The Grammar School Boys Snowbound | Page 2

But half a dozen boys uttered a whoop
and skated toward him. Hen wobbled on his skates an instant, then
turned, intent on escape.
"Oh, say, fellows," called Dick, "don't be all the time picking on poor

old Hen."
"We'll just wash his face," shouted back one of the pursuers.
Hen knew they meant it, and he was traveling down the ice, now, under
full steam.
"Come on, fellows," called Dick, to Greg and to Tom Reade. "We don't
want to see Hen abused."
"Why does he get so fresh, then?" demanded Greg, but he started, as
did Tom. Dick & Co. were all fleet skaters. They surged to the front of
the pursuers, who took it for granted that Dick and his friends were
going to aid them, and therefore set up a shout of joy.
Hen Dutcher was traveling with so much effort that he panted hard as
he skated.
"Get him, Dick!" sang out Ben Alvord, as Prescott shot ahead of the
others.
Hen, looking back, saw Dick gaining on him swiftly, while Greg and
Tom were just behind.
"They're mean as all-git-out!" sputtered panting Hen. "Why can't they
let a fellow alone? Don't they think I've got as much right to talk as the
rest of 'em? Well, I'll show 'em that I have!"
At this moment Dick overtook the fugitive, linking arms with him.
"You let me alone!" snarled Hen. "You're meaner'n poison!"
"Am I?" smiled Dick. "See here, Hen, face about and don't let the
fellows bluff you out of a week's growth. Just turn on them. They won't
do anything to you."
"If they try it on, I'll fix 'em, no matter what desperate thing I have to
do to get square," snarled Hen.

"Oh, cut out all the war talk," Dick advised him gently. "Now, wheel
about."
"You lemme alone! I know where I'm going," snapped Hen, making a
big effort to break loose from Dick's hold. The effort proved a
disastrous one, for Hen tripped himself, slid along for a few feet and
then sat down with a jarring bump on the ice. Dick Prescott all but
shared the same fate.
"Now, we've got him!" chuckled Ben Alvord, racing in and reaching
out for the luckless Dutcher.
The unexpected happened. Hen swung around, as on a pivot, extending
a foot in such a way as to trip Ben and send him down on his own face.
In the gasp of astonishment that followed Hen got upon his feet, gave a
swift push with his left skate and was away.
"After him, fellows!" roared Toby Ross. "We'll hold him and let Ben do
the face-washing."
Dick, Tom and Greg had shot past the scene. Now they circled and
came back, their faces aglow with the fast sport and the keen air.
Hen tried to make for the shore, but got in where the surface of the ice
was rough and choppy. Ned Allen and Toby reached out to grasp Hen
as they neared him. Young Dutcher made a switching-away movement,
and the next instant he had fallen flat on his face. He let out a howl.
"We've got him!" declared Toby, as he and Allen pounced on the
prostrate one.
"Yes, but let him alone, fellows," urged Dick, reaching the scene and
halting. "Hen may have his faults, but it's time we chose another fellow
to pick on for a while."
"We're going to wash his face," insisted Ben Alvord, skating up and
looking belligerent. "Don't you interfere, Dick Prescott!"

Hen, making no effort to do more than sit up, was blubbering softly.
"Lemme alone, fellows," he pleaded. "Can't you see I'm hurt?"
Hen had his right mitten off, and was gingerly applying that hand to the
narrow stretch of upper lip. There was blood there. Hen, catching only
an imperfect view as he gazed down past the end of his nose, was sure
that he had been badly injured by his fall.
Some of the other boys set up a yell of laughter.
"Why, you big baby!" blurted Toby. "You've only scratched your lip on
the ice."
"A handful of snow will heal it!" asserted Ben Alvord. "Come, get up,
bone-head! Come on to your dousing."
"You lemme alone, I tell you!" screamed Dutcher, blubbering. "I've got
to go home and get myself attended to."
"Come on, booby!" jeered Alvord, forcing a hand under one of Hen's
shoulders and trying to lift him.
"Lemme alone. Can't you see I'm badly hurt?"
"Let Hen alone," broke in Dick quietly.
"He's got to come ashore and have his face washed in the snow,"
insisted Alvord. "Come, fellows, help me take him there."
"You'd better step back and let him alone, Ben!" spoke Dick, more
quietly than before, but there was a sound of command in his