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| Ormonn G. Sarr,
MOTOR STORIE
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
NEW YORK, March 20, 1909. -
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‘STREET & SMITH, Publishers,
} Propreto vletors. 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City.
Georce C, Surrn,
THE TENNIS- GROUND MYSTERY.
By OLIVER K. ROSSE. |
It was about half-past six, one brilliant morning in June,
and the boys of Bidford School were dressing themselves,
preparatory to ‘ ‘scudding” for the river, wherein to take their
customary seven-o’clock “dip.” . Every one was out of bed,
skipping to and: fro, as lively as grasshoppers, throwing
wet sponges at one another, atid indulging in divers other
jocular vagaries, which"suffiiciently accounted for the many,
strange noises and the repeated loud bursts of laughter that
greeted the listening ear..
The inmates of dormitory number one were ‘the younger
members of the school, and the’ merriest and most popular’ of
all were Caggles and Bottlebury.
“I say, Bottlebury,” cried Cageles, a youth who had a
deal of confidence in his own powers, “Til swim you this
morning, and ‘lick’ you by a dozen yards.”
“All right,” said Bottlebury; “but you can “bet your life
I'l have the laugh on yout, I’ve been putting in a lot of
Practise lately.” .
“That's what you always say, ‘Bot,’ old bird.
“Well! it’s right enough, ‘Whoop! Here’s a black beetle
in.one of my shoes!”
“Don’t kill it! It’s mine,’
forward. , ,
“Look here, Fuzzy, you beast,” ‘said Bottlebury, “you il.
i punched until you’ re black and blue if you bring such —
isgusting creeping reptiles up here.” -
Fuzzy Sas on ater naturalist, and delighted to keep
a stock of living insects about his person, ‘in pill-boxes.
“This fellow got loose,” he said, as he fearlessly picked
up the coal-black beetle and popped it into the small card-,
board Prison which he had, ready.
“T say, ‘Cag, ” resumed ‘Bottlebury,
the tennis-ground.”
“So it'is,” said Caggles;
sun pangs out all day !”*
I should say~so!” assented his friend,
you were dreaming like a madntan last night.”
“Was 1?” laughed Caggles; “I’m an awful fellow. to
dream, T used to walk in my sleep,
hey say it comes of having an active brain.”
* cried a lanky. youth, dashing
‘“tt’s our turn to roll
“won’t it be hot work if the
“I ay, though,
“ \
cy onthe Eagan ate g Ae yt
" generally turn out to be tip-top
ut I’ve got over. that, Pow
ee | MOTOR STORIES, . Se og
. “Aye; and they say that kids with active brains like that
ets atid authors.”
“Do they?” said Caggles, suddenly imagining himself a
budding genius,
*“Oh,” said Bottlebury, with delightfully refreshing candor,
“T don't suppose it means anything in your case, you know.”
“Why?” asked the disappointed Cag ggles, in an injured
tone of voice.
“Well, I don’t think you've got enough brains for ’ em to
be active. | It'll be active nerves in your case. ‘It’s just the
same, only it’s different; see?”
' “Was I talking in my sleep?’ asked Caggles, anxious to .
change thé subject.
“T'think so. I just caught something about. ‘moles,
I*went to sleep pretty soon after.” —,
“Well, ‘I’ve been ‘wishing for a mole,” said Caggles;
“Tupman says they’ve got no. eyes, and i say they | have.
I’m going to’ hunt for one of the little begg: ars, just to see
who's right.” .
At, that juncture the door was flung open, and Crieff,
one of the oldest boys in the’school, rushed’ into tlie: dormi-
tory, red and breathless, and minus his cap.
Now, Crieff was usually a very sedate fellow, and went
about as stately as an Oriental grandee. His neck was
rather long, and at every stride he stiffened his legs and
bulged out his chest, so that he was suggestive, somewhat,
of a dignified stork. .
The boys of the ‘doryitory’ were astonished, therefore,
to see him in so breathless and limp a state.
“What's up?” asked Caggles, with mouth agape.
“The tennis-ground!” gasped Crieff, mopping his face ©
with a handkerchief,
but
The tennis-ground at Bidford Schoo! was reputed to be
one of the finest in the whole neighborhood. -It had been
specially laid, and its smooth surface was as level as a
billiard-table. Every boy was proud of it, and Crieff tended
it with the anxicty of a father.
“What's up with it?” asked twd or three voices.!
“Spoiled! Ruined!”
eyes. . €
“Never!” cried Bottlebury.
“It is... Somebody has dug koles all over it with a spade.
I’ve just ‘been down and scen it.”
“It was all right yesterday afternoon,”
”
said Caggles, with
“Some one'must have done it in the night,” said Crieff;
“T believe it’s one of those village|kids I thrashed last week
for throwing stones.”
“Very likely,” said Cikeles;
spite.”
“They used our spade, too,” continued Crieff; “the one
out of the shed. The lock of the door has-been useless for
soe time, you know. They must have gone, in. and taken
out the spade; I found it lying on the ground.” vo,
The’ inmates of the dormitory stood aghast. A grand
match between themsclyes and a neighboring school had
been fixed for the coming Saturday. Under the peculiar
circumstarices this, of course, would have to’ be postponed.
Hastily finishing their toilet, the boys accompanied Crieff
to the tennis-ground, where they saw that his account was
only too true. The ground was dug up in, a dozen places.
Exclamations of rage.rose from the fast- -increasing crowd
of boys, and energetic discussions were entered upon, until
quite a confusing uproar prevailed. -
WwW hoever it was,” said Caf les, almost bursting with
wrath, “they ought to be kicked.
“I say,, Crieff,” said Bottlebury, “do you think they’ I
come again?
“I don’t think so,” was the answer; “still, they may,
I’m just trying to think of.a way to catch the scoundrels,’
“Put a lot of ratetraps about,” suggested a small boy.
“Man- -traps, you méan,” said Cag gles,
“Yes; that’s it—iman-traps,” said the small boy.
an expression of ‘disgust on his face.
=
?
Pan ene RAS ee Cee Mg ee Ee me ne ete om
said Crieff, almost with tears in his
“they'll do anything for
>
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