“Then you didn’t get hold of the strawberry shortcakes at all,” said Mumps.
“No, and we don’t know if they got ’em, either,” answered Coulter. “Maybe you were mistaken, Mumpsy.”
“No, I wasn’t mistaken.”
“Well, we made a fizzle of getting the cakes anyway,” growled Ritter. “I am going to bed,” and in a thoroughly bad humor he turned in, and his cronies followed his example.
The joke on Coulter, Ritter, and Mumps could not be kept, and by the next day many students were laughing at the two bullies and the sneak. This made the three very angry, but they did not dare to say anything in public, for fear of getting into trouble with Captain Putnam.
The contest between Coulter and Andy Snow was to come off in the gymnasium that afternoon after school and, as a consequence, quite a number of students assembled to witness what was to take place. A large number thought Andy would win out, yet Gus Coulter had quite a few supporters, for he was known to be not only large but strong.
When Andy came in Coulter had not yet arrived. At once Andy began to practice. As soon as he did this Nick Paxton came up to him.
“Do you want to swing against me?” demanded Paxton.
“No, I have a contest with Coulter to-day,” answered Andy shortly. He had no use for Paxton, and was not above letting the latter know it.
“Afraid, eh?” sneered the other cadet.
“No, I am not afraid of you, Paxton, and you know it,” answered Andy, promptly.
“Yes, you are afraid,” growled the other boy, and moved off. In a minute, however, he came back, and seizing hold of a long rope suspended from the gymnasium ceiling, commenced to swing upon it.
Jack and Pepper came in, and they stood talking to Andy as Paxton continued to swing back and forth, close at hand. Then Paxton changed his course, so that his feet struck Jack on the arm.
“Stop that, Paxton!” cried the young major, but before he could say more the cadet on the rope launched himself forward again, with feet extended, and caught Andy in the left wrist. The blow was so strong that the acrobatic youth was bowled over on the polished floor.
“Ouch, my wrist!” cried Andy, as he scrambled up. Then he gazed sharply at Paxton. “What did you do that for?” he demanded.
“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to touch you,” was the short answer, and Paxton dropped from the rope and started for the other end of the gymnasium.
“Hold on there!” cried Pepper, and ran after Paxton.
“What do you want, Pep Ditmore?”
“You struck Andy on purpose!”
“I did not!”
“And I say you did! It was a mean thing to do.”
“Oh, you make me tired,” grunted Nick Paxton, but his tone betrayed his uneasiness.
“I believe you struck Andy so as to injure him,” said Jack. To this Paxton made no answer. Instead he moved on, and soon lost himself in a crowd of boys in another part of the gymnasium.
“Andy, does your wrist hurt much?” questioned Pepper, turning to his acrobatic chum.
“Yes, it does,” was the answer. “See, he scraped part of the skin off.”
“He ought to be hammered for it,” was Pepper’s emphatic declaration.
Andy walked over to a sink and there allowed the water to run over his wrist. Soon there was a small swelling, which pained considerably. Jack helped to tie a handkerchief around the bruised member.
“Well, Snow, are you ready for the contest?” demanded Gus Coulter, walking up. He had just passed Nick Paxton, and the latter had winked at him suggestively.
“Andy has been hurt,” explained Jack. “Paxton kicked him in the wrist.”
“Huh! Is this a trick to get out of meeting me?” grumbled Gus Coulter.
“No, it is no trick!” exclaimed Andy.
“Andy, you can’t meet him with your wrist in such bad shape,” expostulated Pepper.
“Postpone it until to-morrow,” suggested Dale, who was present.
“If he is to meet me at all it must be to-day,” said Coulter, flatly. “That bruise doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. I’ve got a hurt myself,” and he showed the back of his left hand, which had been slightly scratched by a playful kitten several days before.
“That is nothing to Andy’s bruise,” said Pepper. “See, his wrist is quite swelled.”
“Never mind, I’ll meet him, anyway – and beat him, too,” declared Andy. “Come on – I am ready if you are!”
CHAPTER VI
ANDY SNOW’S VICTORY
The crowd surrounding Andy were both pleased and astonished by his show of grit. It was easy to see that his wrist was in bad shape.
“Andy, you can’t do it to-day,” pleaded Pepper. “Make him meet you some other time.”
“It is to-day or never,” said Gus Coulter, bluntly.
In a few minutes the necessary space was cleared and the contest commenced. It had been agreed that the trial was to consist of the following: Each boy was to walk the length of the gymnasium on his hands and then rise up and “chin the bar,” that is, draw himself up to his chin on a turning bar. The contestant to “chin the bar” the greatest number of times was to be the winner.
Harry Blossom had been chosen umpire of the contest, and at a word of command from him the two students fell upon their hands and started across the floor. At once Nick Paxton and Reff Ritter began to crowd Andy.
“You keep back there!” cried Jack, and shoved Paxton out of the way. Then he and Pepper elbowed their way to Reff Ritter. “Give Andy a show,” both said.
“Oh, don’t bother me,” growled Ritter, giving Jack a black look.
“Then get out of Andy’s way,” answered the young major.
“That’s right – keep the course clear, or I’ll call the contest off,” called out Harry Blossom, and Ritter and Paxton had to fall back. Mumps was also present and wanted to hinder Andy, but he had not the courage to do anything.
Andy’s wrist pained him greatly, and long before he reached the end of the gymnasium he felt like giving up the contest. But he kept on, and finished walking on his hands as quickly as did Coulter. Then he pulled himself up on one bar while his opponent did the same on another.
“Three for Andy Snow!”
“Four for Gus Coulter!”
“Four for Andy!”
“Five for Gus! Stick to it, Gus, and you’ll win!”
“Andy should not have tried it with that sore wrist!”
Amid encouraging cries and various criticisms, the “chinning” went on until Gus Coulter had pulled himself up twelve times. Andy had gone up ten times. Gus was trying his best to get up the thirteenth time, but seemed unable to make it.
Andy’s wrist felt as if it was on fire, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out with pain. But he clung to the bar and slowly but surely went up the eleventh time, and then the twelfth. Then he went up the thirteenth – just as Coulter did likewise.
“A tie!” was the cry.
Again the two boys tried to rise. But Gus Coulter’s total strength was gone, and all he could do was to raise himself a few inches. He hung from the bar and glared at Andy.
“Want to call it a tie?” he gasped.
“No!” answered Andy, shortly, and