, I think you’re perfectly horrid!” and with all the dignity of her fifteen years, the girl turned her back on the bully and, putting her arm through Viola’s, led her away down the hill. But as they went, both girls smiled at Harry.
During the embarrassing scene, Longback had whispered to some of the other boys who Harry was, and Jerry and Paul immediately took him in tow.
“If you don’t mind, we’ll walk home with you, Watson,” exclaimed Jerry. And glad of the chance to escape the attention of the other members of Rivertown High, Harry started off, accompanied by the two boys who were later to become his chums.
The story of Harry’s quick-wittedness and courage had proceeded him, thanks to Viola and Nettie; and as he walked down the main street of the town to the comfortable home of his aunt, many were the glances directed toward him.
“Rather a bad start, I’m afraid,” he said to his companions, with a feeble attempt at a smile.
“Bad? I should say it was a corking fine one!” returned Paul, sincerely. “It isn’t many fellows who can become a hero and at the same time get the best of Pud Snooks!”
The mention of the bully caused Harry to grow serious.
“I’m afraid it will make Snooks down on me,” he said. “He had no idea that those little girls would be in the road.”
Well did Jerry and Paul know that the outcome of the bully’s trick, sensational as it had been, would, indeed, arouse his anger against the boy who had turned the tables on him; and though they tried to disabuse Harry’s mind of the idea, it was with relief that they reached the gate of the Widow Watson’s house.
Despite Harry’s cordial invitation, both boys declined to go in, and he entered the house feeling strangely alone.
His aunt’s greeting and loving words of praise after she had heard of his experience, however, did much to restore his good spirits.
“Who is Viola?” he asked, as they were seated at dinner.
“She is the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Rivertown,” replied the widow, a shade of sorrow passing over her face. “What makes you ask?”
“Because she said my steering over the embankment was perfectly fine!”
Again the cloud passed over Mrs. Watson’s face and this time it did not lift.
“She’s a very sweet and lovely girl, Harry,” she replied. “But she isn’t the sort you should choose for a companion.”
At the words, the boy looked up quickly at his aunt and what he read in her face made him flush.
“I mean, she is very rich and I think – that is, I have heard – her family intend her to marry Elmer Craven.”
“He’s rich, too, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Deeply did it grieve the good woman to speak the words she had, but she believed it would be best for her nephew to realize the social difference that existed between Viola and himself, that he might be spared the humiliation and embarrassment in the future. Though they allowed their daughter to attend the Rivertown High School, the Darrows were proud and arrogant people and always did all in their power to prevent the girl from mingling with her schoolmates.
But though Mrs. Watson strove to offset the sting of her statement, the rest of the dinner was eaten in comparative silence, and Harry set out for school with a heavy heart.
Not far had he proceeded up the main street, however, before he caught sight of a form he recognized as that of the bully who had been the ringleader in the trick which had so nearly ended in a tragedy.
“Hope he won’t come up and try to smooth things over,” said Harry to himself. But the next moment, his anxiety on this score was allayed.
Pud was busy making snowballs and storing them under his arm.
“Wonder if he’s going to vent his disappointment on me,” mused Harry, taking his hands from his pockets that he might be ready to return the bombardment, should the bully open on him.
Yet when he saw the bully’s victim, Harry’s anger at the fellow was greater than ever.
As the new student passed a cross street, he saw Pud jump behind a tree and then, peering from one side, hurl one of the half dozen snowballs he had under his arm.
Turning to see at whom they were aimed, Harry was amazed to behold a bent and aged man, hobbling along the sidewalk with the aid of a cane.
The snowball knocked the cane from the man’s hand and as it fell, the aged cripple tottered.
With an exclamation of disgust, Harry rushed up behind the bully and, seizing his arm, jerked it so that the remaining snowballs fell to the sidewalk.
The thought that anyone had seen his cowardly act in snowballing the aged man shamed the bully, but only for the moment.
“What do you mean by that?” he demanded, fiercely, whirling round to face the interrupter of what he considered his sport. And as he beheld the boy who had brought disgrace upon him in the morning, his face grew white with anger. “Oh, it’s you, is it?” he went on. “Who do you think you are, anyhow? Just because you couldn’t steer the sled and went over the embankment is no reason why you should think you are so much!”
“You know I could steer that sled, and only went between the posts to keep from running into the girls,” returned Harry. “But that has nothing to do with the present matter. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, to throw snowballs at an old man!”
“Oh, nobody cares about old Jed Brown!”
“Well, you can’t snowball him when I’m round!”
“Oh, is that so? Who’s going to stop me, I should like to know?”
“I am.”
“You?” And, after standing for several seconds, during which he looked Harry over from the top of his head to his feet, the bully burst into laughter.