The Chums of Scranton High at Ice Hockey | Page 5

imagine he
heard the delightful clang of steel runners cutting into that smooth sheet
of new ice out at the mill pond; and the figures of the happy skaters
would pass before his eyes. Yes, probably Sue Barnes would be there,
too, with her chums, Ivy Middleton and Peggy Noland, wondering, it
might be, how he, Hugh, could deny himself such a glorious
opportunity for the first real good skate of the season.
Then Hugh would heave a little sigh, and apply himself harder than
ever to his task. When he had an unpleasant thing to do he never
allowed temptation to swerve him. And, after all, it was pretty snug and
comfortable there in his den, Hugh told himself; besides, that was a
long walk home for a tired fellow to take, even in good company.
Then he heard his mother speaking to someone who must have rung the
doorbell.
"Go up to the top of the stairs, and turn to the right. You will find Hugh
in his den, I believe. Hugh, are you there? Well, here's a visitor to see
you."
Supposing, of course, that it must be one of his close friends, who for
some reason had not gone off skating, and wished to see him about
some matter of importance, Hugh, after answering his mother, had gone
on skimming the subject on which his mind just then happened to be

set.
He heard the door open, and close softly. Then someone gave a gruff
cough. Hugh looked around and received quite a surprise.
Instead of Thad Stevens, Owen Dugdale, Horatio Juggins, "Just" Smith,
or Julius Hobson he saw--Nick Lang!
"Oh, hello, Nick!" he commenced to say, a little restrained in his
welcome; for, of course, he could give a guess that the other had come
again to try and buy his skates, which Hugh was not much in favor of
selling.
He shoved a chair forward, determined not to be uncivil at any rate.
After that talk with Thad about this fellow it can be understood that
Hugh was still bent on studying Nick, with the idea of deciding
whether he did actually have a grain of decency in his make-up, such as
could be used as a foundation on which to build a new structure.
The outlook was far from promising. Indeed, he could not remember
ever seeing Nick look more antagonistic than just then, even though he
tried to appear friendly.
"But then," Hugh was telling himself, "I reckon now Jean Valjean was
about as fierce looking a human wild beast as that good old priest had
ever seen at the time he invited the ex-convict into his snug house, and
horrified his sister by asking him to sit at table with them, and spend
the night there under his hospitable roof."
"You wanted to see me about something, did you, Nick?" he asked the
other.
Nick had dropped down on the chair. His furtive gaze went around the
room as if it aroused his curiosity, for this was really the first occasion
when he had ever graced Hugh's den with his company.
When his eyes alighted on the coveted skates Nick's face took on an
expressive grin. Then he turned toward Hugh, to say, almost whiningly:

"Sure thing, Hugh. I thought mebbe I'd coax you to let me have the
skates, if I told you I'd managed to get another half dollar by selling a
pair of my pigeons. Here's a dollar and a half; take it, and gimme the
runners, won't you?"
His manner was intended to be ingratiating, but evidently Nick was so
accustomed to bullying everyone with whom he came in contact that it
was next to impossible for him to change his abusive ways. Hugh felt
less inclined than ever to accommodate him. Under other and more
favorable conditions he might have been tempted to promise Nick to
hand him over the skates, for nothing, after he had actually received the
expected new ones.
"I'm sorry to refuse you again, Nick," Hugh said coldly; "but at present
I have no other skates, and, as I expect to take part in a hockey match
with the scratch Seven to-morrow, I'll need my runners."
"But there's nothing to hinder you selling me the same, say next week,
that I can see; unless mebbe you're just holdin' out on account of an old
grudge against me. How about that, Hugh?"
Hugh was still unconvinced.
"Just now I'm not in a humor to sell the skates, Nick," he said. "If I
change my mind, I'll let you know about it. That's final. And when I
dispose of my skates it's my intention to give them away, not sell
them."
He turned to do something at the desk where he was sitting. Meanwhile,
Nick had