But the long
bridge, something more than a mile below, was common ground, and here
the foes mingled and strove to outshout each other.
The river is broad here below Marshall, and forms what is almost a
basin, hemmed in on either side by low wooded bluffs. From where Joel
and West, with a crowd of Hillton fellows, stood midway upon the bridge,
the starting point, nearly a mile and a half up stream was plainly
visible, and the finish line was a few rods above them. West was
acquainted with several of the St. Eustace boys, and to these Joel was
introduced and was welcomed by them with much cordiality and examined
with some curiosity. He had accomplished the defeat of their Eleven, and
they would know what sort of youth he was.
While they were talking, leaning against the railing of the bridge, Joel
suddenly caught West's arm and drew his attention to a boy some distance
away who was looking toward the starting point through a pair of field
glasses. West indulged in a long whistle, plainly indicative of
amazement.
"Who's that fellow over there?" he asked. One of the St. Eustace boys
followed the direction of his gaze.
"Well, you ought to know him. He knows you. That's Bartlett Cloud. He
was at Hillton last term, and left because he was put off the Eleven; or
so he says."
"Humph!" ejaculated Outfield West. "He left to keep from being
expelled, he did. He left because he was mixed up in some mighty dirty
work, and knew that, even if they let him stay in school, no decent
fellow would associate with him.
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