The Boys of Bellwood School; Or, Frank Jordan's Triumph

  Produced by Vital Debroey, Charles Franks and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team.

  THE BOYS OF BELLWOOD SCHOOL

  OR

  FRANK JORDAN'S TRIUMPH

  BY FRANK V. WEBSTER

  AUTHOR OF "TOM THE TELEPHONE BOY","COMRADES OF THE SADDLE", "THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS", ETC.

  CONTENTS

  I FRANK JORDAN'S HOME II THE TINKER BOY III THE DIAMOND BRACELET IV GILL MACE V THE RUINED HOUSE VI AN ASTONISHING CLUE VII THE CONFIDENCE MAN VIII NIPPED IN THE BUD IX A BOY GUARDIAN X AN OBSTINATE REBEL XI TURNING THE TABLES XII A STRANGE HAPPENING XIII SOME MYSTERY XIV THE ROW ON THE CAMPUS XV DARK HOURS XVI THE FOOT RACE XVII THE TRAMP AGAIN XVIII A DOLEFUL "UNCLE" XIX A CLEAR CASE XX FRANK A PRISONER XXI A QUEER EXPERIENCE XXII A STARTLING MESSAGE XXIII UNDER ARREST XXIV CLEANING UP XXV CONCLUSION

  CHAPTER I

  FRANK JORDAN'S HOME

  "Where did you get that stickpin, Frank?"

  "Bought it at Mace's jewelry store."

  "You are getting extravagant."

  "I hardly think so, aunt, and I don't believe you would think so, either,if you knew all the circumstances."

  "Circumstances do not alter cases when a boy is a spendthrift."

  "I won't argue with you, aunt. You have your ideas and I have mine. Ofcourse, I bought the stickpin, but it was with money I had earned."

  The aunt sniffed in a vague way. The boy left the house, looking irritatedand unhappy.

  Frank Jordan lived in the little town of Tipton with his aunt, Miss TabithaBrown. His father was an invalid, and at the present time was in the South,seeking to recuperate his failing health, and Mrs. Jordan was with him ashis nurse. They had left Frank in charge of the aunt, who was a miserly,fault-finding person, and for nearly a month the lad had not enjoyed lifevery greatly.

  There were two thoughts that filled Frank's mind most of the time. Thefirst was that he would give about all he had to leave his aunt's house.The other was a wish that his father would write to him soon, telling him,as he had promised to do, that he had decided that his son could leaveTipton and go to boarding-school.

  What with the constant nagging of his sour-visaged relative, the worry overhis sick father, and the suspense as to his own future movements, Frank didnot have a very happy time of it. He felt a good deal like a boy shut up ina prison. His aunt used her authority severely. She kept him away fromcompany, and allowed none of his friends to visit the house. From morninguntil night she pestered him and nagged at him, "all for his own good," shesaid, until life at the Jordan home, roomy and comfortable as it was,became a burden to the lad.

  "It's too bad!" burst forth Frank as he crossed the garden, climbed afence, and made toward the river through a little woods that was a favoritehaunt of his. Reaching a fallen tree he drew from its side a splendidfishing-pole with all the attachments that a lover of the rod and linemight envy. His eye grew brighter as he glanced fondly along the supplestaff with its neat joints of metal, but he continued his complaint: "Whenshe isn't scolding, she is lecturing me. I suppose if she ever hears of myfishing outfit here, she'll be at me for a week about my awfulextravagance. Oh, dear!"

  Frank had a good deal over which to grumble. His aunt certainly was a"tyro." She was making his life very gloomy with her stern, unloving ways.Frank had promised his parents, when they went away, that he would beobedient in all respects to his aunt. He was a boy of his word, and he feltthat he had done exceedingly well so far, hard as the task had been. Hisaunt was very unreasonable in some things, however, and he had been at thepoint of rebellion several times.

  "You'd think I was some kind of a beggar, to hear her talk," he grumbled tohimself. "Father sends plenty of pocket money, but the way Aunt Tib dolesit out to me makes a fellow sick. As to the stickpin--heigh ho! I won'tthink about it at all. I've lots to be thankful for. I only care thatfather gets well and strong again. As to myself, he's sure to decide soonwhat school I will be sent away to. That means no Aunt Tib. I shall behappy. Hello! What's wrong now?"

  From the direction of the river there had come two boyish screams in quickand alarming succession. Frank recognized a signal of pain and distress. Hestarted on a run and reached the edge of the stream in a few moments. Heleaned beyond a bush where the bank shelved down a little distance alongthe shore. His eyes lit upon quite an animated scene.

  A strange-looking, boxed-in wagon, with an old white horse attached, stoodstationary about forty rods distant. Just this side of it was a ragged,trampish-looking man. He had just picked up a piece of flat rock, and as hehurled it Frank discovered that he had aimed at a tree directly across thenarrow stream, but had missed it.

  "Why, there's a boy in that tree," said Frank. "That big bully must havehit him before I came, and that was the boy's cry I heard. Thegood-for-nothing loafer!"

  Frank rounded the brush in an impetuous and indignant way. He was about tochallenge the man, when the latter shouted something at the boy across thestream, and Frank stopped to listen.

  "Are you going to come down out of that tree?" the man demanded in abellowing tone.

  There was no reply, and the man repeated the challenge. The boy addressedcontinued silent. Frank could see him crouching in a crotch, his face paleand distressed.

  "See here," roared his persecutor, getting furious and shaking his fist athis victim, "I'm after you, Ned Foreman, and I'm going to get you! Why, youvagabond, you--you ungrateful young runaway! Here I'm your only solitaryliving relative in the whole world, and you sit up in that tree with a bigstone ready to smash me if I come near you."

  "Yes, and I will--I will, for a fact!" cried the lad, roused up. "You tryit, and see. Relative? You're no kin of mine, Tim Brady. I'd be ashamed toown you."

  "I hain't?" howled the man. "Who married your step-sister? Who gave you ahome when you was a helpless kid, I'd like to know?"

  "Huh, a healthy home!" retorted the boy. "It wasn't your home; it was mysister's, and you robbed her of it and squandered the money, and broke herheart, and she died, and you ought to be hung for it!" and the speakerchoked down a sob. "Now you come across me and try to rob me."

  "Say," roared Tim Brady, gritting his teeth and looking dreadfully crueland hateful, "if I hang twice over I'll get you. Better give me some ofyour money."

  "It isn't mine to give."

  "Better give me some of it, all the same," continued the man, "or I'll takethe whole of it. I'm desperate, Ned Foreman. I'm in a fix where I've got toget away from these diggings, and I've got to have money to go. Are yougoing to be reasonable and come down out of that tree?"

  "No, I ain't."

  "Then I'm coming after you. See that?" and the man held up a heavy stickand brandished it. Then he sat down on a rock and started to remove hisshoes, with the idea of wading across the stream.

  Frank felt that it was time for him to do something. He was not a bitafraid of a coward, but he realized that he and the boy in the treetogether were no match for the big, vicious fellow just beyond him. The boyin the tree looked honest and decent; the man after him looked just what hewas--a tramp and perhaps worse. Frank thought of hurrying toward thevillage for help. Then a sudden idea came to his mind, and he acted uponit.

  The man who was preparing to go after the boy who would not come to him,sat directly under a big bush. Right over his head among the branches Franknoticed a double hornets' nest. He knew all about hornets and their ways,as did he of all the interesting things in the woods. Frank drew hisfishing-pole around and upward, until its willowy end rested
against thestraw-like strands by which the hornets' nest was attached to the limb.

  Very gently he got a hold on the connecting strands of the double nest anddetached it from the limb. Then he lowered it, carefully poising it with aswaying motion over the head of the stooping figure of the man.

  "Now!" said Frank breathlessly.

  Already the disturbed hornets were coming out of the cells in the nest,angrily fluttering about to learn what the matter was. Frank gave thefishing-pole a swing. He slammed its end and the hornets' nest right downon the head of the tramp.

  Instantly a swarming myriad of the little insects made the air black aboutthe man. The fellow gave a spring and a yell of pain. Then, his handswildly beating the air, he darted down the river shore like a shot.