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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12690 ***
+
+THE HIGH SCHOOL PITCHER
+
+or Dick & Co. on the Gridley Diamond
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTERS
+    I. The Principal Hears Something About Pennies
+   II. Dick Takes Up His Pen
+  III. Mr. Cantwell Thinks Twice---or Oftener
+   IV. Dave Warns Tip Scammon
+    V. Ripley Learns That the Piper Must be Paid
+   VI. The Call to the Diamond---Fred Schemes
+  VII. Dave Talks with One Hand
+ VIII. Huh?  Woolly Crocheted Slippers
+   IX. Fred Pitches a Bombshell into Training Camp
+    X. Dick & Co. Take a Turn at Feeling Glum
+   XI. The Third Party's Amazement
+  XII. Trying out the Pitchers
+ XIII. The Riot Call and Other Little Things
+  XIV. The Steam of the Batsman
+   XV. A Dastard's Work in the Dark
+  XVI. The Hour of Tormenting Doubt
+ XVII. When the Home Fans Quivered
+XVIII. The Grit of the Grand Old Game
+  XIX. Some Mean Tricks Left Over
+   XX. A Tin Can for the Yellow Dog
+  XXI. Dick is Generous Because It's Natural
+ XXII. All Roads Lead to the Swimming Pool
+XXIII. The Agony of the Last Big Game
+  XIV. Conclusion
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PRINCIPAL HEARS SOMETHING ABOUT "PENNIES"
+
+
+Clang!
+
+"Attention, please."
+
+The barely audible droning of study ceased promptly in the big
+assembly room of the Gridley High School.
+
+The new principal, who had just stepped into the room, and who
+now stood waiting behind his flat-top desk on the platform, was
+a tall, thin, severe-looking man of thirty-two or three.
+
+For this year Dr. Carl Thornton, beloved principal for a half-score
+of years, was not in command at the school.  Ill health had forced
+the good old doctor to take at least a year's rest, and this stranger
+now sat in the Thornton chair.
+
+"Mr. Harper," almost rasped out Mr. Cantwell's voice, "stop rustling
+that paper."
+
+Harper, a little freshmen, who had merely meant to slip the paper
+inside his desk, and who was not making a disturbing noise thereby,
+flushed pink and sat immobile, the paper swinging from one hand.
+
+From the principal's attitude and his look of seriousness, something
+unusual was pending.  Some of the girls permitted their apprehension
+to be seen.  On the faces of several of the boys rested a look
+of half defiance, for this principal was unpopular, and, by the
+students, was considered unjust.
+
+"It being now in the early part of December," went on Mr. Cantwell,
+"we shall, on Monday, begin rehearsing the music for the special
+exercises to be held in this school on the day before Christmas.
+To that end, each of you found, on returning from recess, the
+new Christmas music on your desk."
+
+Mr. Cantwell paused an instant for this important information
+to sink in.  Several slight, little sighs of relief escaped the
+students, especially from the girls' side of the great room.
+This speech did not presage anything very dreadful to come.
+
+"This sheet music," continued Mr. Cantwell, "is to be sold to
+the pupils at cost to the Board of Education.  This cost price
+is fifteen cents."
+
+Again Mr. Cantwell paused.  It was a trick of his, a personal
+peculiarity.  Then be permitted himself a slight smile as he added:
+
+"This being Friday, I will ask you all to be sure to bring, on
+Monday morning, the money, which you will pay to me.  Don't forget,
+please; each of you bring me his little fifteen pennies.  Now,
+return to your studies until the beginning of the fourth period
+is announced."
+
+As he bent his head low behind a bulky textbook, Dan Dalzell,
+of the sophomore class, glanced over at Dick Prescott with sparkling
+mischief gleaming in his eyes.
+
+Dick, who was now a sophomore, and one of the assured leaders
+in sports and fun, guessed that Dan Dalzell was hatching another
+of the wild schemes for which Dalzell was somewhat  famous.  Dick
+even guessed that he knew about what was passing in Dan's mind.
+
+Though moderate whispering was permitted, at need, in the assembly
+room, there was no chance for Dick and Dan to pass even a word
+at this time, for almost immediately the bell for the fourth period
+of the morning's work sounded, and the sections rose and filed
+out to the various recitation rooms.
+
+To readers of the preceding volume in this series, Dick & Co.
+will need no introduction.  All six of the youngsters were very
+well introduced in "The High School Freshmen."
+
+Such readers will remember their first view of Dick & Co.  With
+brown-haired Dick Prescott as leader, the other members of this
+unique firm of High School youngsters, were Tom Reade, Dan Dalzell,
+Harry Hazelton, Gregory Holmes and Dave Darrin.
+
+The six had been chums at the Central Grammar School, and had
+stuck together like burrs through the freshman year at the Gridley
+High School.  In fact, even in their freshmen period, when new
+students are not expected to have much to say, and are given no
+chance at the school athletics, Dick & Co. had made themselves
+abundantly felt.
+
+Our readers will recall how the Board of Education had some notion
+of prohibiting High School football, despite the fact that the
+Gridley H.S. eleven was one of the best in the United States.
+Readers will also recall the prank hatched by Dick & Co., by
+means of which the Board was quickly shown how unpopular such
+a move would be in the city.
+
+Our readers will also recollect that, though freshmen were barred
+from active part in sports, yet Dick & Co. found the effective
+way of raising plentiful funds for the Athletics Committee.  In
+the annual paper chase the freshmen hounds, under Dick Prescott's
+captaincy, beat the sophomore hares---for the first time in many
+years.  In the skating events, later on, Dick and his chums captured,
+for the freshman class, three of the eight events.  From the start,
+Dick & Co. had shown great ingenuity in "boosting" football, in
+return for which, many of the usual restrictions on freshmen were
+waived where Dick & Co. were concerned.
+
+In the nearly three months, now, that the new school year had
+gone along, Dick & Co. had proved that, as sophs, they were youngsters
+of great importance in the student body.  They were highly popular
+with most of their fellow-students; but of course that very popularity
+made them some enemies among those who envied or disliked them.
+
+For one thing, neither Dick nor any of his partners came of families
+of any wealth.  Yet it was inevitable that some of the boys and
+girls of Gridley H.S. should come from families of more or less
+wealth.
+
+It is but fair to say that most of these scions of the wealthier
+families were agreeable, affable and democratic---in a word, Americans
+without any regard to the size of the family purse.
+
+A few of the wealthier young people, however, made no secret of
+their dislike for smiling, happy, capable Dick & Co.  One of the
+leaders in this feeling was Fred Ripley, son of a wealthy, retired
+lawyer.
+
+During the skating events of the preceding winter, Dick Prescott,
+aided by his chums, had saved the life of Ripley, who had gone
+through thin ice.  However, so haughty a young man as Fred Ripley,
+though he had been slightly affected by the brave generosity,
+could not quite bring himself to regard Dick as other than an
+interloper in High School life.
+
+Ripley had even gone so far as to bribe Tip Scammon, worthless,
+profligate son of the honest old janitor of the High School, to
+commit a series of robberies from the locker rooms in the school
+basement while Dick carried the key as monitor there.  The "plunder"
+had been found in Dick's own room at home, and the young man had
+been suspended from the High School for a while.  Thanks, however,
+to Laura Bentley and Belle Meade, two girls then freshmen and
+now sophs, Tip had been run down.  Then the police made Tip confess,
+and he was sent away to the penitentiary for a short term.  Tip,
+however, refused to the last to name his accomplice.  Dick knew
+that Ripley was the accomplice, but kept his silence, preferring
+to fight all his own battles by himself.
+
+So Fred Ripley was now a junior, in good standing as far as scholarship
+and school record went.
+
+So far, during this new year, Ripley had managed to smother his
+hatred for Dick & Co., especially for Dick himself.
+
+Lessons and recitations on this early December morning went off
+as usual.  In time the hands of the clock moved around to one
+o'clock in the afternoon, at which time the High School closed
+for the day.
+
+The partners of Dick & Co. went down the steps of the building
+and all soon found their way through the surging crowds of escaped
+students.  This sextette turned down one of the streets and trudged
+along together.  At first several of the other High School boys
+walked along near them.  Finally, however, the crowd thinned away
+until only Dick & Co. were together.
+
+"Dan," said Dick, smilingly, "something struck you hard this morning,
+when Mr. Cantwell asked us all to bring the music-money on Monday."
+
+"He didn't say exactly 'money,'" retorted Dan Dalzell, quickly.
+"What Prin. did say was that each one of us was to bring fifteen
+_pennies_."
+
+"Yes, I remember," laughed Dick.
+
+"Now, we couldn't have held that mob when school let out," pursued
+Dan.  "And now it's too late.  But say, if the Prin. had only
+sprung that on us _before_ recess-----"
+
+"Well, suppose he had?" interrupted Greg Holmes, a trifle impatiently.
+
+"Why, then," retorted Dan, mournfully, "we could have passed word
+around, at recess, to have everybody bring just what the Prin.
+called for---_pennies_!"
+
+"Hm!" grinned Dave Darrin, who was never slow to see the point
+of anything.  "Then you had a vision of the unpopular Prin. being
+swamped under a deluge of pennies---plain, individual little copper
+cents?"
+
+"That's it!" agreed Dan.  "But now, we won't see more than a few
+before we go to school again Monday.  Oh---wow!  What a chance
+that takes away from us.  Just imagine the Prin. industriously
+counting away at thousands of pennies, and a long line of boy
+and girl students in line, each one waiting to pass him another
+handful of _pennies_!  Say, can you see the Prin.---just turning
+white and muttering to himself?  But there's no chance to get
+the word around, now!"
+
+"We don't need to get the word around," smiled Dick.  "If we passed
+the word around, it might get to the Prin.'s ears before Monday,
+and he'd hatch up some way to head us off."
+
+"If you can see how to work the trick at this late hour, you can
+see further than I can," muttered Dan, rather enviously.
+
+"Oh, Dick has the scheme hatching, or he wouldn't talk about it,"
+declared Dave Darrin, confidently.
+
+"Why, if all you want is to send the whole student body on Monday
+morning, each with fifteen copper cents to hand the Prin., that
+can be fixed up easily enough," Dick pronounced, judicially.
+
+"How are we going to do it?" asked Dalzell, dubiously.
+
+"Well, let us see how many pennies would be needed?  There are
+close to two hundred and fifty students, but a few might refuse
+to go into the trick.  Let us say two hundred and forty _times_
+fifteen.  That's thirty-six hundred, isn't it?   That means we
+want to get thirty-six dollars' worth of pennies.  Well, we'll
+get them!"
+
+"_We_ will?" demanded Dan, with a snort.  "Dick, unless you've
+got more cash on hand than the rest of us then I don't believe
+a dragnet search of this crowd would turn up two dollars.  Thirty-six?
+That's going some and halfway back!"
+
+"There are three principal ways of buying goods of any kind,"
+Dick continued.  "One way is with cash-----"
+
+"That's the street we live on!" broke in Harry Hazelton, with
+a laugh.
+
+"The second way," Dick went on, "is to pay with a check.  But
+you must have cash at the bank behind the check, or you get into
+trouble.  Now the third way is to buy goods on credit."
+
+"That's just as bad," protested Dan.  "Where, in the whole town,
+could a bunch of youngsters like us, get thirty-six dollars' worth
+of real credit?"
+
+"I can," declared Dick, coolly.
+
+"You?  Where?  With your father?"
+
+"No; Dad rarely takes in much in the way of pennies.  I don't
+suppose he has two dollars' worth of pennies on hand at any time.
+But, fellows, you know that 'The Morning Blade' is a one cent
+paper.  Now, the publisher of 'The Blade' must bank a keg of pennies
+every day in the week.  I can see Mr. Pollock, the editor, this
+afternoon, right after luncheon.  He has probably sent most of
+the pennies to bank today,  but I'll ask him if he'll have to-morrow's
+pennies saved for us."
+
+"Say, if he'll only do that!" glowed Dan, his eyes flashing.
+
+"He will," declared Dave Darrin.  "Mr. Pollock will do anything,
+within reason, that Dick asks."
+
+"Now, fellows, if I can put this thing through, we can meet in
+my room to-morrow afternoon at one o'clock.  Pennies come in rolls
+of fifty each, you know.  We'll have to break up the rolls, and
+make new ones, each containing fifteen pennies."
+
+Dave Darrin stopped where he was, and began to laugh.  Tom Reade
+quickly joined in.  The others were grinning.
+
+"Oh, say, just for one look at Prin.'s face, if we can spring
+that job on him!" chuckled Harry Hazelton.
+
+"We can," announced Dick, gravely.  "So go home and enjoy your
+dinners, fellows.  If you want to meet on the same old corner
+on Main Street, at half-past two to-day, we'll go in a body to
+'The Blade' office and learn what Mr. Pollock has to say about
+our credit."
+
+"_Your_ credit, you mean," corrected Dave.
+
+After dinner Dick & Co. met as agreed.  Arrived at "The Blade"
+office it was decided that Dick Prescott should go in alone to
+carry on the negotiation.  He soon came out again, wearing a satisfied
+smile and carrying a package under one arm.
+
+"If I'm any good at guessing," suggested Dave, "you put the deal
+over."
+
+"Mr. Pollock agreed, all right," nodded Dick.  "I have fourteen
+dollars here.  He'll let us have the rest to-morrow."
+
+They hurried back to Dick's room, over the bookstore that was
+run by Mr. and Mrs. Prescott.
+
+"Whew, but this stuff is heavy," muttered Dick, dumping the package
+on the table.  "Mr. Pollock sent out to the pressroom and had
+some paper cut of just the size that we shall need for wrappers."
+
+"Did you tell Pollock what we are going to do?" asked Greg Holmes.
+
+"Not exactly, but he guessed that some mischief was on.  He wanted
+to know if it was anything that would make good local reading
+in 'The Blade,' so I told him I thought it would be worth a paragraph
+or two, and that I'd drop around Monday afternoon and give him
+the particulars.  That was all I said."
+
+Inside the package were three "sticks" of the kind that are used
+for laying the little coins in a row before wrapping.
+
+"Now, one thing we must be dead careful about, fellows," urged
+Dick, as he undid the package, "is to be sure that we get an exact
+fifteen coins in each wrapper.  If we got in more, we'd be the
+losers.  If we put less than fifteen cents in any wrapper, then
+we're likely to be accused of running a swindling game."
+
+So every one of the plotters was most careful to count the coins.
+It was not rapid work, and only half the partners could work
+at any one time.  They soon caught the trick of wrapping, however,
+and then the little rolls began to pile up.
+
+Saturday afternoon Dick & Co. were similarly engaged.  Nor did
+they find the work too hard. Americans will endure a good deal
+for the sake of a joke.
+
+Monday morning, shortly after half-past seven, Dick and his chums
+had stationed themselves along six different approaches to the
+High School.  Each young pranker had his pockets weighted down
+with small packages, each containing fifteen pennies.
+
+Purcell, of the junior class, was the first to pass Dick Prescott.
+
+"Hullo, Purcell," Dick greeted the other, with a grin.  "Want
+to see some fun?"
+
+"Of course," nodded the junior.  "What's going?"
+
+"You remember that Prin. asked us, last Friday, to bring in our
+fifteen pennies for the Christmas music?"
+
+"Of course.  Well, I have my money in my pocket."
+
+"_In pennies_?" insisted Dick.
+
+"Well, no; of course not.  But I have a quarter, and I guess Prin.
+can change that."
+
+Dick quickly explained the scheme.  Purcell, with a guffaw, purchased
+one of the rolls.
+
+"Now, see here," hinted Dick, "there'll be such a rush, soon,
+that we six can't attend to all the business.  Won't you take
+a dozen rolls and peddle them?  I'll charge 'em to you, until
+you can make an accounting."
+
+Purcell caught at the bait with another laugh.  Dick noted Purcell's
+name on a piece of paper, with a dollar and eighty cents charged
+against it.
+
+All the other partners did the same with other students.  With such
+a series of pickets out around the school none of the student body
+got through without buying pennies, except Fred Ripley and Clara
+Deane.  They were not asked to buy.
+
+Meanwhile, up in the great assembly room a scene was going on
+that was worth looking at.
+
+Abner Cantwell had seated himself at his desk.  Before him lay
+a printed copy of the roll of the student body.  It was the new
+principal's intention to check off each name as a boy or girl
+paid for the music.  Knowing that he would have a good deal of
+currency to handle, the principal had brought along a satchel
+for this morning.
+
+First of all, Harper came tripping into the room.  He went to
+his desk with his books, then turned and marched to the principal's
+desk.
+
+"I've brought the money for the music, Mr. Cantwell."
+
+"That's right, Mr. Harper," nodded the principal.
+
+The little freshman carefully deposited his fifteen pennies on
+the desk.  They were out of the roll.  Dick & Co. had cautioned
+each investor to break the wrapper, and count the pennies before
+moving on.
+
+Two of the seniors presently came in.  They settled with pennies.
+Then came Laura Bentley and Belle Meade.  Their pennies were
+laid on the principal's desk.
+
+"Why, all pennies, so far!" exclaimed Mr. Cantwell.  "I trust
+not many will bring coins of such low denomination."
+
+A look of bland innocence rested on Laura's face.
+
+"Why, sir," she remarked, "you asked us, Friday, to bring pennies.
+
+"Did I?" demanded the principal, a look of astonishment on his
+face.
+
+"Why, yes, sir," Belle Meade rattled on.  "Don't you remember?
+You laughed, Mr. Cantwell, and asked each one of us to bring
+fifteen pennies to-day."
+
+"I had forgotten that, Miss Meade," returned the principal.  Then,
+as the sophomore young ladies turned away, a look of suspicion
+began to settle on the principal's face.  Nor did that look lessen
+any when the next six students to come in each carried pennies
+to the desk.
+
+Twenty more brought pennies.  By this time there was a stern look
+on the principal's white face.
+
+During the next few minutes after that only two or three came
+in, for Dick had thought of a new aspect to the joke.  He had
+sent messengers scurrying out through the street approaches with
+this message:
+
+"We're not required to be in the assembly room until eight o'clock.
+Let's all wait until two minutes of eight---then go in a throng."
+
+So the principal had a chance to catch up with his counting as
+the minutes passed.  So busy was he, however, that it didn't quite
+occur to him to wonder why so few of the student body had as yet
+come in.
+
+Then, at 7.58, a resounding tread was heard on the stairs leading
+up from the basement locker rooms.  Some two hundred boys and
+girls were coming up in two separate throngs.  They were still
+coming when the assembly bell rang.  As fast as any entered they
+made their way, with solemn faces, to the desk on the platform.
+
+As Mr. Cantwell had feared, the pennies still continued to pour
+in upon him.  Suddenly the principal struck his desk sharply with
+a ruler, then leaped to his feet.  His face was whiter than ever.
+It was plain that the man was struggling to control himself against
+an outburst of wrath.  He even forced a smile to his face a sort
+of smile that had no mirth in it.
+
+"Young ladies and young gentlemen," Mr. Cantwell rasped out, sharply,
+"some of you have seen fit to plan a joke against me, and to carry
+it out most audaciously.  It's a good joke, and I admit that it's
+on me.  But it has been carried far enough.  If you please---_no
+more pennies_!"
+
+"But pennies are all I happen to have, sir," protested Dave Darrin,
+stepping forward.  "Don't you want me to pay you for the music,
+sir?"
+
+"Oh, well," replied the principal, with a sigh, "I'll take 'em,
+then."
+
+As Dick & Co. had disposed of every one of their little rolls
+of fifteen, few of the students were unprovided with pennies.
+So the copper stream continued to pour in.  Mr. Cantwell could
+have called any or all of his submasters and teachers to his aid.
+He thought of it presently, as his fingers ached from handling
+all the pennies.
+
+"Mr. Drake, will you come to the desk?" he called.
+
+So Submaster Drake came to the platform, drawing a chair up beside
+the principal's.  But Mr. Cantwell still felt obliged to do the
+counting, as he was responsible for the correctness of the sums.
+So all Mr. Drake could do was check off the names as the principal
+called them.
+
+Faster and faster poured the copper stream now.  Mr. Cantwell,
+the cords sticking out on his forehead, and a clammy dew bespangling
+his white face, counted on in consuming anger.  Every now and
+then he turned to dump two or three handfuls of counted pennies
+into his open satchel.
+
+Gathered all around the desk was a throng of students, waiting
+to pay.  Beyond this throng, safely out of range of vision, other
+students gathered in groups and chuckled almost silently.
+
+Clatter!  By an unintentional move of one arm Mr. Cantwell swept
+fully a hundred pennies off on to the floor.  He leaped up, flushed
+and angry.
+
+"Will the young---gentlemen---aid me in recovering the coins that
+went on the floor?" he asked.
+
+There was promptly a great scurrying and searching.  The principal
+surely felt harassed that morning.  It was ten minutes of nine
+when the last student had paid and had had his name checked off.
+Mr. Cantwell was at the boiling point of wrath.
+
+Just as the principal was putting the last of the coins into his
+satchel Mr. Drake leaned over to whisper:
+
+"May I make a suggestion, sir?"
+
+"Certainly," replied the principal coldly. "Yet I trust, Mr. Drake,
+that it won't be a suggestion for an easy way of accumulating
+more pennies than I already have."
+
+"I think, if I were you, sir, I should pay no heed to this joke-----"
+
+"Joke?" hissed the principal under his breath.  "It's an outrage!"
+
+"But intended only as a piece of pleasantry, sir.  So I think
+it will pass off much better if  you don't allow the students
+to see that they have annoyed you."
+
+"Why?  Do the students _want_ to annoy me?" demanded Mr. Cantwell,
+in another angry undertone.
+
+"I wouldn't say that," replied Mr. Drake.  "But, if the young
+men discover that you are easily teased, they are sufficiently
+mischief-loving to try other jokes on you."
+
+"Then a good friend of theirs would advise them not to do so,"
+replied Mr. Cantwell, with a snap of his jaws.
+
+That closed the matter for the time being.  The first recitation
+period of the morning had been lost, but now the students, most
+of them finding difficulty in suppressing their chuckles, were
+sent to the various class rooms.
+
+Before recess came, the principal having a period free from class
+work, silently escaped from the building, carrying the thirty-six
+hundred pennies to the bank.  As that number of pennies weighs
+something more than twenty-three pounds, the load was not a light
+one.
+
+"I have a big lot of pennies here that I want to deposit," he
+explained to the receiving teller.
+
+"How many?" asked the teller.
+
+"Thirty-six hundred," replied Mr. Cantwell.
+
+"Are they counted and done up into rolls of fifty, with your name
+on each roll?" asked the teller.
+
+"Why---er---no," stammered the principal.  "They're just loose---in
+bulk, I mean."
+
+"Then I'm very sorry, Mr. Cantwell, but we can't receive them
+in that shape, sir.  They will have to be counted and wrapped,
+and your name written on each roll."
+
+"Do you mean to say that I must take these pennies home, count
+them all---again!---and then wrap them and sign the wrappers."
+
+"I'm sorry, but you, or some one will have to do it, Mr. Cantwell."
+
+Then and there the principal exploded.  One man there was in the
+bank at that moment who was obliged to turn his head away and
+stifle back the laughter.  That man was Mr. Pollock, of "The Blade."
+Pollock knew now what Dick & Co. had wanted of such a cargo of
+pennies.
+
+"I can't carry this infernal satchel back to school," groaned
+the principal, disgustedly. "Some of the boys, when they see me,
+will realize that the satchel is still loaded, and they'll know
+what has happened to me at the bank.  It will make me look fearfully
+ridiculous to be caught in that fashion, with the joke against
+me a second time!  And yet I have a class immediately after recess.
+What can I do?"
+
+A moment later, however, he had solved the problem.  There was
+a livery stable not far away, and he knew the proprietor.  So
+to that stable Mr. Cantwell hurried, changing the satchel from
+one hand to the other whenever an arm ached too much.
+
+"This satchel contains a lot of currency, Mr. Getchel," explained
+the poor principal.  "I wish you could do me the favor of having
+a horse hitched up and take this to my wife.  Will you do it?"
+
+"Certainly," nodded the liveryman.  "Just lock the satchel; that
+is all.  I'll have the bag at your home within fifteen minutes."
+
+So during the first period after recess Mrs. Cantwell was visited
+by Getchel, who handed her the satchel, merely remarking:
+
+"Mr. Cantwell left this at my office, ma'am, and asked me to bring
+it down to you.  It contains some money that your husband sent
+you."
+
+Money?  The good woman, who "loved" money too well to spend much
+of it, hefted the satchel.  Gracious!  There must be a big lot
+of the valuable stuff.  But the satchel was locked.  Mrs. Cantwell
+promptly hunted until she found another satchel key that fitted.
+Then she opened the bag, staring at the contents with big eyes.
+
+"What on earth can my husband have been doing?" she wondered.
+"Surely he hasn't been robbing the Salvation Army Christmas boxes!
+And the idea of sending me money all in pennies!"
+
+The more she thought about it the more indignant did Mrs. Cantwell
+become.  Finally, a little after noon, Mrs. Cantwell decided to
+take the stuff to the bank, have it counted and turned over into
+greenbacks.  So she trudged up to the bank with it.  The journey
+was something more than a mile in length.  Mrs. Cantwell arrived
+at  the bank, only to make the same discovery that her husband
+had made about the need of counting and wrapping the money before
+it could be deposited or exchanged.  It was close to one o'clock,
+and the High School not far away.  So, full of ire, Mrs. Cantwell
+started down to her husband's place of employment.
+
+Once school let out for the day, a quarter of a thousand members
+of the student body went off, full of glee, to spread the news
+of the joke.  As they hurried along many of the students noticed
+that Mrs. Cantwell was standing not far from the gate and that,
+at her feet, lay her husband's black satchel.  Several of the
+students were quick to wonder what this new phase of the matter
+meant.
+
+After school was dismissed Fred Ripley remained behind, strapping
+several books together.  Then, as he passed the principal's desk,
+he remarked:
+
+"I suppose, Mr. Cantwell, that some of the students thought that
+a very funny trick that was played on you this morning.  While
+I am speaking of it, I wish to assure you, sir, that I had no
+hand in the outrage."
+
+"I am very glad to hear you say that, Mr. Ripley.  Some day I
+hope I shall have a notion who _did_ originate the practical joke."
+
+"I don't believe you would have to guess very long, sir," Ripley
+hinted.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, sir, whenever anything of that sort is hatched up in this
+school, it's generally a pretty safe guess that Dick & Co. are
+at the bottom of it all."
+
+"Dick & Co.?" repeated Mr. Cantwell.
+
+"Dick Prescott and his chums, sir," replied Ripley, rapidly naming
+the five partners.  Then, having accomplished what he wanted,
+Fred sauntered out.
+
+"I'll look into this further," thought Mr. Cantwell, angrily.
+"If I can satisfy myself that Prescott was at the bottom of this
+wicked hoax then I---I may find it possible to make him want to
+cut his High School course short!"
+
+Mrs. Cantwell was waiting at the gate.
+
+"What on earth, Abner, did you mean by sending me this great cartload
+of pennies?" demanded the principal's spouse.  "Here I've taken
+it up to the bank, and find they won't accept it---not in this
+form, anyway.  Now, I've carried it this far, Abner, and you may
+carry it the rest of the way home."
+
+"Why---er---er---" stammered the principal.
+
+"Mr. Getchel brought the satchel to me, and told me it was money
+you had sent me.  But I want to say, Abner, that of all the-----"
+
+At this moment the principal picked up the hateful satchel and
+the pair passed out of hearing of four young freshmen who had
+hidden near to learn what the mystery of the satchel meant.
+It was not long, either, before the further joke had become known
+to a great many of the students.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+DICK TAKES UP HIS PEN
+
+
+Dick had no sooner ventured out on the street after dinner than
+he encountered the news of Mrs. Cantwell's meeting with her husband.
+
+But Dick did not linger long to discuss the matter.  His pockets
+now contained, in place of pennies, a few banknotes and many dimes,
+pennies and nickels, amounting in all to thirty-six dollars.
+He was headed for "The Blade" office to settle with Mr. Pollock.
+
+"I think I can tell you a little story now, that may be worth
+a paragraph or two," Dick announced after he had counted out the
+money and had turned it over to the editor.
+
+"You played a little joke on your new and not wholly popular principal,
+didn't you?" Mr. Pollock asked, his eyes twinkling.
+
+"Yes; has the thing reached you already?"
+
+"I don't know the whole story of the joke," Mr. Pollock replied,
+"but perhaps I can tell you one side of it that you don't know."
+
+Thereupon the editor described Mr. Cantwell's visit to the bank.
+"Now, I've got a still further side to the story," Dick continued,
+and repeated the story told by the freshmen of how Mrs. Cantwell
+also had carried the money to the bank, and then, still carrying
+it, had waited for her husband at the school gateway.
+
+Editor Pollock leaned back, laughing until the tears rolled down
+his cheeks.
+
+"I'm sorry for the good lady's discomfiture," explained the editor,
+presently.  "But the whole story is very, very funny."
+
+"Now, I guess you know all the facts," finished Dick Prescott,
+rising.
+
+"Yes, but I haven't a single reporter about."  Then, after a pause,
+"See here, Prescott, why couldn't you write this up for me?"
+
+"I?" repeated Dick, astonished.  "I never wrote a line for publication
+in my life."
+
+"Everyone who does, has to make a start some time," replied Mr.
+Pollock.  "And I believe you could write it up all right, too.
+See here, Prescott, just go over to that desk.  There's a stack
+of copy paper there.  Write it briefly and crisply, and, for delicacy's
+sake, leave out all that relates to Mrs. Cantwell.  No use in
+dragging a woman into a hazing scrape."
+
+Dick went over to the desk, picking up a pen.  For the fist three
+or four minutes he sat staring at the paper, the desk, the floor,
+the wall and the street door.  But Mr. Pollock paid no heed to
+him.  Then, finally, Dick began to write.  As he wrote a grin
+came to his face.  That grin broadened as he wrote on.  At last
+he took the pages over to Mr. Pollock.
+
+"I don't suppose that's what you want," he said, his face very
+red, "but the main facts are all there."
+
+Laying down his own pen Mr. Pollock read rapidly but thoughtfully.
+The editor began to laugh again.  Then he laid down the last
+sheet.
+
+"Prescott, that's well done.  There's a good reporter lurking
+somewhere inside of you."
+
+Thrusting one hand down into a pocket Mr. Pollock brought out
+a half-dollar, which he tendered to Dick.
+
+"What am I to do with this?" asked the young sophomore.
+
+"Anything you please," replied the editor.  "The money's for you."
+
+"For me?" gasped Dick.
+
+"Yes, of course.  Didn't you write this yarn for me?  Of course
+'The Blade' is only a country daily, and our space rates are not
+high.  But see here, Prescott, I'll pay you a dollar a column
+for anything you write for us that possesses local interest enough
+to warrant our printing it.  Now, while going to the High School,
+why can't you turn reporter in your spare time, and earn a little
+pocket money?"
+
+Again Dick gasped.  He had never thought of himself as a budding
+young journalist.  Yet, as Mr. Pollock inquired, "Why not?" Why
+not, indeed!
+
+"Well, how do you think you'd like to work for us?" asked Mr.
+Pollock, after a pause.  "Of course you would not leave the High
+School.  You would not even neglect your studies in the least.
+But a young man who knows almost everybody in Gridley, and who
+goes about town as much as you do, ought to be able to pick up
+quite a lot of newsy stuff."
+
+"I wonder if I could make a reporter out of myself," Dick pondered.
+
+"The way to answer that question is to try," replied Mr. Pollock.
+"For myself, I think that, with some training, you'd make a good
+reporter.  By the way, Prescott, have you planned on what you
+mean to be when you're through school?"
+
+"Why, it isn't settled yet," Dick replied slowly.  "Father and
+mother hope to be able to send me further than the High School,
+and so they've suggested that I wait until I'm fairly well through
+before I decide on what I want to be.  Then, if it's anything
+that a college course would help me to, they'll try to provide
+it."
+
+"What would you like most of all in the world to be?" inquired
+the editor of "The Blade."
+
+"A soldier!" replied young Prescott, with great promptness and
+emphasis.
+
+"Hm!  The soldier's trade is rather dull these days," replied
+the editor.  "We're becoming a peaceful people, and the arbitrator's
+word does the work that the sword used to do."
+
+"This country has been in several wars," argued Dick, "and will
+be in others yet to come.  In times of peace a soldier's duty
+is to fit himself for the war time that is to come.  Oh, I believe
+there's plenty, always, that an American soldier ought to be doing."
+
+"Perhaps.  But newspaper work is the next best thing to soldiering,
+anyway.  Prescott, my boy, the reporter of to-day is the descendant
+of the old free-lance soldier of fortune.  It takes a lot of nerve
+to be a reporter, sometimes, and to  do one's work just as it
+should be done.  The reporter's life is almost as full of adventure
+as the soldier's.  And there are no 'peace times' for the reporter.
+He never knows when his style of 'war' will break out.  But I
+must get back to my work.  Are you going to try to bring us in
+good matter at a dollar a column?"
+
+"Yes, I am, thank you," Dick replied, unhesitatingly, now.
+
+"Good," nodded Mr. Pollock, opening one of the smaller drawers
+over his desk.  "Here's something you can put on and wear."
+
+He held out to the boy an oblong little piece of metal, gold plated.
+
+"It's a badge such as 'The Blade' reporters wear, and has the
+paper's name on it," continued the editor.  "You can pin it on
+your vest."
+
+"I guess I'd better leave that part out for a while," laughed
+Dick, drawing back.  "The fellows at school wouldn't do a thing
+to me if they caught me wearing a reporter's badge."
+
+"Oh, just as you please about that," nodded Mr. Pollock, tossing
+the badge back into the drawer.  "But don't forget to bring us
+in something good, Prescott."
+
+"I won't forget, Mr. Pollock."
+
+As Dick went down the street, whistling blithely, he kept his
+hand in his pocket on the half-dollar.  He had had much more money
+with him a little while before, but that was to pay to some one
+else.  This half-dollar was wholly his  own money, and, with the
+prospect it carried of earning more, the High School boy was delighted.
+Pocket money had never been plentiful with young Prescott.  The
+new opportunity filled him with jubilation.
+
+It was not long, however, before a new thought struck him.  He
+went straight to his parents' bookstore, where he found his mother
+alone, Mr. Prescott being out on business.
+
+To his mother Dick quickly related his new good fortune.  Mrs.
+Prescott's face and words both expressed her pleasure.
+
+"At first, mother, I didn't think of anything but pocket money,"
+Dick admitted.  "Then my head got to work a bit.  It has struck
+me that if I can make a little money each week by writing for
+'The Blade,' I can pay you at least a bit of the money that you
+and Dad have to spend to keep me going."
+
+"I am glad you thought of that," replied Mrs. Prescott, patting
+her boy's hand.  "But we shan't look to you to do anything of
+the sort.  Your father and I are not rich, but we have managed
+all along to keep you going, and I think we can do it for a while
+longer.  Whatever money you can earn, Richard, must be your own.
+We shall take none of it.  But I trust you will learn how to
+handle your own money wisely.  _That_ is one of the most valuable
+lessons to be learned in life."
+
+To his chums, when he saw them later in the afternoon, Dick said
+nothing of Mr. Pollock's request.  The young soph thought it better
+to wait a while, and see how he got along at amateur reporting
+before he let anyone else into the secret.
+
+But late that afternoon Dick ran into a matter of interest and
+took it to "The Blade" office.
+
+"That's all right," nodded Mr. Pollock, after looking over Dick's
+"copy."  "Glad to see you have started in, my boy.  Now, I won't
+pay you for this on the nail.  Wait until Saturday morning, cutting
+all that you have printed out of the 'The Blade.' Paste all the
+items together, end on end, and bring them to me.  That is what
+reporters call a 'space string.' Bring your 'string' to me every
+Saturday afternoon.  We'll measure it up with you and settle."
+
+Dick hurried away, content.  He even found that evening that he
+could study with more interest, now that he found he had a financial
+place in life.
+
+In the morning Gridley read and laughed over Dick's item about
+the High School hoax.  But there was one man who saw it at his
+breakfast table, and who went into a white heat of rage at once.
+That man was Abner Cantwell, the principal.
+
+He was still at white heat when he started for the High School;
+though, warned by prudence, he tried to keep his temper down.
+Nevertheless, there was fire in Mr. Cantwell's eyes when he
+rang the bell to bring the student body to attention to begin
+the morning's work.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MR. CANTWELL THINKS TWICE---OR OFTENER
+
+
+"Young ladies and young gentlemen," began the principal, "a very
+silly hoax was perpetrated on me yesterday.  I do not believe
+you will have any difficulty in understanding what I mean.  But
+the matter went beyond this school room.  An account of the hoax
+was published in the morning paper, and that holds me up to severe
+ridicule.  I trust that we shall not have any repetition of such
+childish, so-called jokes.  I do not know yet what action I may
+or may not take in this matter, and can promise nothing.  I can
+and do promise, however, that if any more such hoaxes are attempted
+I shall do all in my power to ferret out and summarily punish
+the offenders!-----"
+
+Here the principal's own sense of prudence warned him that he
+had gone quite as far as was necessary or prudent.  So he choked
+down his rising words and called for the morning singing.  Yet,
+as Mr. Cantwell uttered his last words his glance fell very sternly
+on one particular young member of the sophomore class.  Dick Prescott.
+
+"Prin. has it in for you, old fellow!" whispered Dave Darrin,
+as he and Dick jostled on the way to a recitation.  "But if he
+has---humph---it won't be long before he finds out that you had
+some help.  You shan't be the scapegoat for all of Dick & Co."
+
+"Don't say anything," Dick whispered back.  "I'll find a way to
+take care of myself.  If any trouble is to come, I think I can
+take care of it.  Anyway, I won't have anyone else dragged into it."
+
+But the principal said nothing more during that school session.
+In the afternoon, however, when Mr. Cantwell took his accustomed
+walk after dinner, he met several acquaintances who made laughing
+or casual references to the yarn in the morning's "Blade."
+
+"I've got to stamp this spirit out in the school," decided the
+principal, again at a white heat.  "If I don't I'll soon have
+some real trouble on hand with these young jackanapes!  The idea
+of their making me---the principal---ridiculous in the town!
+No school principal can submit to hoaxes like that one without
+suffering in public esteem.  I'll sift this matter down and nip
+the whole spirit in the bud."
+
+In this Mr. Cantwell was quite possibly at error in judgment.
+Probably the High School boys wouldn't have played such a prank
+on good old Dr. Thornton, had he still been their school chief.
+But, if they had, Dr. Thornton would have admitted the joke good-humoredly
+and would have taken outside chaffing with a good nature that
+would have disarmed all wit aimed at him.  Mr. Cantwell, as will
+be seen, lacked the saving grace of a sense of humor.  He also
+lacked ability in handling full-blooded, fun-loving boys.
+
+Wednesday, just before one o'clock, the principal electrified
+the assembled students by saying, in a voice that was ominously
+quiet and cool:
+
+"When school is dismissed I shall be glad to have Mr. Prescott
+remain for a few words with me."
+
+"Now it's coming," thought Dick, though without any particular
+thrill of dismay.
+
+He waited while the others filed out.  Somehow the big building
+didn't empty as fast as usual.  Had Mr. Cantwell known more about
+boy nature he would have suspected that several of Dick's friends
+had remained behind in hiding places of their own choosing.
+
+Dick remained in his seat, coolly turning the pages of his text-book
+on ancient history.
+
+"Mr. Prescott," called the principal sharply.
+
+"Yes, sir," responded Dick, closing the book, slipping it into
+his desk, and rising as though to go forward.
+
+"No, no; keep your seat until I am ready to speak with you, Mr.
+Prescott.  But it isn't necessary to read, is it?"
+
+"I was looking through to-morrow's history lesson, sir," Dick
+replied, looking extremely innocent.  "But, of course, I won't
+if you disapprove."
+
+"Wait until I come back," rapped out the principal, leaving the
+room.  He went out to see that the building was being emptied
+of students, but of course he failed to discover that a few were
+hiding as nearly within earshot as they could get.
+
+Two or three of the teachers who had remained behind now left
+the room.  The last to go was Mr. Drake, the submaster.  As he
+went he cast a look at Dick that was full of sympathy, though
+the submaster, who was a very decent  man and teacher, did not
+by any means intend to foster mutiny in the heart of a High School
+boy.  But Mr. Drake knew that Mr. Cantwell was not fitted either
+to command respect or to enforce discipline in the High School.
+
+When Mr. Cantwell came back he and the young soph had the great
+room to themselves.
+
+"Now you may come forward, Mr. Prescott," announced the principal,
+"and stand in front of the platform."
+
+As Dick went forward there was nothing of undue confidence or
+any notion of bravado in his bearing.  He was not one of those
+schoolboys who, when brought to task by authority, try to put
+on a don't-care look.  Dick's glance, as he halted before the
+platform and turned to look at Mr. Cantwell, was one of simple
+inquiry.
+
+"Mr. Prescott, you are fully informed as to the hoax that was
+perpetrated on me yesterday morning?"
+
+"You mean the incident of the pennies, I think, sir?" returned
+the boy, inquiringly.
+
+"You know very well that I do, young man," retorted Mr. Cantwell,
+rapping his desk with one hand.
+
+"Yes, sir; I am fully informed about it."
+
+"And you know who was at the bottom of it, too, Mr. Prescott?"
+
+The principal bent upon the boy a look that was meant to make
+him quail, but Dick didn't quail.
+
+"Yes, sir," he admitted, promptly.  "I know at least several that
+had a hand in the affair."
+
+"And you were one of them?"
+
+"Yes, sir," admitted the young soph, frankly.  "I think I had
+as much to do with what you term the hoax, sir, as anyone else
+had."
+
+"Who were the others?" fired the principal, quickly and sharply.
+
+"I---I beg your pardon, sir.  I cannot answer that."
+
+"You can't?  Why not, Mr. Prescott?" demanded the principal.
+
+Again the principal launched his most compelling look.
+
+"Because, sir," answered Dick, quietly, and in a tone in which
+no sign of disrespect could be detected, "it would strike me as
+being dishonorable to drag others into this affair."
+
+"You would consider it dishonorable?" cried Mr. Cantwell, his
+face again turning deathly white with inward rage.  "_You_, who
+admit having had a big hand in what was really an outrage?"
+
+But Dick met and returned the other's gaze composedly.
+
+"The Board of Education, Mr. Cantwell, has several times decided
+that one pupil in the public schools cannot be compelled by a
+teacher to bear tales that implicate another student.  I have
+admitted my own share in the joke that has so much displeased
+you, but I cannot name any others."
+
+"You _must_!" insisted the principal, rising swiftly from his
+chair.
+
+"I regret to have to say, sir," responded Prescott, quietly, "that
+I shall not do it.  If you make it necessary, I shall have to
+take refuge behind the rulings of the Board of Education on that
+point."
+
+Mr. Cantwell glared at Dick, but the latter still met the gaze
+unflinchingly.
+
+Then the principal began to feel his wrath rising to such a point
+that he found himself threatened with an angry outburst.  As his
+temper had often betrayed him before in life, Mr. Cantwell, pointing
+angrily to Dick's place, said:
+
+"Back to your seat, Mr. Prescott, until I have given this matter
+a little more thought!"
+
+Immediately afterward the principal quitted the room.  Dick, after
+sitting in silence for a few moments, drew his history again from
+his desk, turned over the pages, found the place he wanted and
+began to read.
+
+It was ten minutes later when the principal returned to the room.
+He had been to one of the class rooms, where he had paced up
+and down  until he felt that he could control himself enough to
+utter a few words.  Now, he came back.
+
+"Prescott, I shall have to think over your admission before I
+come to any decision in the matter.  I may not be able to announce
+my decision for a while.  I shall give it most careful thought.
+In the meantime, I trust, very sincerely, that you will not be
+caught in any more mischief---least of all, anything as serious,
+as revolutionary, as yesterday's outrageous impudence.  You may
+go, now---for to-day!"
+
+"Very good, sir," replied Dick Prescott, who had risen at his
+desk as soon as Mr. Cantwell began to talk to him.  As young Prescott
+passed from the room he favored the principal with a decorous
+little bow.
+
+Dave Darrin, Tom Reade, Greg Holmes, Harper and another member
+of the freshman class, came out of various places of hiding.
+As he went down the stairs Dick was obliged to tread heavily enough
+to drown out their more stealthy footfalls.
+
+Once in the open, Harper and the other freshman scurried away,
+their curiosity satisfied.  But, a moment later, when Mr. Cantwell
+looked out of the window, he was much surprised to see four members
+of Dick & Co. walking together, and almost out through the gate.
+
+"Have they been within earshot---listening?" wondered the principal
+to himself, and jotted down the names of Darrin, Reade and Holmes.
+The two freshmen, by their prompt departure had saved themselves
+from suspicion.
+
+On Thursday nothing was said or done about Dick's case.  When
+Friday's session drew toward its close young Prescott fully expected
+to have sentence pronounced, or at least to be directed to remain
+after school.  But nothing of the sort happened.  Dick filed out
+at the week's end with the rest.
+
+"What do you imagine Prin. can be up to?" Dave Darrin asked, as
+Dick & Co. marched homeward that early Friday afternoon.
+
+"I don't know," Dick confessed.  "It may be that Mr. Cantwell
+is just trying to keep me guessing."
+
+"If that's his plan," inquired Reade, "what are you going to do,
+old fellow?"
+
+"Perhaps---just possibly---I shall fight back with the same weapon,"
+smiled Dick.
+
+Mr. Cantwell had, in truth, formed his plan, or as much of it
+as he could form until he had found just how the land lay, and
+what would be safe.  His present berth, as principal of Gridley
+H.S., was a much better one than he had ever occupied before.
+Mr. Cantwell cherished a hope of being able to keep the position
+for a good many years to come.  Yet this would depend on the attitude
+of the Board of Education.  In order not to take any step that
+would bring censure from the Board, Mr. Cantwell had decided to
+attend the Board's next meeting on the following Monday evening,
+and lay the matter before the members confidentially.  If the
+Board so advised, Mr. Cantwell was personally quite satisfied
+with the idea of disciplining Dick by dropping him from the High
+School rolls.
+
+"I'll protect my dignity, at any cost," Mr. Cantwell, murmured,
+eagerly to himself.  "After all, what is a High School principal,
+without dignity?"
+
+Monday afternoon Dick Prescott stepped in at "The Blade" office.
+
+"Got something for us again?" asked Mr. Pollock, looking around.
+
+"Not quite yet," Dick replied.  "I've come to make a suggestion."
+
+"Prescott, suggestions are the food of a newspaper editor.  Go
+ahead."
+
+"You don't send a reporter to report the Board of Education meetings,
+do you?"
+
+"No; those meetings are rarely newsy enough to be worth while.
+I can't afford to take up the evening of a salaried reporter
+in that way.  But Spencer generally drops around, at the time
+the Board is expected to adjourn, or else he telephones the clerk,
+from this office, and learns what has been done.  It's mostly
+nothing, you know."
+
+"Spencer wouldn't care if he didn't have to report the Board meetings
+at all?"
+
+"Of course not.  Len would be delighted at not having anything
+more to do."
+
+"Then let me go and report the meetings for you, on space."
+
+"My boy, a reporter would starve on that kind of space work.
+Why, after you put in the whole  evening there, you might come
+to the office only to learn that we didn't consider any of the
+Board's doings worth space to tell about them."
+
+"Will you let me attend a few of the meetings, and take my chances
+on the amount of space I can get out of it?"
+
+"Go ahead, Prescott, if you can afford to waste your time in that
+fashion," replied Mr. Pollock, almost pityingly.
+
+"Thank you.  That's what I wanted," acknowledged Dick, and went
+out very well contented.
+
+When it lacked a few minutes of eight, that evening, all the members
+of the Board of Education had arrived.  It was the same Board
+as in the year before.  All the members had been re-elected at
+the last city election, though some of them by small majorities.
+Mr. Gadsby, one of the members who had won by only a slight margin
+over his opponent, stood with his back to a radiator, warming
+himself, when he saw the door open.
+
+Mr. Gadsby nodded most genially to Mr. Cantwell, who entered.
+The principal came straight over to this member, and they shook
+hands cordially.  Mr. Gadsby had been one of the members of the
+Board who had been most anxious about having Cantwell appointed
+principal; Cantwell was, in fact, a family connection of Mrs.
+Gadsby's.
+
+"Coming to make some report, or some suggestion, I take it, eh,
+Cantwell?" murmured Mr. Gadsby in a low voice.  "Most excellent
+idea, my dear fellow.  Keeps you in notice and shows that your
+heart is in the work.  Most excellent idea, really."
+
+"I have a report to make," admitted Mr. Cantwell, in an equally
+low voice.  "I---I find it necessary to make a statement about
+the doings of a rather troublesome element in the school.  Suspension
+or expulsion may be necessary in order to give the best ideas
+of good discipline to many of the other students.  But I shall
+state the facts, and ask the Board to advise me as to just what
+I ought to do in the premises."
+
+"Ask the Board's advice?  Most excellent idea, really," murmured
+Mr. Gadsby.  "You can't go wrong then.  But---er---what's the
+nature of the trouble?  Who is the offen-----"
+
+Mr. Gadsby was rubbing his hands, under his coat tails, as he
+felt the warmth from the steam radiator reach them.
+
+"Why, the principal offender is named-----"
+
+Here Mr. Cantwell paused, and looked rather astonished.
+
+"Tell me, Mr. Gadsby, what is Prescott, of the sophomore class,
+doing here?"
+
+The principal's glance had just rested on Dick, who sat at a small
+side table, a little pile of copy paper on the table, a pencil
+in his hand.
+
+"Oh---ah---Prescott, Richard Prescott?" inquired Mr. Gadsby.
+"Some of us were a bit surprised this evening to learn that Prescott,
+though he will continue to attend High School, has also taken
+a position with 'The Morning Blade.' Among other things to which
+he will  attend, after this, Cantwell, is the matter of school
+doings in this city.  He is to be the regular reporter of School
+Board meetings.  Rather a young man to wield the power of the
+press isn't he?" Mr. Gladsby chuckled at his own joke.
+
+"'Power of the press'?" murmured Mr. Cantwell, uncomfortably.
+"Surely you don't mean, Gadsby, that this mere boy, this High
+School student, is going to be taken here seriously as representing
+the undoubtedly great power of the press?"
+
+"To some extent, yes," admitted Mr. Gadsby.  "'The Blade,' as
+you may know, is a good deal of a power in local politics.  Now,
+some of us---er---did not win our re-elections by any too large
+margins.  A little dangerous opposition to---er---some of us---would
+mean a few new faces around the table at Board meetings.  Mr.
+Pollock is---er---a most estimable citizen, and a useful man in
+the community.  Yet Mr. Pollock is---er---Cantwell---er---that
+is, a bit 'touchy.' No matter if Pollock's reporter is a schoolboy,
+if we treated the boy with any lack of consideration, then Pollock
+would most certainly take umbrage at what he would choose to consider
+a slight upon himself, received through his representative.  So
+at these Board meetings, young Prescott will have to be treated
+with as much courtesy as though he were really a man, for Pollock's
+hostility would be most disastrous to us---er---to some of us,
+possibly, I mean.  But, really, young Prescott is a most bright
+and enterprising young fellow, anyway---a very likable boy.  _You_
+like him, don't you, Cantwell?"
+
+"Ye-e-es," admitted the principal, though he added grimly under
+his breath:
+
+"I like him so well that I could eat him, right now, if I had
+a little Worcestershire sauce to make him more palatable."
+
+"The Board will please come to order," summoned Chairman Stone,
+rapping the table with his gavel.  "Mr. Reporter, have you good
+light over at your table."
+
+"Excellent, thank you, Mr. Chairman," Dick replied.
+
+"Er---aren't you going to stay, Cantwell?" demanded Gadsby, as
+the principal turned to leave the room.
+
+"No; the fact is---I---well, I want to consider my statement a
+little more before I offer it to the Board.  Good evening!"
+
+Mr. Cantwell got out of the room while some of the members were
+still scraping their chairs into place.
+
+Dick Prescott had not openly looked in the principal's direction.
+Yet the amateur reporter had taken it all in.  He was grinning
+inside now.  He had taken upon himself the work of reporting these
+meetings that he might be in a position to block any unfair move
+on the part of the principal.
+
+"I wonder what Mr. Cantwell is thinking about, _now_?" Dick asked
+himself, with an inward grin as he picked up his pencil.
+
+That Board meeting was about as dull and uneventful as the average.
+Yet Dick managed to make a few live paragraphs out of it that
+Guilford, "The Blade's" news editor, accepted.
+
+It still lacked some minutes of ten o'clock when young Prescott
+left the morning newspaper office and started briskly homeward.
+
+"I didn't catch that Board-reporting idea a day too soon," the
+boy told himself, laughing.  "Mr. Cantwell was certainly on hand
+for mischief to-night.  But how quickly he made his get-away when
+he discovered that his culprit was present as a member of the
+press!  I guess Mr. Gadsby must have passed him a strong hint.
+But I must be careful not to have any malice in the matter.
+Some evening when Mr. Cantwell does come before the Board with
+some report I must take pains to give him and his report a nice
+little notice and ask 'The Blade' folks to be sure to print it.
+Then---gracious!"
+
+Utterly startled, Dick heard and saw an ugly brickbat whizz by
+his head.  It came out of the dark alley that the sophomore was
+passing at that moment.  And now came another, aimed straight
+for his head!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+DAVE WARNS TIP SCAMMON
+
+
+There wasn't time to jump out of the way of that second flying
+missile.
+
+By an instinct of self-preservation young Prescott, instead of
+trying to leap out of the way, just collapsed, going down to his
+knees.
+
+As he sank the missile struck the top of his cap, carrying it
+from his head.
+
+"Hi!  Stop that, you blamed rascal!"
+
+It was Dave Darrin's voice that rang out, as that young man came
+rushing down the street behind Prescott.
+
+Dick in another second was on his feet, crouching low, and running
+full tilt into the alleyway.
+
+It was Dick's way---to run at danger, instead of away from it.
+
+At his first bound into the alley, Prescott dimly made out some
+fellow running at the further end.
+
+There was an outlet of escape down there---two of them, in fact,
+as the indignant pursuer knew.  So he put on speed, but soon was
+obliged to halt, finding that his unknown enemy had gotten away.
+Here Dick was joined by breathless Dave Darrin, who had followed
+swiftly.
+
+"You go through there, Dave; I'll take the other way," urged Dick,
+again starting in pursuit.
+
+The unknown one, however, had taken advantage of those few seconds
+of delay to get safely beyond chase.  So the chums met, soon,
+in a side street.
+
+"His line of retreat was good," muttered Dick, rather disgustedly.
+
+"Who was it, anyway?" Dave indignantly inquired.
+
+"I don't know.  I didn't see."
+
+"Do you suppose it could have been Tip Scammon?" asked Dave, shrewdly.
+
+"Is Tip Scammon back from the penitentiary?"
+
+"Got back this afternoon, and has been showing himself around town
+this evening," nodded Dave.  "Say, I wonder if he could have been
+the one who ambushed you?"
+
+"I don't like to throw suspicion on anyone," Dick replied.  "Still,
+I can't imagine anyone else who would have as much temptation
+to try to lay me up.  Tip Scammon acted as Fred Ripley's tool,
+last year, in trying to make me out a High School thief.  Tip
+was sent away, and Fred didn't have to suffer at all, because
+Tip wouldn't betray his employer.  But Tip must have felt sore
+at me many a time when he was breaking rock at the penitentiary."
+
+The two chums walked slowly back to Main Street, still talking.
+
+"I saw you ahead of me, on the street," Dave rattled on.  "I was
+trying to overtake you, without calling, when that thing came
+whizzing by your head.  Say, Dick, I wonder---"
+
+"What?" demanded Prescott.
+
+"Oh, of course, it's a crazy notion.  But I was wondering if Mr.
+Cantwell could have it in for you so hard that he'd put anyone
+up to lying in ambush for you."
+
+Dick started, then thought a few moments. "No," he decided.  "Cantwell
+may be erratic, and he certainly has a treacherous temper, and
+some mean ways.  But this was hardly the sort of trick he'd go
+in for."
+
+"Then it was Tip Scammon, all by himself," declared Darrin, with
+great conviction.
+
+"But to go back to Mr. Cantwell," Dick resumed, with a grin, "I
+must tell you something really funny.  Prin. went to School Board
+tonight with a long, bright knife sharpened for me.  But he didn't
+do a thing."
+
+Then Prescott confessed to being a "Blade" representative, and
+told of the principal's visit to the Board, and of his hurried
+departure.
+
+Dave laughed heartily, though what seemed to amaze him most of
+all was that Dick had found a chance to write for pay.
+
+"Of course you can do it, Dick," continued his loyal friend, "but
+I never thought that anyone as young as you ever got the chance."
+
+"It came my way," Dick went on, "and I'm mighty glad it did.
+So-----"
+
+"Wow!" muttered Dave, suddenly, then started off at a sprint,
+as he muttered:
+
+"Here's Tip Scammon now!"
+
+Both boys moved along on a hot run.  Tip was walking slowly along
+Main Street, giving a very good imitation of one unconcerned.
+
+He turned when he heard the running feet behind him, however.
+His first impulse seemed to be to take to his heels.  But the
+young jailbird quickly changed his mind, and turned to face them,
+an inquisitive look on his hard cunning face.
+
+"Good evenin', fellers.  Where's the fire?" he hailed.
+
+"In my eyes!  See it?" demanded Dave Darrin.  His dark eyes certainly
+were flashing as he reached out and seized Tip by one shoulder.
+
+"Now don't ye git festive with _me_!" warned Tip.
+
+"Oh, we don't feel ready for anything more festive than a lynching
+party," muttered Dave, hotly.  "See here, you-----"
+
+"I s'pose ye think ye can do all ye wanter to me, jest because
+I've been doin' my stretch?" demanded Tip, aggressively.  "But
+don't be too sure.  Take yer hand offen my shoulder!"
+
+Dave didn't show any sign of immediate intention of complying.
+
+"_Take it off_!" insisted Tip.
+
+But Dave met the fellow's baleful gaze with a cool, steady look.
+Tip, muttering something, edged away from under Dave's extended
+hand.
+
+"Now, ye wanter understand," continued young Scammon, "that I
+can't be played with, jest because some folks think I'm down.
+If you come fooling around me you'll have to explain or apologize."
+
+"Tip," questioned Dave Darrin, sharply, "why did you just throw
+two brickbats at Dick Prescott's head?"
+
+"I didn't," retorted Tip, stolidly.
+
+"You _did_."
+
+"I didn't."
+
+"Tip," declared Dave, solemnly, "I won't call you a liar.  I'll
+just remark that you and truth are strangers."
+
+"I ain't interested in what you fellers got to say," flared Tip,
+sullenly.  "And I don't like your company, neither.  So jest skate
+along."
+
+"We're not going to linger with you, Tip, any longer than seems
+absolutely necessary," promised Dave, coolly.  "But what I want
+to say is this: If you make any more attempts to do Dick Prescott
+any harm our crowd will get you, no matter how far we have to
+go to find you.  Is that clear?"
+
+"I s'pose it is, if you say so," sneered young Scammon.
+
+"We'll get you," pursued Dave, "and we'll turn you over to the
+authorities.  One citizen like Dick Prescott is worth more than
+a million of your stamp.  If we find you up to any more tricks
+against Dick Prescott, or against any of us, for that matter,
+we'll soon have you doing your second 'stretch,' as you have learned
+to call a term at the penitentiary.  Tip, your best card will
+be to turn over a very new leaf, and find an honest job.  Just
+because you've been in jail once don't go along with the notion
+that it's the only place where you can find your kind of company.
+But whatever you do, steer clear of Dick Prescott and his chums.
+I think you understand that.  Now, go!"
+
+Tip tried to brazen it out, but there was a compelling quality
+in the clear, steady gaze of Dave Darrin's dark eyes.  After a
+moment Tip Scammon let his own gaze drop.  He turned and shuffled
+away.
+
+"Poor fellow!" muttered Dick.
+
+"Yes, with all my heart," agreed Dave.  "But the fellow doesn't
+want to get any notion that he can go about terrorizing folks
+in Gridley!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+RIPLEY LEARNS THAT THE PIPER MUST BE PAID
+
+
+Scammon, however, knew one person in Gridley whom he thought he
+could terrorize.  He started in promptly to do it.
+
+At three the next afternoon young Scammon loitered under a big,
+bare oak on one of the winding, little-traveled streets that led
+from Gridley out into the open country beyond.
+
+In summer it was a favorite thoroughfare, especially for young
+engaged couples who wanted to loiter along the road, chatting
+and picking wild flowers.
+
+In winter, however, the place was usually deserted, being more
+than a mile out of the city.
+
+As Tip lingered he caught sight of haughty Fred Ripley coming
+down the road at a fast walk.  Fred looked both angry and worried.
+Tip, as soon as he caught sight of the young fellow who imagined
+himself an "aristocrat," began to grin in his evil way.
+
+A dull, sullen, red fired Fred's cheeks when he caught sight of
+the one who was waiting for him.
+
+"Ye're most nearly on time," Tip informed the other.
+
+"See here, Scammon, what in blazes did you mean by sending me
+a note like the one I got from you" demanded Fred?
+
+Tip only grinned.
+
+"What did you mean, fellow?" Ripley insisted angrily.
+
+"I meant to get ye here, to let ye know what I had to say to ye,"
+Scammon retorted.
+
+"Why, confound you, fellow---" Fred began, stuttering a bit, but
+the other cut in on him in short fashion.
+
+"None o' that to me, now, Fred Ripley.  D'ye hear?  Me an' you
+used to be pretty good pals, once on a time."
+
+At this charge, Fred winced very plainly.
+
+"And maybe we'll be pals, now, too," Tip pursued, with the air
+of one who believed himself to be able to dictate terms.  "That
+is, for your sake, I hope we are, Ripley."
+
+"What are you talking about?  What do you want to see me about?
+Come to the point in mighty few words," Ripley commanded, impatiently.
+
+"Well, now, first-off, last year, before I went away for my health---"
+Tip grinned in ghastly fashion 'ye hired me to do a certain job
+for ye.  Right, so far, ain't I?"
+
+"Possibly," assented Fred, coldly.
+
+"Ye hired me to get hold of keys that could be used on one o'
+the High School locker rooms," Tip went on, cunningly.  "Ye hired
+me to steal some stuff from the coats o' the young gents that
+study there.  Then ye hired me to break inter Dick Prescott's
+room and get the loot inter his trunk.  Right, ain't I?"
+
+Tip spoke assertively, making no effort to keep his voice low.
+
+"For goodness' sake don't shout it all over four counties," protested
+Fred Ripley, glancing apprehensively about him.  His face was
+paler, now, from uneasiness.
+
+"Oh, I ain't afraid about anyone hearing me," Tip went on,
+unconcernedly.  "D'ye know why, Fred, my boy?  Because I done my
+stretch for the trick, and there ain't nuthin' more comin' to me on
+that score. If _you're_ 'fraid, jest go an' do yer stretch, like I
+did, an' then ye won't care who hears or knows!"
+
+Tip laughed cunningly.  Fred's face darkened.  He squirmed, yet
+found himself afraid to show anger.
+
+"So I dropped ye that note, tellin' ye to come here at three this
+aft'noon," Scammon continued.  "I told ye I hoped ye'd find it
+convenient to come, an' hinted that if ye didn't, ye might wish
+later, that ye had."
+
+"I'm here," retorted the Ripley heir.  "Now, what do you want
+to say to me?"
+
+"I'm broke," Tip informed Ripley, plaintively.  "Stony!  Understand?
+I hain't got no money."
+
+"You don't expect me to furnish you with any?" demanded Fred,
+his eyes opening wide in astonishment.  "I paid you, in full,
+last year."
+
+"Ye didn't pay me fer the stretch I done, did ye?" demanded Tip,
+insolently.  "How much did ye pay me for keeping my mouth closed,
+so you wouldn't have to do your stretch?"
+
+Fred winced painfully under that steady, half-ugly glance of the
+other.
+
+"And now," continued Scammon, in a half-hurt way, "ye think it's
+hard if I tell ye that I want a few dollars to keep food in my
+insides."
+
+"You've got your father," hinted Fred.
+
+"Sure, I have," Tip assented.
+
+"But it's mighty little he'll do for me until I get a job and
+settle down to it."
+
+"Well, why don't you?" asked Fred Ripley.  "That's the surest
+way to get straight with the world."
+
+"When I want advice," sneered Scammon, "I won't tramp all the
+way out here, an' ask _you_ for it.  Nope.  I don't want advice.
+What I want is money."
+
+"Oh, well, Tip, I'm sorry for you and your troubles.  Here's a
+dollar for you.  I wish I could make it more."
+
+Fred Ripley drew out the greenback, passing it over.  Tip took
+the money, studying it curiously.
+
+"Ye're sorry just a dollar's worth---is that it?  Well, old pal,
+ye'll have to be more sorry'n that.  I'll let ye off fer ten dollars,
+but hand it over quick!"
+
+Fred's first impulse was to get angry, but it didn't take him
+more than an instant to realize that it would be better to keep
+this fellow quiet.
+
+"I haven't ten dollars, Tip---on my honor," he protested, hesitatingly.
+
+"On yer---what?" questioned Scammon, with utter scorn.
+
+"I haven't ten dollars."
+
+"How much have ye?"
+
+There was something in Tip's ugly eyes that scared the boy.  Fred
+went quickly through his pockets, producing, finally, six dollars
+and a half.
+
+"I'll give you six of this, Tip," proposed Fred, rather miserably.
+
+"Ye'll give me _all_ of it, ye mean," responded Scammon.  "And ye'll
+meet me to-morrow aft'noon with five more---something for interest,
+ye know."
+
+"But I won't have five dollars again, as soon as that," argued
+Fred, weakly.
+
+"Yes, you will," leered Tip.  "You'll have to!"
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Fred, trying to bluster, but making
+a failure of the attempt.
+
+"It'll take five more to give me lock-jaw," declared Scammon.
+"I'm jest out of prison, and I mean to enjoy myself restin' a
+few days before  I settle down to a job again.  So, to-morrow,
+turn up with the five!"
+
+"I don't know where to get the money."
+
+"Find out, then," sneered the other.  "I don't care where you
+get it, but you've got to get it and hand it over to me to-morrow,
+or it'll be too late, an' Gridley'll be too hot a place for 'ye!"
+
+"I'll try," agreed Ripley, weakly.
+
+"Ye'll do more'n try, 'cause if ye fail me ye'll have no further
+show," declared Tip, with emphasis.
+
+"See, here, Scammon, if I can find another five---somehow---that'll
+be the last of this business?  You won't expect to get any more
+money out of me?"
+
+"The five that you're goin' to bring me tomorrow will be in full
+payment."
+
+"Of all possible claims to date?" Fred insisted.
+
+"Yes, in full---to date," agreed Scammon, grinning as though he
+were enjoying himself.
+
+"And there'll never be any further demands?" questioned Fred.
+
+"Never again!" Scammon asserted, with emphasis.
+
+"You promise that, solemnly?"
+
+"On my honor," promised the jailbird, sardonically.
+
+"I'll try to get you the money, Tip.  But see here, I'll be in
+front of the drug store next to the post office, at just three
+o'clock to-morrow afternoon.  You stop and look in the same window,
+but don't speak to me.  If I can get the five I'll slip it into
+your hand.  Then I'll move away.  You stand looking in the window
+a minute or so after I leave you, will you?"
+
+"Sure," agreed Scammon, cheerfully.
+
+"And don't do anything so plainly that any passerby can detect
+the fact that you and I are meeting there.  Don't let anyone see
+what I slip into your hand."
+
+"That'll be all right," declared Tip Scammon, readily enough.
+
+"And mind you, that's the last money you're ever to ask me for."
+
+"That'll be all right, too," came readily enough from the jailbird.
+
+"Then good-bye until to-morrow.  Don't follow me too closely."
+
+"Sure not," promised Tip.  "Ye don't want anyone to know that
+I'm your friend, and I'm good at keepin' secrets."
+
+For two or three minutes young Scammon remained standing under
+the bare tree.  But his gaze followed the vanishing figure of
+Fred Ripley, and a cunning look gleamed in Tip's eyes.
+
+Fred Ripley, when he had heard of Tip going to prison without
+saying a word, had been foolish enough to suppose that that
+incident in his own life was closed.  Fred had yet to learn that
+evil remains a long time alive, and that its consequences hit
+the evil doer harder than the victim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE CALL TO THE DIAMOND---FRED SCHEMES
+
+
+Recess!  As the long lines filed rhythmically down from the second
+floor, thence to the basement, the leaders of the files quickly
+discovered something new posted on the bulletin board near the
+boys' locker rooms.
+
+As quickly as the files broke, there was such a rush to see the
+new bulletin that those who got the best places had to read aloud
+to others.  This was what the bulletin proclaimed:
+
+Notice.
+
+_The gymnasium will be open at 2.30 this afternoon for the
+gathering of all male students, except freshmen, who may be interested
+in trying to make either the school or second baseball teams for
+the coming season.  Gridley will have some notable rivals in the
+field this next year.  Information comes that several of school
+baseball teams will have better material and longer training for
+next season.  It is earnestly desired that all members of the
+three upper classes who consider themselves capable of making
+either of the Gridley High School baseball teams be on hand this
+afternoon, when as full plans as possible will be made.
+
+By order of the Athletics Committee of the Alumni Association.
+
+(signed) Edward Luce,
+B.B. Coach._
+
+A shout of approval went up from half of those present
+as Purcell, of the junior class, finished reading.
+
+Many of those who had no thought of making the school or second
+teams were filled with delight at thought of the training season
+being so soon to open.
+
+One of the boys who was pleased was Fred Ripley.  He had handed
+that five-dollar bill to Tip Scammon the afternoon before, and
+now felt rather certain that he had closed the door on the whole
+Scammon episode.
+
+Like many another haughty, disagreeable person, Ripley had, in
+spite of his treatment of others, a keen desire to be well thought
+of.  The year before, in the sophomore class, Fred had played
+as one of the pitchers in the second team, and had done fairly
+well on the few occasions when he had been given a chance.
+
+"There's no good reason why I can't make the post of pitcher on
+the school team this year," thought young Ripley, with a thrill
+of hope and expectant delight.
+
+"Going to show up this afternoon?" asked Dave of Prescott.
+
+"Of course I am, Darrin," answered Prescott, as Dick & Co. met
+out on the sidewalk.
+
+"Going to try to make the regular team?"
+
+"Of course I am," declared Dick, smiling.  "And so, I hope, are
+every one of you fellows."
+
+"I'd like to," agreed Tom Reade.
+
+"Then don't say you'd _like_ to; say you're _going_ to," admonished
+Dick.  "The fellow who doesn't quite know never gets much of any
+place.  Just say to yourself that you're going to be one of the
+stars on the school team.  If you have to fall into the second
+team---don't be cast down over it---but make every possible effort
+toward getting on the top team.  That's the spirit that wins in
+athletics," finished Dick, sagely.
+
+"I'm going to make the school team," announced Dave Darrin.  "Not
+only that, but I'll proclaim it to anyone who'll be kind enough
+to listen.  The school nine, or 'bust,' for me."
+
+"Good enough!" cheered Dick.  "Now, then, fellows, we'll all be
+on hand this afternoon, won't we, and on every other afternoon
+that we're needed?"
+
+Dick & Co. carried that proposition by a unanimous vote.
+
+"But see here, fellows," urged Dick Prescott, "just try to keep
+one idea in mind, please. There's a good deal of objection, every
+year, that athletics are allowed to interfere with studies.  Now,
+as soon as the end of recess is called to-day, let's every one
+of us go back with our minds closed to baseball.  Let us all keep
+our minds right on our studies.  Why can't we six help to prove
+that interest in athletics puts the scholarship mark up, not down?"
+
+"We can," nodded Dave Darrin.  "Good!  I like that idea.  We'll
+simply go ahead and put our scholarship away up over where it
+is at present."
+
+To this the other chums agreed heartily.
+
+Luce, the coach for baseball, was one of the under submasters.
+He had made a record at college, for both baseball and scholarship.
+He was a complete enthusiast on the game of the diamond.  The
+year before he had trained the school nine to a record that beat
+anything in the High School line in the whole state.  His bulletin
+announced that he intended to try to make the coming nine the
+best yet.  It didn't say that, in so many words, but the bulletin
+implied it.
+
+Fred Ripley did not hit upon the idea of improved scholarship.
+Instead, that young man went into two classes, after recess,
+and reported "not prepared."  Then he settled back into a brown
+study of his chances in baseball.
+
+"I don't suppose Dick & Co. will have the nerve to try for anything
+better than the second nine," muttered Fred to himself.  "Still,
+one can never tell what that crowd will have the nerve to do!"
+
+School out, Fred hurried home faster than was his wont.  He caught
+his father just as the latter was leaving the lunch table.
+
+"Dad, can I have a few minutes' talk with you about one of my
+ambitions?" pleaded Fred.
+
+"Certainly, my boy," replied the wealthy, retired lawyer.  "I'm
+glad, indeed, to hear that you have any ambitions.  Come into
+the library, if you can let your luncheon go that long."
+
+"If you don't mind, Dad, I'd rather eat while I talk," urged Fred.
+"I have to be back at school before three."
+
+"What---under discipline?" inquired the lawyer.
+
+"No, sir; it's baseball that I wish to talk about."
+
+"Well, then, Fred, what is it?" asked his father.
+
+"Why, sir, we're going to get together on baseball, this afternoon.
+The start for the season is to be made early this year.  Gridley
+expects to put forth the finest High School nine ever."
+
+"I'm glad to hear that," nodded the lawyer. "School and college
+athletics, rightly indulged in, give the budding man health, strength,
+courage and discipline to take with him out into the battle of
+life.  We didn't have much in the way of athletics when I was
+at college, but I appreciate the modern tendency more than do
+some men of my age."
+
+Fred, though not interested in his father's praise of athletics
+waited patiently until his parent had finished.
+
+"I'm pretty sure, Dad, I can make the chance of being the star
+pitcher on the school team for this coming season, if only you'll
+back me up in it."
+
+"Why, as far as that goes," replied Lawyer Ripley, "I believe
+that about all the benefits of school athletics can be gained
+by one who isn't necessarily right at the top of the crowd."
+
+"But not to go to the top of the crowd, and not to try too, Dad,
+is contrary to the spirit of athletics," argued Fred, rather cleverly.
+"Besides, one of the best things about athletics, I think, is
+the spirit to fight for leadership.  That's a useful
+lesson---leadership---to carry out into life, isn't it, sir?"
+
+"Yes, it is; you're right about that, son," nodded the lawyer.
+
+"Well, sir, Everett, one of the crack pitchers of national fame,
+is over in Duxbridge for the winter.  He doesn't go south with
+his team for practice until the middle or latter part of February.
+Duxbridge is only twelve miles from here.  He could come over
+here, or you could let your man take me over to Duxbridge in your
+auto.  Dad, I want to be the pitcher of the crack battery in the
+school nine.  Will you engage Everett, or let me hire him, to
+train me right from the start in all the best styles of pitching?"
+
+"How much would it cost?" asked the lawyer, cautiously.
+
+"I don't know exactly, sir.  A few hundred dollars, probably."
+
+Fred's face was glowing with eagerness.  His mother, who was standing
+just behind him, nodded encouragingly at her husband.
+
+"Well, yes, Fred, if you're sure you can make yourself the star
+pitcher of the school nine, I will."
+
+"When may I go to see Everett, sir?" asked Fred, making no effort
+to conceal the great joy this promise had given him.
+
+"Since you're to be engaged for this afternoon, Fred, we'll make
+it to-morrow.  I'll order out the car and go over to Duxbridge
+with you.".
+
+It was in the happiest possible frame of mind, for him, that Fred
+Ripley went back to the High School that afternoon.  He didn't
+arrive until five minutes before the hour for calling the meeting;
+he didn't care to be of the common crowd that would be on hand
+at or soon after two-thirty.
+
+When he entered, he found a goodly and noisy crowd of some eighty
+High School boys of the three upper classes present.  Ripley nodded
+to a few with whom he was on the best terms.
+
+Settees had been placed at one end of the gym.  There was an aisle
+between two groups of these seats.
+
+"Gentlemen, you'll please come to order, now," called out Coach
+Luce, mounting to a small platform before the seats.
+
+It took a couple of minutes to get the eager, half-turbulent throng
+seated in order.  Then the coach rapped sharply, and instantly
+all was silence, save for the voice of the speaker.
+
+"Gentlemen," announced Mr. Luce, "it is the plan to make the next
+season the banner one in baseball in all our school's history.
+This will call for some real work, for constantly sustained effort.
+Every man who goes into the baseball training squad will be expected
+to do his full share of general gymnastic work here, and to improve
+every favorable chance for such cross-country running and other
+outdoor sports as may be ordered.
+
+"To-day, as we are so close to Christmas, we will arrange only
+the general details---have a sort of mapping-out, as it were.
+But immediately after the holidays the entire baseball squad
+that enrolls will be required to start at once to get in general
+athletic condition.  There will be hard---what some may call
+grilling---gym. work at the outset, and much of the gym. work
+will be kept up even after the actual ball practice begins.
+
+"Early in February work in the baseball cage must begin, and it
+will be made rather severe this year.  In fact, I can assure you
+that the whole training, this coming year, will be something that
+none but those who mean to train in earnest can get through with
+successfully.
+
+"Any man who is detected smoking cigarettes or using tobacco in
+any form, will be dropped from the squad instantly.  Every man
+who enrolls will be required to make a promise to abstain, until
+the end of the ball season, from tobacco in any form.
+
+"In past years we have often been urged to adopt the training
+table, in order that no greedy man may eat himself out of physical
+condition.  It is not, of course, feasible to provide such a table
+here at the gym.  I wish it were.  But we will have training table
+to just this extent:   Every member of the squad will be handed
+a list of the things he may eat or drink, and another list of
+those things that are barred.  The only exception, in the way
+of departure, from the training list, will be the Christmas dinner.
+Every man who enrolls is in honor bound to stick closely to his
+list of permissible foods until the end of the training season.
+
+"Remember, this year's work is to be one of the hardest work and
+all the necessary self-denial.  It must be a disciplined and sustained
+effort for excellence and victory.  Those who cannot accept these
+principles in full are urged not to enroll in the squad at all.
+
+"Now, I will wait five minutes, during which conversation will
+be in order.  When I call the meeting to order again I will ask
+all who have decided to enter the squad to occupy the seats here
+at my right hand, the others to take the seats at my left hand."
+
+Immediately a buzz of talk ran around that end of the gym.  The
+High School boys left their seats and moved about, talking over
+the coach's few but pointed remarks.
+
+"How do you like Mr. Luce's idea, Dick?" asked Tom Reade.
+
+"It's good down to the ground, and all the way up again," Dick
+retorted, enthusiastically.  "His ideas are just the ideas I'm
+glad to hear put forward.  No shirking; every effort bent on excelling,
+and every man to keep his own body as strong, clean and wholesome
+as a body can be kept.  Why, that alone is worth more than victory.
+It means a fellow's victory over all sloth and bad habits!"
+
+"Luce meant all he said, too, and the fellows know he did," declared
+Dave Darrin.  "I wonder what effect it will have on the size of
+the squad?"
+
+There was a good deal of curiosity on that score.  The five minutes
+passed quickly.  Then Coach Luce called for the division.  As
+the new baseball squad gathered at the right-hand seats there
+was an eager counting.
+
+"Forty-nine," announced Greg Holmes, as soon as he had finished
+counting.  "Five whole nines and a few extras left over."
+
+"I'm glad to see that Gridley High School grit is up to the old
+standard," declared Coach Luce, cheerily, after he had brought
+them to order.  "Our squad, this year, contains three more men
+than appeared last year.  It is plain that my threats haven't
+scared anyone off the Gridley diamond.  Now, I am going to write
+down the names of the squad.  Then I will ask each member, as
+his name is called, to indicate the position for which he wishes
+to qualify."
+
+There was a buzz of conversation again, until the names had all
+been written down.  Then, after Coach Luce had called for silence,
+he began to read off the names in alphabetical order.
+
+"Dalzell?" asked the coach, when he had gone that far down on
+the list.
+
+"First base," answered Dan, loudly and promptly.
+
+"Darrin?"
+
+"Pitcher," responded Dave.
+
+There was a little ripple of surprise.  When a sophomore goes
+in for work in the box it is notice that he has a good opinion
+of his abilities.
+
+A few more names were called off.  Then:
+
+"Hazelton?"
+
+"Short stop," replied Harry, coolly.
+
+"Whew!" An audible gasp of surprise went up and traveled around.
+
+After the battery, the post of short stop is the swiftest thing
+for which to reach out.
+
+"Holmes?"
+
+"Left field."
+
+"It's plain enough," sneered Fred Ripley to the fellow beside
+him, "that Dick & Co., reporters and raga-muffins, expect to be
+two thirds of the nine.  I wonder whom they'll allow to hold the
+other three positions?"
+
+Several more names were called off.  Then came:
+
+"Prescott?"
+
+"Pitcher," Dick answered, quietly.
+
+A thrill of delight went through Fred.  This was more luck than
+he had hoped for.  What great delight there was going to be in
+beating out Dick Prescott!
+
+"Reade?"
+
+"Second base."
+
+"Ripley?"
+
+"P-p-pitcher!" Fred fairly stuttered in his eagerness to get the
+word out emphatically.  In  fact, the word left him so explosively
+that several of the fellows caught themselves laughing.
+
+"Oh, laugh, then, hang you all!" muttered Fred, in a low voice,
+glaring all around him.  "But you don't know what you're laughing
+at.  Maybe I won't show you something in the way of real pitching!"
+
+"The first Tuesday after the holidays' vacation the squad will
+report here for gymnastic work from three-thirty to five," called
+the coach.  "Now, I'll talk informally with any who wish to ask
+questions."
+
+Fred Ripley's face was aglow with satisfaction.  His eyes fairly
+glistened with his secret, inward triumph.
+
+"So you think you can pitch, Prescott?" he muttered to himself.
+"Humph!  With the great Everett training me for weeks, I'll
+make you look like a pewter monkey, Dick Prescott."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+DAVE TALKS WITH ONE HAND
+
+
+The next afternoon Fred and his father went over to Duxbridge.
+
+They found the great Everett at home, and not only at home, but
+willing to take up with their proposal.
+
+The celebrated professional pitcher named a price that caused
+Lawyer Ripley to hesitate for a few moments.  Then catching the
+appealing look in his son's face, the elder Ripley agreed to the
+terms.  The training was to be given at Duxbridge, in Everett's
+big and almost empty barn.
+
+That night Lawyer Ripley, a man of prompt habit in business, mailed
+his check for the entire amount.
+
+Fred, in the privacy of his own room, danced several brief but
+exuberant jigs.
+
+"Now, I've got you, Dick Prescott!  And I've not only got you,
+but if you come in second to me, I'll try to keep in such condition
+that I pitch every important game of the whole season!"
+
+But the next morning the Ripley heir received a sad jolt.  In
+one of his text-books he ran across a piece of cardboard on which
+was printed, in coarse characters:
+
+"Tuday, same plas, same time.  Bring ten.  Or don't, if you dare!"
+
+"That infernal blackmailer, Tip Scammon!" flared Fred indignantly.
+
+In the courage of desperation Fred promptly decided that he would
+ignore the Scammon rascal.  Nor did Fred change his mind.  Besides,
+this afternoon he was due at Duxbridge for his first lesson under
+the mighty Everett.
+
+So Tip was on hand at the drug store beside the post office, but
+no Fred came.  Tip scowled and hung about in the neighborhood
+until after four o'clock.  Then he went away, a black look indeed
+on his not handsome face.
+
+Meanwhile, most of the people of Gridley, as elsewhere in the
+Christian world, were thinking of "Peace on Earth" and all that
+goes with it.  The stores were radiant with decorations and the
+display of gifts.  The candy stores and hot soda places were doing
+a rushing business.
+
+Dick, who had been scurrying about in search of a few news paragraphs,
+and had found them, encountered Dave Darrin.  Being something
+of a capitalist in these days, when "The Blade" was paying him
+two and a half to three dollars a week, Prescott invited his chum
+in to have a hot soda.  While they were still in the place Laura
+Bentley and Belle Meade entered.  The High School boys lifted
+their hats courteously to the girls and Dick invited them to have
+their soda with Dave and himself.
+
+"We hear that baseball is going to be a matter of great enthusiasm
+during the next few months," said Laura, as they sipped their
+soda.
+
+"Yes; and the cause of no end of heartburnings and envies," laughed
+Prescott.  "From just after the holidays to some time in April
+every fellow will be busy trying to make the school team, and
+will feel aggrieved if he hits only the second team."
+
+"Who's going to pitch for the school nine?" asked Belle.
+
+"Dick Prescott," declared Dave instantly.
+
+"I'd like to," nodded Dick, "but I've several good men against
+me.  Darrin may take it all away from me.  There are eight men
+down for pitching, altogether, so it isn't going to be an easy
+cinch for anyone."
+
+"The nine always has more than one pitcher.  Why can't _you_ make
+the position of pitcher, too?" asked Belle, looking at Dave.
+
+"Oh, I may make the job of brevet-pitcher on the second nine,"
+Dave laughed goodhumoredly.  "The only reason I put my name down
+for pitcher was so as to make the fight look bigger."
+
+"Who are the other candidates for pitcher?" asked Laura.
+
+"Well, Ripley's one," replied Dave.
+
+"Ripley?  Oh, _he_!" uttered Miss Bentley, in a tone of scorn.
+
+"I understand he's no fool of a pitcher," Dick remarked.
+
+"I congratulate him, then," smiled Laura.
+
+"On what?"
+
+"Not being a fool in everything," returned Laura.  Then she added,
+quickly:
+
+"I'm afraid that expresses my real opinion, but I've no right
+to say it."
+
+"There are two reasons why you shouldn't say it," added Dave,
+gravely.
+
+"What are they?" Laura wanted to know.
+
+"First of all---well, pardon me, but it sounds like talking about
+another behind his back.  The other reason is that Ripley isn't
+worth talking about, anyway."
+
+"Now, what are you doing?" demanded Belle.
+
+"Oh, well," Dave replied, "Ripley knows my opinion of him pretty well.
+But what are you doing this afternoon?"
+
+"We're going shopping," Laura informed the boys as the quartette
+left the soda fountain.  "Do you care to go around with us and
+look at the displays in the stores?"
+
+"That's about all shopping means, isn't it?" smiled Dick.  "Just
+going around and looking at things?"
+
+"Then if you don't care to come with us-----" pouted Miss Bentley.
+
+"Stop---please do, I beg of you," Dick hastily added.  "Of course
+we want to go."
+
+The two chums put in a very pleasant hour wandering about through
+the stores with the High School girls.  Laura and Belle _did_
+make some small purchases of materials out of which they intended
+to make gifts for the approaching holiday.
+
+As they came out of the last store they moved toward the corner,
+the girls intending to take a car to pay a little visit to an
+aunt of Laura's before the afternoon was over.
+
+Dick saw something in one of the windows at the corner and signed
+to Dave to come over.  The two girls were left, momentarily, standing
+on the corner.
+
+While they stood thus Fred Ripley came along.  His first lesson
+in pitching had been brief, the great Everett declining to tire
+the boy's arm too much at the first drill.  So young Ripley, after
+a twelve-mile trip in the auto through the crisp December air,
+came swinging down the street at a brisk walk.
+
+Just as this moment he espied the two girls, though he did not
+see Dick or Dave.  Belle happened to turn as Ripley came near
+her.
+
+"Hullo, Meade!" he called, patronizingly.
+
+It is a trick with some High School boys thus to address a girl
+student by her last name only, but it is not the act of a gentleman.
+Belle resented it by stiffening at once, and glancing coldly
+at Ripley without greeting him.
+
+In another instant Dave Darrin, at a bound, stood before the astonished
+Fred.  Dave's eyes  were flashing in a way they were wont to do
+when he was thoroughly angry.
+
+"Ripley---you cur!  To address a young woman in that familiar
+fashion!" glared Dave.
+
+"What have you to say about it?" demanded Fred, insolently.
+
+"This!" was Dave Darrin's only answer in words.
+
+Smack!  His fist landed on one side of Fred's face.  The latter
+staggered, then slipped to the ground.
+
+"There's the car, Dick," uttered Dave, in a low tone.  "Put the
+girls aboard."
+
+Half a dozen passers-by had already turned and were coming back
+to learn the meaning of this encounter.  Dick understood how awkward
+the situation would be for the girls, so he glided forward, hailed
+the car, and led Laura and Belle out to it.
+
+"But I'd rather stay," whispered Belle, in protest.  "I want to
+make sure that Dave doesn't get into any trouble."
+
+"He won't," Dick promised.  "It'll save him annoyance if he knows
+you girls are not being stared at by curious rowdies."
+
+Dick quickly helped the girls aboard the car, then nodded to the
+conductor to ring the bell.  A second later Dick was bounding
+back to his chum's side.
+
+Fred Ripley was on his feet, scowling at Dave Darrin.  The latter,
+though his fists were not up, was plainly in an attitude where
+he could quickly defend himself.
+
+"That was an unprovoked assault, you rowdy!" Fred exclaimed wrathfully.
+
+"I'd trust to any committee of _gentlemen_ to exonerate me," Dave
+answered coolly.  "You acted the rowdy, Ripley, and you'd show
+more sense if you admitted it and reformed."
+
+"What did he do?" demanded one of the curious ones in the crowd.
+
+"He addressed a young lady with offensive familiarity," Dave replied
+hotly.
+
+"What did _you_ do?" demanded another in the crowd.
+
+"I knocked him down," Dave admitted coolly.
+
+"Well, that's about the proper thing to do," declared another
+bystander.  "The Ripley kid has no kick coming to him.  Move on,
+young feller!"
+
+Fred started, glaring angrily at the speaker.  But half a dozen
+pressed forward about him.  Ripley's face went white with rage
+when he found himself being edged off the sidewalk into the gutter.
+
+"Get back, there, you, and leave me alone!" he ordered, hoarsely.
+
+A laugh from the crowd was the first answer.  Then some one gave
+the junior a shove that sent him spinning out into the street.
+
+Ripley darted by the crowd now, his caution and his dread of too
+much of a scene coming to his aid.  Besides, some one had just
+called out, banteringly:
+
+"Why not take him to the horse trough?"
+
+That decided Fred on quick retreat.  Ducked, deservedly, by a
+crowd on Main Street, Ripley could never regain real standing
+in the High School, and he knew that.
+
+As soon as they could Dick and Dave walked on to "The Blade" office.
+Here Darrin took a chair in the corner, occasionally glancing
+almost enviously at Prescott, as the latter, seated at a reporter's
+table, slowly wrote the few little local items that he had picked
+up during the afternoon.  When Dick had finished he handed his
+"copy" to Mr. Pollock, and the chums left the office.
+
+"Dick, old fellow," hinted Dave, confidentially, "I'm afraid I
+ought to give you a tip, even though it does make me feel something
+like a spy."
+
+"Under such circumstances," smiled Prescott, "it might be well
+to think twice before giving the tip."
+
+"I've thought about it _seventeen_ times already," Dave asserted,
+gravely, "and you're my chum, anyway.  So here goes.  When we
+were in the department store, do you remember  that the girls
+were looking over some worsteds, or yarns, or whatever you call
+the stuff?"
+
+"Yes," Prescott nodded.
+
+"Well, I couldn't quite help hearing Laura Bentley say to Belle
+that the yarn she picked up was just what she wanted for you."
+
+"What on earth did that mean?" queried Dick, looking almost startled.
+
+"It means that you're going to get a Christmas present from Laura,"
+Dave answered.
+
+"But I never had a present from a girl before!"
+
+"Most anything is likely to happen," laughed Dave, "now that you're
+a sophomore---and a reporter, too."
+
+"Thank goodness I'm earning a little money now," murmured Dick,
+breathing a bit rapidly.  "But, say, Dave!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"What on earth does one give a girl at Christmas?"
+
+"Tooth-powder, scented soap, ribbons---oh, hang it!  I don't know,"
+floundered Dave hopelessly.  "Anyway, I don't have to know.  It's
+your scrape, Dick Prescott!"
+
+"Yours, too, Dave Darrin!"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I saw Belle buying some of that yarny stuff, too."
+
+"Great Scott!" groaned Dave.  "Say, what do you suppose they're
+planning to put up on us for a Christmas job?  Some of those
+big-as-all-outdoors, wobbly, crocheted slippers?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+HUH? WOOLLY CROCHETED SLIPPERS
+
+
+The night before Christmas Dick Prescott attended a ball, in his
+new capacity of reporter.
+
+Being young, also "green" in the ways of newspaper work, he imagined
+it his duty to remain rather late in order to be sure that he
+had all the needed data for the brief description that he was
+to write for "The Blade."
+
+Christmas morning the boy slept late, for his parents did not
+call him.  When, at last, Dick did appear in the dining room he
+found some pleasing gifts from his father and mother.  When he
+had sufficiently examined them, Mrs. Prescott smiled as she said:
+
+"Now, step into the parlor, Richard, and you'll find something
+that came for you this morning."
+
+"But, first of all, mother, I've something for you and Dad."
+
+Dick went back into his room, bringing out, with some pride, a
+silver-plated teapot on a tray of the same material.  It wasn't
+much, but it was the finest gift he had ever been able to make
+his parents.  He came in for a good deal of thanks and other words
+of appreciation.
+
+"But you're forgetting the package in the parlor," persisted Mrs.
+Prescott presently.
+
+Dick nodded, and hurried in, thinking to himself:
+
+"The worsted slippers from the girls, I suppose."
+
+To his surprise the boy found Dave Darrin sitting in the room,
+while, on a chair near by rested a rather bulky package.
+
+After exchanging "Merry Christmas" greetings with Darrin, Dick
+turned to look at the package.  To it was tied a card, which read:
+
+"From Laura Bentley and Isabelle Meade, with kindest Christmas
+greetings."
+
+"That doesn't look like slippers, Dave," murmured Dick, as he
+pulled away the cord that bound the package.
+
+"I'll bet you're getting a duplicate of what came to me," Darrin
+answered.
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"I'm not going to tell you until I see yours."
+
+Dick quickly had the wrapper off, unfolding something woolleny.
+
+"That's it!" cried Dave, jubilantly.  "I thought so.  Mine was
+the same, except that Belle's name was ahead of Laura's on the
+card."
+
+Dick felt almost dazed for an instant.  Then a quick rush of color
+came to his face.
+
+The object that he held was a bulky, substantial, woven "sweater."
+Across the front of it had been worked, in cross-stitch, the
+initials, "G.H.S."
+
+"Gridley High School!  Did you get one just like this, Dave?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But we can't wear 'em," muttered Dick.  "The initials are allowed
+only to the students who have made some school team, or who have
+captured some major athletic event.  We've never done either."
+
+"That's just the point of the gift, I reckon," beamed Darrin.
+
+"Oh, I see," cried Dick.  "These sweaters are our orders to go
+ahead and make the baseball nine."
+
+"That's just it," declared Dave.
+
+"Well, it's mighty fine of the girls," murmured Dick, gratefully.
+"Are you---going to accept yours, Dave?"
+
+"Accept?" retorted Dave.  "Why, it would be rank not to."
+
+"Of course," Prescott agreed..  "But you know what acceptance
+carries with it?  Now, we've got to make the nine, whether or
+not.  We pledge ourselves to that in accepting these fine gifts."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," nodded Dave, cheerily.  "You're going
+to make the team."
+
+"If there's any power in me to do it," declared Dick.
+
+"And you're going to drag me in after you.  Dick, old fellow,
+we've absolutely as good as promised that we will make the nine."
+
+Dick Prescott was now engaged in pulling the sweater over his
+head.  This accomplished, he stood surveying himself in the glass.
+
+"Gracious!  But this is fine," gasped young Prescott.  "And now,
+oh, Dave, but we've got to hustle!  Think how disgusted the girls
+will be if we fail."
+
+"We can't fail, now," declared Dave earnestly.  "The girls, and
+the sweaters themselves, are our mascots against failure."
+
+"Good!  That's the right talk!" cheered Prescott, seizing his
+chum's hand.  "Yes, sir!  We'll make the nine or bury ourselves
+under a shipload of self-disgust!"
+
+"Both of the girls must have a hand in each sweater," Dave went
+on, examining Dick's closely.  "I can't see a shade of difference
+between yours and mine.  But I'm afraid the other fellows in Dick
+& Co. will feel just a bit green with envy over our good luck."
+
+"It's a mighty fine gift," Dick went on, "yet I'm almost inclined
+to wish the girls hadn't done it.  It must have made a big inroad
+in their Christmas money."
+
+"That's so," nodded Darrin, thoughtfully.  "But say, Dick!  I'm
+thundering glad I got wind of this before it happened.  Thank
+goodness we didn't have to leave the girls out.  Though we would
+have missed if it hadn't been for you."
+
+"I wonder how the girls like their gifts?" mused Dick.
+
+It was sheer good luck that had enabled these youngsters to make
+a good showing.  A new-style device for women, consisting of heater
+and tongs for curling the hair, was on the market this year.
+Electric current was required for the heater, but both Laura and
+Belle had electric light service in their homes.  This new-style
+device was one of the fads of this Christmas season.  The retail
+price was eight dollars per outfit, and a good many had been sold
+before the holidays.  The advertising agent for the manufacturing
+concern had been in town, and had presented "The Blade" with two
+of these devices.  Despite the eight-dollar price, the devices
+cost only a small fraction of that amount to manufacture, so the
+advertising agent had not been extremely generous in leaving the
+pair.
+
+"What on earth shall we do with them?" grunted Pollock, in Dick's
+hearing.  "We're all bachelors here."
+
+"Sell 'em to me, if you don't want 'em," spoke up Dick, quickly.
+"What'll you take for 'em?  Make it low, to fit a schoolboy's
+shallow purse."
+
+"Hm!  I'll speak to the proprietor about it," replied Pollock,
+who presently brought back the word:
+
+"As they're for you, Dick, the proprietor says you can take the
+pair for two-fifty.  And if you're short of cash, I'll take fifty
+cents a week out of your space bill until the amount is paid."
+
+"Fine and dandy!" uttered Dick, his eyes glowing.
+
+"One's for your mother," hinted Mr. Pollock teasingly.  "_But
+who's the girl_?"
+
+"Two girls," Dick corrected him, unabashed.  "My mother never
+uses hair-curlers."
+
+"_Two girls_?" cried Mr. Pollock, looking aghast.  "Dick!  Dick!
+You study history at the High School, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir; of course."
+
+"Then don't you know, my boy, how often _two girls_ have altered
+the fates of whole nations?  Tremble and be wise!"
+
+"I haven't any girl," Dick retorted, sensibly, "and I think a
+fellow is weak-minded to talk about having a girl until he can
+also talk authoritatively on the ability to support a wife.  But
+there's a good deal of social life going on at the High School,
+Mr. Pollock, and I'm very, very glad of this chance to cancel
+my obligations so cheaply and at the same time rather handsomely."
+
+So Laura and Belle had each received, that Christmas morning,
+a present that proved a source of delight.
+
+"Yet I didn't expect the foolish boys to send me anything like
+this," Laura told herself, rather regretfully.  "I'm sure they've
+pledged their pocket money for weeks on this."
+
+When Belle called, it developed that she had received an identical
+gift.
+
+"It's lovely of the boys," Belle admitted.  "But it's foolish,
+too, for they've had to use their pocket money away ahead, I'm
+certain."
+
+Dick and Dave had sent their gifts, as had the girls, in both
+names.
+
+Christmas was a day of rejoicing among all of the High School
+students except the least-favored ones.
+
+Fred Ripley, however, spent his Christmas day in a way differing
+from the enjoyments of any of the others.  A new fever of energy
+had seized the young man.  In his fierce determination to carry
+away the star pitchership, especially from Dick Prescott, Ripley
+employed even Christmas afternoon by going over to Duxbridge
+and taking another lesson in pitching from the great Everett.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+FRED PITCHES A BOMBSHELL INTO TRAINING CAMP
+
+
+"One, two, three, four!  One, two, three, four!
+
+"Halt!  Rest!"
+
+"Attention!  Overhead to front and back.  Commence!  One, two,
+three, four!"
+
+Coach Luce's voice rang out in a solid, carrying tone of military
+command.
+
+The baseball squad was hard at work in the gymnasium, perspiring
+even though the gym. was not heated above fifty degrees.
+
+Dumb-bell drill was going off with great snap.  It was followed
+by work with the Indian clubs.  Then, after a brief rest, the
+entire squad took to the track in the gallery.  For ten minutes
+the High School young men jogged around the track.  Any fellow
+in the lot would have been ashamed to drop out, short of breath.
+
+As a matter of fact, no one was out of breath.  Mr. Luce was what
+the boys called a "griller," and he certainly knew all about whipping
+a lot of youngsters into fine physical shape.
+
+This training work was now along in the third week of the new
+winter term.
+
+Three times weekly the squad had been assembled.  On other days
+of the week, the young men were pledged to outside running, when
+the roads permitted, and to certain indoor work at other times.
+
+Every member of the big squad now began to feel "hard as nails."
+Slight defects in breathing had been corrected; lung-power had
+been developed, and backs that ached at first, from the work,
+had now grown too well seasoned to ache.  Every member of the
+squad was conscious of a new, growing muscular power.  Hard, bumpy
+muscles were not being cultivated.  The long, smooth, lithe and
+active "Indian" muscle, built more for endurance than for great
+strength, was the ideal of Coach Luce.
+
+After the jogging came a halt for rest.  Luce now addressed them.
+
+"Young gentlemen, I know, well enough, that, while all this work
+is good for you, you're all of you anxious to see the production
+of the regular League ball on this floor.  Now, the baseball cage
+will not be put up for a few days yet.  However, this afternoon,
+for the rest of our tour, I'm going to produce the ball!"
+
+A joyous "hurrah!" went up from the squad.  The ball was the real
+thing in their eyes.
+
+Coach Luce turned away to one of the spacious cupboard lockers,
+returning with a ball, still in the sealed package, and a bat
+with well wrapped handle.
+
+"I'll handle the bat," announced Mr. Luce, smiling.  "It's just
+barely possible that I, can drive a good liner straighter than
+some of you, and put it nearer where I want it.  Until the cage
+is in place, I don't like to risk smashing any of the gymnasium
+windows.  Now, which one of you pitchers is ambitious to do something?"
+
+Naturally, all of them were.  Yet none liked to appear too forward
+or greedy, so silence followed.
+
+"I'll try you modest young men out on my own lines, then," laughed
+the coach.  Calling to one of the juniors to stand behind him
+as catcher, Luce continued:
+
+"Darrin, as you're a candidate for pitcher, show us some of the
+things you can do to fool a batsman."
+
+Dave took his post, his face a bit red.  He handled the ball for
+a few moments, rather nervously.
+
+"Don't get rattled, lad," counseled the coach.  "Remember, this
+is just fun.  Bear in mind that you're aiming to send the ball
+in to the catcher.  Don't let the ball drive through a window
+by mistake."
+
+A laugh went up at this.  Dave, instead of losing his nerve, flashed
+back at the squad, then steadied himself.
+
+"Now, then, let her drive---not too hard," ordered Mr. Luce.
+
+Dave let go with what he thought was an outcurve.  It didn't fool
+the coach.  He deliberately struck the ball, sending it rolling
+along the floor as a grounder.
+
+"A little more twist to the wrist, Darrin," counseled the coach,
+after a scout from the squad had picked up the ball and sent it
+to this budding pitcher.
+
+Dave's next delivery was struck down as easily.  Then Darrin began
+to grow a bit angry and much more determined.
+
+"Don't feel put out, Darrin," counseled the coach.  "I had the
+batting record of my college when I was there, and I'm in better
+trim and nerve than you are yet.  Don't be discouraged."
+
+Soon Dave was making a rather decent showing.
+
+"I'll show you later, Darrin, a little more about the way to turn
+the hand in the wrist twist," remarked the coach, as he let Dave
+go.  "You'll soon have the hang of the thing.  Now, Prescott,
+you step into the imaginary box, if you please."
+
+Dick took to an inshoot.  His first serve was as easily clouted
+as Dave's had been.  After that, by putting on a little more steam,
+and throwing in a good deal more calculation, Dick got three successive
+balls by Mr. Luce.  At two of these, coach had struck.
+
+"You're going to do first-rate, Prescott, by the time we get outdoors,
+I think;" Mr. Luce announced.  "I shall pay particular attention
+to your wrist work."
+
+"I'm afraid I showed up like a lout," whispered Dave, as Dick
+rejoined his chums.
+
+"No, you didn't," Dick retorted.  "You showed what all of us
+show---that you need training to get into good shape.  That's
+what the coach is working with us for."
+
+"I'm betting on you and Dick for the team," put in Tom Reade,
+quickly.
+
+"Dick will make it, and I think you will, too, Dave," added Harry
+Hazelton.
+
+"I wish I were as sure for myself," muttered Greg Holmes, plaintively.
+
+"Oh, well, if I can't make the team," grinned Dan Dalzell, "I'm
+going to stop this work and go in training as a mascot."
+
+"Look at the fellow who always carries Luck in his pocket!" gibed
+Hazelton, good-humoredly.
+
+Coach Luce was now calling off several names rapidly.  These young
+men were directed to scatter on the gym. floor.  To one of them
+Mr. Luce tossed the ball.
+
+"Now, then," shot out Luce's voice, "this is for quick understanding
+and judgment.  Whoever receives the ball will throw it without
+delay to anyone I name.  So post yourselves on where each other
+man stands.  I want fast work, and I want straight, accurate work.
+But no amount of speed will avail, unless the accuracy is there.
+_And vice versa_!"
+
+For five minutes this was kept up, with a steam engine idea of
+rapidity of motion.  Many were the fumbles.  A good deal of laughter
+came from the sides of the gym.
+
+"Myself!" shouted Luce, just as one of the players received the
+ball.  The young man with the ball looked puzzled for an instant.
+Then,  when too late to count, the young man understood and drove
+the ball for the coach.
+
+"Not quick enough on judgment," admonished Mr. Luce.  "Now, we'll
+take another look at the style of an ambitious pitcher or two.
+Ripley, suppose you try?"
+
+Fred started and colored.  Next, he looked pleased with himself
+as he strode jauntily forward.
+
+"May I ask for my own catcher, sir?" Fred asked.
+
+"Yes; certainly," nodded the coach.
+
+"Rip must have something big up his sleeve, if any old dub of
+a catcher won't do," jeered some one at the back of the crowd.
+
+"Attention!  Rip, the ladylike twirler!" sang out another teasing
+student.
+
+"Let her rip, Rip!"
+
+A good many were laughing.  Fred was not popular.  Many tolerated
+him, and some of the boys treated him with a fair amount of
+comradeship.  Yet the lawyer's son was no prime favorite.
+
+"Order!" rapped out the coach, sharply.  "This is training work.
+You'll find the minstrel show, if that's what you want, at the
+opera house next Thursday night."
+
+"How well the coach keeps track of minstrel shows!" called another
+gibing voice.
+
+"That was you, Parkinson!" called Mr. Luce, with mock severity.
+"Run over and harden your funny-bone on the punching bag.  Run
+along with you, now!"
+
+Everybody laughed, except Parkinson, who grinned sheepishly.
+
+"Training orders, Parkinson!" insisted the coach.  "Trot right
+over and let the funny-bone of each arm drive at the bag for
+twenty-five times.  Hurry up.  We'll watch you."
+
+So Mr. Parkinson, of the junior class, seeing that the order was
+a positive one, had the good sense to obey.  He "hardened" the
+funny-bone of either arm against the punching bag to the tune
+of jeering laughter from the rest of the squad.  That was Coach
+Luce's way of dealing with the too-funny amateur humorist.
+
+Fred, meantime, had selected his own catcher, and had whispered
+some words of instruction to him.
+
+"Now, come on, Ripley," ordered Mr. Luce, swinging his bat over
+an imaginary plate.  "Let her come in about as you want to."
+
+"He's going to try a spit ball," muttered several, as they saw
+Fred moisten his fingers.
+
+"That's a hard one for a greenhorn to put over," added another.
+
+Fred took his place with a rather confident air; he had been drilling
+at Duxbridge for some weeks now.
+
+Then, with a turn of his body, Ripley let the ball go off of his
+finger tips.  Straight and rather slowly it went toward the plate.
+It looked like the easiest ball that had been sent in so far.
+Coach Luce, with a calculating eye, watched it come, moving his
+bat ever so little.  Then he struck.  But the spit ball, having
+traveled to the hitting point, dropped nearly twenty inches.
+The bat fanned air, and the catcher, crouching just behind the
+coach, gathered in the ball.
+
+Luce was anything but mortified.  A gleam of exultation lit up
+his eyes as he swung the bat exultantly over his head.  In a swift
+outburst of old college enthusiasm he forgot most of his dignity
+as a submaster.
+
+"_Wow_!" yelled the coach.  "That was a _bird_!  A lulu-cooler
+and a scalp-taker!  Ripley, I reckon you're the new cop that runs
+the beat!"
+
+It took the High School onlookers a few seconds to gather the
+full importance of what they had seen.  Then a wild cheer broke
+loose:
+
+"Ripley?  Oh, Ripley'll pitch for the nine!" surged up on all
+sides.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+DICK & CO. TAKE A TURN AT FEELING GLUM
+
+
+"What's the matter with Ripley?" yelled one senior.
+
+And another answered, hoarsely:
+
+"Nothing!  He's a wonder!"
+
+Fred Ripley was unpopular.  He was regarded as a cad and a sneak.
+But he could pitch ball!  He could give great aid in bringing
+an unbroken line of victories to Gridley.  That was enough.
+
+By now Coach Luce was a bit red in the face.  He realized that
+his momentary relapse into the old college enthusiasm had made
+him look ridiculous, in his other guise of High School submaster.
+
+But when the submaster coach turned and saw Parkinson butting
+his head against the punching bag he called out:
+
+"What's the matter, Parkinson?"
+
+"Subbing for you, sir!"
+
+That turned the good-natured laugh of a few on Mr. Luce.  Most
+of those present, however, had not been struck by the unusualness
+of his speech.
+
+Dick and Dave looked hard at each other.  Both boys wanted to
+make the team as pitchers.  Yet now it seemed most certain that
+Fred Ripley must stand out head and shoulders over any other
+candidates for the Gridley box.
+
+Dick's face shone with enthusiasm, none the less.  If he couldn't
+make the nine this year, he could at least feel that Gridley High
+School was already well on toward the lead over all competing
+school nines.
+
+"I wish it were somebody else," muttered Dave, huskily, in his
+chum's ear.
+
+"Gridley is fixed for lead, anyway," replied Dick, "if Ripley
+can always keep in such form as that."
+
+"Can Ripley do it again?" shouted one Gridley senior.
+
+"Try it, and see, Ripley," urged Mr. Luce, again swinging his
+bat.
+
+Fred had been holding the returned ball for a minute or two.
+His face was flushed, his eyes glowing.  Never before had he made
+such a hit among his schoolmates.  It was sweet, at last, to taste
+the pleasures of local fame.
+
+He stood gazing about him, drinking in the evident delight of
+the High School boys.  In fact he did not hear the coach's order
+until it came again.
+
+"Try another one, Ripley!"
+
+The young man moistened his fingers, placing the ball carefully.
+Of a sudden his arm shot out.  Again the coach struck for what
+looked a fair ball, yet once more Mr. Luce fanned air and the
+catcher straightened up, ball in hand.
+
+Pumph!  The lazily thrown ball landed in Ripley's outstretched
+left.  He moistened his  fingers, wet the ball, and let drive
+almost instantly.  For the third time Mr. Luce fanned out.
+
+Then Fred spoke, in a tone of satisfied self-importance:
+
+"Coach, that's all I'll do this afternoon, if you don't mind."
+
+"Right," nodded Mr. Luce.  "You don't want to strain your work
+before you've really begun it any other candidates for pitching
+want to have a try now?"
+
+As the boys of the squad waited for an answer, a low laugh began
+to ripple around the gym.  The very idea of any fellow trying
+after Ripley had made his wonderful showing was wholly funny!
+
+Coach Luce called out the names of another small squad to scatter
+over the gym. and to throw the ball to anyone he named.  Except
+for the few who were in this forced work, no attention was paid
+to the players.
+
+Fred Ripley had walked complacently to one side of the gym.  A
+noisy, gleeful group formed around him.
+
+"Rip, where did you ever learn that great work?"
+
+"Who taught you?"
+
+"Say, how long have you been hiding that thousand-candle-power
+light under a bushel?"
+
+"Rip, it was the greatest work I ever saw a boy do."
+
+"Will you show me---after the nine has been made up, of course?"
+
+"How did you ever get it down so slick?"
+
+This was all meat to the boy who had long been unpopular.
+
+"I always was a pretty fair pitcher, wasn't I?" asked Fred.
+
+"Yes; but never anything like the pitcher you showed us to-day,"
+glowed eager Parkinson.
+
+"I've been doing a good deal of practicing and study since the
+close of last season," Fred replied importantly.  "I've studied
+out a lot of new things.  I shan't show them all, either, until
+the real season begins."
+
+Fred's glance, in roaming around, took in Dick & Co.  For once,
+these six very popular sophomores had no one else around them.
+
+"Whew!  I think I've taken some wind out of the sails of Mr.
+Self-satisfied Prescott," Fred told himself jubilantly.  "We shan't
+hear so much about Dick & Co. for a few months!"
+
+"Well, anyway, Dick," said Tom Reade, "you and Dave needn't feel
+too badly.  If Ripley turns out to be the nine's crack pitcher,
+the nine also carries two relief pitchers.  You and Dave have
+a chance to be the relief pitchers.  _That_ will make the nine
+for you both, anyway.  But, then, that spitball may be the only
+thing Ripley knows."
+
+"Don't fool yourself," returned Prescott, shaking his head.  "If
+Ripley can do that one so much like a veteran, then he knows other
+styles of tossing, too.  I'm glad for Gridley High School---mighty
+glad.  I wouldn't mind on personal grounds, either, if only---if-----"
+
+"If Fred Ripley were only a half decent fellow," Harry Hazelton
+finished for him.
+
+Coach Luce soon dismissed the squad for the day.  A few minutes
+later the boys left the gym. in groups.  Of course the pitching
+they had seen was the sole theme.  Ripley didn't have to walk
+away alone to-day.  Coach Luce and a dozen of the boys stepped
+along with him in great glee.
+
+"It's Rip!  Old Rip will be the most talked about fellow in any
+High School league this year," Parkinson declared, enthusiastically.
+
+Even the fellows who actually despised Fred couldn't help their
+jubilation.  Gridley was strong in athletics just because of the
+real old Gridley High School spirit.  Gridley's boys always played
+to win.  They made heroes of the fellows who could lead them to
+victory after victory.
+
+Fred was far on his way home ere the last boy had left him.
+
+"I'll get everything in sight now," Ripley told himself, in ecstasy,
+as he turned in at the gateway to his home.  "Why, even if Prescott
+does get into the relief box, I can decide when he shall or shall
+not pitch.  I'll never see him get a _big_ game to pitch in.
+Oh, but this blow to-day has hurt Dick Prescott worse than a blow
+over the head with an iron stake could.  I've wiped  him up and
+put him down again.  I've made him feel sick and ashamed of his
+puny little inshoot!  Prescott, you're mine to do as I please
+with on this year's nine---if you can make it at all!"
+
+In truth, though young Prescott kept a smiling face, and talked
+cheerily, he could hardly have been more cast down than he was.
+Dick always went into any sport to win and lead, and he had set
+his heart on being Gridley's best man in the box.  But now-----
+
+Dick & Co. all felt that they needed the open air after the grilling
+and the surprise at the gym.  So they strolled, together, on Main
+Street, for nearly an hour ere they parted and went home to supper.
+
+The next day the talk at school was mostly about Ripley, or "Rip,"
+as he was now more intimately called.
+
+Even the girls took more notice of him.  Formerly Fred hadn't
+been widely popular among them.  But now, as the coming star of
+the High School nine, and a new wonder in the school firmament,
+he had a new interest for them.
+
+Half the girls, or more, were "sincere fans" at the ball games.
+Baseball was so much of a craze among them that these girls didn't
+have to ask about the points of the game.  They knew the diamond
+and most of its rules.
+
+Incense was sweet to the boy to whom it had so long been denied,
+but of course it turned "Rip's" head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE THIRD PARTY'S AMAZEMENT
+
+
+Eleven o'clock pealed out from the steeple of the nearest church.
+
+The night was dark.  Rain or snow was in the air.
+
+In a shadow across the street hung Tip Scammon.  His shabby cap
+was pulled down over his eyes, his hands thrust deep into the
+pockets of his ragged reefer.  Tip's eyes were turned toward the
+Ripley home opposite.
+
+"To think o' that feller in a fine, warm, soft bed nights, an'
+all the swell stuff to eat at table!" muttered Tip, enviously.
+"And then me, out in the cold, wearing a tramp's clothes!  Never
+sure whether to-morrer has a meal comin' with it!  But, anyway,
+I can make that Ripley kid dance when I pull the string!  He dances
+pretty tolerable frequent, too!  He's got to do it to-night, an'
+he'd better hurry up some!"
+
+Soon after the sound of the striking clock had died away, Tip's
+keen eyes saw a figure steal around one side of the house from
+the rear.
+
+"Here comes Rip, now.  He's on time," thought Tip.  "Huh!  It's
+a pity---fer---him that he wouldn't take a new think an' chase
+me.  But he's like most pups that hire other folks to do their
+tough work---they hain't 't got no nerve o' their own."
+
+Fred came stealthily out of the yard, after looking back at the
+house.  He went straight up to young Scammon.
+
+"So here ye are, pal," laughed Tip.  "Glad ye didn't keep me waitin'.
+Ye brought the wherewithal?"
+
+"See here, Tip, you scoundrel," muttered Fred, hoarsely, a worried
+look showing in his eyes, "I'm getting plumb down to the bottom
+of anything I can get for you."
+
+"I told ye to bring twenty," retorted young Scammon, abruptly.
+"That will be enough."
+
+"I couldn't get it," muttered Fred.
+
+"Now, see here, pal," warned Tip, threateningly, "don't try to
+pull no roots on me.  Ye can get all the money ye want."
+
+"I couldn't this time," Fred contended, stubbornly.  "I've got
+eleven dollars, and that's every bit I could get my hands on."
+
+"But I've _got_ to have twenty," muttered Tip, fiercely.  "Now,
+ye trot back and look through yer Sunday-best suit.  You have
+money enough; yer father's rich, an' he gives ye a lot.  Now,
+ye've no business spendin' any o' that money until ye've paid
+me what's proper comin' to me.  So back to the house with ye,
+and get the rest o' yer money!"
+
+"It's no use, Tip.  I simply can't get another dollar.  Here's
+the eleven, and you'd better be off with it.  I can't get any
+more, either, inside of a fortnight."
+
+"See here," raged young Scammon, "if ye think ye can play-----"
+
+"Take this money and get off," demanded Fred, impatiently.  "I'm
+going back home and to bed."
+
+"I guess, boy, it's about time fer me to see your old man," blustered
+Tip.  "If I hold off until to-morrer afternoon, will ye have the
+other nine, an' an extry dollar fer me trouble?"
+
+"No," rasped Fred.  "It's no use at all---not for another fortnight,
+anyway.  Good night!"
+
+Turning, Fred sped across the street and back under the shadows
+at the rear of the lawyer's great house.
+
+"I wonder if the younker's gettin' wise?" murmured Tip.  "He ain't
+smart enough to know that fer him to go to his old man an' tell
+the whole yarn 'ud be cheapest in the run.  The old man 'ud be
+mad at Rip, but the old man's a lawyer, an' 'ud know how to lay
+down the blackmail law to me!"
+
+Feeling certain that he was wholly alone by this time, Tip had
+spoken the words aloud or sufficiently so for him to be heard
+a few feet away by any lurker.
+
+Shivering a bit, for he was none too warmly clad, young Scammon
+turned, making his way up the street.
+
+Fully two minutes after Tip had gone his way Dick Prescott stepped
+out from behind the place where Tip had been standing.
+
+There was a queer and rather puzzled look on Dick's face.
+
+"So Fred's paying Tip money, and Tip knows it's blackmail?" muttered
+the sophomore.  "That can mean just one thing then.  When Tip
+held his tongue before and at his trial, last year, he was looking
+ahead to the time when he could extort money by threatening Fred.
+And now Tip's doing it.  That must be the way he gets his living.
+Whew, but Ripley must be allowed a heap of spending money if
+he can stand that sort of drain!"
+
+How Dick came to be on hand at the time can be easily explained.
+Earlier in the evening he had been at "The Blade" office.  Mr.
+Pollock had asked him to go out on a news story that could be
+obtained by calling upon a citizen at his home.  The story would
+be longer than Dick usually succeeded in turning in.  It looked
+attractive to a boy who wanted to earn money, so the sophomore
+eagerly accepted the assignment.
+
+As it happened, Dick had had to wait a long time at the house
+at which he called before the man he wanted to see returned home.
+Dick was on his way to "The Blade" office when he caught sight
+of Tip Scammon.  The latter did not see or hear the sophomore
+approaching.
+
+So Dick halted, darting behind a tree.
+
+"Now, what's Tip doing down here, near the Ripley place?" wondered
+Prescott.  "He must be waiting to see Fred.  Then they must have
+an appointment.  Dave always thought that Tip ambushed me with
+those brickbats at Fred Ripley's order.  There may be something
+of that sort in the wind again.  I guess I've got a right to listen."
+
+Looking about him, Prescott saw a chance to slip into a yard,
+get over a fence, and creep up rather close to Scammon, though
+still being hidden from that scoundrel.  At last Prescott found
+himself well hidden in the yard behind Tip.
+
+So Dick heard the talk.  Now, as he hurried back to "The Blade"
+office the young soph guessed shrewdly at the meaning of what
+he had heard.
+
+"Now, what had I better do about it?"  Dick Prescott asked himself.
+"What's the fair and honorable thing to do---keep quiet?  It
+would seem a bit sneaky to go and tell Lawyer Ripley.  Shall I
+tell Fred?  I wonder if I could make   him understand how foolish
+and cowardly it is to go on paying for a blackmailer's silence?
+Yet it's ten to one that Fred wouldn't thank me.  Oh, bother
+it, what had a fellow better do in a case like this?"
+
+A moment later, Dick laughed dryly.
+
+"I know one thing I could do.  I could go to Fred, tell him what
+I know, and scare him so he'd fall down in his effort to become
+the crack pitcher of the nine!  My, but he'd go all to pieces
+if he thought I knew and could tell on him!"
+
+Dick chuckled, then his face sobered, as he added:
+
+"Fred's safe from that _trick_, though.  I couldn't stand a glimpse
+of my own face in the mirror, afterward, if I did such a low piece
+of business."
+
+Prescott was still revolving the whole thing in his mind when
+he reached "The Blade" office.  He turned in the news story he
+bad been sent for.  As he did so the news editor looked up to
+remark:
+
+"We have plenty of room to spare in the paper to-night, Prescott."
+
+"Yes?  Well?"
+
+"Can't you give us a few paragraphs of real High School news?
+Something about the state of athletics there?"
+
+"Why, yes, of course," the young sophomore nodded.
+
+Returning to the desk where he had been sitting, Dick ran off
+a few paragraphs on the outlook of the coming High School baseball
+season.
+
+"Did you write that High School baseball stuff in this morning's
+paper, Dick?" asked Tom Reade, the next day.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You said that the indications are that Ripley will be the crack
+pitcher this season, and that he is plainly going to be far ahead
+of all the other box candidates."
+
+"That's correct, isn't it?" challenged Dick.
+
+"It looks so, of course," Tom admitted.  "But why did you give
+Ripley such a boost?  He's no friend of yours, or ours."
+
+"Newspapers are published for the purpose of giving information,"
+Dick explained.  "If a newspaper's writers all wrote just to please
+themselves and their friends, how many people do you suppose would
+buy the daily papers?  Fred Ripley is the most prominent box candidate
+we have.  He towers away over the rest of us.  That was why I
+so stated it in 'The Blade.'"
+
+"And I guess that's the only right way to do things when you're
+writing for the papers," agreed Darrin.
+
+"It's a pity you can't print some other things about Ripley that
+you know to be true," grumbled Hazelton.
+
+"True," agreed Dick, thoughtfully.  "I'm only a green, amateur
+reporter, but I've already learned that a reporter soon knows
+more than he can print."
+
+Prescott was thinking of the meeting he had witnessed, the night
+before, between Fred and Tip.
+
+After sleeping on the question for the night, Dick had decided
+that he would say nothing of the matter, for the present, either
+to the elder or the younger Ripley.
+
+"If Fred found out that I knew all about it, he'd be sure that
+I was biding my time," was what Dick had concluded.  "He'd be
+sure that I was only waiting for the best chance to expose him.
+On the other hand, if I cautioned his father, there'd be an awful
+row at the Ripley home.  Either way, Fred Ripley would go to pieces.
+He'd lose what little nerve he ever had.  After that he'd be
+no good at pitching.  He'd go  plumb to pieces.  That might leave
+me the chance to be Gridley's crack pitcher this year.  Oh, I'd
+like to be the leading pitcher of the High School nine!  But I
+don't want to win the honor in any way that I'm not positive is
+wholly square and honorable."
+
+Then, after a few moments more of thought:
+
+"Besides, I'm loyal to good old Gridley High School.  I want to
+see our nine have the best pitcher it can get---no matter who
+he is!"
+
+By some it might be argued that Dick Prescott was under a moral
+obligation to go and caution Lawyer Ripley.  But Dick hated talebearers.
+He acted up to the best promptings of his own best conscience,
+which is all any honorable man can do.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+TRYING OUT THE PITCHERS
+
+
+"Oh, you Rip!"
+
+"Good boy, Rip!"
+
+"You're the winning piece of leather, Rip!"
+
+"Get after him, Dick!"
+
+"Wait till you see Prescott!"
+
+"And don't you forget Dave Darrin, either!"  Late in March, it
+was the biggest day of Spring out at the High School Athletic
+Field.
+
+This field, the fruit of the labors of the Alumni Association
+for many years, was a model one even in the best of High School
+towns.
+
+The field, some six acres in extent, lay well outside the city
+proper.  It was a walled field, laid out for football, baseball,
+cricket and field and track sports.  In order that even the High
+School girls might have a strong sense of ownership in it, the
+field also contained two croquet grounds, well laid out.
+
+Just now, the whole crowd was gathered at the sides of the diamond.
+Hundreds were perched up on one of the stands for spectators.
+
+Down on the diamond stood the members of the baseball squad.
+As far as the onlookers could see, every one of the forty-odd
+young men was in the pink of physical condition.  The indoor training
+had been hard from the outset.   Weeks of cage work had been gone
+through with in the gym.  But from this day on, whenever it didn't
+rain too hard, the baseball training work was to take place on
+the field.
+
+Coach Luce now stepped out of the little building in which were
+the team dressing rooms.  As he went across the diamond he was
+followed by lusty cheers from High School boys up on the spectators'
+seats.  The girls clapped their hands, or waved handkerchiefs.
+A few already carried the gold and crimson banners of Gridley.
+Besides the High School young people, there were a few hundred
+older people, who had come out to see what the youngsters were
+doing.
+
+For this was the day on which the pitchers were to be tried out.
+Ripley was known to be the favorite in all the guessing.  In
+fact, there wasn't any guessing.  Some, however, believed that
+Dick, and possibly Dave, might be chosen as the relief pitchers.
+
+Dick himself looked mighty solemn, as he stood by, apparently
+seeing but little of what was going on.  Beside him stood Dave.
+The other four chums were not far off.
+
+Another wild howl went up from the High School contingent when
+two more men were seen to leave the dressing room building and
+walk out toward Coach Luce.  These were two members of the Athletic
+Committee, former students at Gridley High School.  These two
+were to aid the coach in choosing the men for the school team.
+They would also name the members of the school's second team.
+
+"Now, we'll try you out on pitching, if you're ready," announced
+Mr. Luce, turning to a  member of the junior class.  The young
+fellow grinned half-sheepishly, but was game.  He ran over to
+the box, after nodding to the catcher he had chosen.  Luce took
+the bat and stood by the home plate.  To-day the coach did not
+intend to strike at any of the balls, but he and the two members
+of the Athletic Committee would judge, and award marks to the
+candidates.
+
+"Oh, we don't want the dub!  Trot out Rip!" came a roaring chorus.
+
+Coach Luce, however, from this time on, paid no heed to the shouts
+or demands of spectators.
+
+The candidate for box honors now displayed all he knew about pitching,
+though some nervousness doubtless marred his performance.
+
+"Now, run out Rip!" came the insistent chorus again, after this
+candidate had shown his curves and had gone back.
+
+But it was another member of the junior class who came to the
+box for the next trial.
+
+"Dead ball!  Throw wild and cut it short!" came the advice from
+the seats.
+
+Then a sophomore was tried out.  But the crowd was becoming highly
+impatient.
+
+"We want Rip!  We demand Rip.  Give us Rip or give us chloroform!"
+came the insistent clamor.  "We'll come another day to see the
+dead ones, if you insist."
+
+Coach Luce looked over at Fred, and nodded.  The tumultuous cheering
+lasted two full minutes,  for Gridley was always as strong on
+fans as it wanted to be on players.
+
+Fred Ripley was flushed but proud.  He tried to hold himself jauntily,
+with an air of indifference, as he stood with the ball clasped
+in both hands, awaiting the signal.
+
+Ripley felt that he could afford to be satisfied with himself.
+The advance consciousness of victory thrilled him.  He had worked
+rather hard with Everett; and, though the great pitcher had not
+succeeded in bringing out all that he had hoped to do with the
+boy, yet Everett had praised him only yesterday.  One reason why
+Fred had not absolutely suited his trainer was that the boy had
+broken his training pledge by taking up with coffee.  For that
+reason his nerves were not in the best possible shape.  Yet they
+didn't need to be in order to beat such awkward, rural pitchers
+as Prescott or Darrin.
+
+For a while Coach Luce waited for the cheering for Ripley to die
+down.  Then he raised his bat as a signal.  Fred sent in his favorite
+spit-ball.  To all who understood the game, it was clear that
+the ball had not been well delivered.  The crowd on the seats
+stopped cheering to look on in some concern.
+
+"Brace, Ripley!  You can beat that," warned the coach, in a low
+tone.
+
+Fred did better the second time.  The third ball was nearly up
+to his form; the fourth, wholly so.  Now, Fred sent in two more
+spitballs, then changed to other styles.  He was pitching famously,
+now.
+
+"That's all, unless you wish more, sir," announced Fred, finally,
+when the ball came back to him.
+
+"It's enough.  Magnificently done," called Coach Luce, after a
+glance at the two members of the Athletic Committee.
+
+"Oh, you Rip!"
+
+"Good old Rip!"
+
+The cheering commenced again, swelling in volume.
+
+Coach Luce signaled to Dick Prescott, who, coolly, yet with a
+somewhat pallid face, came forward to the box.  He removed the
+wrapping from a new ball and took his post.
+
+The cheering stopped now.  Dick was extremely well liked in Gridley.
+Most of the spectators felt sorry for this poor young soph, who
+must make a showing after that phenomenon, Ripley.
+
+"The first two or three don't need to count, Prescott," called
+Luce.  "Get yourself warmed up."
+
+Fred stood at the side, looking on with a sense of amusement which,
+for policy's sake, he strove to conceal.
+
+"Great Scott!  The nerve of the fellow!" gasped Ripley, inwardly,
+as he saw Prescott moisten his fingers.  "He's going to try the
+spit-ball after what I've shown!"
+
+The silence grew deeper, for most of the onlookers understood
+the significance of Dick's moistened fingers.
+
+Dick drove in, Tom Reade catching.  That first spit-ball was not
+quite as good as some that Ripley had shown.  But Fred's face
+went white.
+
+"Where did Prescott get that thing?  He's been _stealing_ from the
+little he has seen me do."
+
+A shout of jubilation went up from a hundred throats now, for
+Dick had just spun his second spit-ball across the plate.  It
+was equal to any that Ripley had shown.
+
+"Confound the upstart!  He's getting close to me on that style!"
+gasped the astonished Ripley.
+
+Now, Dick held the ball for a few moments, rolling it over in his
+hands.  An instant later, he unbent.  Then he let drive.  The ball
+went slowly toward the plate, with flat trajectory.
+
+"Wow!" came the sudden explosion.  It was a _jump-ball_, going almost
+to the plate, then rising instead of falling.
+
+Three more of these Dick served, and now the cheering was the
+biggest of the afternoon.  Fred Ripley's mouth was wide open,
+his breath coming jerkily.
+
+Three fine inshoots followed.  The hundreds on the seats were
+standing up now.  Then, to rest his arm, Dick, who was wholly
+collected, and as cool as a veteran under fire, served the spectators
+with a glimpse of an out-curve that was not quite like any that
+they had ever seen before.  This out-curve had a suspicion of
+the jump-ball about it.
+
+Dick was pitching easily, now.  He had gotten his warming and
+his nerve, and appeared to work without conscious strain.
+
+"Do you want more, sir?" called Dick, at last.
+
+"No," decided Coach Luce.  "You've done enough, Prescott.
+Mr. Darrin!"
+
+Dave ran briskly to the box, opening the wrappings on a new ball
+as he stepped into the box.  After the first two balls Dave's
+exhibition was swift, certain, fine.  He had almost reached Dick
+with his performance.
+
+Ripley's bewildered astonishment was apparent in his face.
+
+"Thunder, I'd no idea they could do anything like that!" gasped
+Fred to himself.  "They're very nearly as good as I am.  How in
+blazes did they ever get hold of the wrinkles?  They can't afford
+a man like Everett."
+
+"Any more candidates?" called Coach Luce.  There weren't.  No
+other fellow was going forward to show himself after the last
+three who had worked from the box.
+
+There was almost a dead silence, then, while Coach Luce and the
+two members of the Athletics Committee conferred in whispers.
+At last the coach stepped forward.
+
+"We have chosen the pitchers!" he shouted.  Then, after a pause,
+Mr. Luce went on:
+
+"The pitchers for the regular school nine will be Prescott, Darrin,
+Ripley, in the order named."
+
+"Oh, you Dick!"
+
+"Bang-up Prescott!"
+
+"Reliable old Darrin!"
+
+"Ripley---ugh!"
+
+And now the fierce cheering drowned out all other cries.  But
+Fred Ripley, his face purple with rage, darted forward before
+the judges.
+
+"I protest!" he cried.
+
+"Protests are useless," replied Mr. Luce.  "The judges give you
+four points less than Darrin, and seven less than Prescott.  You've
+had a fair show, Mr. Ripley."
+
+"I haven't.  I'm better than either of them!" bawled Fred, hoarsely,
+for the cheering was still on and he had to make himself heard.
+
+"No use, Ripley," spoke up a member of the Athletics Committee.
+"You're third, and that's good enough, for we never before had
+such a pitching triumvirate."
+
+"Where did these fellows ever learn to pitch to beat me?" jeered
+Fred, angrily.  "They had no such trainer.  Until he went south
+with his own team, I was trained by-----"
+
+Fred paused suddenly.  Perhaps he had better not tell too much,
+after all.
+
+The din from the seats had now died down.
+
+"Well, Ripley, who trained you?" asked a member of the Athletics
+Committee.
+
+Fred bit his lip, but Dick broke in quietly:
+
+"I can tell.  Perhaps a little confession will be good for us
+all around.  Ripley was trained by Everett over at Duxbridge.
+I found out that much, weeks ago."
+
+"You spy!" hissed Fred angrily, but Dick, not heeding his enemy,
+continued:
+
+"The way Ripley started out, the first showing he made, Darrin
+and I saw that we were left in the stable.  Candidly, we were
+in despair of doing anything real in the box, after Ripley got
+through.  But I suppose all you gentlemen have heard of Pop Gint?"
+
+"Gint!  Old Pop?" demanded Coach Luce, a light glowing in his
+eyes.  "Well, I should say so.  Why, Pop Gint was the famous old
+trainer who taught Everett and a half dozen other of our best
+national pitchers all they first learned about style.  Pop Gint
+is the best trainer of pitchers that ever was."
+
+"Pop Gint is an uncle of Mr. Pollock, editor of 'The Blade,'" Dick
+went on, smilingly.  "Pop Gint has retired, and won't teach for
+money, any more.  But Mr. Pollock coaxed his uncle to train Darrin
+and myself.  Right faithfully the old gentleman did it, too.
+Why, Pop Gint, today, is as much of a boy-----"
+
+"Oh, shut up!" grated Fred, harshly, turning upon his rival.
+"Mr. Luce, I throw down the team as far as I'm concerned.  I won't
+pitch as an inferior to these two boobies.  Scratch my name off."
+
+"I'll give you a day or two, Mr. Ripley, to think that over,"
+replied Mr. Luce, quietly.  "Remember, Ripley, you must be a good
+sportsman, and you should also be loyal to your High School.
+In matters of loyalty one can't always act on spite or impulse."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Fred, stalking away.
+
+His keen disappointment was welling up inside.  With the vent
+of speech the suffering of the arrogant boy had become greater.
+Now, Fred's whole desire was to get away by himself, where he
+could nurse his rage in secret.  There were no more yells of "Oh,
+you Rip!"  He had done some splendid pitching, and had made the
+team, for that matter, but he was not to be one of the season's
+stars.  This latter fact, added to his deserved unpopularity,
+filled his spirit with gall as he hastened toward the dressing
+rooms.  There he quickly got into his street clothes and as hastily
+quitted the athletic field.
+
+Therein Fred Ripley made a mistake, as he generally did in other
+things.  In sport all can't win.  It is more of an art to be a
+cheerful, game loser than to bow to the plaudits of the throng.
+
+"Mr. Prescott," demanded Coach Luce, "how long have you been
+working under Pop Gint's training?"
+
+"Between four and five weeks, sir."
+
+"And Darrin the same length of time?"
+
+"Yes, sir," nodded Dave.
+
+"Then, unless you two find something a whole lot better to do
+in life, you could do worse than  to keep in mind the idea of
+trying for positions on the national teams when you're older."
+
+"I think we have something better in view, Mr. Luce," Dick answered
+smilingly.  "Eh, Dave?"
+
+"Yes," nodded Darrin and speaking emphatically.  "Athletics and
+sports are good for what they bring to a fellow in the way of
+health and training.  But a fellow ought to use the benefits as
+a physical foundation in some other kind of life where he can
+be more useful."
+
+"I suppose you two, then, have it all mapped out as to what you're
+going to do in life?"
+
+"Not quite," Dick replied.  "But I think I know what we'd like
+to do when we're through with our studies."
+
+There were other try-outs that afternoon, but the great interest
+was over.  Gridley fans were satisfied that the High School had
+a pitching trio that it would be difficult to beat anywhere except
+on the professional diamond.
+
+"If anything _should_ happen to Prescott and Darrin just before
+any of _the big games_," muttered Ripley, darkly, to himself, "then
+I'd have my chance, after all!  Can't I get my head to working
+and find a way to _make_ something happen?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE RIOT CALL AND OTHER LITTLE THINGS
+
+
+"To your seat, Mr. Bristow!  You're acting like a rowdy!"
+
+Principal Cantwell uttered the order sharply.
+
+Fully half the student body had gathered in the big assembly room
+at the High School.  It was still five minutes before the opening
+hour, and there had been a buzz of conversation through the room.
+
+The principal's voice was so loud that it carried through the
+room.  Almost at once the buzz ceased as the students turned to
+see what was happening.  Bristow had been skylarking a bit.
+Undoubtedly he had been more boisterous with one of the other
+fellows in the assembly room than good taste sanctioned.
+
+Just as naturally, however, Bristow resented the style of rebuke
+from authority.  The boy wheeled about, glaring at the principal.
+
+"Go to your seat, sir!" thundered the principal, his face turning
+ghastly white from his suppressed rage.
+
+Bristow wheeled once more, in sullen silence, to go to his seat.
+Certainly he did not move fast, but he was obeying.
+
+"You mutinous young rascal, that won't do!" shot out from the
+principal's lips.  In another instant Mr. Cantwell was crossing
+the floor rapidly toward the slow-moving offender.
+
+"Get to your seat quickly, or go in pieces!" rasped out the angry
+principal.
+
+Seizing the boy from behind by both shoulders, Mr. Cantwell gave
+him a violent push.  Bristow tripped, falling across a desk and
+cutting a gash in his forehead.
+
+In an instant the boy was up and wheeled about, blood dripping
+from the cut, but something worse flashing in his eyes.
+
+The principal was at once terrified.  He was not naturally courageous,
+but he had a dangerous temper, and he now realized to what it
+had brought him.  Mr. Cantwell was trying to frame a lame apology
+when an indignant voice cried out:
+
+"_Coward_!"
+
+His face livid, the principal turned.
+
+"Who said that?" he demanded, at white heat.
+
+"_I_ did!" admitted Purcell, promptly.  Abner Cantwell sprang at
+this second "offender."  But Purcell threw himself quickly into
+an attitude of defence.
+
+"Keep your hands off of me, Mr. Cantwell, or I'll knock you down!"
+
+"Good!"
+
+"That's the talk!"
+
+The excited High School boys came crowding about the principal
+and Purcell.  Bristow was  swept back by the surging throng.
+He had his handkerchief out, now, at his forehead.
+
+"Some of you young men seize Purcell and march him to my private
+office," commanded the principal, who had lacked the courage to
+strike at the young fellow who stood waiting for him.
+
+"Will you fight Purcell like a man, if we do?" asked another voice.
+
+"Run Cantwell out!  He isn't fit to be here!" yelled another voice.
+
+Mr. Drake, the only submaster in the room at the time, was pushing
+his way forward.
+
+"Calmly, boys, calmly," called Drake.  "Don't do anything you'll
+be sorry for afterwards."
+
+But those who were more hot headed were still pressing forward.
+It looked as though they were trying to get close enough to lay
+hands on the now trembling principal.
+
+Under the circumstances, Mr. Cantwell did the very worst thing
+he could have done.  He pushed three or four boys aside and made
+a break across the assembly room.  Once out in the corridor, the
+principal dove into his private office, turning the key after
+him.  Secure, now, and his anger once more boiling up, Mr. Cantwell
+rang his telephone bell.  Calling for the police station, he called
+for Chief Coy and reported that mutiny and violence had broken
+loose in the High School.
+
+"That seems almost incredible," replied Chief Coy.  "But I'll
+come on the run with some of my men."
+
+Several of the fellows made a move to follow the principal out
+into the corridor.  Dick Prescott swung the door shut and threw
+himself against it.  Dave Darrin and Tom Reade rushed to his support.
+The other chums got to him as quickly as they could.
+
+"Nothing rash, fellows!" urged Dick.  "Remember, we don't make
+the laws, or execute them.  This business will be settled more
+to our satisfaction if we don't put ourselves in the wrong."
+
+"Pull that fellow Prescott away from the door!" called Fred Ripley,
+anxious to start any kind of trouble against Dick & Co.  Submaster
+Drake, forcing his way through the throng, calming the hottest-headed
+ones, turned an accusing look on Fred.  The latter saw it and
+slunk back into the crowd.
+
+Bristow, still holding his handkerchief to his head, darted out
+of the building.
+
+Submaster Morton and Luce, bearing the excitement, came up from
+class rooms on the ground floor.  They entered by the same door
+through which Bristow had left.
+
+Over on the other side of the room, fearing that a violent riot
+was about to start, some of the girls began to scream.  The women
+teachers present hurried among the girls, quieting them by reassuring
+words.
+
+"Now, young gentlemen," called Mr. Drake, "we'll consider all
+this rumpus done with.  Discipline reigns and Gridley's good name
+must be preserved!"
+
+This brought a cheer from many, for Mr. Drake was genuinely respected
+by the boys as a good and fair-minded man.  Such men as Drake,
+Morton or Luce could lead these warm-hearted boys anywhere.
+
+Stepping quickly back to the platform, Drake sounded the bell.
+In an instant there was an orderly movement toward the desks.
+At the second bell all were seated.
+
+"In the absence of the principal," began Mr. Drake, "I-----"
+
+A low-voiced laugh started in some quarters of the room.
+
+"Silence!" insisted Mr. Drake, with dignity.  "School has opened.
+I-----"
+
+He was interrupted by a new note.  Out in the yard sounded the
+clanging of a bell, the quick trot of horses' feet and the roll
+of wheels.  The boys looked at one another in unbelieving astonishment.
+
+Then heavy steps sounded on the stairway.  Outside Mr. Cantwell's
+voice could be heard:
+
+"I'll take you inside, chief!"
+
+In came the principal, his face now white from dread of what he
+had done, instead of showing the white-heat of passion.  After
+him came Chief Coy and three policemen in uniform.
+
+For at least a full half minute Chief Coy stood glancing around the
+room, where every student was in his seat and all was orderly.
+The boys returned the chief's look with wondering eyes.
+Then Mr. Coy spoke:
+
+"Where's your riot, principal?  Is this what you termed a mutiny?"
+
+Mr. Cantwell, who had gone to his post behind the desk, appeared
+to find difficulty in answering.
+
+"Humph!" muttered the chief, and, turning, strode from the room.
+His three policemen followed.
+
+Then there came indeed an awkward silence.
+
+Submaster Drake had abandoned the center of the stage to the principal.
+Mr. Cantwell found himself at some loss for words.  But at last
+he began:
+
+"Young ladies and young gentlemen, I cannot begin to tell you
+how much I regret the occurrences of this morning.  Discipline
+is one of my greatest ideals, and this morning's mutiny-----"
+
+He felt obliged to pause there, for an angry murmur started on
+the boys' side, and traveled over to where the girls were seated:
+
+"This morning's mutiny-----" began the principal again.
+
+The murmur grew louder.  Mr. Cantwell looked up, more of fear
+than of anger in his eyes.  Mr. Drake, who stood behind the principal,
+held up one hand appealingly.  It was that gesture which saved
+the situation at that critical moment.  The boys thought that
+if silence would please Mr. Drake, then he might have it.
+
+"Pardon me, sir," whispered Drake in Cantwell's ear.  "I wouldn't
+harp on the word mutiny, sir.  Express your regret for the injury
+unintentionally done Bristow."
+
+Mr. Cantwell wheeled abruptly.
+
+"Who is principal here, Mr. Drake?"
+
+"You are, sir."
+
+"Then be good enough to let me finish my remarks."
+
+This dialogue was spoken in an undertone, but the students guessed
+some inkling of its substance.
+
+The submaster subsided, but Mr. Cantwell couldn't seem to remember,
+just then, what he wanted to say.  So he stood gazing about the
+room.  In doing this he caught sight of the face of Purcell.
+
+"Mr. Purcell!" called the principal.
+
+That young man rose, standing by his seat.  "Mr. Purcell, you
+made some threat to me a few minutes ago?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What was that threat?"
+
+"I told you that, if you laid hands on me, I'd floor you."
+
+"Would you have done it?"
+
+"At the time, yes, sir.  Or I'd have tried to do so."
+
+"That is all.  The locker room monitor will go with you to the
+basement.  You may go for the day.  When you come to-morrow morning,
+I will let you know what I have decided in your case."
+
+Submaster Drake bit his lips.  This was not the way to deal with
+a situation in which the principal had started the trouble.  Mr.
+Drake wouldn't have handled the situation in this way, nor would
+Dr. Thornton, the former principal.
+
+But Purcell, with cheerfulness murmured, "Very good, sir," and
+left the room, while many approving glances followed him.
+
+Messrs. Morton and Luce shuffled rather uneasily in their seats.
+Mr. Cantwell began to gather an idea that he was making his own
+bad matter worse, so he changed, making an address in which he
+touched but lightly upon the incidents of the morning.  He made
+an urgent plea for discipline at all times, and tried to impress
+upon the student body the need for absolute self-control.
+
+In view of his own hasty temper that last part of the speech nearly
+provoked an uproar of laughter.  Only respect for Mr. Drake and
+the other submasters prevented that.  The women teachers, or
+most of them, too, the boys were sure, sided with them secretly.
+
+The first recitation period of the morning was going by rapidly,
+but Mr. Cantwell didn't allow that to interfere with his remarks.
+At last, however, he called for the belated singing.  This was
+in progress when the door opened.  Mr. Eldridge, superintendent
+of schools, entered, followed by Bristow's father.  That latter
+gentleman looked angry.
+
+"Mr. Cantwell, can you spare us a few moments in your office?"
+inquired Mr. Eldridge.
+
+There was no way out of it.  The principal left with them.  In a
+few minutes there was a call for Mr. Drake. Then two of the women
+teachers were sent for.  Finally, Dick Prescott and three or four
+of the other boys were summoned.  On the complaint of a very angry
+parent Superintendent Eldridge was holding a very thorough
+investigation.  Many statements were asked for and listened to.
+
+"I think we have heard enough, haven't we, Mr. Eldridge?" asked
+the elder Bristow, at last.  "Shall I state my view of the affair
+now?"
+
+"You may," nodded the superintendent.
+
+"It is plain enough to me," snorted Mr. Bristow, "that this principal
+hasn't self-control enough to be charged with teaching discipline
+to a lot of spirited boys.  His example is bad for them---continually
+bad.  However, that is for the Board of Education to determine.
+My son will not come to school to-day, but he will attend to-morrow.
+As the first step toward righting to-day's affair I shall expect
+Mr. Cantwell to address, before the whole student body, an ample
+and satisfactory apology to my son.  I shall be present to hear
+that apology myself."
+
+"If it is offered," broke in Principal Cantwell, sardonically,
+but Superintendent Eldridge held up a hand to check him.
+
+"If you don't offer the apology, to-morrow morning, and do it
+properly," retorted Mr. Bristow, "I shall go to my lawyer and
+instruct him to get out a warrant charging you with felonious
+assault.  That is all I have to say, sir.  Mr. Eldridge, I thank
+you, sir, for your very prompt and kind help.  Good morning, all!"
+
+"At the close of the session the principal wishes to see Mr. Prescott,"
+read Mr. Cantwell from the platform just before school was dismissed
+that afternoon.
+
+Dick waited in some curiosity.
+
+"Mr. Prescott, you write for 'The Blade,' don't you?" asked Mr.
+Cantwell.
+
+"Sometimes, sir."
+
+"Then, Mr. Prescott, please understand that I forbid you to write
+anything for publication concerning this morning's happenings."
+
+Dick remained silent.
+
+"You will not, will you?"
+
+"That, Mr. Cantwell, is a matter that seems to rest between the
+editor and myself."
+
+"But I have forbidden it," insisted the principal, in surprise.
+
+"That is a matter, sir, about which you will have to see the editor.
+Here at school, Mr. Cantwell, I am under your orders.  At 'The
+Blade' office I work under Mr. Pollock's instructions."
+
+The principal looked as though he were going to grow angry.  On
+the whole, though, he felt that he had had enough of the consequences
+of his own wrath for one day.  So he swallowed hard and replied:
+
+"Very good, then, Mr. Prescott.  I shall hold you responsible
+for anything you publish that I may consider harmful to me."
+
+Dick did print an account of the trouble at school.  He confined
+himself to a statement of the facts that he had observed with
+his own eyes.  Editorially "The Blade" printed a comment to the
+effect that such scenes would have been impossible under the
+much-missed Dr. Thornton.
+
+Mr. Cantwell didn't have anything disagreeable to say to Dick
+Prescott the next morning.  Purcell took up the burden of his
+studies again without comment.  The principal did apologize effectively
+to young Bristow before the student body, while the elder Bristow
+stood grimly by.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE STEAM OF THE BATSMAN
+
+
+All of Dick & Co. had made the High School nine, though not all
+as star players in their positions.
+
+Holmes had won out for left field, and Hazelton for shortstop.
+As far as the early outdoor practice showed, the latter was going
+to be the strongest man of the school in that important position.
+
+Dalzell and Reade became first and second basemen.
+
+During the rest of March practice proceeded briskly.  Six days
+in every week the youngsters worked hard at the field in the afternoons.
+When it rained they put in their time at the gym.
+
+On the second of April Coach Luce called a meeting of the baseball
+squad at the gym.
+
+"We're a week, now, from our first game, gentlemen," announced
+the coach.  "I want you all to be in flawless condition from now
+on.  I will put a question to you, now, on your honor.  Has any
+man broken training table?"
+
+No one spoke or stirred.  Ripley, who had gotten over the worst
+of his sulks, was present, but he did not admit any of his many
+breaches of the training table diet that he was pledged to follow
+at home.
+
+"Has any man used tobacco since training began?" continued the
+coach.
+
+Again there was silence.
+
+"I am gratified to note that I can't get a response to either
+question," smiled Mr. Luce.  "This assures me that every one of
+you has kept in the strictest training.  It will show as soon
+as you begin to meet Gridley's opponents in the field.
+
+"Faithful observance of all training rules bespeaks a good state
+of discipline.  In all sports, and in team sports especially,
+discipline is our very foundation stone.  Every man must sacrifice
+himself and his feelings for the good of the team.  Each one of
+you must forget, in all baseball matters, that he is an individual.
+He must think of himself only as a spoke in the wheel.
+
+"During the baseball season I want every man of you in bed by
+nine-thirty.  On the night before a game turn in at eight-thirty.
+Make up your minds that there shall be no variation from this.
+In the mornings I want every man, when it isn't raining, to go
+out and jog along the road, in running shoes and sweaters, for
+twenty minutes without a break; for thirty minutes, instead, on
+any morning when you can spare the time.
+
+"Whenever you can do so, practice swift, short sprints.  Many
+a nine, full of otherwise good men, loses a game or a season's
+record just because this important matter of speedy base running
+has been neglected.
+
+"Not only this, but I want every one of you to be careful about
+the method of sprinting.  The man who runs flat-footedly is using
+up steam and endurance.  Run balanced well forward on the balls
+of your feet.  Throw your heels up; travel as though you were
+trying to kick the backs of your thighs.  Breathe through the
+nose, always, in running, and master to the highest degree the
+trick of making a great air reservoir of your lungs.  We have
+had considerable practice, both in jogging and in sprinting, but
+this afternoon I am going to sprint each man in turn, and I'm
+going to pick all his flaws of style or speed to small pieces.
+We will now adjourn to the field for that purpose.  Remember,
+that a batsman has two very valuable assets---his hitting judgment
+and his running steam.  Wagons are waiting outside, and we'll
+now make quick time to the field."
+
+Arriving there, Coach Luce led them at once to the dressing rooms.
+
+"Now, then, we want quick work!" he called  after the sweaters
+and ball shoes had been hurriedly donned.
+
+"Now let us go over to the diamond; go to the home plate as I
+call the names.  Darrin Ripley-Prescott-Reade-Purcell-----"
+
+And so on.  The young men named made quick time to the plate.
+
+"You're up, Darrin.  Run!  Two bases only.  Halt at second!  Ripley,
+run!  Reade, run!  Not on your flat feet, Ripley.  Up on your
+toes, man!  Reade, more steam!"
+
+Then others were given the starting word.  Coach did not run more
+men at a time than he could readily watch.
+
+"Prescott, throw your feet up behind better.  You've been jogging,
+but that isn't the gait.  Holmes, straighten back more---don't
+cramp your chest!"
+
+So the criticisms rang out.  Luce was an authority on short sprinting.
+He had made good in that line in his own college days.
+
+"Jennison, you're not running with your arms!  Forget 'em!"
+
+Jennison promptly let his arms hang motionless at his sides.
+
+"Come in, Jennison!" called coach.
+
+Jennison came in.
+
+"You mustn't work your arms like fly-wheels, nor like piston rods,
+either," explained Mr. Luce.  "Keep your elbows in fairly close
+to your sides; fists loosely closed and forward, a little higher
+than your elbows.  Now, all runners come in."
+
+Gathering the squad about him, and demanding close attention,
+Mr. Luce showed the pose of the body at the instant of starting.
+
+"Now, I'm going to run to first and second," continued the coach.
+"I want every man of you to watch closely and catch the idea.
+You note how I hold my body---sloping slightly forward, yet with
+every effort to avoid cramping the chest.  Observe how I run on
+the forward part of the ball of the foot---not exactly on the
+toes, but close to it.  See just how it is that I throw my feet
+up behind me.  And be very particular to note that I keep my hands
+and arms in just this position all the way.  Now, then, when
+you strike at a ball, and expect to hit it, have your lungs inflated
+ready for the first bound of the spurt.  Now---watching, all of
+you?"
+
+After an instant Mr. Luce shouted, "Strike!" and was off like
+a flash.  Many of the boys present had never seen coach really
+sprint before.  As they watched during the amazingly few seconds
+a yell of delight went up from them.  This was sprinting!
+
+"Did you all find time to observe?" smiled coach, as he came loping
+in from second base.
+
+"We all watched you," laughed Dick.  "But the time was short."
+
+"You see the true principle of the sprint?"
+
+"Yes; but it would take any of us years to get the sprint down
+that fine," protested Darrin.
+
+"Don't be too sure of that," retorted coach.  "Some of you will
+have doubled the style and steam of your sprint by the time you're
+running in the first game.  Now, don't forget a word of what I've
+said about the importance of true sprinting.  I've seen many a
+nine whose members had a fine battery, and all the fielders good
+men; yet, when they went to the bat and hit the leather, their
+sprinting was so poor that they lost game after game.  From now
+on, the sprint's the thing!  Yet don't overdo it by doing it all
+the time.  Take plenty of rest and deep breathing between sprints.
+Usually, a two-bag sprint is all you need.  Now, some more of
+you get out and try it."
+
+Rapidly coach called off the names of those he wanted to try out.
+Some of these young men did better than the starters, for they
+had learned from the criticisms, and from the showing of Luce's
+standard form.
+
+Presently the young men were standing about in various parts of
+the field, for none came in until called.
+
+"Ripley," said Mr. Luce, turning to that young man, "you have
+the build and the lines of a good sprinter."
+
+"Thank you, sir," nodded Fred.
+
+"And yet your performance falls off.  Your lung capacity ought
+to be all right from your appearance.  What is the trouble?  Honestly,
+have you been smoking any cigarettes?"
+
+"Not one," Fred declared promptly.
+
+Mr. Luce lifted the boy's right hand, scanning it.
+
+"If I were going to make such a denial," remarked coach coolly,
+"I'd be sure to have a piece of pumice stone, and I'd use it often
+to take away those yellowish stains."
+
+The light-brownish stains were faint on Fred's first and second
+fingers.  Yet, under careful scrutiny, they could be made out.
+
+Ripley colored uncomfortably, jerking his hand away.
+
+"Better cut out the paper pests," advised coach quietly.
+
+"Only one, once in a while," murmured the boy.  "I won't have
+even that many after this."
+
+"I should hope not," replied Mr. Luce.  "You're under training
+pledge, you know."
+
+All Fred meant by his promise was that he would use pumice stone
+painstakingly on his finger tips hereafter.
+
+Within the next few days, Dick and Darrin made about the best
+showing as to sprinting form, though many of the others did remarkably
+well.
+
+"Ripley isn't cutting out the cigarettes," decided Mr. Luce, watching
+the running of the lawyer's son.  "He proves it by his lack of
+improvement.  His respiration is all to the bad."
+
+Mr. Luce was shrewd enough to know that, in Fred Ripley, he had
+a liar to deal with, and that neither repeated warnings nor renewed
+promises were worth much.  So he held his peace.
+
+In a few days more, all the members of the Athletics Committee
+who could attend went to the field.  A practice match between
+the first and second teams had been ordered.  Ripley consented
+to pitch for second, while Dick pitched for the school nine.
+The latter nine won by a score of eleven to two, but that had
+been expected.  It was for another purpose that the members of
+the Athletics Committee were present.
+
+After the game, there was a brief conference between coach and
+the committee members.
+
+"It is time, now, to announce the appointment of captain," called
+coach, when he had again gathered the squad.  "Purcell, of the
+junior class, will be captain of the nine.  Prescott, of the sophomore
+class, will be second, or relief captain."
+
+Then the announcements were made for the second nine.
+
+And now the first game was close at hand.  The opponent was to
+be Gardiner City High School.  Gardiner possessed one of the strongest
+school nines in the state.  Coach Luce would have preferred an
+easier opponent for the first regular game, but had to take the
+only match that he could get.
+
+"However, young gentlemen," he announced to the squad on the field,
+"the Gridley idea is that all opponents look alike to us.  Your
+city and your school will demand that you win---not merely that
+you try to win!"
+
+"We'll win---no other way to do!" came the hearty promise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A DASTARD'S WORK IN THE DARK
+
+
+Thanks to the methods Dick & Co. had started the year before of
+raising funds for High School athletics through stirring appeal
+to the local pride of the wealthy residents of the city, the school
+nine had an abundant supply of money for all needs.
+
+Through the columns of "The Blade" Prescott warmed up local interest
+effectively.  Tickets sold well ahead of the time for the meeting
+with Gardiner City High School.
+
+"Prescott, you've been picked to pitch for the Gardiner game,"
+Coach Luce informed the sophomore.  "We're going to have almost
+the hardest rub of the season with this nine, on account of its
+being our first game.  Gardiner City has played two games already,
+and her men have their diamond nerve with them.  Keep yourself
+in shape, Mr. Prescott.  Don't take any even slight chance of
+getting out of condition."
+
+"You may be sure I won't," Dick replied, his eyes glowing.  "You
+know, Mr. Luce, that, though I played some on second football
+team last fall, this is the first chance I've had to play on the
+regular team."
+
+"As the game is close at hand," continued the coach, "I'd even
+be careful not to train too much.  You're in as fine condition,
+now, as you can be this season.  Sometimes, just in keeping up
+training, a fellow has something happen to him that lays him up
+for a few days."
+
+"It won't happen to me, sir," Dick asserted.  "I'm going to take
+care of myself as if I were glass, until the Gardiner game is
+over."
+
+"You won't get too nervous, will you?"
+
+"I may be a bit, before the game," Dick confessed, candidly.
+
+"But after the game starts?"
+
+"Once the game opens, I shall forget that there's any such fellow
+as Prescott, sir.  I shall be just a part of Gridley, with nothing
+individual about me."
+
+"Good!  I like to hear you talk that way," laughed Mr. Luce.
+"I hope you'll be able to keep up to it when you go to the diamond.
+Once the game opens, don't let yourself have a single careless
+moment.  Any single point we can get away from Gardiner will have
+to be done by just watching for it.  You saw them play last year?"
+
+"I did," Prescott nodded.  "Gridley won, four to three, and until
+the last half of the last inning we had only one run.  I thought
+nothing could save us that day."
+
+"Nothing did," replied the coach, "except the hard and fast can't-lose
+tradition of Gridley."
+
+"We're not going to lose this time, either," Dick declared.  "I
+know that I'm going to strike out a string in every inning.  If
+I go stale, you have Darrin to fall back on, and he's as baffling
+a pitcher as I can hope to be.  And Ripley is a wonder."
+
+"He would be," nodded Mr. Luce, sadly, "if he were a better base
+runner at the same time."
+
+It seemed as though nothing else could be talked of in Gridley
+but the opening game.  Just because it was the starter of the
+season the local military band, reinforced to thirty-five pieces,
+was to be on hand to give swing and life to the affair.
+
+"Are you going, Laura?" Dick asked, when he met Miss Bentley.
+
+"Am I going?" replied Laura, opening her eyes in amazement.  "Why,
+Dick, do you think anything but pestilence or death could keep
+me away?  Father is going to take Belle and myself.  The seats
+are already bought."
+
+Prescott's own parents were to attend.  Out of his newspaper money
+he had bought them grand stand seats, and some one else had been
+engaged to attend in the store while the game was on.
+
+"You'll have a great chance, Dick, old fellow, against a nine
+like Gardiner," said Dave Darrin.  "And, do you know, I'm glad
+it's up to you to pitch?  I'm afraid I'd be too rattled to pitch
+against a nine like Gardiner in the very first game of the season.
+All I have to do is to keep at the side and watch you."
+
+"See here, Dave Darrin," expostulated his chum, "you keep yourself
+in the best trim, and make up your mind that you may _have_ to
+be called before the game is over.  What if my wrist goes lame
+during the game?"
+
+"Pooh!  I don't believe it will, or _can_," Dave retorted.  "You're
+in much too fine shape for that, Dick."
+
+"Other pitchers have often had to be retired before a game ended,"
+Prescott rejoined, gravely.  "And I don't believe that I am the
+greatest or the most enduring ever.  Keep yourself up, Dave!
+Be ready for the call at any second."
+
+"Oh, I will, but it will be needless," Dave answered.
+
+Dalzell and Holmes were other members of the school nine squad
+who had been picked for this first game.  Purcell was to catch,
+making perhaps, the strongest battery pair that Gridley High School
+had ever put in the field.  Half of Dick & Co. were to make up
+a third of the nine in its first battle.
+
+"I'm getting a bit scared," muttered Dan, the Friday afternoon
+before the Saturday game.
+
+"Now, cut all that out," Dick advised.  "If you don't I'll report
+you to the coach and captain."
+
+This was said with a grin, and Dick went on earnestly:
+
+"Dan, the scared soldier is always a mighty big drag in any battle.
+It takes two or three other good soldiers to look after him and
+hold him to duty."
+
+"I'll admit, for myself, that I wish the druggist knew of some
+sort of pill that would  give me more confidence for this confounded
+old first game," muttered Greg Holmes.
+
+"I can tell you how to get the pill put up," Prescott hinted.
+
+"I wish you would, then." But Greg spoke dubiously.
+
+"Tell the druggist to use tragacanth paste to hold the pill together."
+
+"Yes?-----" followed Greg.
+
+"And tell the druggist to mix into each pill a pound of good old
+Yankee ginger," wound up Prescott.  "Take four, an hour apart
+before the game to-morrow."
+
+"Then I'd never play left field," grinned Greg.
+
+"Yes, you would.  You'd forget your nervousness.  Try it, Greg."
+
+The three were walking up Main Street, when they encountered Laura
+Bentley and Belle Meade.
+
+"What are you going to do to-morrow?" asked Laura, looking at
+the trio, keenly.  "Are you going to win for the glory and honor
+of good old Gridley?"
+
+"Dick is," smiled Greg.  "Dan and I are going to sit at the side
+and use foot-warmers."
+
+"You two aren't losing heart, are you?" asked Belle, looking at
+Dick Prescott's companions with some scorn.
+
+"N-n-not if you girls are all going to take things as seriously
+as that," protested Greg.
+
+"Every Gridley High School girl expects the nine to win to-morrow,"
+spoke Laura almost sternly.
+
+"Then we're going to win," affirmed Dan Dalzell.  "On second thought,
+I'll sell my footwarmers at half the cost price."
+
+"That's the way to talk," laughed Belle.  "Now, remember,
+boys---though Dick doesn't need to have his backbone stiffened---if
+you boys haven't pride enough in Gridley to carry you through
+anything, the Gridley High School girls are heart and soul in the
+game.  If you lose the game to-morrow don't any of you ever show up
+again at a class dance!"
+
+The girls went away laughing, yet they meant what they said.
+Gridley girls were baseball fans and football rooters of the most
+intense sort.
+
+Dave wanted to be abed by half past eight that evening, as Coach
+Luce had requested; but about a quarter past eight, just as he
+was about to retire, his mother discovered that she needed coffee
+for the next morning's breakfast, so she sent him to the grocer's
+on the errand.  Dick, while eating supper, thought of an item
+that he wanted to print in the next day's "Blade."  Accordingly,
+he hurried to the newspaper office as soon as the meal was over.
+It was ten minutes past eight when Dick handed in his copy to
+the night editor.
+
+"Time enough," muttered the boy, as he reached the street.  "A
+brisk jog homeward is just the thing before pulling off clothes
+and dropping in between the sheets."
+
+As Dick jogged along he remembered having noticed, on the way
+to the office, Tip Scammon in a new suit of clothes.
+
+"Tip's stock is coming up in the world," thought young Prescott.
+"But I wonder whether Tip earned that suit or stole it, or whether
+he has just succeeded in threatening more money out of Ripley.
+How foolish Fred is to stand for blackmail!  I wonder if I ought
+to speak to him about it, or give his father a hint.  I hate to
+be meddlesome.  And, by ginger!  Now I think of it, Tip looked
+rather curiously at me.  He---oh!---_murder_!"
+
+The last exclamation was wrung from Dick Prescott by a most amazing
+happening.
+
+He was passing a building in the course of erection.  It stood
+flush with the sidewalk, and the contractor had laid down a board
+walk over the sidewalk, and had covered it with a roofed staging.
+
+Just as Dick passed under this, still on a lope, a long pole was
+thrust quickly out from the blackness inside the building.  Between
+Dick's moving legs went the pole.
+
+Bump!  Down came Dick, on both hands and one knee.  Then he rolled
+over sideways.
+
+Away back in the building the young pitcher heard fast-moving
+feet.
+
+In a flash Dick tried to get up.  It took him more time than he
+had expected.  He clutched at one of the upright beams for support.
+
+Half a dozen people had seen the fall.  Stopping curiously, they
+soon turned, hurrying toward Prescott.
+
+Forgotten, in an instant, was the youngster's pain.  His face
+went white with another throbbing realization.
+
+"The game to-morrow!  This knee puts me out!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE HOUR OF TORMENTING DOUBT
+
+
+"Oh, no!  That mustn't be.  I've got to pitch in to-morrow's game!"
+
+Prescott ground out the words between his clenched teeth.  The
+consciousness of pain was again asserting itself.
+
+"What's the matter, Prescott?" called the first passer-by to reach
+him.
+
+"Matter enough," grumbled Dick, pointing to the pole that lay
+near him.  "See that thing?"
+
+"Yes.  Trip over it?"
+
+"I did.  But some one thrust it between my legs as I was running
+past here."
+
+"Sho!" exclaimed another, curiously.  "Now, who would want to
+do that?"
+
+"Anyone who didn't want me to pitch to-morrow's game, perhaps,"
+flashed Dick, with sudden divination.
+
+"What's this?" demanded a boy, breaking in through the small crowd
+that was collecting.  "Dick---you hurt?"
+
+It didn't take Dave many seconds to understand the situation.
+
+"I'll bet I know who did it!" he muttered, vengefully.
+
+"Who?" spoke up one of the men.
+
+But Dick gave a warning nudge.  "Oh, well!" muttered Dave Darrin.
+"We'll settle this thing all in our own good time."
+
+"Let me have your arm, Dave," begged young Prescott.  "I want
+to see how well I can walk."
+
+The young pitcher had already been experimenting, cautiously,
+to see how much weight he could bear on his injured left leg.
+
+"Take my arm on the other side," volunteered a sympathetic man
+in the crowd.
+
+Dick was about to do so, when the lights of an auto showed as
+the machine came close to the curb.
+
+"Here's a doctor," called some one.
+
+"Which one?" asked Dick.
+
+"Bentley."
+
+"Good!" muttered Dave.  "Dr. Bentley is medical examiner to the
+High School athletic teams.  Ask Dr. Bentley if he won't come
+in here.  Stand still, Dick, and put all the weight you can on
+your sound leg."
+
+Prescott was already doing this.
+
+Dr. Bentley, a strong looking man of about fifty, rather short
+though broad-shouldered, took a quick survey of the situation.
+
+"One of you men help me put Prescott in the tonneau of my car,"
+he directed, "and come along with me to Prescott's home.  The
+lad must not step on that leg until it has been looked at."
+
+Dick found himself being lifted and placed in a comfortable seat
+in the after part of the auto.  Dave and the man who had helped
+the physician got in with him.
+
+Barely a minute later Dr. Bentley stopped his car before the Prescott
+book store.
+
+"You stay in the car a minute," directed the physician.  "I want
+to speak to your mother, so she won't be scared to death."
+
+Mrs. Prescott, from whom Dick had inherited much of his own pluck,
+was not the kind of woman to faint.  She quickly followed Dr.
+Bentley from the store.
+
+"I'm hurt only in my feelings, mother," said Dick cheerfully.
+"I'm afraid I have a little wrench that will keep me out of the
+game tomorrow."
+
+"That's almost a tragedy, I know," replied Mrs. Prescott bravely.
+
+The physician directing, the boy was lifted from the car, while
+Mrs. Prescott went ahead to open the door.
+
+Dave Darrin followed, his eyes flashing.  Dave had his own theory
+to account for this state of affairs.
+
+Into his own room Dick was carried, and laid on the bed.  Mrs.
+Prescott remained outside while Dave helped undress his chum.
+
+"Now, let us see just how bad this is," mused the physician aloud.
+
+"It isn't so very bad," smiled Dick.  "I wouldn't mind at all,
+if it weren't for the game to-morrow.  I'll play, anyway."
+
+"Huh!" muttered Dave, incredulously.
+
+Dr. Bentley was running his fingers over the left knee, which
+looked rather red.
+
+"Does this hurt?  Does this?  Or this" inquired the medical man,
+pressing on different parts of the knee.
+
+"No," Dick answered, in each case.
+
+"We don't want grit, my boy.  We want the truth."
+
+"Why, no; it doesn't hurt," Dick insisted.  "I believe I could
+rub that knee a little, and then walk on it."
+
+"I hope that's right," Dave muttered, half incredulously.
+
+Dr. Bentley made some further examination before he stated:
+
+"I knew there was nothing broken there, but I feared that the
+ligaments of the knee had been strained.  That might have put
+you out of the game for the season, Prescott."
+
+"I'll be able to sprint in the morning," declared the young pitcher,
+with spirit.
+
+"You fell on your hands, as well, didn't you?" asked the physician.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"That saved you from worse trouble, then.  The ligaments are not
+torn at all.  The worst you've met with, Prescott, is a wrench
+of the knee, and there's a little swelling.  It hurt to stand
+on your foot when you first tried to do so, didn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"It would probably hurt a little less, now.  No---don't try it,"
+as Dick started to bolster himself up.  "You want that knee in
+shape at the earliest moment, don't you?"
+
+"Of course I do, doctor."
+
+"Then lie very quiet, and do, in everything, just what you are
+told."
+
+"I've got to pitch to-morrow afternoon, you know, doctor.  And
+I've got to run bases."
+
+Dr. Bentley pursed his lips.
+
+"There's a chance in a thousand that you'll be able, Prescott.
+The slight swelling is the worst thing we have to deal with,
+I'm glad to say.  We'll have to keep the leg pretty quiet, and
+put cold compresses on frequently."
+
+"I'll stay here and do it," volunteered Dave, promptly.
+
+"You have to pitch to-morrow, Dave, if anything _should_ make the
+coach order me off the field," interposed Dick, anxiously.  "And
+you ought to be home and in bed now."
+
+"If Mrs. Prescott will put on the bandages up to one o'clock to-night
+that will be doing well enough," suggested Dr. Bentley.  "I shall
+be in to look at the young man quite early in the morning.  But
+don't attempt to get up for anything, do you understand, Prescott?
+You know---" here Dr. Bentley assumed an air of authority---"
+I'm more than the mere physician.  I'm medical director to your nine.
+So you're in duty bound to follow my orders to the letter."
+
+"I will---if you'll promise me that I can pitch," promised the
+boy fervently.
+
+"I can't promise, but I'll do my best."
+
+"And, Dave," pressed Dick, "you'll skip home, now, and get a big
+night's rest, won't you?  There's a bare chance that you _might_
+have to throw the ball to-morrow.  But I won't let you, if I can
+stop it," Prescott added wistfully.
+
+So Dave departed, for he was accustomed to following the wishes
+of the head of Dick & Co. in such matters.
+
+Mrs. Prescott had come in as soon as the lad had been placed between
+the sheets.  Dr. Bentley gave some further directions, then left
+something that would quiet the pain without having the effect
+of an opiate.
+
+"It all depends on keeping the leg quiet and keeping the cold
+compresses renewed," were the medical man's parting words.
+
+Twenty minutes later Dave telephoned the store below.  Darrin
+was in a state of great excitement.
+
+"Tell Dick, when he's awake in the morning," begged Dave of Mr.
+Prescott, who answered the call, "that Gridley pitchers seem to
+be in danger to-night.  At least, _two_ of 'em are.  I was right
+near home, and running a bit, when I passed the head of the alley
+near our house.  A bag of sand was thrown out right in front of
+my feet.  How I did it I don't quite know yet, but I jumped over
+that bag, and came down on my feet beyond it.  It was a fearfully
+close call, though.  No; I guess you hadn't better tell Dick to-night.
+But you can tell him in the morning."
+
+Though "The Blade" somehow missed the matter, there were a good
+many in Gridley who had heard the news by Saturday morning.  It
+traveled especially among the High School boys.  More than a dozen
+of them were at the book store as soon as that place was opened.
+
+"How's Dick?" asked all the callers.
+
+"Doing finely," replied the elder Prescott, cheerily.
+
+"Great!  Is he going to pitch this afternoon?"
+
+"Um---I can't say about that."
+
+"If he can't, Mr. Prescott, that'll be one of Gridley's chances
+gone over the fence."
+
+Dave was on hand as early as he could be.  Dick had already been
+told of the attempt on his chum the night before.
+
+"You didn't see the fellow well enough to make out who he was?"
+Prescott pressed eagerly.
+
+"No," admitted Dave, sadly.  "After a few seconds I got over my
+bewilderment enough to try to give chase.  But the dastard had
+sneaked away, cat-foot.  I know who it was, though, even if I
+didn't see him."
+
+"Tip Scammon?"
+
+"Surely," nodded Darrin.  "He's Ripley's right hand at nasty work,
+isn't he?"
+
+"I'd hate to think that Fred had a hand in such mean business,"
+muttered Dick, flushing.
+
+"Don't be simple," muttered Dave.  "Who wanted to be crack pitcher
+for the nine?  Who pitches to-day, if neither of us can?  That
+would be a mean hint to throw out, if Ripley's past conduct didn't
+warrant the suspicion."
+
+Later in the morning there was another phase of the sensation,
+and Dave came back with it.  He was just in time to find Dick
+walking out into the little parlor of the flat, Dr. Bentley watching.
+
+"Fine!" cheered Dave.  "How is he, doctor?"
+
+"Doing nicely," nodded Dr. Bentley.
+
+"But how about the big problem---can he pitch to-day?"
+
+"That's what we're trying to guess," replied the physician.  "Now,
+see here, Prescott, you're to sit over there by the window, in
+the sunlight.  During the first hour you will get up once in every
+five minutes and walk around the room once, then seating yourself
+again.  In the second hour, you'll walk around twice, every five
+minutes.  After that you may move about as  much as you like,
+but don't go out of the room.  I think you can, by this gentle
+exercise, work out all the little stiffness that's left there."
+
+"And now for my news," cried Dave, as soon as the medical man
+had gone.  "Fred Ripley ran into trouble, too."
+
+"Got hurt, you mean?" asked Dick quickly.
+
+"Not quite," went on Darrin, making a face.  "When Fred was going
+into the house last night he tripped slightly---against a rope
+that had been stretched across the garden path between two stakes."
+
+"But Fred wasn't hurt?"
+
+"No; he says he tripped, but he recovered himself."
+
+"I'm afraid you don't believe that, Dave?"
+
+"I ought to, anyway," retorted Darrin dryly.  "Fred is showing
+the rope."
+
+"A piece of rope is easy enough to get," mused Dick.
+
+"Yep; and a lie is easy enough for some fellows to tell.  But
+some of the fellows are inclined to believe Rip, so they've started
+a yarn that Gardiner High School is up to tricks, and that some
+fellows have been sent over in advance to cripple our box men
+for to-day."
+
+"That's vile!" flushed Prescott indignantly, as he got up to make
+the circuit of the room.  "The Gardiner fellows have always been
+good, fair  sportsmen.  They wouldn't be back of any tricks of
+that sort."
+
+"Well, Fred has managed to cover himself, anyway," returned Dave
+rather disgustedly.  "He called his father and mother out to see
+the rope before he cut it away from the stakes.  Oh, I guess a
+good many fellows will believe Ripley's yarn!"
+
+"I'm afraid you don't, Dave;"
+
+"Oh, yes; I'm easy," grinned Darrin.
+
+"Can you see two young ladies, Richard?" asked Mrs. Prescott,
+looking into the room.
+
+"Certainly, mother, if I get a chance.  My vision is not impaired
+in the least," laughed Dick.
+
+Mrs. Prescott stood aside to admit Laura and Belle, then followed
+them into the room.
+
+"We came to make sure that Gridley is not to lose its great pitcher
+to-day," announced Laura.
+
+"Then your father must have told you that I'd do," cried Dick,
+eagerly.
+
+"Father?" pouted Miss Bentley.  "You don't know him then.  One
+can never get a word out of father about any of his patients.
+But he said we might call."
+
+The visit of the girls brightened up twenty minutes of the morning.
+
+"Of course," said Laura, as they rose to go, "you mustn't attempt
+to pitch if you really can't do it, or if it would hurt you for
+future games."
+
+"I'm afraid the coach won't let me pitch, unless your father says
+I can," murmured Dick, with a wry face.
+
+Few in Gridley who knew the state of affairs had any idea that
+Dick Prescott would be able to stand in the box against Gardiner.
+But the young pitcher boarded a trolley car, accompanied by Dave
+Darrin, and both reached the Athletic Field before two o'clock.
+Dr. Bentley was there soon after.  In the Gridley dressing room,
+Dick's left leg was bared, while Coach Luce drew off his coat
+and rolled up his shirt sleeves.  Under the physician's direction
+the coach administered a very thorough massage, following this
+with an alcohol rubbing.
+
+When it was all over Dick rose to exhibit the motions of that
+leg before the eyes of the doubtful physician.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WHEN THE HOME FANS QUIVERED
+
+
+"Is Prescott going to toss!"
+
+"They say not."
+
+"It's a shame."
+
+"And there's a suspicion," whispered one of the High School speakers,
+"that the other name of the shame is Fred Ripley."
+
+"He ought to be lynched!"
+
+"But he claims that an attempt was made against him, also."
+
+"Ripley never was strong on the truth."
+
+Though the gossip about Fred Ripley was not general, the anxiety
+over Pitcher Prescott was heard on all sides.
+
+"It'll be a sure hoodoo if Prescott can't pitch the season's first
+game," declared a man who seldom missed a High School game on
+the home diamond.
+
+Before three o'clock the grand stand was comfortably filled.
+The cheaper seats beyond held about as many spectators as they
+were built to hold.
+
+The attendance, that day, was nearly three thousand.  Gardiner
+had sent a delegation of nearly one-tenth of this number.
+
+Before three o'clock the band began to play.  Whenever the musicians
+launched into a popular baseball ditty the crowd joined with the
+words.
+
+"Prescott is going to pitch!"
+
+"No, he isn't."
+
+"The word has just been passed around.  Besides, his name's down
+on the score card."
+
+"The score cards were printed yesterday."
+
+Finally, curiosity could stand it no longer.  A committee left
+the grand stand to go toward the dressing rooms building.  But
+a policeman waved them back.
+
+"None but players and officials allowed in there," declared the
+officer.
+
+"We want to find out whether Prescott is going to pitch," urged
+the spokesman.
+
+"I heard something about that," admitted the policeman.
+
+"What was it?  Quick!"
+
+"Let me see.  Oh!  Prescott wants to pitch; the coach is half
+willing, but the doctor ain't certain."
+
+This was the best they could do, so the committee returned to
+their seats.  But nothing was settled.
+
+At three-twenty, just as the band ceased playing, the compact
+bunch of Gardiner fans sent up the yell:
+
+"Here they come!  Our fellows!  The only ones!"
+
+Using their privilege as visiting team, the Gardiner players were
+now filing on to the field for a little warming-up practice.
+
+"Throw him down, McCluskey!" tooted the band, derisively.  But
+the cheers from the wild Gardiner fans nearly drowned out the
+instrumental racket.  Quickly the visitors had a practice ball
+in motion.  Now the home fans waited breathlessly.
+
+At last the band played again.  "See the Conquering Hero Comes!"
+
+Gridley High School, natty and clean looking in their gray and
+black uniforms, with black stockings, caps and belts, came out
+on the field.  Instantly there was craning of necks to see if
+Prescott were among the players.
+
+"There he is!" yelled one of the High School fans.  "There's our
+Dick!  Wow!"
+
+Cheering went up from every Gridley seat.  The bleachers contributed
+a bedlam of noise.  "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!" blared forth
+the band.  Girls and women stood up, waving fans, handkerchiefs,
+banners.  Another round of cheering started.  Dick walked quietly,
+looking neither to right nor left.  Yet the boy was wondering,
+in astonishment, if kings usually got such a welcome.
+
+By the time the cheering had ceased, Fred Ripley, also in uniform,
+strolled out and walked toward the sub bench.
+
+A hiss greeted Ripley.  It was not loud, nor insistent, and presently
+died out.  But Fred went as white as a sheet, then, with eyes
+cast downward, he dropped to his seat at the end of the sub bench.
+His chest heaved, for the greeting had unnerved him.
+
+"I wonder why I usually get that sort of thing, while that fellow
+Prescott has a band to play him in," muttered Fred.
+
+The bulk of the audience was now quiet, while the three hundred
+visiting fans roared out one of their school yells.
+
+Then followed a noisy whooping of the Gridley High School yell.
+
+Coach Luce had walked over to a post behind the sub bench.
+
+Umpire Foley, his mask dangling from his left hand, now summoned
+Purcell and the Gardiner captain.  A coin spun up in the air.
+Gardiner's diamond chieftain won the toss, and chose first chance
+at the bat.  Purcell's men scattered to their fielding posts,
+while the young captain of the home team fastened on his catcher's
+mask.
+
+The umpire took a ball from its package, inspected it, then tossed
+it to Dick Prescott, who stood in the box awaiting it.  There
+was a moment's tense expectation, followed by the command that
+set all the real fans wild:
+
+"_Play ball_!"
+
+Gardiner High School had put up a husky young giant who stood
+beside the plate, a confident grin on his face as he swung the
+bat.
+
+Dick moistened his fingers.  The batsman saw that, and guessed
+what was coming.  He didn't guess quite low enough, however, for,
+though he stooped and swung the stick lower, the ball went under
+it by three inches.
+
+"Strike one!" called Mr. Foley, judicially.
+
+An imperceptible signal told Purcell what was coming next.  Then
+it came---a jump ball.  This time Gardiner's batsman aimed low
+enough but it proved to be a jump ball.
+
+"Strike two!"
+
+A howl of glee went up from all quarters, save from the Gardiner
+visitors.
+
+Again Dick signaled.  His third was altogether different---a bewildering
+out-curve.  Gardiner's batsman didn't offer, but Purcell caught
+the leather neatly.
+
+"Strike three, and out!  One out!" announced the umpire.
+
+"Whoop!" The joy from the home fans was let loose.  With a disgusted
+look, Gardiner's man slouched back to the players' bench.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE GRIT OF THE GRAND OLD GAME
+
+
+In that half of the inning it was one, two, three---down and out!
+
+Even Fred Ripley found himself gasping with admiration of Prescott's
+wonderfully true pitching.
+
+Yet the joy of the home fans was somewhat curbed when Gridley
+went to bat and her third man struck out after two of the nine
+had reached bases.
+
+So the first inning closed without score.  Gardiner had found
+that Gridley was "good," and the latter realized that even young
+Prescott's pitching could not do it all.
+
+The first five innings went off quickly, neither side scoring.
+
+"It'll be a tie at dark," sighed some of the fans.
+
+"Oh, well, a tie doesn't score against Gridley," others added,
+consolingly.
+
+In the five innings Dick Prescott had to run twice.  The first
+time he was left at first base.  The second time he had reached
+second, and was cautiously stealing third, when Gridley's batsman,
+Captain Purcell, struck his side out on a foul hit.
+
+"How's your wrist holding up?" asked Purcell, in a low tone, as
+Dick came in.
+
+"It feels strong.
+
+"Do you think Darrin had better have the rest of the game?"
+
+"Not on account of my wrist."
+
+"But can you run the bases to the end?"
+
+"If it doesn't call for any more running than we've had," smiled
+Dick.
+
+Then he caught the ball, held it an instant, signaled, and let
+drive.  It was the same Gardiner batsman whom Prescott had struck
+out at the opening of the game.  This time the young giant got
+the range of the ball by sheer good guessing.
+
+Crack!  It soared.  Right field ran backward after the ball.
+Now the Gardiner fans were up and yelling like Comanches.
+
+"Leg it, Prendergast!"
+
+The runner touched first bag, then darted on for second.  Right
+field was still after the ball.
+
+"Whoop!  He's pulverized the second bag!"
+
+"Just look at third, old man, and come steaming home over the
+plate!"
+
+That runner had been well trained.  He was close upon third base
+and going with unabated speed.
+
+He kicked the bag---then a warning cry told him that right field
+had the ball.
+
+A swift look over his shoulder, and Prendergast fell back upon
+third just before the ball dropped into the third baseman's hands.
+
+"Safe on third!" came the umpire's announcement.  The ball arched
+over to Dick Prescott.  Purcell signaled him to let the ball come
+in over the plate.
+
+Now the air was all a-tingle.  The visitors had a run in sight.
+Dick felt the thrill, but steeled himself against any impulsiveness
+or loss of nerve.  He signaled the drive, then let go.  Three
+strikes and out, the ball all the while so closely under control
+that Prendergast fidgeted but did not dare steal far from third.
+
+Then came Dowdy to the bat.  He was far and away the best batsman
+from Gardiner.  Prendergast began to edge in.
+
+"Strike one!" from the umpire.
+
+Crack!  The leather hung low, a little to the left of shortstop,
+who raced after it.  Prendergast was going in at a tremendous
+clip.  As shortstop reached the ball, he swooped down on it, stopped
+its rolling, and rising quickly, hurled it in across the plate.
+
+Purcell was waiting, and made a good catch.  It looked close.
+Everyone eyed Umpire Foley.
+
+"Runner safe home," he decided.
+
+There was a gasp of disappointment, but the decision was fair.
+Prendergast had made good by a fraction of a second---and there
+was a man on first.
+
+"Oh, Dick!  Oh, Prescott!" wailed the home fans.  "We look to
+you."
+
+Dick's answer was to strike the next man out, with never a chance
+for the man on first to steal away from Dalzell and make second.
+Then a short fly filled first and second.  Dick struck out a
+second man---then a third.
+
+But this was getting on Gridley's nerves.  Despite Prescott's
+fine pitching, it began to look as though Gardiner High School
+was fitted for getting the only one or two runs that the game
+would witness.
+
+In the eighth, Gardiner got a second run, but that inning closed
+with Gridley as much "stumped" as ever.
+
+"Why play the ninth?" yelled one of the visitor fans.  "Let's
+go and drink tea.  Gridley boys are nice little fellows, but-----"
+
+"How's that wrist?" asked Captain Purcell, anxiously, as the players
+changed places to begin the ninth.  Coach Luce had stepped close,
+too, and looked anxious.
+
+"Just a bit lame, of course," Dick admitted.  "But I'm going to
+pull through."
+
+"You're sure about it?" Purcell asked.
+
+"Sure enough!"
+
+The first Gardiner man to bat went out on the third ball sent
+past him.  Then a second.  Now came Prendergast to the bat, blood
+in his eye.  He glared grimly at young Prescott, as though to
+say:
+
+"Now, I'll take it out of you for making a comedian of me the
+first time I held the stick!"
+
+Dick felt, somehow, that Prendergast would make good.
+
+The first ball that Prescott put over the plate was a called strike.
+At the second serve---
+
+Crack! and Prendergast was running.
+
+Dan Dalzell gauged the flight of that ball better than anyone
+else on the diamond.  He side-stepped like a flash, falling back
+a couple of paces.  Then pulling the leather down out of the air,
+he leaped back to first.  He was holding the ball in his left
+hand when Prendergast, breathing fast, hopped at the bag.
+
+"Runner out!" called Umpire Foley.  Prendergast stamped back,
+with a look of huge disgust.  And now Gridley came in at the bat.
+
+"It's no use!  We're whipped!"  That was the comment everywhere
+as Gridley came in from the field prepared for a last effort.
+
+Gridley's first and second men went bad---the first struck out,
+and the second knocked a foul bit that was caught.
+
+"Greg, you've got to go to bat next," whispered Dick to Holmes,
+just a moment before.  "Oh, _don't_ you strike out.  Hit something
+drive it somewhere.  Remember Gridley can't and won't lose!  Get
+the Gridley spirit soaked into you instanter.  Chase that leather
+_somewhere_!"
+
+Gardiner's pitcher, his face beaming, faced Holmes, whom he did
+not regard as one of the team's heavyweights in batting skill.
+Visiting fans were rising, preparing to leave the stand.
+
+"Strike one!"
+
+"There he goes!"
+
+"Strike two!"
+
+"It's all over."
+
+Crack!  Greg was off like a colt.  Running was in his line.  He
+had swatted the ball somewhere over into left field, and he didn't
+care where it landed.  Gardiner's left field was forced to pick
+up the leather.
+
+Greg didn't know that anyone had the ball.  He didn't care; he
+had to make first, anyway.
+
+He kicked the bag, turning for the second lap.  Then he saw the
+sphere coming through the air, and slid back.
+
+"Runner safe on first!"
+
+Gridley, with its nerve always on hand, felt that there was a
+ray of hope.  The good, old, strong and fierce school yell went
+up.  The soprano voices of the girls sounded high on the air.
+
+Now Dan Dalzell came up to the plate, bat in hand.  Dan hadn't
+hit a thing during the afternoon, but he meant to do so, now.
+It was either that or the swan-song!
+
+"Strike one!---" a groan came from Gridley, a cheer from Gardiner.
+
+But Dan was not in the least confused.  He was ready for the next
+ball.
+
+_Biff_!  It was the pistol shot for Greg, who was off like a two-legged
+streak, with Dan, ninety feet behind but striving to catch up.
+The ball came to first only a quarter-second behind Dan's arrival.
+
+"Both runners safe!"
+
+"Oh, now, _Purcell_!"
+
+The man now hovering over the plate knew he simply _had_ to do something.
+He was captain of the nine.  He had caught like a Pinkerton detective
+all afternoon, but now something was demanded of his brain and
+brawn.
+
+"Strike one!" called the umpire, with voice that grated.
+
+"Good-bye!"
+
+"Strike two!" came again the umpire's rasping tones.
+
+Even now Gridley fans wouldn't admit cold feet, but the chills
+were starting that way.
+
+Crack!
+
+"Whoop!" Then the battle-cry of Gridley rose frantically from
+all the seats---Purcell had made first base.
+
+"Prescott!"
+
+"It's yours!"
+
+"_Don't_ fall down!"
+
+Schimmelpodt, a wealthy old German contractor, rose from his seat,
+shouting hoarsely:
+
+"Bresgott I gif fifdy tollars by dot Athletic Committee bis you
+win der game vor Gridley!"
+
+The offer brought a laugh and a cheer.  Schimmelpodt rarely threw
+away money.
+
+Dick, smiling confidently, stood bat in hand.
+
+Most other boys might have felt nervous with so much depending
+on them.  But Dick was one of the kind who would put off growing
+nervous until the need of steady nerves was past.
+
+It was always impossible for him to admit defeat.
+
+The game stood two to nothing in favor of the Gardiner nine, but
+Gridley had bases full.
+
+Dick's help might not have been needed for all the uneasiness
+that he displayed.
+
+There was no pallor about his face, nor any flush.  His hands
+grasped the willow easily, confidently.
+
+"Strike one!"
+
+Prescott had missed the ball, but it failed to rattle him.
+
+"Strike two!"
+
+The boy was still undaunted, though he had lost two chances out
+of the three.
+
+Again he tried for the ball.
+
+Swish!  It was a foul hit, out sidewise.  Gardiner's catcher darted
+nimbly in under the ball.
+
+Home fans groaned.
+
+As for Dick, he didn't turn his head to look.  Catcher had the
+ball in his fingers, but fumbled it.  It slipped.
+
+"Hard luck," muttered the standing Gardiner fans, waiting to give
+their final cheer of victory.
+
+Dick's next sight of the ball was when it sailed lazily over his
+head, into the hands of the man in the box.
+
+"I hope Dick is bracing," groaned one of Gridley's subs.
+
+"He isn't," retorted Dave Darrin.  "He's just on the job, steady
+as iron, cool as a cucumber and confident as an American."
+
+Gardiner's pitcher measured his man critically, then signaled
+the next ball.
+
+It came, just as Dick, closely watching the pitcher, expected
+it to come, a swift, graceful out-curve.
+
+_Bang_!
+
+At least it sounded like a gunshot.  Dick Prescott struck the
+ball with all his might.  He  struck with greatest force just
+barely below the center of the sphere.
+
+It was a fearful crack, aimed right and full of steam and speed.
+
+"_Wow_!"
+
+Three base-runners, at the first sound had started running for
+all they were worth.  Dick's bat flew like a projectile itself,
+fortunately hitting no one, and Prescott was running like Greek
+of old on the Olympic field.
+
+One man in!
+
+The ball had gone past the furthest limits of outfield.  Before
+it had touched the ground Dick Prescott touched first and started
+for second.
+
+Gardiner right and left fields were running a race with center
+field.
+
+The latter was the one to get it, but his two supporters simply
+couldn't stand still.
+
+Prescott kicked the second bag.  Almost at the same instant the
+second man was in.
+
+Score tied!
+
+What about that ball?
+
+It was rolling on the ground, now, many yards ahead of the flying
+center-field.
+
+Dick was nearing third, the man ahead of him fast nearing the
+home plate.
+
+Centerfield had the ball in his hands, whirling as if on springs.
+
+Third man safe home---Dick Prescott turning the third bag and
+into the last leg of the diamond.
+
+Center-field threw with all his might, but the distance was long.
+
+Second base had to stoop for the ball.  Even at that, it got past
+his hands.  He wheeled, bolted after the ball, got it and made
+a throw to the catcher.
+
+Out of the corner of his eyes, young Prescott saw the arching
+ball descend, a good throw and a true one.
+
+Yet, ere it landed in the catcher's hand, Dick, by the fraction
+of a second, had sprinted desperately across the home plate.
+
+"Runner safe home!"
+
+"Whoo-oopee!  Wow!  wow!  wow!" rang the chorus of thousands.
+
+"Four to two!"
+
+"What about Gridley, _now_?"
+
+"What about Dick Prescott?"
+
+Then words were lost in volleys of cheers.  The Gardiner fans
+who had risen to cheer slipped dejectedly down from the stand.
+
+And Dick Prescott?
+
+While running he had given no thought to his knee.
+
+Now, as he dashed across the plate, and heard the umpire's decision,
+he tried to stop, but slipped and went down.  He tried to rise,
+but found it would be better to sit where he was.
+
+The game was over.  Gridley, having made the winning runs in the
+last half of the ninth, the rules of the game forbade any further
+attempts to pile up score.
+
+One of the first of the great crowd to leap over into the field
+and cross the diamond was Coach Luce.  He ran straight to the
+young pitcher's side, kneeling close by him.
+
+"You've given your knee a fearful twist, Prescott.  I could see
+it," said Luce sympathetically.
+
+"What do I care?" Dick called back, his face beaming.  "The score's
+safe, isn't it?"
+
+Had it not been for the state of his knee Prescott would have
+been snatched up by a dozen hands and rushed across the field
+in triumph.  But Mr. Luce waved them all back.  Dick's father
+and mother came hurrying across the field to see what was wrong
+with their boy.
+
+"Let me lean on you as I get up, Mr. Luce," begged Dick, and the
+coach was only too quick to help the boy to his feet.  Then, with
+the aid of Luce's arm, Dick was able to show his parents that
+he could walk without too much of a limp.
+
+"You did it for us, Dick, old boy!" greeted Captain Purcell, as
+soon as he could get close.
+
+"Did I?" snorted the young pitcher.  "I thought there were four
+of us in it, with five others helping a bit."
+
+"It was the crack you gave that ball that brought us in," glowed
+Purcell.  "Gracious, I don't believe that Gardiner pitcher was
+ever stung as badly as that before!"
+
+The band was playing, now.  As the strain stopped, and the young
+pitcher came across the field, leaning now on Dave Darrin's arm,
+the music crashed out again into "Hail to the Chief!"
+
+"You see, Purcell.  You're getting your share of the credit now,"
+laughed Dick.  "The band is playing something about a captain,
+isn't it?"
+
+In the dressing room Dick had abundant offers of help.  Fred Ripley
+was the only silent one in the group.  He changed his togs for
+street clothes as quickly as he could and disappeared.  Later,
+Dave Darrin and Greg Holmes helped Dick on to a street car, and
+saw him safely home.  That knee required further treatment by
+Dr. Bentley, but there was time, now, and no game depending on
+the result.
+
+"Fred, I can't say much for your appetite tonight," remarked his
+father at the evening meal.
+
+"Neither can I, sir," Fred answered.
+
+"Are you out of sorts?"
+
+"Never felt any better, sir."
+
+"Being out in the open air all this April afternoon should have
+given you an appetite.
+
+"I didn't do anything this afternoon, except sit around in my
+ball togs," Fred grumbled.
+
+"I hope you'll have a few good games to pitch this season," his
+father went on.  "You worked hard enough, and I spent money enough
+on the effort to prepare you."
+
+"You can't beat some people's luck---unless you do it with a club,"
+grumbled Fred, absently.
+
+"Eh?" asked his father, looking up sharply from his plate.  But
+the boy did not explain.
+
+Late that night, however, breaking training rules for the tenth
+time, Fred was out on the sly to meet Tip Scammon.  The pair
+of them laid plans that aimed to stop Dick Prescott's career
+as High School pitcher.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+SOME MEAN TRICKS LEFT OVER
+
+
+Mr. Schimmelpodt had offered that fifty dollars in a moment of
+undue excitement.
+
+For two or three days afterward he wondered if he couldn't find
+some way out of "spending" the money that would yet let him keep
+his self-respect.
+
+Finding, at last, that he could not, he wrote out the check and
+mailed it.  He pinned the check to a half-sheet of paper on which
+he wrote, "Rah mit Prescott!"
+
+A few days later Mr. Schimmelpodt turned from Main Street into
+the side street on which Dick's parents kept their store and their
+home.
+
+"Ach!  Und dere is de door vot that boy lives by," thought Mr.
+Schimmelpodt, just before he passed Dick's door.  "Yen der game
+over was, und I saw dot boy go down---ach!"
+
+For Mr. Schimmelpodt had suited the action to the word.  Out from
+under him his feet shot.  But Mr. Schimmelpodt, being short and
+flabby of leg, with a bulky body above, came down as slowly as
+big bodies are supposed to move.  It was rather a gradual tumble.
+Having so much fat on all portions of his body Mr. Schimmelpodt
+came down with more astonishment than jar.
+
+"Ach!  Such a slipperyishness!" he grunted.  "Hey, Bresgott---!
+look out!"
+
+The door had opened suddenly at this early hour in the morning.
+Dick, charged with doing a breakfast errand for his mother at
+the last moment, sprang down the steps and started to sprint away.
+
+At the first step on the sidewalk, however, Dick's landing foot
+shot out from under him.
+
+He tried to bring the other down in time to save himself.  That,
+too, slipped.  Dick waved his arms, wind-mill fashion in the quick
+effort to save himself.
+
+"Bresgott," observed the seated contractor, solemnly, "I bet you
+five tollars to den cents dot you-----"
+
+Here Schimmelpodt waited until Dick settled the question of the
+center of gravity by sprawling on the sidewalk.
+
+"---Dot you fall," finished the German, gravely.  "I---Und I yin!"
+
+"Why, good morning, Mr. Schimmelpodt," Dick responded, as he started
+to get up.  "What are you doing here."
+
+"Oh, choost vaiting to see bis you do the same thing," grunted
+the contractor.  "It was great sport---not?"
+
+"Decidedly 'not,'" laughed Dick, stepping gingerly over a sidewalk
+that had been spread thinly with some sticky substance.  "Can
+I help you up, Mr. Schimmelpodt?"
+
+The German, who knew his own weight, glanced at the boy's slight
+figure rather doubtfully.
+
+"Bresgott, how many horsepower are you alretty?"
+
+But Dick, standing carefully so that he would not slip again,
+displayed more strength than the contractor had expected.  In
+another moment the German was on his feet, moving cautiously away,
+his eyes on the sidewalk.  Yet he did not forget to mutter his
+thanks to the boy.
+
+As Dick now went on his way again, slipping around the corner
+and into a bakeshop, he noticed that his right wrist felt a bit
+queer.
+
+"Well, I haven't broken anything," he murmured, feeling of the
+wrist with his left hand.  "But what on earth happened to the
+sidewalk."
+
+As he paused before his door on the way back, he looked carefully
+down at the sidewalk.  Right before the door several flags in
+the walk appeared to be thinly coated with some colorless specimen
+of slime.
+
+"It looks as though it might be soft soap," pondered Prescott,
+examining the stuff more closely.  "It'll be dry in a half an
+hour more, but I think I had better fix it."
+
+In the basement was a barrel of sand that was used for sanding
+the icy sidewalk in winter.  As soon as Dick had run upstairs
+with the bread he went below, got a few handfuls of sand and fixed
+the sidewalk.
+
+At recess Dick noticed just enough about his wrist to make him
+speak about it to Submaster Luce.
+
+"Let me see it," demanded coach.  "Hm!" he muttered.  "Another
+peculiar accident, and only two days before our game with Chichester!
+See Dr. Bentley about your wrist at his office this afternoon.
+I'm beginning to think, Prescott, that it's a fortunate thing
+for you that the medical director is paid out of the fund.  You'd
+bankrupt an ordinary citizen if you're going to keep on having
+these tumbles."
+
+Dr. Bentley's verdict was that, while the wrist was not in a condition
+that need bother men much in ordinary callings, yet, as a pitcher's
+wrist, it would need rest and care.
+
+"I've just got the tip that I'm to pitch in the Chichester game,"
+said Dave, coming to his chum that afternoon.
+
+"Yes; Doe thinks I ought to look after this wrist---that it wouldn't
+stand extraordinary strain during the next few days.  But, Dave,
+old fellow, watch out!  Keep your eye on the sidewalks near your
+home.  Don't prowl in lonely places after dark.  Act as if you
+were made of glass until you get on the field at the Chichester
+game."
+
+Darrin glanced shrewdly at his friend, then nodded.
+
+"I'm on, Dick!  Confound that fellow, Ripley.  And he's as slick
+and slippery as an eel.  I don't suppose there is any way that
+we can catch him?"
+
+"If I knew a way I'd use it," growled Prescott.  "I'm sick of
+having this thing so onesided all the time.  Ripley plans, and
+we pay the piper.  The blackguard!"
+
+"Then you're sure Ripley is at the bottom of these accidents?"
+
+"The accidents are planned," retorted Dick.  "Who else would care
+to plan them, except that disagreeable fellow?"
+
+"I'd like to get just proof enough to justify me in demanding
+that he stand up before me for twenty rounds," gritted Dave Darrin.
+
+Dave did take extraordinary care of himself, and was on hand to
+pitch at the game with Chichester.  This game, like the first,
+was on the home grounds.
+
+It was a close game, won by Gridley, two to one.  In some respects
+Chichester's fielding work was better than the home team's.  It
+was undying grit that won the battle---that and Dave Darrin's
+pitching.
+
+As the jubilant home fans left the ball grounds it was the general
+opinion that Dave Darrin was only the merest shade behind Dick
+Prescott as a pitcher.
+
+"Either one of them in the box," said Coach Luce to a friend,
+"and the game is half won."
+
+"But how about Ripley?"
+
+"Ripley?" replied the coach.  "He made a good showing in the tryouts,
+but we haven't had in the field yet.  He will be, though, the
+next  game.  We play Brayton High School over at Brayton.  It's
+one of the smaller games, and we're going to try Ripley there."
+
+Then the coach added, to himself:
+
+"Ripley is presentable enough, but I believe there's a big yellow
+streak in him somewhere.  I wouldn't dare to put Fred into one
+of the big games requiring all the grit that Prescott or Darrin
+can show!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A TIN CAN FOR THE YELLOW DOG
+
+
+With Ripley in the box Gridley won its third game of the season,
+beating Brayton High School by a score of five to two.
+
+"It ought to have been a whitewash against a small-fry crowd like
+Brayton," Coach Luce confided to Captain Purcell.
+
+"What was our weak spot, Coach?"
+
+"Have you an opinion, Captain?" asked the coach.
+
+"Yes, but I'm afraid I'm wrong."
+
+"What is your idea?"
+
+"Why, it seemed to me, Mr. Luce, that Ripley went stiff at just
+the wrong times.  Yet I hate to say that, and I am afraid I'm
+unfair, for Rip surely does throw in some wonderful balls."
+
+"You've struck my idea, anyway," responded Mr. Luce.  "Please
+don't say anything about it to the other men.  But, between ourselves,
+Captain, I think we'll do well to give Ripley few and unimportant
+chances this season.  Most people can't see where real grit comes
+in, in baseball"
+
+"Yet you think the lack of grit, or stamina, is just what ails
+Rip?" asked Captain Purcell keenly.
+
+"You can judge, from what I've said," replied Coach Luce.
+
+"I'm glad then, Coach, for it shows I wasn't so far off the track
+in my own private judgment."
+
+Yet, to hear Fred Ripley tell about the game, it wasn't such a
+small affair.  He judged his foemen by the fact that they had
+to contend with _him_.
+
+"Five to two is the safest margin we've had yet," he confided
+to those who listened to him at the High School.  "More than that,
+we had Brayton tied down so that, at no time in the game, did
+they have any show to break the score against us.  Now, if Luce
+and Purcell fix it up for me to pitch the real games of the season"
+
+"Oh, cut it out, Rip," advised one listener, good-naturedly.
+"Brayton is only a fishball team, anyway.  Not a real, sturdy
+beef-eater in the lot."
+
+The season moved on briskly now.  Dick pitched two games, and
+Darrin one in between Prescott's pair.  Dick's first game was
+won by a score of one to nothing; his second game, the return
+date against Gardiner, was a tie.  The game in which Darrin pitched
+was won by a score of three to two.
+
+Then came a game with a team not much above Brayton's standing.
+
+"Prescott and Darrin must be saved for some of the bigger games,"
+decided Coach Luce.  "Purcell, don't you think it will be safe
+to trust Ripley to pitch against Cedarville High School?"
+
+"Yes," nodded the captain of the nine.  "I don't believe Cedarville
+could harm us, anyway, if we put left field or shortstop in the
+box."
+
+Fred Ripley was notified.  At once Cedarville became, in his talk,
+one of the most formidable nines on the state's High School circuit.
+
+"But we'll skin 'em, you'll see," promised Fred, through the week.
+"Be at the game, and see what I can do when I'm feeling well.
+Cedarville has no chance."
+
+Ripley was in high spirits all through the week.  All through
+that Saturday forenoon he moved about in a trance of exultation.
+Yet, underneath it all, he was somewhat seedy in a physical sense,
+for he had been out late the night before to meet Tip and hand
+over some money.
+
+Late that Saturday forenoon, Lawyer Ripley returned from a business
+trip.  Soon after he returned home, and had seen a man in his
+library, he went in search of his wife.
+
+"Where's Fred?" demanded the lawyer.
+
+"He went out up the street, to get a good walk," replied Mrs.
+Ripley.  "You know, my dear, he is to pitch for Gridley in one
+of the biggest games of the season this afternoon."
+
+"Hm!" said the lawyer.  "Well, see here.  Let Fred have his luncheon.
+Don't say a word until then.  As soon as he is over with the
+meal, send him to me in the library.  Don't give him any hint
+until he has finished eating."
+
+"Is---is anything wrong?" asked Mrs. Ripley, turning around quickly.
+
+"Just a few little questions I want to talk over with the boy,"
+replied Mr. Ripley.
+
+It was shortly after one o'clock when Fred stepped into the library.
+This apartment was really in two rooms, separated by folding
+doors.  In the front room Mr. Ripley had his desk, and did his
+writing.  Most of his books were in the rear room.  At the time
+when Fred entered the folding doors were closed.
+
+"You wished to see me, sir?" Fred asked, as he entered.
+
+"Yes," said his father, pointing to a chair; "take a seat."
+
+"I hope it isn't anything that will take much time," hinted Fred.
+"you know, sir, I've got to be at the field early this afternoon.
+I am to pitch in one of the biggest-----"
+
+"I'll try to be very brief," replied the lawyer, quietly.  "Fred,
+as you know, whenever I find I have more money about me than I
+care to carry, I put it in the private safe upstairs.  Your mother
+and I have a place where we hide the key to that old-fashioned
+safe.  But, do you know, I have been missing some money from that
+safe of late?  Of course, it would be sheer impudence in me to
+suspect your mother."
+
+"Of course it would," agreed Fred, with feigned heartiness.  He
+was fighting inwardly to banish the pallor that he knew was creeping
+into his cheeks.
+
+"Have you any theory, Fred, that would help to account for the
+missing of these sums of money?" pursued the lawyer, one hand
+toying with a pencil.
+
+"Do you suspect any of the servants?" asked the boy, quickly.
+
+"We have had all our servants in the family for years," replied
+the lawyer, "and it would seem hard to suspect any of them."
+
+"Then whom can you suspect, sir?"
+
+"Fred, do you know, I have had a quiet little idea.  I am well
+acquainted with the scrapes that young fellows sometimes get into.
+My experience as a lawyer has brought me much in contact with
+such cases.  Now, it is a peculiar thing that young fellows often
+get into very bad scrapes indeed in pursuing their peculiar ideals
+of manliness.  Fred, have you been getting into any scrapes?
+Have you found out where your mother and I hide the key to the
+safe?  Have you been helping yourself to the money on the sly?"
+
+These last three questions Lawyer Ripley shot out with great suddenness,
+though without raising his voice.
+
+The effect upon young Ripley was electrical.  He sprang to his
+feet, his face dramatically expressive of a mingling of intense
+astonishment and hurt pride.
+
+"Dad," he gasped, "how can you ask me such questions?"
+
+"Because I want the answer, and a truthful one," replied the lawyer,
+coolly.  "Will you oblige me with the answer?  Take your time,
+and think deliberately.  If you have made any mistakes I want
+you to be fair and honorable with me.  Now, what do you say, sir?"
+
+Fred's mind had been working like lightning.  He had come to the
+conclusion that it would be safe to bluff his denial through to
+the end.
+
+"Father," he uttered, earnestly, in a voice into which he tried
+to throw intense earnestness and sincerity, "I give you my word
+of honor, as a Ripley, that I know nothing more about the missing
+money than you have just told me."
+
+"You are sure of that, Fred?"
+
+"Sure of it, sir?  Why, I will take any oath that will satisfy-----"
+
+"We don't want any perjury here," cut in the lawyer, crisply,
+and touched a bell.
+
+The folding doors behind them flew open with a bang.  As Fred
+started and whirled about he beheld a stranger advancing toward
+them, and that stranger was escorting---Tip Scammon.
+
+The stranger halted with his jailbird companion some five or six
+feet away.  The stranger did not appear greatly concerned.  Tip,
+however, looked utterly abashed, and unable to raise his gaze
+from the floor.
+
+"With this exhibit, young man," went on the lawyer, in a sorrowful
+tone, "I don't suppose it is necessary to go much further with
+the story.  When I first began to miss small sums from the safe
+I thought I might merely have made a mistake about the sums that
+I had put away.  Finally, I took to counting the money more carefully.
+Then I puzzled for a while.  At last,  I sent for this man, who
+is a detective.  He has come and gone so quietly that probably
+you have not noticed him.  This man has had a hiding place from
+which he could watch the safe.  Early last evening you took the
+key and opened the safe---robbed it!  You took four five-dollar
+bills, but they were marked.  This man saw you meet Tip Scammon,
+saw you pass the money over, and heard a conversation that has
+filled me with amazement.  So my son has been paying blackmail
+money for months!"
+
+Fred stood staggered, for a few moments.  Then he wheeled fiercely
+on Scammon.
+
+"You scoundrel, you've been talking about me---telling lies about
+me," young Ripley uttered hoarsely.
+
+"I hain't told nothing about ye," retorted Tip stolidly.  "But
+this rich man's cop (detective) nabbed me the first thing this
+morning.  He took me up inter yer father's office, an' asked me
+whether I'd let _him_ explore my clothes, or whether I'd rather
+have a policeman called in.  He 'splained that, if he had to call
+the poor man's cop, I'd have to be arrested for fair.  So I let
+him go through my clothes.  He found four five-spots on me, and
+told me I'd better wait an' see yer father.  So I'm here, an'
+not particular a bit about having to go up to the penitentiary
+for another stretch."
+
+"It hasn't been necessary, Fred, to question Scammon very far,"
+broke in the elder Ripley.  "That'll do, now, Haight.  Since Scammon
+volunteered to give the money back, and said he didn't know it
+had been stolen, you can turn him loose."
+
+The detective and Tip had no more than gone when Lawyer Ripley,
+his face flushed with shame, wheeled about on his son.
+
+"So you see, Fred, what your word of honor the word of a Ripley---is
+sometimes worth.  You have been robbing me steadily.  How much
+you have taken I do not know as I have not always counted or recorded
+money that I put in the safe."
+
+Fred's face had now taken on a defiant look.  He saw that his
+father did not intend to be harsh, so the boy determined to brave
+it out.
+
+"Haven't you anything to say?" asked the lawyer, after a brief
+silence.
+
+"No," retorted Fred, sulkily.  "Not after you've disgraced me
+by putting a private detective on my track.  It was shameful."
+
+That brought the hot blood rushing to his father's face.
+
+"Shameful, was it, you young reprobate?  Shameful to you, when
+you have been stealing for weeks, if not for months?  It is you
+who are dead to the sense of shame.  Your life, I fear, young
+man, cannot go on as it has been going.  You are not fitted for
+a home of wealth and refinement.  You have had too much money,
+too easy a time.  I see that, now.  Well, it shall all change!
+You shall have a different kind of home."
+
+Fred began to quake.  He knew that his father, when in a mood
+like this, was not to be trifled with.
+
+"You---you don't mean jail?" gasped the boy with a yellow streak
+in him.
+
+"No; I don't; at least, not this time," retorted his father.
+"But, let me see.  You spoke of an engagement to do something
+this afternoon.  What was it?"
+
+"_I was_ to have pitched in the game against Cedarville High School."
+
+"Go on, then, and do it," replied his father.
+
+"I---I can't pitch, now.  My nerves are too-----"
+
+"Go on and do what you're pledged to do!" thundered Lawyer Ripley,
+in a tone which Fred knew was not to be disregarded.  So the boy
+started for the door.
+
+"And while you are gone," his father shot after him, "I will think
+out my plan for changing your life in such a way as to save whatever
+good may be in you, and to knock a lot of foolish, idle ideas
+out of your head!"
+
+Fred's cheeks were ashen, his legs shaking under him as he left
+the house.
+
+"I've never seen the guv'nor so worked up before---at least, not
+about me," thought the boy wretchedly.  "Now, what does he mean
+to do?  I can't turn him a hair's breadth, now, from whatever
+plan he may make.  Why didn't I have more sense?  Why didn't I
+own up, and 'throw myself on the mercy of the court'?"
+
+In his present mood the frightened boy knew he couldn't sit still
+in a street car.  So he walked  all the way to the Athletic Field.
+He was still shaking, still worried and pale when at length he
+arrived there.
+
+He walked into the dressing room.  The rest of the nine and the
+subs were already on hand, many of them dressed.
+
+"You're late, Mr. Ripley," said Coach Luce, a look of annoyance
+on his face.
+
+Outside, the first of the fans on the seats were starting the
+rumpus that goes under the name of enthusiasm.
+
+"I---I know it.  But---but---I---I'm sorry, Mr. Luce.  I---I believe
+I'm going to be ill.  I---I know I can't pitch to-day."
+
+So Coach Luce and Captain Purcell conferred briefly, and decided
+that Dave Darrin should pitch to-day.
+
+Darrin did pitch.  He handled his tricky curves so well that puny
+Cedarville was beaten by the contemptuous score of seventeen to
+nothing.
+
+Meanwhile, Fred Ripley was wandering about Gridley, in a state
+of abject, hopeless cowardice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+DICK IS GENEROUS BECAUSE IT'S NATURAL
+
+
+"Say, will you look at Rip?"
+
+No wonder Harry Hazelton exploded with wonder as he turned to
+Dan Dalzell and Greg Holmes.
+
+In this warmer weather, the young men loitered in the school yard
+until the first bell.
+
+These three members of Dick & Co. were standing near the gateway
+when Fred Ripley turned the nearest corner and came on nervously,
+hurriedly, a hang-dog look in his face.
+
+What had caught Harry Hazelton's eye, and now made his comrades
+stare, was the new suit that Fred wore.  Gone was all that young
+man's former elegance of attire.  His stern father had just left
+the boy, after having taken him to a clothing store where Fred
+was tricked out in a coarse, ready-made suit that had cost just
+seven dollars and a half.  A more manly boy would have made a
+better appearance in such clothes, but it was past Fred Ripley.
+And he was miserably conscious of the cheap-looking derby that
+rested on his head.  Even his shoes were new and coarse.
+
+Ripley hurried by the chums, and across the yard, to be met at
+the door by Purcell, who stared at him in candid astonishment.
+
+"Oh, say, Rip!" demanded Purcell.  "What's the bet?"
+
+"Shut up!" retorted Ripley, passing quickly inside.
+
+"Fine manners," grinned Purcell to a girl who had also paused,
+impelled by excusable curiosity.
+
+Dick, when he came along, heard the news from Hazelton and the
+others.
+
+"What can be the cause of it all?" asked Tom Reade, wonderingly.
+
+"Oh, some row with his father," decided Dick slowly.  "When I
+was up on Main Street I saw them both going into Marsh's clothing
+store."
+
+"I asked poor old Rip what the bet was," chuckled Purcell as he
+joined the group.
+
+"Say, if you want to have fun at recess," proposed Dan Dalzell,
+"let's about twenty of us, one after the other, go up and ask
+Rip what the bet is, and how long it's for?"
+
+"Say," retorted Dick sternly, eyeing hapless Dan, "I believe,
+if you got into a fight and knocked a fellow down, you'd jump
+on him and keep hammering him."
+
+"Not much I wouldn't, old safety-valve," retorted Dan, reddening.
+"But I see that you're right, Dick.  Rip has never been any friend
+of ours, and to jump him now, when he's evidently down at home,
+would be too mean for the principles of Dick & Co."
+
+"I'd rather give the poor fellow a helping hand up, if we could,"
+pursued young Prescott musingly, "Purcell, do you think there'd
+be any use in trying that sort of thing?"
+
+"Why, I don't know," replied Captain Purcell, easy going and good
+hearted.  "Barring a few snobbish airs, I always used to like
+Rip well enough.  He was always pretty proud, but pride, in itself,
+is no bar to being a decent fellow.  The only fellow who comes
+to harm with pride is the fellow who gets proud before he has
+done anything to be proud of.  At least, that's the way it always
+hit me."
+
+"Ripley certainly looked hang-dog," commented Hazelton.
+
+"And he must feel mightily ashamed over something," continued
+Dick.  "I wonder if his father has found out anything about Tip
+Scammon and certain happenings of last year.  That might account
+for a lot.  But what do you say, fellows?  If Ripley has been
+a bit disagreeable and ugly, shall we try to make him feel that
+there's always a chance to turn around and be decent?"
+
+"Why, I'd believe in trying to point out the better road to Old
+Nick himself," replied Dave Darrin warmly.  "Only, I don't believe
+in doing it in the preachy way---like some people do."
+
+"That's right," nodded Dick.  "See here, Purcell, if Ripley is
+looking down in the mouth at recess, why don't you go up to him
+and talk baseball?  Then call us over, after you've raised some
+point for discussion.  And we'll tip two or three other fellows
+to join in, without, of course, getting a crowd."
+
+"I'll try it," nodded Purcell.  "Though I can't guess how it will
+turn out.  Of course, if Rip gives us the black scowl we'll have
+to conclude that no help is wanted."
+
+It was tried, however, at recess.  Purcell went about it with
+the tact that often comes to the easy going and big hearted.
+Soon Purcell had Dick and Dave with Fred and himself.  Then the
+other chums drifted up.  Two or three other fellows came along.
+After some sulkiness at first Fred talked eagerly, if nervously.
+On the whole, he seemed grateful.
+
+When Dick reached home that day he felt staggered with astonishment.
+Waiting for him was a note from Lawyer Ripley, asking the boy
+to be at the latter's office at half-past two.
+
+"I shall take it as a very great favor," the note ran on, "and,
+from what I know of you, I feel certain that you will be glad
+to aid me in a matter that is of vast importance to me."
+
+"What on earth is coming?" wondered Dick.  But he made up his
+mind to comply with the request.
+
+Promptly to the minute Dick reached the street door of the office
+building.  Here he encountered Dave Darrin and Dalzell.
+
+"You, too?" asked Dick.
+
+"It looks as though all of Dick & Co. had been summoned," replied
+Dave Darrin.
+
+On entering the lawyer's office they found their other three chums
+there ahead of them.   Tip Scammon was there, also, looking far
+from downcast.
+
+Lawyer Ripley looked very grave.  He looked, too, like a man who
+had a serious task to perform, and who meant to go about it courageously.
+
+"Young gentlemen, I thank you all," said the lawyer slowly.  "I
+am pursuing a matter in which I feel certain that I need your
+help.  There has been some evil connection between Scammon and
+my son.  What it is Scammon has refused to tell me.  I will first
+of all tell you what I _do_ know.  I am telling you, of course,
+on the assumption that you are all young men of honor, and that
+you will treat a father's confidence as men of honor should do."
+
+The boys bowed, wondering what was coming.  Lawyer Ripley thereupon
+plunged into a narration of the happenings of the day before,
+telling it all with a lawyer's exactness of statement.
+
+"And now I will ask you," wound up Mr. Ripley, "whether you can
+tell me anything about the hold that Scammon seems to have exercised
+over my son?"
+
+"That's an embarrassing question, sir," Dick replied, after there
+had been a long pause.
+
+"Do you know the nature of that hold?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"May I ask how you know?"
+
+"I overheard a conversation, one night, between your son and Tip
+Scammon."
+
+"What was the substance of that conversation?" pressed the lawyer.
+
+"I don't quite see how I can tell you, sir," Dick responded slowly
+and painfully.  "I'm not a tale bearer.  I don't want to come
+here and play the tittle-tattle on your son."
+
+"I respect your reluctance," nodded Lawyer Ripley.  "But let me
+put it to you another way.  I am the boy's father.  I am responsible
+for his career in this world, as far as anyone but himself can
+be responsible.  I am also seeking what is for the boy's best
+good.  I cannot act intelligently unless I have exact facts.
+Both my son and Scammon are too stubborn to tell me anything.
+In the cause of justice, Prescott, will you answer me frankly?"
+
+"That word, 'justice,' has an ominous sound, sir," Prescott answered.
+"It is generally connected with the word punishment, instead
+of with the word mercy."
+
+"I suspect that my son has been your very bitter enemy, Prescott,"
+said the lawyer keenly.  "I suspect that he has plotted against
+you and all your chums.  Would you now try to shield him from
+the consequences of such acts?"
+
+"Why, sir, I think any boy of seventeen is young enough to have
+another chance."
+
+"And I agree with you," cried the lawyer, a sudden new light shining
+in his eyes.  "Now, will you be wholly frank with me if I promise
+you that my course toward my son will be one that will give him
+every chance to do better if he wants to?"
+
+"That's an odd bargain to have to make with a father," smiled
+Dick.
+
+"It _is_," admitted Lawyer Ripley, struck by the force of the
+remark.  "You've scored a point there, Prescott.  Well, then,
+since I _am_ the boy's father, and since I want to do him full
+justice on the side of mercy, if he'll have it---will you tell
+all of the truth that you know to that boy's father?"
+
+Dick glanced around at his chums.  One after another they nodded.
+Then the High School pitcher unburdened himself.  Tip Scammon
+sat up and took keen notice.  When Dick had finished with all
+he knew, including the tripping with the pole, and the soft-soaping
+of the sidewalk before his home door, Tip was ready to talk.
+
+"I done 'em all," he admitted, "includin' the throwin' of the
+brickbats.  The brickbats was on my own hook, but the pole and
+the soft soap was parts of the jobs me and Fred put up between
+us."
+
+"Why did you throw the brickbats on your own hook?" asked Lawyer
+Ripley sharply.
+
+"Why, you see, 'squire, 'twas just like this," returned Tip.
+"After I'd done it, if I had hurt Prescott, then I was goin' to
+go to your son an' scare 'im good an' proper by threatenin' to
+blab that he had hired me to use them brickbats.  That'd been
+good fer all his spendin' money, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Yes, and for all he could steal, too," replied Lawyer Ripley.
+
+"I didn't know nothing about his stealin' money," retorted Tip,
+half virtuously.  "I jest thought he had too much pocket money
+fer his own good, an' so I'd help him spend some of it.  But,
+see here, lawyer, ye promised me that, if I did talk, nothin'
+I told yer should be used against myself."
+
+"I am prepared to keep that promise," replied Mr. Ripley coldly.
+
+The sound of a slight stir came from the doorway between the outer
+and inner office.  There in the doorway, his face ghastly white,
+his whole body seeming devoid of strength, leaned Fred Ripley.
+
+"I had almost forgotten that I asked you to come here," said Mr.
+Ripley, as he looked up.  "How long have you been here?"
+
+"Not very long, perhaps, but long enough to know that Dick Prescott
+and the rest have been doing all they can to make matters harder
+for me," Fred answered in a dispirited voice.
+
+"As it happens, they have been doing nothing of the sort," replied
+the lawyer crisply.  "Come in here, Fred.  I have had the whole
+story of your doings, but it was on a pledge that I would give
+you another chance to show whether there's any good in you.  Fred,
+I can understand, now that you've always thought yourself better
+than most boys---above them.  The truth is that you've a long
+way to go to get up to the level of ordinary, decent, good American
+boyhood.  You may get there yet; I hope so.  But come, sir, are
+you going to make a decent apology to Prescott and his friends
+for the contemptible things you've tried to do to them?"
+
+Somehow, Fred Ripley managed to mumble his way through an apology,
+though he kept his eyes on the floor all the while.  Full of
+sympathy for the father who, if proud, was at least upright,
+Dick and his chums accepted that apology, offered their hands,
+then tip-toed out, leaving father and son together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+ALL ROADS LEAD TO THE SWIMMING POOL
+
+
+In the next few weeks, if Fred Ripley didn't improve greatly in
+popularity, he was at all events vastly quieter and more reserved
+in his manner.
+
+Tip Scammon had vanished, so far as common knowledge went.  Mr.
+Ripley, feeling somewhat responsible for that scamp's wrong doing,
+in that Fred had put him up to his first serious wrong doing,
+had given Scammon some money and a start in another part of the
+country.  That disappearance saved Scammon from a stern reckoning
+with Prescott's partners, who had not forgotten him.
+
+Fred was again a well-dressed boy, also a well-mannered one.
+He had very little to say, and he kept his snobbishness, if any
+remained, well concealed.
+
+Dick & Co., after the scene in the lawyer's office, if not exactly
+cordial with the unhappy junior, at all events remembered that
+they had agreed to "forget."  Nor were Prescott and his chums
+priggish enough to take great credit to themselves for their behavior.
+They merely admitted among themselves that any fellow ought to
+have the show that was now accorded to the younger Ripley.
+
+Baseball had gone off with an hurrah this season, though there
+had been an enormous amount of hard work behind all the successes.
+
+Now, but one game remained.  Out of fourteen played, so far, only
+one had resulted in a tie; the others had all been victories
+for Gridley.
+
+With the warm June weather commencement was looming near.  One
+Wednesday morning there was a long and tedious amount of practice
+over the singing that was to be offered at the close of the school
+year.
+
+"Huh!  I thought we'd never get through," snorted Prescott, as
+he raced out into the school yard.  "And we were kept ten minutes
+over the usual time for recess."
+
+"Gee, but it's hot to-day," muttered Tom Reade, fanning himself
+with his straw hat.
+
+"Oh, what wouldn't I give, right now, for a good swim down at
+Foster's Pond!" muttered Purcell moodily.
+
+"Well, why can't we have it?" suggested Gint.
+
+"We couldn't get back by the time recess is over," replied Purcell.
+
+"The end of recess would be when we _did_ get back, wouldn't it!"
+asked a senior.
+
+"Let's go, anyway!" urged another boy, restlessly.
+
+As students were allowed to spend their recess quietly on the
+near-by streets, if they preferred, the girls generally deserted
+the yard.
+
+The spirit of mischievous mutiny was getting loose among the young
+men.  Nor will anyone who remembers his own school days wonder
+much at that.  In June, when the end of the  school year is all
+but at hand, restraints become trebly irksome.
+
+Dick's own face was glowing.  As much as any boy there he wanted
+a swim, just now, down in Foster's Pond.  Oh, how he wanted it!
+
+"See here, fellows," Prescott called to some of the nearest ones.
+"And you especially, Charley Grady, for you're studying to be
+a lawyer."
+
+"What has a lawyer to do with the aching desire for a swim?" inquired
+Grady.
+
+"Well, post us a bit," begged Dick.  "What was it the great Burke
+had to say about punishing a community?"
+
+"Why," responded Grady thoughtfully, "Burke laid down a theory
+that has since become a principle in law.  It was to the effect
+that a community cannot be indicted."
+
+"All of us fellows---_all_ of us might be called a community,
+don't you think?" queried Dick.
+
+"Why---er---aha---hem!" responded Grady.
+
+"Oh, come, now, drop the extras," ordered Dick.  "Time is short.
+Are we a community, in a sort of legal sense?  Just plain yes
+or no."
+
+"Well, then, yes!" decided Grady.
+
+"Whoop!" ejaculated Dick, placing his straw hat back on his head
+and starting on a sprint out of the yard.  His chums followed.
+Some of the fellows who were nearer the gate tried to reach it
+first.  In an instant, the flight was general.
+
+"Come on, Rip!  You're not going to hang back on the crowd, are
+you?" uttered one boy, reproachfully.  "Don't spoil the community
+idea."
+
+So Fred Ripely tagged on at the rear of the flight.
+
+"What is it, boys---a fire?" called Laura Bentley.  A dozen girls
+had drawn in, pressing against the wall, to let this whirlwind
+of boys go by.
+
+"Tell you when we get back," Purcell called.  "Time presses now."
+
+It took the leaders only about four minutes to reach Foster's
+Pond.  Even Ripley and the other tail-enders were on hand about
+a minute later.  There was a fine grove here, fringed by thick
+bushes, and no houses near.  In a jiffy the High School boys were
+disrobing.
+
+"And the fellow who 'chaws' anyone else's clothes, to-day," proposed
+Dick, "is to be thrown in and kept in, when he's dressed!"
+
+"Hear!  hear!"
+
+Dick was one of the first to get stripped.  He started on a run,
+glided out over a log that lay from the bank, and plunged headlong
+into one of the deepest pools.  Then up he came, spouting water.
+
+"Come on, in, fellows!  The water's _grand_!" he yelled.
+
+Splash!  splash!  The surface of the pond at that point was churned
+white.  The bobbing  heads made one think of huckleberries bobbing
+on a bowl of milk.
+
+Splash!  splash!  More were diving in.  And now the fun and the
+frolic went swiftly to their height.
+
+"This is the real thing!" vented one ecstatic swimmer.  "Down
+with 'do-re--mi-fa-sol!"
+
+"As long as we're all to be hanged together, what say if we don't
+go back at all to-day?" questioned Purcell.
+
+There were some affirmative shouts, but Dick, who had just stepped
+back on the bank for a moment shook his head.
+
+"Don't be hogs, fellows!" he urged.  "Don't run a good thing into
+the ground.  We'll have our swim, get well cooled off---and then
+we'd better go back looking as penitent as the circumstances seem
+to call for."
+
+"I guess it's the wise one talking," nodded Purcell, as he climbed
+to the bank preparatory to another dive.
+
+For at least twenty minutes the High School boys remained at their
+delightful sport.  Then cries started here and there:
+
+"All out!  All out!"
+
+Reluctantly the youngsters began to leave the water.
+
+"Now, don't let anyone lag," begged Purcell.  "As we ran away
+together, we ought all to go back together."
+
+So dressing went on apace.  Then the fellows began to look at
+each other, wonderingly.  To be sure, they didn't stand so much
+in personal awe of the principal.  But then Mr. Cantwell had the
+Board of Education behind him.  There was Superintendent Eldridge,
+also, and back of it all, what parents might---oh, hang it, it
+began to look just a bit serious now.
+
+"Who are the heroes here?" called out one fellow.
+
+"Why?" demanded another.
+
+"Well, we need our assured brave ones to lead going back."
+
+"That's where the baseball squad comes in, then," nodded Purcell.
+"School nine and subs first, second team following.  Then let
+the chilly-footed ones bring up the rear."
+
+"We can go back in column of fours," proposed Dick, as he fastened
+on his collar, "with no leaders or file-closers.  Then it will
+be hard to guess at any ring-leaders."
+
+"That's the best idea yet," agreed Purcell.  "Then, fellows, a
+block from the school, let the baseball squad form first, and
+then all of the rest of you fall in behind in column of fours,
+just as you happen along."
+
+"And keep good ranks, and march the best you know how," urged
+Dick.  "Unyielding ranks may suggest the community idea to Prin."
+
+"Then we won't have to explain it," laughed Grady.
+
+"Oh, come, now," shouted another, "don't flatter yourselves that
+we're going to get out of some tall explaining."
+
+A block from the school the order was given to form fours.  This
+was quickly done.  Purcell, Dick, Darrin and Dan Dalzell composed
+the first four as the line turned into the yard.
+
+There at the main doorway the culprits beheld the principal.
+And that gentlemen certainly looked almost angry about something.
+The weather indications were for squalls in the High School.
+
+"Go to your seats in the assembly room," said the principal, coldly,
+as the head of the line neared him.  As the boys wore no overcoats
+it was not necessary to file down to the locker rooms first.
+They marched into the hat room just off of the assembly room.
+And here they found Mr. Drake on duty.
+
+"No conversation here.  Go directly to your seats," ordered Mr.
+Drake.
+
+The few girls who were not at classes looked up with eyes full
+of mischievous inquiry when the boys entered the big room.  The
+principal and Mr. Drake took their seats on the platform.  The
+late swimmers reached for their books, though most of them made
+but a pretense of study.  Almost at once there was another diversion
+made by the girls who were returning from recitations.
+
+Then the bell was struck for the beginning of the next period.
+Out filed the sections.  The boys began to feel that this ominous
+quiet boded  them no good.  Not until closing time did the principal
+make any reference to the affair.
+
+"The young ladies are dismissed for the day," he remarked.  "The
+young gentlemen will remain." Clang!
+
+Then a dead silence fell over the room.  It was broken, after
+a minute, by the principal, who asked:
+
+"Where were you, young gentlemen, when the end of recess bell
+rang this morning!"
+
+No one being addressed, no one answered.
+
+"Where were you, Mr. Purcell?"
+
+"Swimming at Foster's Pond, sir."
+
+"All of you?"
+
+"All of us, sir, I think."
+
+"Whose idea was it?"
+
+"As I remember, sir, the idea belonged to us all."
+
+"Who made the first proposal?"
+
+"That would be impossible to say, now, sir."
+
+"Do you remember anything about it?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"I believe the fellows voted that Mr. Grady, who is studying to
+be a lawyer, should represent us as counsel."
+
+"Ah! I shall be very glad, then, to hear from Judge Grady," the
+principal dryly remarked.
+
+"Judge" Grady bobbed up, smiling and confident---or he seemed
+so.  As for the rest of the fellows, the principal's frigid coolness
+was beginning to get on their nerves.
+
+"Mr. Principal," began Grady, thrusting his right band in between
+his vest buttons, "the illustrious, perhaps immortal Burke, once
+elucidated a principle that has since become historic, authoritative
+and illuminating.  Among American and English jurists alike, Burke's
+principle has been accepted as akin to the organic law and the
+idea is that a community cannot be indicted."
+
+It was a fine speech, for Grady had real genius in him, and this
+was the first chance he had ever had.  The principal waited until
+the budding legal light had finished.  Then Mr. Cantwell cleared
+his throat, to reply crisply:
+
+"While I will not venture to gainsay Burke, and he is not here
+to be cross-examined, I will say that the indictment of the community,
+in this instance, would mean the expulsion of all the young men
+in the High School.  To that form of sentence I do not lean.
+A light form of punishment would be to prohibit absolutely the
+final baseball game of the school season.  A sever form would
+be to withhold the diplomas of the young men of the graduating
+senior class.  I think it likely that both forms of punishment
+will be administered, but I shall not announce my decision to-day.
+It will come later.  The young men are dismissed."  Clang!
+
+Dismay would have been a mild name for what the fellows felt when
+they found themselves outside the building.  Of the principal,
+in a rage they were little afraid.  But when the principal controlled
+his temper he was a man in authority and of dangerous power.
+
+After his own meal, and some scowling reflection, Mr. Cantwell
+set out to find his friend and backer in the Board of Education,
+Mr. Gadsby.  That custodian of local education heard Mr. Cantwell
+through, after which he replied:
+
+"Er---um----ah---my dear Cantwell, you can't very well prohibit
+the game, or talk of withholding diplomas from the young men of
+the graduating class.  Either course would make you tremendously
+unpopular.  The people of Gridley would say that you were lacking
+in---era sense of humor."
+
+"Sense of humor?" raged the principal, getting up and pacing the
+floor.  "Is it humorous to have a lot of young rascals running
+all over one's authority?"
+
+"Certainly not," responded Mr. Gadsby.  "You should---er---preserve
+discipline."
+
+"How am I to preserve discipline, if I can't inflict punishments?"
+insisted Mr. Cantwell.
+
+"But you should---er---that is---my dear Cantwell, you should
+make the punishments merely fit the crimes."
+
+"In such an outrageous case as to-day's," fumed the principal,
+"what course would have been taken by the Dr. Thornton whom you
+are so fond of holding up to me as a man who knew how to handle
+boys?"
+
+"Dr. Thornton," responded Mr. Gadsby, "would have been ingenious
+in his punishment.  How long were the boys out, over recess time?"
+
+"Twenty-five minutes."
+
+"Then," returned Mr. Gadsby, "I can quite see Dr. Thorton informing
+the young men that they would be expected to remain at least five
+times as long after school as they had been improperly away from
+it.  That is---er---ah---he would have sent for his own dinner,
+and would have eaten it at his desk, with scores of hungry young
+men looking on while their own dinners went cold.  At three
+o'clock---perhaps---Dr. Thornton would have dismissed the
+offenders.  It would be many a day before the boys would try
+anything of that sort again on good old Thornton.  But you, my
+dear Cantwell, I am afraid you have failed to make the boys respect
+you at all times.  The power of enforcing respect is the basis of
+all discipline."
+
+"Then what shall I do with the young men this time?"
+
+"Since you have---er---missed your opportunity, you---er---can
+do nothing, now, but let it pass.  Let them imagine, from day
+to day, that sentence is still suspended and hovering over them."
+
+Wily Dick Prescott had been to see Mr. Gadsby, just before the
+arrival of the principal.   In his other capacity of reporter
+for "The Blade" the High School pitcher had said a few earnest
+words to his host.  Mr. Gadsby, with his eye turned ever toward
+election day and the press, had been wholly willing to listen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE AGONY OF THE LAST BIG GAME
+
+
+"Ya, ya, ya!  Ye gotter do somethings!"
+
+This from Mr. Schimmelpodt.  That gentleman was waving one of
+his short, fat arms wildly.  It may as well be stated that from
+the smaller extremity of that arm, namely, his hand---a small
+crimson and gold banner attached to a stick cut circles in the
+air.
+
+"Go to it, Gridley!"
+
+"Get busy!  You can't take a black eye at this end of the season."
+
+Gridley High School with a season's record of one tied game and
+a long tally of victories, seemed now in dire straits.
+
+Sides were changing for the last half of the ninth inning.
+
+Gridley had taken seven runs.  Wayland High School, with six runs
+already to their credit, was now going to bat for the last inning
+unless the score should be tied.
+
+The perfect June day, just before commencement, had brought out
+a host.  Wayland had sent nearly four hundred people.  The total
+attendance was past four thousand paid admissions.
+
+Herr Schimmelpodt, who, since his first enthusiasm, had not missed
+a game, was now among the most concerned.
+
+The band was there, but silent.  The leader knew that, in this
+state of affairs the spectators wanted to make the noise themselves.
+
+"Oh, you Dick!"
+
+"Strike 'em out as fast as they come up."
+
+"Save Gridley!"
+
+"Aw, let somebody have a game," roared a voice from the Wayland
+seats, "and we need this one!"
+
+"Prescott, remember the record!"
+
+"No defeats this year!"
+
+"Don't give us one, now!"
+
+Dick & Co. were in full force on the nine today.  True, Dave Darrin
+sat only on the sub bench to-day, but he was ready to give relief
+at any moment if Gridley's beloved pitcher, Prescott, went under.
+
+Holmes was out in left field; Hazelton was the nimble shortstop;
+Dalzell pranced at the first bag on the diamond; Tom Reade was
+eternally vigilant on second base.
+
+Gridley's High School girls, devoted feminine fans as any in the
+world, were breathing soft and fast now.  If only Dick, backed
+at need by the outfield, could keep Wayland from scoring further,
+then all was well.  If Wayland should score even once in this
+inning, it would make a tie and call for a tenth inning.  If Wayland
+scored twice---but that was too nerve-racking to contemplate.
+
+Then a hush fell.  The umpire had called for play.
+
+Dick let drive with his most tantalizing spitball.  The leather
+fell down gracefully under the Wayland's batsman's guess, and
+Purcell mitted the ball.
+
+"Strike one!"
+
+A hopeful cheer went up from Gridley seats, to be met with one
+word from Wayland fans:
+
+"Wait!"
+
+Dick served the second ball.  Swat!  There it went, arching up
+in the air, a fair hit.  As fast as he could leg it went Holmes
+after it, and with good judgment.  But the ball got there before
+Greg did.  In a twinkling, the young left fielder had the ball
+up and in motion.  Tom Reade caught it deftly at second, and wheeled
+toward first.  But the runner saw his error in leaving first,
+and slid back in season.
+
+Turning back, with his lips close together, Dick tried a new batsman.
+Two strikes, and then the visitor sent out a little pop-over
+that touched ground and rolled ere Harry Hazelton could race in
+and get it, driving it on to first base.
+
+"Safe at first," called the umpire, and the other Waylander had
+reached second.
+
+"O-o-o-h!"
+
+"Don't let 'em have it, Dick---_don't_!"
+
+The wail that reached his ears was pathetic, but Prescott paid
+no heed.  He was always all but deaf to remarks from the spectators.
+He knew what he was trying to do, and he was coming as close
+as a hard-worked pitcher could get to that idea at the fag-end
+of the game.
+
+The fatigue germ was hard at work in the young pitcher's wrist,
+but Dick nerved himself for better efforts.  Despite him, however,
+a third batsman got away from him, and from Greg, and now the
+bases were full.
+
+"_O-o-oh, Dick_!"
+
+It was a wail, full of despair.  Though he paid no direct heed
+to it the sorely pressed young pitcher put up his left hand to
+wipe the old sweat out of his eyes.  His heart was pounding with
+the strain of it.  Dick Prescott, born soldier, would have died
+for victory, _just_ then.  At least, that was what he felt.
+
+The Wayland man who now stood over the plate looked like a grinning
+monkey as he took the pitcher's measure.
+
+"Go to it, Dickson---kill the ball!" roared the visiting fans.
+"Just a little two-bagger---that's all!"
+
+Dick felt something fluttering inside.  In himself he felt the
+whole Gridley honor and fame revolving during that moment.  Then
+he resolutely choked down the feeling.  The umpire was signaling
+impatiently for him to deliver.
+
+Dick essayed a jump ball.  With a broadening grin Dickson of Wayland
+reached for it vigorously.  He struck it, but feebly.  Another
+of those short-winded, high-arched pops went up in air.
+
+There was no hope or chance for Hazelton to get to the spot in
+time---and Wayland's man away from third was steaming in while
+Purcell made the home plate at a bound.
+
+Dick raced---raced for all he was worth, though his heart felt
+as if steam had shut down.
+
+Across the grass raced Prescott, as though he believed he could
+make history in fifths of seconds.
+
+In his speed he went too far.  The ball was due to come down behind
+him.
+
+There was no time to think.  Running at full speed as he was,
+Pitcher Dick rose in the air.  It looked like an incredible leap---but
+he made it.  His hands pulled the slow-moving popball down out
+of the air.
+
+Barely did Dick's feet touch the ground when he simply reached
+over and dropped the ball at Purcell.
+
+The captain of the Gridley nine dropped to one knee, hands low,
+but he took the leather in---took it just the bare part of a second
+before the Waylander from third got there.
+
+For an instant the dazed crowd held its breath just long enough
+to hear the umpire announce.
+
+"Striker out!  Out at home plate.  Two out!"
+
+Then the tumult broke loose.
+
+For an instant or two Dick stood dizzy just where he had landed
+on his feet.
+
+Umpire Davidson came bounding over.
+
+"Do you want to call for a relief pitcher, Prescott?"
+
+"No---Wayland pitched all through with one man!"
+
+Back to the box marched Dick Prescott, but he took his time about
+it.  He had need of a clear head and steadier nerves and muscles,
+for Wayland had a man again at third, and another dancing away
+from second.  There was plenty of chance yet to lose.
+
+"Prescott ought to call you out," whispered Fred Ripley to Dave.
+
+"And I'd get out there on the dead run, just as you would, Rip.
+But you know how Dick feels.  Wayland went through on one man,
+and Dick's going to do it if he lives through the next few minutes!"
+
+While that momentary dizziness lasted, something happened that
+caused the young pitcher to flush with humiliation.  Sandwiched
+in between two strikes were called balls enough to send the new
+batsman to first, and again the bases were full.  One more "bad
+break" of this kind and Wayland would receive the tie run as a
+present.  And then one more---it would be the High School pitcher
+handing the only lost game of the season as a gift to the visitors!
+
+Dick braced himself supremely for the next man at bat.
+
+"Strike one!"
+
+It wasn't the batter's fault.  A very imp had sat on the spitball
+that Prescott bowled in.
+
+"Strike two!"
+
+The batsman was sweating nervously, but he couldn't help it.
+Dick Prescott had fairly forced himself into the form of the first
+inning.  But it couldn't last.
+
+Gink!  It was only a little crack at the ball, struck rather downward.
+A grounding ball struck the grit and rolled out toward right
+infield.  There was no shortstop here.  The instant that Prescott
+took in the direction he was on the run.  There was no time to
+get there ahead of the rolling leather.  It was Dick's left foot
+that stopped it, but in the same fraction of a second he bent
+and swooped it up---wheeled.
+
+Wayland's man from third base looked three fourths of the way
+in.  Captain Purcell, half frantic, was doubled up at the home
+plate.
+
+Into that throw Dick put all the steam he had left in.  The leather
+gone from his hand, he waited.  His heart seemed to stop.
+
+To half the eyes that looked on, ball and runner seemed to reach
+the home plate at the same instant.  The umpire, crouching, squinting,
+had the best view of all.
+
+It was an age before Dick, with the mists before his eyes, heard
+the faraway words for which thousands waited breathlessly:
+
+"Out at home---three out!"
+
+Three disheartened base runners turned and slouched dispiritedly
+toward the dressing rooms.
+
+"You could have hit that ball a better swipe," growled Wayland's
+captain to the last man at bat.  The victim of the rebuke didn't
+answer.  He knew that he had faced a pitcher wholly rejuvenated
+by sheer grit and nerve force.
+
+At its loudest the band was blaring forth "At the Old Ball Game,"
+and thousands were following with the words.  Wayland fans were
+strolling away in dejection, but Gridley folks stood up to watch
+and cheer.
+
+The whole nine had done its duty in fine shape, but Dick Prescott
+had made himself the idol of the Gridley diamond.
+
+When the band stopped, the cheers welled forth.  The lion's share
+was for Prescott, but Darrin was not forgotten.  Even Ripley,
+who had pitched three of the minor games, came in for some notice.
+
+Dick?
+
+With the strain and suspense gone he felt limp and weak for a
+few minutes.  Under the cold shower he revived somewhat.  Yet,
+when he started homeward, he found that he ached all over.  With
+the last game of the season gone by, Dick half imagined that his
+right wrist was a huge boil.
+
+At the gateway Schimmelpodt, that true devotee of sport, waited.
+As the young High School pitcher came forth Herr Schimmelpodt
+rested a fat hand on the boy's shoulder, whispering in his ear:
+
+"Ach!  But I know vere is dere a _real_ jointed fishpole.  It
+was two dollar, but now it stands itself by, marked to one-nineteen.
+In der morning, Bresgott, it shall be yours.  Und listen!"
+
+Dick looked up into the blinking eyes.
+
+"Dot fishpole for der summer use is goot fine!  Und venever you
+see me going by bis my vagon, don't you be slow to holler und
+ask me for a ride!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+CONCLUSION
+
+
+Commencement Day!
+
+For a large percentage of High School boys and girls, the end
+of the sophomore year marks the end of their schooling.
+
+This was true at Gridley as elsewhere.  When the crowd came forth
+from commencement exercises at the Opera House on this bright,
+warm June afternoon, there were not a few of the sophomores who
+were saying good-bye to the classic halls of instruction.
+
+Not so, however, with Dick & Co.  They were bound all the way
+through the course, and hoped to take up with college or other
+academic training when once good old Gridley High School must
+be left behind.
+
+"What are you going to do this summer, Prescott?" asked Dr. Bentley,
+gripping the lad's arm, as Dick stood on the sidewalk chatting
+with Dave Darrin.
+
+"Work, mostly, doctor.  I'm getting near the age when fellow should
+try to bear some of the expense of keeping himself."
+
+"What will you work at?"
+
+"Why, reporting for 'The Blade.' I believe I can capture a good
+many stray dollars this summer."
+
+"Good enough," murmured Dr. Bentley, approvingly.  "But are you
+going to have any spare time?"
+
+"A little, I hope---just about enough for some rest."
+
+"Then I'll tell you where you can take that rest," went on the
+medical man.  "My family are going into camp for the summer, in
+three days.  They'll be over at the lake range, on a piece of
+ground that I've bought there.  You can get over once in a while,
+and spend a night or two, can't you?  Mrs. Bentley charged me
+to ask you and Darrin," added the physician.  "Belle Meade is
+going to spend the summer in camp with Laura."
+
+Both boys were prompt with their thanks.
+
+"Confound it," muttered Dr. Bentley, "I'm forgetting two thirds
+of my message at that.  The invitation includes all of Dick &
+Co.  Now remember you'll all be looked for from time to time,
+and most heartily welcome."
+
+Both boys were most hearty in their thanks.  This took care of
+whatever spare time they might have, for Dave, too, was to be
+busy a good deal of the time.  He had work as an extra clerk at
+the express office.
+
+Then the two girl chums came along.  Dick and Dave strolled along
+with Laura and Belle.  The other partners of Dick & Co. were soon
+to be seen, their narrow-brimmed straw hats close to bobbing picture
+hats.
+
+"Your father gave us a message, Laura," Dick murmured to the girl
+beside him.
+
+"And you're going to accept it?" asked the girl quickly.
+
+"At any chance to be honestly away from work," Dick promised fervently.
+"Yet at my age a fellow must keep something of an eye toward
+business, too, Laura."
+
+"Yes," she answered slowly, glancing covertly at the bronzed young
+face and the strong, lithe body.  "You're nearing manhood, Dick."
+
+"Just about as rapidly as you're growing into womanhood, Laura,"
+answered the boy.
+
+Dave and Belle were chatting, too, but what they said wouldn't
+interest very staid old people.
+
+Gridley was prouder than ever of its athletic teams.  The great
+record in baseball, with Dick & Co. in the team, was something
+worth talking about.
+
+Lest there be some who may think that a season of baseball with
+no defeats is an all but impossible record, the chronicler hastens
+to add that there are, through the length and breadth of these
+United States, several High School teams every year that make
+such a showing.
+
+Yet, in baseball, as in everything else, the record is reached
+only by nines like the Gridley crowd, where the stiffest training,
+the best coaches and the best individual nerve and grit among
+the players are to be found.
+
+Did Fred Ripley truly make good?
+
+What else happened?
+
+These and various other burning questions must now be answered
+in the chronicle of the time to which they belonged.  So the reader
+is referred to the next volume in this series, which is to be
+published at once under the caption: "_The High School Left End;
+Or, Dick & Co. Grilling on the Football Gridiron_."
+
+At the same time, no interested reader will allow himself to overlook
+the second volume in the "_High School Boys' Vacation Series_,"
+which runs parallel with this present series.  All the wonderful
+summer vacation adventures that followed the sophomore year of
+Prescott and his chums will be found in the volume published under
+the title, "_The High School Boys' In Summer Camp; Or, The Dick
+Prescott Six Training for the Gridley Eleven_."  It is a thrilling
+story that no follower of the fortunes of these lads can afford
+to overlook.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The High School Pitcher, by H. Irving Hancock
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12690 ***
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #12690 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12690)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The High School Pitcher, by H. Irving Hancock
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The High School Pitcher
+       Dick & Co. on the Gridley Diamond
+
+Author: H. Irving Hancock
+
+Release Date: June 23, 2004 [EBook #12690]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIGH SCHOOL PITCHER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jim Ludwig
+
+
+
+
+THE HIGH SCHOOL PITCHER
+
+or Dick & Co. on the Gridley Diamond
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTERS
+    I. The Principal Hears Something About Pennies
+   II. Dick Takes Up His Pen
+  III. Mr. Cantwell Thinks Twice---or Oftener
+   IV. Dave Warns Tip Scammon
+    V. Ripley Learns That the Piper Must be Paid
+   VI. The Call to the Diamond---Fred Schemes
+  VII. Dave Talks with One Hand
+ VIII. Huh?  Woolly Crocheted Slippers
+   IX. Fred Pitches a Bombshell into Training Camp
+    X. Dick & Co. Take a Turn at Feeling Glum
+   XI. The Third Party's Amazement
+  XII. Trying out the Pitchers
+ XIII. The Riot Call and Other Little Things
+  XIV. The Steam of the Batsman
+   XV. A Dastard's Work in the Dark
+  XVI. The Hour of Tormenting Doubt
+ XVII. When the Home Fans Quivered
+XVIII. The Grit of the Grand Old Game
+  XIX. Some Mean Tricks Left Over
+   XX. A Tin Can for the Yellow Dog
+  XXI. Dick is Generous Because It's Natural
+ XXII. All Roads Lead to the Swimming Pool
+XXIII. The Agony of the Last Big Game
+  XIV. Conclusion
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PRINCIPAL HEARS SOMETHING ABOUT "PENNIES"
+
+
+Clang!
+
+"Attention, please."
+
+The barely audible droning of study ceased promptly in the big
+assembly room of the Gridley High School.
+
+The new principal, who had just stepped into the room, and who
+now stood waiting behind his flat-top desk on the platform, was
+a tall, thin, severe-looking man of thirty-two or three.
+
+For this year Dr. Carl Thornton, beloved principal for a half-score
+of years, was not in command at the school.  Ill health had forced
+the good old doctor to take at least a year's rest, and this stranger
+now sat in the Thornton chair.
+
+"Mr. Harper," almost rasped out Mr. Cantwell's voice, "stop rustling
+that paper."
+
+Harper, a little freshmen, who had merely meant to slip the paper
+inside his desk, and who was not making a disturbing noise thereby,
+flushed pink and sat immobile, the paper swinging from one hand.
+
+From the principal's attitude and his look of seriousness, something
+unusual was pending.  Some of the girls permitted their apprehension
+to be seen.  On the faces of several of the boys rested a look
+of half defiance, for this principal was unpopular, and, by the
+students, was considered unjust.
+
+"It being now in the early part of December," went on Mr. Cantwell,
+"we shall, on Monday, begin rehearsing the music for the special
+exercises to be held in this school on the day before Christmas.
+To that end, each of you found, on returning from recess, the
+new Christmas music on your desk."
+
+Mr. Cantwell paused an instant for this important information
+to sink in.  Several slight, little sighs of relief escaped the
+students, especially from the girls' side of the great room.
+This speech did not presage anything very dreadful to come.
+
+"This sheet music," continued Mr. Cantwell, "is to be sold to
+the pupils at cost to the Board of Education.  This cost price
+is fifteen cents."
+
+Again Mr. Cantwell paused.  It was a trick of his, a personal
+peculiarity.  Then be permitted himself a slight smile as he added:
+
+"This being Friday, I will ask you all to be sure to bring, on
+Monday morning, the money, which you will pay to me.  Don't forget,
+please; each of you bring me his little fifteen pennies.  Now,
+return to your studies until the beginning of the fourth period
+is announced."
+
+As he bent his head low behind a bulky textbook, Dan Dalzell,
+of the sophomore class, glanced over at Dick Prescott with sparkling
+mischief gleaming in his eyes.
+
+Dick, who was now a sophomore, and one of the assured leaders
+in sports and fun, guessed that Dan Dalzell was hatching another
+of the wild schemes for which Dalzell was somewhat  famous.  Dick
+even guessed that he knew about what was passing in Dan's mind.
+
+Though moderate whispering was permitted, at need, in the assembly
+room, there was no chance for Dick and Dan to pass even a word
+at this time, for almost immediately the bell for the fourth period
+of the morning's work sounded, and the sections rose and filed
+out to the various recitation rooms.
+
+To readers of the preceding volume in this series, Dick & Co.
+will need no introduction.  All six of the youngsters were very
+well introduced in "The High School Freshmen."
+
+Such readers will remember their first view of Dick & Co.  With
+brown-haired Dick Prescott as leader, the other members of this
+unique firm of High School youngsters, were Tom Reade, Dan Dalzell,
+Harry Hazelton, Gregory Holmes and Dave Darrin.
+
+The six had been chums at the Central Grammar School, and had
+stuck together like burrs through the freshman year at the Gridley
+High School.  In fact, even in their freshmen period, when new
+students are not expected to have much to say, and are given no
+chance at the school athletics, Dick & Co. had made themselves
+abundantly felt.
+
+Our readers will recall how the Board of Education had some notion
+of prohibiting High School football, despite the fact that the
+Gridley H.S. eleven was one of the best in the United States.
+Readers will also recall the prank hatched by Dick & Co., by
+means of which the Board was quickly shown how unpopular such
+a move would be in the city.
+
+Our readers will also recollect that, though freshmen were barred
+from active part in sports, yet Dick & Co. found the effective
+way of raising plentiful funds for the Athletics Committee.  In
+the annual paper chase the freshmen hounds, under Dick Prescott's
+captaincy, beat the sophomore hares---for the first time in many
+years.  In the skating events, later on, Dick and his chums captured,
+for the freshman class, three of the eight events.  From the start,
+Dick & Co. had shown great ingenuity in "boosting" football, in
+return for which, many of the usual restrictions on freshmen were
+waived where Dick & Co. were concerned.
+
+In the nearly three months, now, that the new school year had
+gone along, Dick & Co. had proved that, as sophs, they were youngsters
+of great importance in the student body.  They were highly popular
+with most of their fellow-students; but of course that very popularity
+made them some enemies among those who envied or disliked them.
+
+For one thing, neither Dick nor any of his partners came of families
+of any wealth.  Yet it was inevitable that some of the boys and
+girls of Gridley H.S. should come from families of more or less
+wealth.
+
+It is but fair to say that most of these scions of the wealthier
+families were agreeable, affable and democratic---in a word, Americans
+without any regard to the size of the family purse.
+
+A few of the wealthier young people, however, made no secret of
+their dislike for smiling, happy, capable Dick & Co.  One of the
+leaders in this feeling was Fred Ripley, son of a wealthy, retired
+lawyer.
+
+During the skating events of the preceding winter, Dick Prescott,
+aided by his chums, had saved the life of Ripley, who had gone
+through thin ice.  However, so haughty a young man as Fred Ripley,
+though he had been slightly affected by the brave generosity,
+could not quite bring himself to regard Dick as other than an
+interloper in High School life.
+
+Ripley had even gone so far as to bribe Tip Scammon, worthless,
+profligate son of the honest old janitor of the High School, to
+commit a series of robberies from the locker rooms in the school
+basement while Dick carried the key as monitor there.  The "plunder"
+had been found in Dick's own room at home, and the young man had
+been suspended from the High School for a while.  Thanks, however,
+to Laura Bentley and Belle Meade, two girls then freshmen and
+now sophs, Tip had been run down.  Then the police made Tip confess,
+and he was sent away to the penitentiary for a short term.  Tip,
+however, refused to the last to name his accomplice.  Dick knew
+that Ripley was the accomplice, but kept his silence, preferring
+to fight all his own battles by himself.
+
+So Fred Ripley was now a junior, in good standing as far as scholarship
+and school record went.
+
+So far, during this new year, Ripley had managed to smother his
+hatred for Dick & Co., especially for Dick himself.
+
+Lessons and recitations on this early December morning went off
+as usual.  In time the hands of the clock moved around to one
+o'clock in the afternoon, at which time the High School closed
+for the day.
+
+The partners of Dick & Co. went down the steps of the building
+and all soon found their way through the surging crowds of escaped
+students.  This sextette turned down one of the streets and trudged
+along together.  At first several of the other High School boys
+walked along near them.  Finally, however, the crowd thinned away
+until only Dick & Co. were together.
+
+"Dan," said Dick, smilingly, "something struck you hard this morning,
+when Mr. Cantwell asked us all to bring the music-money on Monday."
+
+"He didn't say exactly 'money,'" retorted Dan Dalzell, quickly.
+"What Prin. did say was that each one of us was to bring fifteen
+_pennies_."
+
+"Yes, I remember," laughed Dick.
+
+"Now, we couldn't have held that mob when school let out," pursued
+Dan.  "And now it's too late.  But say, if the Prin. had only
+sprung that on us _before_ recess-----"
+
+"Well, suppose he had?" interrupted Greg Holmes, a trifle impatiently.
+
+"Why, then," retorted Dan, mournfully, "we could have passed word
+around, at recess, to have everybody bring just what the Prin.
+called for---_pennies_!"
+
+"Hm!" grinned Dave Darrin, who was never slow to see the point
+of anything.  "Then you had a vision of the unpopular Prin. being
+swamped under a deluge of pennies---plain, individual little copper
+cents?"
+
+"That's it!" agreed Dan.  "But now, we won't see more than a few
+before we go to school again Monday.  Oh---wow!  What a chance
+that takes away from us.  Just imagine the Prin. industriously
+counting away at thousands of pennies, and a long line of boy
+and girl students in line, each one waiting to pass him another
+handful of _pennies_!  Say, can you see the Prin.---just turning
+white and muttering to himself?  But there's no chance to get
+the word around, now!"
+
+"We don't need to get the word around," smiled Dick.  "If we passed
+the word around, it might get to the Prin.'s ears before Monday,
+and he'd hatch up some way to head us off."
+
+"If you can see how to work the trick at this late hour, you can
+see further than I can," muttered Dan, rather enviously.
+
+"Oh, Dick has the scheme hatching, or he wouldn't talk about it,"
+declared Dave Darrin, confidently.
+
+"Why, if all you want is to send the whole student body on Monday
+morning, each with fifteen copper cents to hand the Prin., that
+can be fixed up easily enough," Dick pronounced, judicially.
+
+"How are we going to do it?" asked Dalzell, dubiously.
+
+"Well, let us see how many pennies would be needed?  There are
+close to two hundred and fifty students, but a few might refuse
+to go into the trick.  Let us say two hundred and forty _times_
+fifteen.  That's thirty-six hundred, isn't it?   That means we
+want to get thirty-six dollars' worth of pennies.  Well, we'll
+get them!"
+
+"_We_ will?" demanded Dan, with a snort.  "Dick, unless you've
+got more cash on hand than the rest of us then I don't believe
+a dragnet search of this crowd would turn up two dollars.  Thirty-six?
+That's going some and halfway back!"
+
+"There are three principal ways of buying goods of any kind,"
+Dick continued.  "One way is with cash-----"
+
+"That's the street we live on!" broke in Harry Hazelton, with
+a laugh.
+
+"The second way," Dick went on, "is to pay with a check.  But
+you must have cash at the bank behind the check, or you get into
+trouble.  Now the third way is to buy goods on credit."
+
+"That's just as bad," protested Dan.  "Where, in the whole town,
+could a bunch of youngsters like us, get thirty-six dollars' worth
+of real credit?"
+
+"I can," declared Dick, coolly.
+
+"You?  Where?  With your father?"
+
+"No; Dad rarely takes in much in the way of pennies.  I don't
+suppose he has two dollars' worth of pennies on hand at any time.
+But, fellows, you know that 'The Morning Blade' is a one cent
+paper.  Now, the publisher of 'The Blade' must bank a keg of pennies
+every day in the week.  I can see Mr. Pollock, the editor, this
+afternoon, right after luncheon.  He has probably sent most of
+the pennies to bank today,  but I'll ask him if he'll have to-morrow's
+pennies saved for us."
+
+"Say, if he'll only do that!" glowed Dan, his eyes flashing.
+
+"He will," declared Dave Darrin.  "Mr. Pollock will do anything,
+within reason, that Dick asks."
+
+"Now, fellows, if I can put this thing through, we can meet in
+my room to-morrow afternoon at one o'clock.  Pennies come in rolls
+of fifty each, you know.  We'll have to break up the rolls, and
+make new ones, each containing fifteen pennies."
+
+Dave Darrin stopped where he was, and began to laugh.  Tom Reade
+quickly joined in.  The others were grinning.
+
+"Oh, say, just for one look at Prin.'s face, if we can spring
+that job on him!" chuckled Harry Hazelton.
+
+"We can," announced Dick, gravely.  "So go home and enjoy your
+dinners, fellows.  If you want to meet on the same old corner
+on Main Street, at half-past two to-day, we'll go in a body to
+'The Blade' office and learn what Mr. Pollock has to say about
+our credit."
+
+"_Your_ credit, you mean," corrected Dave.
+
+After dinner Dick & Co. met as agreed.  Arrived at "The Blade"
+office it was decided that Dick Prescott should go in alone to
+carry on the negotiation.  He soon came out again, wearing a satisfied
+smile and carrying a package under one arm.
+
+"If I'm any good at guessing," suggested Dave, "you put the deal
+over."
+
+"Mr. Pollock agreed, all right," nodded Dick.  "I have fourteen
+dollars here.  He'll let us have the rest to-morrow."
+
+They hurried back to Dick's room, over the bookstore that was
+run by Mr. and Mrs. Prescott.
+
+"Whew, but this stuff is heavy," muttered Dick, dumping the package
+on the table.  "Mr. Pollock sent out to the pressroom and had
+some paper cut of just the size that we shall need for wrappers."
+
+"Did you tell Pollock what we are going to do?" asked Greg Holmes.
+
+"Not exactly, but he guessed that some mischief was on.  He wanted
+to know if it was anything that would make good local reading
+in 'The Blade,' so I told him I thought it would be worth a paragraph
+or two, and that I'd drop around Monday afternoon and give him
+the particulars.  That was all I said."
+
+Inside the package were three "sticks" of the kind that are used
+for laying the little coins in a row before wrapping.
+
+"Now, one thing we must be dead careful about, fellows," urged
+Dick, as he undid the package, "is to be sure that we get an exact
+fifteen coins in each wrapper.  If we got in more, we'd be the
+losers.  If we put less than fifteen cents in any wrapper, then
+we're likely to be accused of running a swindling game."
+
+So every one of the plotters was most careful to count the coins.
+It was not rapid work, and only half the partners could work
+at any one time.  They soon caught the trick of wrapping, however,
+and then the little rolls began to pile up.
+
+Saturday afternoon Dick & Co. were similarly engaged.  Nor did
+they find the work too hard. Americans will endure a good deal
+for the sake of a joke.
+
+Monday morning, shortly after half-past seven, Dick and his chums
+had stationed themselves along six different approaches to the
+High School.  Each young pranker had his pockets weighted down
+with small packages, each containing fifteen pennies.
+
+Purcell, of the junior class, was the first to pass Dick Prescott.
+
+"Hullo, Purcell," Dick greeted the other, with a grin.  "Want
+to see some fun?"
+
+"Of course," nodded the junior.  "What's going?"
+
+"You remember that Prin. asked us, last Friday, to bring in our
+fifteen pennies for the Christmas music?"
+
+"Of course.  Well, I have my money in my pocket."
+
+"_In pennies_?" insisted Dick.
+
+"Well, no; of course not.  But I have a quarter, and I guess Prin.
+can change that."
+
+Dick quickly explained the scheme.  Purcell, with a guffaw, purchased
+one of the rolls.
+
+"Now, see here," hinted Dick, "there'll be such a rush, soon,
+that we six can't attend to all the business.  Won't you take
+a dozen rolls and peddle them?  I'll charge 'em to you, until
+you can make an accounting."
+
+Purcell caught at the bait with another laugh.  Dick noted Purcell's
+name on a piece of paper, with a dollar and eighty cents charged
+against it.
+
+All the other partners did the same with other students.  With such
+a series of pickets out around the school none of the student body
+got through without buying pennies, except Fred Ripley and Clara
+Deane.  They were not asked to buy.
+
+Meanwhile, up in the great assembly room a scene was going on
+that was worth looking at.
+
+Abner Cantwell had seated himself at his desk.  Before him lay
+a printed copy of the roll of the student body.  It was the new
+principal's intention to check off each name as a boy or girl
+paid for the music.  Knowing that he would have a good deal of
+currency to handle, the principal had brought along a satchel
+for this morning.
+
+First of all, Harper came tripping into the room.  He went to
+his desk with his books, then turned and marched to the principal's
+desk.
+
+"I've brought the money for the music, Mr. Cantwell."
+
+"That's right, Mr. Harper," nodded the principal.
+
+The little freshman carefully deposited his fifteen pennies on
+the desk.  They were out of the roll.  Dick & Co. had cautioned
+each investor to break the wrapper, and count the pennies before
+moving on.
+
+Two of the seniors presently came in.  They settled with pennies.
+Then came Laura Bentley and Belle Meade.  Their pennies were
+laid on the principal's desk.
+
+"Why, all pennies, so far!" exclaimed Mr. Cantwell.  "I trust
+not many will bring coins of such low denomination."
+
+A look of bland innocence rested on Laura's face.
+
+"Why, sir," she remarked, "you asked us, Friday, to bring pennies.
+
+"Did I?" demanded the principal, a look of astonishment on his
+face.
+
+"Why, yes, sir," Belle Meade rattled on.  "Don't you remember?
+You laughed, Mr. Cantwell, and asked each one of us to bring
+fifteen pennies to-day."
+
+"I had forgotten that, Miss Meade," returned the principal.  Then,
+as the sophomore young ladies turned away, a look of suspicion
+began to settle on the principal's face.  Nor did that look lessen
+any when the next six students to come in each carried pennies
+to the desk.
+
+Twenty more brought pennies.  By this time there was a stern look
+on the principal's white face.
+
+During the next few minutes after that only two or three came
+in, for Dick had thought of a new aspect to the joke.  He had
+sent messengers scurrying out through the street approaches with
+this message:
+
+"We're not required to be in the assembly room until eight o'clock.
+Let's all wait until two minutes of eight---then go in a throng."
+
+So the principal had a chance to catch up with his counting as
+the minutes passed.  So busy was he, however, that it didn't quite
+occur to him to wonder why so few of the student body had as yet
+come in.
+
+Then, at 7.58, a resounding tread was heard on the stairs leading
+up from the basement locker rooms.  Some two hundred boys and
+girls were coming up in two separate throngs.  They were still
+coming when the assembly bell rang.  As fast as any entered they
+made their way, with solemn faces, to the desk on the platform.
+
+As Mr. Cantwell had feared, the pennies still continued to pour
+in upon him.  Suddenly the principal struck his desk sharply with
+a ruler, then leaped to his feet.  His face was whiter than ever.
+It was plain that the man was struggling to control himself against
+an outburst of wrath.  He even forced a smile to his face a sort
+of smile that had no mirth in it.
+
+"Young ladies and young gentlemen," Mr. Cantwell rasped out, sharply,
+"some of you have seen fit to plan a joke against me, and to carry
+it out most audaciously.  It's a good joke, and I admit that it's
+on me.  But it has been carried far enough.  If you please---_no
+more pennies_!"
+
+"But pennies are all I happen to have, sir," protested Dave Darrin,
+stepping forward.  "Don't you want me to pay you for the music,
+sir?"
+
+"Oh, well," replied the principal, with a sigh, "I'll take 'em,
+then."
+
+As Dick & Co. had disposed of every one of their little rolls
+of fifteen, few of the students were unprovided with pennies.
+So the copper stream continued to pour in.  Mr. Cantwell could
+have called any or all of his submasters and teachers to his aid.
+He thought of it presently, as his fingers ached from handling
+all the pennies.
+
+"Mr. Drake, will you come to the desk?" he called.
+
+So Submaster Drake came to the platform, drawing a chair up beside
+the principal's.  But Mr. Cantwell still felt obliged to do the
+counting, as he was responsible for the correctness of the sums.
+So all Mr. Drake could do was check off the names as the principal
+called them.
+
+Faster and faster poured the copper stream now.  Mr. Cantwell,
+the cords sticking out on his forehead, and a clammy dew bespangling
+his white face, counted on in consuming anger.  Every now and
+then he turned to dump two or three handfuls of counted pennies
+into his open satchel.
+
+Gathered all around the desk was a throng of students, waiting
+to pay.  Beyond this throng, safely out of range of vision, other
+students gathered in groups and chuckled almost silently.
+
+Clatter!  By an unintentional move of one arm Mr. Cantwell swept
+fully a hundred pennies off on to the floor.  He leaped up, flushed
+and angry.
+
+"Will the young---gentlemen---aid me in recovering the coins that
+went on the floor?" he asked.
+
+There was promptly a great scurrying and searching.  The principal
+surely felt harassed that morning.  It was ten minutes of nine
+when the last student had paid and had had his name checked off.
+Mr. Cantwell was at the boiling point of wrath.
+
+Just as the principal was putting the last of the coins into his
+satchel Mr. Drake leaned over to whisper:
+
+"May I make a suggestion, sir?"
+
+"Certainly," replied the principal coldly. "Yet I trust, Mr. Drake,
+that it won't be a suggestion for an easy way of accumulating
+more pennies than I already have."
+
+"I think, if I were you, sir, I should pay no heed to this joke-----"
+
+"Joke?" hissed the principal under his breath.  "It's an outrage!"
+
+"But intended only as a piece of pleasantry, sir.  So I think
+it will pass off much better if  you don't allow the students
+to see that they have annoyed you."
+
+"Why?  Do the students _want_ to annoy me?" demanded Mr. Cantwell,
+in another angry undertone.
+
+"I wouldn't say that," replied Mr. Drake.  "But, if the young
+men discover that you are easily teased, they are sufficiently
+mischief-loving to try other jokes on you."
+
+"Then a good friend of theirs would advise them not to do so,"
+replied Mr. Cantwell, with a snap of his jaws.
+
+That closed the matter for the time being.  The first recitation
+period of the morning had been lost, but now the students, most
+of them finding difficulty in suppressing their chuckles, were
+sent to the various class rooms.
+
+Before recess came, the principal having a period free from class
+work, silently escaped from the building, carrying the thirty-six
+hundred pennies to the bank.  As that number of pennies weighs
+something more than twenty-three pounds, the load was not a light
+one.
+
+"I have a big lot of pennies here that I want to deposit," he
+explained to the receiving teller.
+
+"How many?" asked the teller.
+
+"Thirty-six hundred," replied Mr. Cantwell.
+
+"Are they counted and done up into rolls of fifty, with your name
+on each roll?" asked the teller.
+
+"Why---er---no," stammered the principal.  "They're just loose---in
+bulk, I mean."
+
+"Then I'm very sorry, Mr. Cantwell, but we can't receive them
+in that shape, sir.  They will have to be counted and wrapped,
+and your name written on each roll."
+
+"Do you mean to say that I must take these pennies home, count
+them all---again!---and then wrap them and sign the wrappers."
+
+"I'm sorry, but you, or some one will have to do it, Mr. Cantwell."
+
+Then and there the principal exploded.  One man there was in the
+bank at that moment who was obliged to turn his head away and
+stifle back the laughter.  That man was Mr. Pollock, of "The Blade."
+Pollock knew now what Dick & Co. had wanted of such a cargo of
+pennies.
+
+"I can't carry this infernal satchel back to school," groaned
+the principal, disgustedly. "Some of the boys, when they see me,
+will realize that the satchel is still loaded, and they'll know
+what has happened to me at the bank.  It will make me look fearfully
+ridiculous to be caught in that fashion, with the joke against
+me a second time!  And yet I have a class immediately after recess.
+What can I do?"
+
+A moment later, however, he had solved the problem.  There was
+a livery stable not far away, and he knew the proprietor.  So
+to that stable Mr. Cantwell hurried, changing the satchel from
+one hand to the other whenever an arm ached too much.
+
+"This satchel contains a lot of currency, Mr. Getchel," explained
+the poor principal.  "I wish you could do me the favor of having
+a horse hitched up and take this to my wife.  Will you do it?"
+
+"Certainly," nodded the liveryman.  "Just lock the satchel; that
+is all.  I'll have the bag at your home within fifteen minutes."
+
+So during the first period after recess Mrs. Cantwell was visited
+by Getchel, who handed her the satchel, merely remarking:
+
+"Mr. Cantwell left this at my office, ma'am, and asked me to bring
+it down to you.  It contains some money that your husband sent
+you."
+
+Money?  The good woman, who "loved" money too well to spend much
+of it, hefted the satchel.  Gracious!  There must be a big lot
+of the valuable stuff.  But the satchel was locked.  Mrs. Cantwell
+promptly hunted until she found another satchel key that fitted.
+Then she opened the bag, staring at the contents with big eyes.
+
+"What on earth can my husband have been doing?" she wondered.
+"Surely he hasn't been robbing the Salvation Army Christmas boxes!
+And the idea of sending me money all in pennies!"
+
+The more she thought about it the more indignant did Mrs. Cantwell
+become.  Finally, a little after noon, Mrs. Cantwell decided to
+take the stuff to the bank, have it counted and turned over into
+greenbacks.  So she trudged up to the bank with it.  The journey
+was something more than a mile in length.  Mrs. Cantwell arrived
+at  the bank, only to make the same discovery that her husband
+had made about the need of counting and wrapping the money before
+it could be deposited or exchanged.  It was close to one o'clock,
+and the High School not far away.  So, full of ire, Mrs. Cantwell
+started down to her husband's place of employment.
+
+Once school let out for the day, a quarter of a thousand members
+of the student body went off, full of glee, to spread the news
+of the joke.  As they hurried along many of the students noticed
+that Mrs. Cantwell was standing not far from the gate and that,
+at her feet, lay her husband's black satchel.  Several of the
+students were quick to wonder what this new phase of the matter
+meant.
+
+After school was dismissed Fred Ripley remained behind, strapping
+several books together.  Then, as he passed the principal's desk,
+he remarked:
+
+"I suppose, Mr. Cantwell, that some of the students thought that
+a very funny trick that was played on you this morning.  While
+I am speaking of it, I wish to assure you, sir, that I had no
+hand in the outrage."
+
+"I am very glad to hear you say that, Mr. Ripley.  Some day I
+hope I shall have a notion who _did_ originate the practical joke."
+
+"I don't believe you would have to guess very long, sir," Ripley
+hinted.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, sir, whenever anything of that sort is hatched up in this
+school, it's generally a pretty safe guess that Dick & Co. are
+at the bottom of it all."
+
+"Dick & Co.?" repeated Mr. Cantwell.
+
+"Dick Prescott and his chums, sir," replied Ripley, rapidly naming
+the five partners.  Then, having accomplished what he wanted,
+Fred sauntered out.
+
+"I'll look into this further," thought Mr. Cantwell, angrily.
+"If I can satisfy myself that Prescott was at the bottom of this
+wicked hoax then I---I may find it possible to make him want to
+cut his High School course short!"
+
+Mrs. Cantwell was waiting at the gate.
+
+"What on earth, Abner, did you mean by sending me this great cartload
+of pennies?" demanded the principal's spouse.  "Here I've taken
+it up to the bank, and find they won't accept it---not in this
+form, anyway.  Now, I've carried it this far, Abner, and you may
+carry it the rest of the way home."
+
+"Why---er---er---" stammered the principal.
+
+"Mr. Getchel brought the satchel to me, and told me it was money
+you had sent me.  But I want to say, Abner, that of all the-----"
+
+At this moment the principal picked up the hateful satchel and
+the pair passed out of hearing of four young freshmen who had
+hidden near to learn what the mystery of the satchel meant.
+It was not long, either, before the further joke had become known
+to a great many of the students.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+DICK TAKES UP HIS PEN
+
+
+Dick had no sooner ventured out on the street after dinner than
+he encountered the news of Mrs. Cantwell's meeting with her husband.
+
+But Dick did not linger long to discuss the matter.  His pockets
+now contained, in place of pennies, a few banknotes and many dimes,
+pennies and nickels, amounting in all to thirty-six dollars.
+He was headed for "The Blade" office to settle with Mr. Pollock.
+
+"I think I can tell you a little story now, that may be worth
+a paragraph or two," Dick announced after he had counted out the
+money and had turned it over to the editor.
+
+"You played a little joke on your new and not wholly popular principal,
+didn't you?" Mr. Pollock asked, his eyes twinkling.
+
+"Yes; has the thing reached you already?"
+
+"I don't know the whole story of the joke," Mr. Pollock replied,
+"but perhaps I can tell you one side of it that you don't know."
+
+Thereupon the editor described Mr. Cantwell's visit to the bank.
+"Now, I've got a still further side to the story," Dick continued,
+and repeated the story told by the freshmen of how Mrs. Cantwell
+also had carried the money to the bank, and then, still carrying
+it, had waited for her husband at the school gateway.
+
+Editor Pollock leaned back, laughing until the tears rolled down
+his cheeks.
+
+"I'm sorry for the good lady's discomfiture," explained the editor,
+presently.  "But the whole story is very, very funny."
+
+"Now, I guess you know all the facts," finished Dick Prescott,
+rising.
+
+"Yes, but I haven't a single reporter about."  Then, after a pause,
+"See here, Prescott, why couldn't you write this up for me?"
+
+"I?" repeated Dick, astonished.  "I never wrote a line for publication
+in my life."
+
+"Everyone who does, has to make a start some time," replied Mr.
+Pollock.  "And I believe you could write it up all right, too.
+See here, Prescott, just go over to that desk.  There's a stack
+of copy paper there.  Write it briefly and crisply, and, for delicacy's
+sake, leave out all that relates to Mrs. Cantwell.  No use in
+dragging a woman into a hazing scrape."
+
+Dick went over to the desk, picking up a pen.  For the fist three
+or four minutes he sat staring at the paper, the desk, the floor,
+the wall and the street door.  But Mr. Pollock paid no heed to
+him.  Then, finally, Dick began to write.  As he wrote a grin
+came to his face.  That grin broadened as he wrote on.  At last
+he took the pages over to Mr. Pollock.
+
+"I don't suppose that's what you want," he said, his face very
+red, "but the main facts are all there."
+
+Laying down his own pen Mr. Pollock read rapidly but thoughtfully.
+The editor began to laugh again.  Then he laid down the last
+sheet.
+
+"Prescott, that's well done.  There's a good reporter lurking
+somewhere inside of you."
+
+Thrusting one hand down into a pocket Mr. Pollock brought out
+a half-dollar, which he tendered to Dick.
+
+"What am I to do with this?" asked the young sophomore.
+
+"Anything you please," replied the editor.  "The money's for you."
+
+"For me?" gasped Dick.
+
+"Yes, of course.  Didn't you write this yarn for me?  Of course
+'The Blade' is only a country daily, and our space rates are not
+high.  But see here, Prescott, I'll pay you a dollar a column
+for anything you write for us that possesses local interest enough
+to warrant our printing it.  Now, while going to the High School,
+why can't you turn reporter in your spare time, and earn a little
+pocket money?"
+
+Again Dick gasped.  He had never thought of himself as a budding
+young journalist.  Yet, as Mr. Pollock inquired, "Why not?" Why
+not, indeed!
+
+"Well, how do you think you'd like to work for us?" asked Mr.
+Pollock, after a pause.  "Of course you would not leave the High
+School.  You would not even neglect your studies in the least.
+But a young man who knows almost everybody in Gridley, and who
+goes about town as much as you do, ought to be able to pick up
+quite a lot of newsy stuff."
+
+"I wonder if I could make a reporter out of myself," Dick pondered.
+
+"The way to answer that question is to try," replied Mr. Pollock.
+"For myself, I think that, with some training, you'd make a good
+reporter.  By the way, Prescott, have you planned on what you
+mean to be when you're through school?"
+
+"Why, it isn't settled yet," Dick replied slowly.  "Father and
+mother hope to be able to send me further than the High School,
+and so they've suggested that I wait until I'm fairly well through
+before I decide on what I want to be.  Then, if it's anything
+that a college course would help me to, they'll try to provide
+it."
+
+"What would you like most of all in the world to be?" inquired
+the editor of "The Blade."
+
+"A soldier!" replied young Prescott, with great promptness and
+emphasis.
+
+"Hm!  The soldier's trade is rather dull these days," replied
+the editor.  "We're becoming a peaceful people, and the arbitrator's
+word does the work that the sword used to do."
+
+"This country has been in several wars," argued Dick, "and will
+be in others yet to come.  In times of peace a soldier's duty
+is to fit himself for the war time that is to come.  Oh, I believe
+there's plenty, always, that an American soldier ought to be doing."
+
+"Perhaps.  But newspaper work is the next best thing to soldiering,
+anyway.  Prescott, my boy, the reporter of to-day is the descendant
+of the old free-lance soldier of fortune.  It takes a lot of nerve
+to be a reporter, sometimes, and to  do one's work just as it
+should be done.  The reporter's life is almost as full of adventure
+as the soldier's.  And there are no 'peace times' for the reporter.
+He never knows when his style of 'war' will break out.  But I
+must get back to my work.  Are you going to try to bring us in
+good matter at a dollar a column?"
+
+"Yes, I am, thank you," Dick replied, unhesitatingly, now.
+
+"Good," nodded Mr. Pollock, opening one of the smaller drawers
+over his desk.  "Here's something you can put on and wear."
+
+He held out to the boy an oblong little piece of metal, gold plated.
+
+"It's a badge such as 'The Blade' reporters wear, and has the
+paper's name on it," continued the editor.  "You can pin it on
+your vest."
+
+"I guess I'd better leave that part out for a while," laughed
+Dick, drawing back.  "The fellows at school wouldn't do a thing
+to me if they caught me wearing a reporter's badge."
+
+"Oh, just as you please about that," nodded Mr. Pollock, tossing
+the badge back into the drawer.  "But don't forget to bring us
+in something good, Prescott."
+
+"I won't forget, Mr. Pollock."
+
+As Dick went down the street, whistling blithely, he kept his
+hand in his pocket on the half-dollar.  He had had much more money
+with him a little while before, but that was to pay to some one
+else.  This half-dollar was wholly his  own money, and, with the
+prospect it carried of earning more, the High School boy was delighted.
+Pocket money had never been plentiful with young Prescott.  The
+new opportunity filled him with jubilation.
+
+It was not long, however, before a new thought struck him.  He
+went straight to his parents' bookstore, where he found his mother
+alone, Mr. Prescott being out on business.
+
+To his mother Dick quickly related his new good fortune.  Mrs.
+Prescott's face and words both expressed her pleasure.
+
+"At first, mother, I didn't think of anything but pocket money,"
+Dick admitted.  "Then my head got to work a bit.  It has struck
+me that if I can make a little money each week by writing for
+'The Blade,' I can pay you at least a bit of the money that you
+and Dad have to spend to keep me going."
+
+"I am glad you thought of that," replied Mrs. Prescott, patting
+her boy's hand.  "But we shan't look to you to do anything of
+the sort.  Your father and I are not rich, but we have managed
+all along to keep you going, and I think we can do it for a while
+longer.  Whatever money you can earn, Richard, must be your own.
+We shall take none of it.  But I trust you will learn how to
+handle your own money wisely.  _That_ is one of the most valuable
+lessons to be learned in life."
+
+To his chums, when he saw them later in the afternoon, Dick said
+nothing of Mr. Pollock's request.  The young soph thought it better
+to wait a while, and see how he got along at amateur reporting
+before he let anyone else into the secret.
+
+But late that afternoon Dick ran into a matter of interest and
+took it to "The Blade" office.
+
+"That's all right," nodded Mr. Pollock, after looking over Dick's
+"copy."  "Glad to see you have started in, my boy.  Now, I won't
+pay you for this on the nail.  Wait until Saturday morning, cutting
+all that you have printed out of the 'The Blade.' Paste all the
+items together, end on end, and bring them to me.  That is what
+reporters call a 'space string.' Bring your 'string' to me every
+Saturday afternoon.  We'll measure it up with you and settle."
+
+Dick hurried away, content.  He even found that evening that he
+could study with more interest, now that he found he had a financial
+place in life.
+
+In the morning Gridley read and laughed over Dick's item about
+the High School hoax.  But there was one man who saw it at his
+breakfast table, and who went into a white heat of rage at once.
+That man was Abner Cantwell, the principal.
+
+He was still at white heat when he started for the High School;
+though, warned by prudence, he tried to keep his temper down.
+Nevertheless, there was fire in Mr. Cantwell's eyes when he
+rang the bell to bring the student body to attention to begin
+the morning's work.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MR. CANTWELL THINKS TWICE---OR OFTENER
+
+
+"Young ladies and young gentlemen," began the principal, "a very
+silly hoax was perpetrated on me yesterday.  I do not believe
+you will have any difficulty in understanding what I mean.  But
+the matter went beyond this school room.  An account of the hoax
+was published in the morning paper, and that holds me up to severe
+ridicule.  I trust that we shall not have any repetition of such
+childish, so-called jokes.  I do not know yet what action I may
+or may not take in this matter, and can promise nothing.  I can
+and do promise, however, that if any more such hoaxes are attempted
+I shall do all in my power to ferret out and summarily punish
+the offenders!-----"
+
+Here the principal's own sense of prudence warned him that he
+had gone quite as far as was necessary or prudent.  So he choked
+down his rising words and called for the morning singing.  Yet,
+as Mr. Cantwell uttered his last words his glance fell very sternly
+on one particular young member of the sophomore class.  Dick Prescott.
+
+"Prin. has it in for you, old fellow!" whispered Dave Darrin,
+as he and Dick jostled on the way to a recitation.  "But if he
+has---humph---it won't be long before he finds out that you had
+some help.  You shan't be the scapegoat for all of Dick & Co."
+
+"Don't say anything," Dick whispered back.  "I'll find a way to
+take care of myself.  If any trouble is to come, I think I can
+take care of it.  Anyway, I won't have anyone else dragged into it."
+
+But the principal said nothing more during that school session.
+In the afternoon, however, when Mr. Cantwell took his accustomed
+walk after dinner, he met several acquaintances who made laughing
+or casual references to the yarn in the morning's "Blade."
+
+"I've got to stamp this spirit out in the school," decided the
+principal, again at a white heat.  "If I don't I'll soon have
+some real trouble on hand with these young jackanapes!  The idea
+of their making me---the principal---ridiculous in the town!
+No school principal can submit to hoaxes like that one without
+suffering in public esteem.  I'll sift this matter down and nip
+the whole spirit in the bud."
+
+In this Mr. Cantwell was quite possibly at error in judgment.
+Probably the High School boys wouldn't have played such a prank
+on good old Dr. Thornton, had he still been their school chief.
+But, if they had, Dr. Thornton would have admitted the joke good-humoredly
+and would have taken outside chaffing with a good nature that
+would have disarmed all wit aimed at him.  Mr. Cantwell, as will
+be seen, lacked the saving grace of a sense of humor.  He also
+lacked ability in handling full-blooded, fun-loving boys.
+
+Wednesday, just before one o'clock, the principal electrified
+the assembled students by saying, in a voice that was ominously
+quiet and cool:
+
+"When school is dismissed I shall be glad to have Mr. Prescott
+remain for a few words with me."
+
+"Now it's coming," thought Dick, though without any particular
+thrill of dismay.
+
+He waited while the others filed out.  Somehow the big building
+didn't empty as fast as usual.  Had Mr. Cantwell known more about
+boy nature he would have suspected that several of Dick's friends
+had remained behind in hiding places of their own choosing.
+
+Dick remained in his seat, coolly turning the pages of his text-book
+on ancient history.
+
+"Mr. Prescott," called the principal sharply.
+
+"Yes, sir," responded Dick, closing the book, slipping it into
+his desk, and rising as though to go forward.
+
+"No, no; keep your seat until I am ready to speak with you, Mr.
+Prescott.  But it isn't necessary to read, is it?"
+
+"I was looking through to-morrow's history lesson, sir," Dick
+replied, looking extremely innocent.  "But, of course, I won't
+if you disapprove."
+
+"Wait until I come back," rapped out the principal, leaving the
+room.  He went out to see that the building was being emptied
+of students, but of course he failed to discover that a few were
+hiding as nearly within earshot as they could get.
+
+Two or three of the teachers who had remained behind now left
+the room.  The last to go was Mr. Drake, the submaster.  As he
+went he cast a look at Dick that was full of sympathy, though
+the submaster, who was a very decent  man and teacher, did not
+by any means intend to foster mutiny in the heart of a High School
+boy.  But Mr. Drake knew that Mr. Cantwell was not fitted either
+to command respect or to enforce discipline in the High School.
+
+When Mr. Cantwell came back he and the young soph had the great
+room to themselves.
+
+"Now you may come forward, Mr. Prescott," announced the principal,
+"and stand in front of the platform."
+
+As Dick went forward there was nothing of undue confidence or
+any notion of bravado in his bearing.  He was not one of those
+schoolboys who, when brought to task by authority, try to put
+on a don't-care look.  Dick's glance, as he halted before the
+platform and turned to look at Mr. Cantwell, was one of simple
+inquiry.
+
+"Mr. Prescott, you are fully informed as to the hoax that was
+perpetrated on me yesterday morning?"
+
+"You mean the incident of the pennies, I think, sir?" returned
+the boy, inquiringly.
+
+"You know very well that I do, young man," retorted Mr. Cantwell,
+rapping his desk with one hand.
+
+"Yes, sir; I am fully informed about it."
+
+"And you know who was at the bottom of it, too, Mr. Prescott?"
+
+The principal bent upon the boy a look that was meant to make
+him quail, but Dick didn't quail.
+
+"Yes, sir," he admitted, promptly.  "I know at least several that
+had a hand in the affair."
+
+"And you were one of them?"
+
+"Yes, sir," admitted the young soph, frankly.  "I think I had
+as much to do with what you term the hoax, sir, as anyone else
+had."
+
+"Who were the others?" fired the principal, quickly and sharply.
+
+"I---I beg your pardon, sir.  I cannot answer that."
+
+"You can't?  Why not, Mr. Prescott?" demanded the principal.
+
+Again the principal launched his most compelling look.
+
+"Because, sir," answered Dick, quietly, and in a tone in which
+no sign of disrespect could be detected, "it would strike me as
+being dishonorable to drag others into this affair."
+
+"You would consider it dishonorable?" cried Mr. Cantwell, his
+face again turning deathly white with inward rage.  "_You_, who
+admit having had a big hand in what was really an outrage?"
+
+But Dick met and returned the other's gaze composedly.
+
+"The Board of Education, Mr. Cantwell, has several times decided
+that one pupil in the public schools cannot be compelled by a
+teacher to bear tales that implicate another student.  I have
+admitted my own share in the joke that has so much displeased
+you, but I cannot name any others."
+
+"You _must_!" insisted the principal, rising swiftly from his
+chair.
+
+"I regret to have to say, sir," responded Prescott, quietly, "that
+I shall not do it.  If you make it necessary, I shall have to
+take refuge behind the rulings of the Board of Education on that
+point."
+
+Mr. Cantwell glared at Dick, but the latter still met the gaze
+unflinchingly.
+
+Then the principal began to feel his wrath rising to such a point
+that he found himself threatened with an angry outburst.  As his
+temper had often betrayed him before in life, Mr. Cantwell, pointing
+angrily to Dick's place, said:
+
+"Back to your seat, Mr. Prescott, until I have given this matter
+a little more thought!"
+
+Immediately afterward the principal quitted the room.  Dick, after
+sitting in silence for a few moments, drew his history again from
+his desk, turned over the pages, found the place he wanted and
+began to read.
+
+It was ten minutes later when the principal returned to the room.
+He had been to one of the class rooms, where he had paced up
+and down  until he felt that he could control himself enough to
+utter a few words.  Now, he came back.
+
+"Prescott, I shall have to think over your admission before I
+come to any decision in the matter.  I may not be able to announce
+my decision for a while.  I shall give it most careful thought.
+In the meantime, I trust, very sincerely, that you will not be
+caught in any more mischief---least of all, anything as serious,
+as revolutionary, as yesterday's outrageous impudence.  You may
+go, now---for to-day!"
+
+"Very good, sir," replied Dick Prescott, who had risen at his
+desk as soon as Mr. Cantwell began to talk to him.  As young Prescott
+passed from the room he favored the principal with a decorous
+little bow.
+
+Dave Darrin, Tom Reade, Greg Holmes, Harper and another member
+of the freshman class, came out of various places of hiding.
+As he went down the stairs Dick was obliged to tread heavily enough
+to drown out their more stealthy footfalls.
+
+Once in the open, Harper and the other freshman scurried away,
+their curiosity satisfied.  But, a moment later, when Mr. Cantwell
+looked out of the window, he was much surprised to see four members
+of Dick & Co. walking together, and almost out through the gate.
+
+"Have they been within earshot---listening?" wondered the principal
+to himself, and jotted down the names of Darrin, Reade and Holmes.
+The two freshmen, by their prompt departure had saved themselves
+from suspicion.
+
+On Thursday nothing was said or done about Dick's case.  When
+Friday's session drew toward its close young Prescott fully expected
+to have sentence pronounced, or at least to be directed to remain
+after school.  But nothing of the sort happened.  Dick filed out
+at the week's end with the rest.
+
+"What do you imagine Prin. can be up to?" Dave Darrin asked, as
+Dick & Co. marched homeward that early Friday afternoon.
+
+"I don't know," Dick confessed.  "It may be that Mr. Cantwell
+is just trying to keep me guessing."
+
+"If that's his plan," inquired Reade, "what are you going to do,
+old fellow?"
+
+"Perhaps---just possibly---I shall fight back with the same weapon,"
+smiled Dick.
+
+Mr. Cantwell had, in truth, formed his plan, or as much of it
+as he could form until he had found just how the land lay, and
+what would be safe.  His present berth, as principal of Gridley
+H.S., was a much better one than he had ever occupied before.
+Mr. Cantwell cherished a hope of being able to keep the position
+for a good many years to come.  Yet this would depend on the attitude
+of the Board of Education.  In order not to take any step that
+would bring censure from the Board, Mr. Cantwell had decided to
+attend the Board's next meeting on the following Monday evening,
+and lay the matter before the members confidentially.  If the
+Board so advised, Mr. Cantwell was personally quite satisfied
+with the idea of disciplining Dick by dropping him from the High
+School rolls.
+
+"I'll protect my dignity, at any cost," Mr. Cantwell, murmured,
+eagerly to himself.  "After all, what is a High School principal,
+without dignity?"
+
+Monday afternoon Dick Prescott stepped in at "The Blade" office.
+
+"Got something for us again?" asked Mr. Pollock, looking around.
+
+"Not quite yet," Dick replied.  "I've come to make a suggestion."
+
+"Prescott, suggestions are the food of a newspaper editor.  Go
+ahead."
+
+"You don't send a reporter to report the Board of Education meetings,
+do you?"
+
+"No; those meetings are rarely newsy enough to be worth while.
+I can't afford to take up the evening of a salaried reporter
+in that way.  But Spencer generally drops around, at the time
+the Board is expected to adjourn, or else he telephones the clerk,
+from this office, and learns what has been done.  It's mostly
+nothing, you know."
+
+"Spencer wouldn't care if he didn't have to report the Board meetings
+at all?"
+
+"Of course not.  Len would be delighted at not having anything
+more to do."
+
+"Then let me go and report the meetings for you, on space."
+
+"My boy, a reporter would starve on that kind of space work.
+Why, after you put in the whole  evening there, you might come
+to the office only to learn that we didn't consider any of the
+Board's doings worth space to tell about them."
+
+"Will you let me attend a few of the meetings, and take my chances
+on the amount of space I can get out of it?"
+
+"Go ahead, Prescott, if you can afford to waste your time in that
+fashion," replied Mr. Pollock, almost pityingly.
+
+"Thank you.  That's what I wanted," acknowledged Dick, and went
+out very well contented.
+
+When it lacked a few minutes of eight, that evening, all the members
+of the Board of Education had arrived.  It was the same Board
+as in the year before.  All the members had been re-elected at
+the last city election, though some of them by small majorities.
+Mr. Gadsby, one of the members who had won by only a slight margin
+over his opponent, stood with his back to a radiator, warming
+himself, when he saw the door open.
+
+Mr. Gadsby nodded most genially to Mr. Cantwell, who entered.
+The principal came straight over to this member, and they shook
+hands cordially.  Mr. Gadsby had been one of the members of the
+Board who had been most anxious about having Cantwell appointed
+principal; Cantwell was, in fact, a family connection of Mrs.
+Gadsby's.
+
+"Coming to make some report, or some suggestion, I take it, eh,
+Cantwell?" murmured Mr. Gadsby in a low voice.  "Most excellent
+idea, my dear fellow.  Keeps you in notice and shows that your
+heart is in the work.  Most excellent idea, really."
+
+"I have a report to make," admitted Mr. Cantwell, in an equally
+low voice.  "I---I find it necessary to make a statement about
+the doings of a rather troublesome element in the school.  Suspension
+or expulsion may be necessary in order to give the best ideas
+of good discipline to many of the other students.  But I shall
+state the facts, and ask the Board to advise me as to just what
+I ought to do in the premises."
+
+"Ask the Board's advice?  Most excellent idea, really," murmured
+Mr. Gadsby.  "You can't go wrong then.  But---er---what's the
+nature of the trouble?  Who is the offen-----"
+
+Mr. Gadsby was rubbing his hands, under his coat tails, as he
+felt the warmth from the steam radiator reach them.
+
+"Why, the principal offender is named-----"
+
+Here Mr. Cantwell paused, and looked rather astonished.
+
+"Tell me, Mr. Gadsby, what is Prescott, of the sophomore class,
+doing here?"
+
+The principal's glance had just rested on Dick, who sat at a small
+side table, a little pile of copy paper on the table, a pencil
+in his hand.
+
+"Oh---ah---Prescott, Richard Prescott?" inquired Mr. Gadsby.
+"Some of us were a bit surprised this evening to learn that Prescott,
+though he will continue to attend High School, has also taken
+a position with 'The Morning Blade.' Among other things to which
+he will  attend, after this, Cantwell, is the matter of school
+doings in this city.  He is to be the regular reporter of School
+Board meetings.  Rather a young man to wield the power of the
+press isn't he?" Mr. Gladsby chuckled at his own joke.
+
+"'Power of the press'?" murmured Mr. Cantwell, uncomfortably.
+"Surely you don't mean, Gadsby, that this mere boy, this High
+School student, is going to be taken here seriously as representing
+the undoubtedly great power of the press?"
+
+"To some extent, yes," admitted Mr. Gadsby.  "'The Blade,' as
+you may know, is a good deal of a power in local politics.  Now,
+some of us---er---did not win our re-elections by any too large
+margins.  A little dangerous opposition to---er---some of us---would
+mean a few new faces around the table at Board meetings.  Mr.
+Pollock is---er---a most estimable citizen, and a useful man in
+the community.  Yet Mr. Pollock is---er---Cantwell---er---that
+is, a bit 'touchy.' No matter if Pollock's reporter is a schoolboy,
+if we treated the boy with any lack of consideration, then Pollock
+would most certainly take umbrage at what he would choose to consider
+a slight upon himself, received through his representative.  So
+at these Board meetings, young Prescott will have to be treated
+with as much courtesy as though he were really a man, for Pollock's
+hostility would be most disastrous to us---er---to some of us,
+possibly, I mean.  But, really, young Prescott is a most bright
+and enterprising young fellow, anyway---a very likable boy.  _You_
+like him, don't you, Cantwell?"
+
+"Ye-e-es," admitted the principal, though he added grimly under
+his breath:
+
+"I like him so well that I could eat him, right now, if I had
+a little Worcestershire sauce to make him more palatable."
+
+"The Board will please come to order," summoned Chairman Stone,
+rapping the table with his gavel.  "Mr. Reporter, have you good
+light over at your table."
+
+"Excellent, thank you, Mr. Chairman," Dick replied.
+
+"Er---aren't you going to stay, Cantwell?" demanded Gadsby, as
+the principal turned to leave the room.
+
+"No; the fact is---I---well, I want to consider my statement a
+little more before I offer it to the Board.  Good evening!"
+
+Mr. Cantwell got out of the room while some of the members were
+still scraping their chairs into place.
+
+Dick Prescott had not openly looked in the principal's direction.
+Yet the amateur reporter had taken it all in.  He was grinning
+inside now.  He had taken upon himself the work of reporting these
+meetings that he might be in a position to block any unfair move
+on the part of the principal.
+
+"I wonder what Mr. Cantwell is thinking about, _now_?" Dick asked
+himself, with an inward grin as he picked up his pencil.
+
+That Board meeting was about as dull and uneventful as the average.
+Yet Dick managed to make a few live paragraphs out of it that
+Guilford, "The Blade's" news editor, accepted.
+
+It still lacked some minutes of ten o'clock when young Prescott
+left the morning newspaper office and started briskly homeward.
+
+"I didn't catch that Board-reporting idea a day too soon," the
+boy told himself, laughing.  "Mr. Cantwell was certainly on hand
+for mischief to-night.  But how quickly he made his get-away when
+he discovered that his culprit was present as a member of the
+press!  I guess Mr. Gadsby must have passed him a strong hint.
+But I must be careful not to have any malice in the matter.
+Some evening when Mr. Cantwell does come before the Board with
+some report I must take pains to give him and his report a nice
+little notice and ask 'The Blade' folks to be sure to print it.
+Then---gracious!"
+
+Utterly startled, Dick heard and saw an ugly brickbat whizz by
+his head.  It came out of the dark alley that the sophomore was
+passing at that moment.  And now came another, aimed straight
+for his head!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+DAVE WARNS TIP SCAMMON
+
+
+There wasn't time to jump out of the way of that second flying
+missile.
+
+By an instinct of self-preservation young Prescott, instead of
+trying to leap out of the way, just collapsed, going down to his
+knees.
+
+As he sank the missile struck the top of his cap, carrying it
+from his head.
+
+"Hi!  Stop that, you blamed rascal!"
+
+It was Dave Darrin's voice that rang out, as that young man came
+rushing down the street behind Prescott.
+
+Dick in another second was on his feet, crouching low, and running
+full tilt into the alleyway.
+
+It was Dick's way---to run at danger, instead of away from it.
+
+At his first bound into the alley, Prescott dimly made out some
+fellow running at the further end.
+
+There was an outlet of escape down there---two of them, in fact,
+as the indignant pursuer knew.  So he put on speed, but soon was
+obliged to halt, finding that his unknown enemy had gotten away.
+Here Dick was joined by breathless Dave Darrin, who had followed
+swiftly.
+
+"You go through there, Dave; I'll take the other way," urged Dick,
+again starting in pursuit.
+
+The unknown one, however, had taken advantage of those few seconds
+of delay to get safely beyond chase.  So the chums met, soon,
+in a side street.
+
+"His line of retreat was good," muttered Dick, rather disgustedly.
+
+"Who was it, anyway?" Dave indignantly inquired.
+
+"I don't know.  I didn't see."
+
+"Do you suppose it could have been Tip Scammon?" asked Dave, shrewdly.
+
+"Is Tip Scammon back from the penitentiary?"
+
+"Got back this afternoon, and has been showing himself around town
+this evening," nodded Dave.  "Say, I wonder if he could have been
+the one who ambushed you?"
+
+"I don't like to throw suspicion on anyone," Dick replied.  "Still,
+I can't imagine anyone else who would have as much temptation
+to try to lay me up.  Tip Scammon acted as Fred Ripley's tool,
+last year, in trying to make me out a High School thief.  Tip
+was sent away, and Fred didn't have to suffer at all, because
+Tip wouldn't betray his employer.  But Tip must have felt sore
+at me many a time when he was breaking rock at the penitentiary."
+
+The two chums walked slowly back to Main Street, still talking.
+
+"I saw you ahead of me, on the street," Dave rattled on.  "I was
+trying to overtake you, without calling, when that thing came
+whizzing by your head.  Say, Dick, I wonder---"
+
+"What?" demanded Prescott.
+
+"Oh, of course, it's a crazy notion.  But I was wondering if Mr.
+Cantwell could have it in for you so hard that he'd put anyone
+up to lying in ambush for you."
+
+Dick started, then thought a few moments. "No," he decided.  "Cantwell
+may be erratic, and he certainly has a treacherous temper, and
+some mean ways.  But this was hardly the sort of trick he'd go
+in for."
+
+"Then it was Tip Scammon, all by himself," declared Darrin, with
+great conviction.
+
+"But to go back to Mr. Cantwell," Dick resumed, with a grin, "I
+must tell you something really funny.  Prin. went to School Board
+tonight with a long, bright knife sharpened for me.  But he didn't
+do a thing."
+
+Then Prescott confessed to being a "Blade" representative, and
+told of the principal's visit to the Board, and of his hurried
+departure.
+
+Dave laughed heartily, though what seemed to amaze him most of
+all was that Dick had found a chance to write for pay.
+
+"Of course you can do it, Dick," continued his loyal friend, "but
+I never thought that anyone as young as you ever got the chance."
+
+"It came my way," Dick went on, "and I'm mighty glad it did.
+So-----"
+
+"Wow!" muttered Dave, suddenly, then started off at a sprint,
+as he muttered:
+
+"Here's Tip Scammon now!"
+
+Both boys moved along on a hot run.  Tip was walking slowly along
+Main Street, giving a very good imitation of one unconcerned.
+
+He turned when he heard the running feet behind him, however.
+His first impulse seemed to be to take to his heels.  But the
+young jailbird quickly changed his mind, and turned to face them,
+an inquisitive look on his hard cunning face.
+
+"Good evenin', fellers.  Where's the fire?" he hailed.
+
+"In my eyes!  See it?" demanded Dave Darrin.  His dark eyes certainly
+were flashing as he reached out and seized Tip by one shoulder.
+
+"Now don't ye git festive with _me_!" warned Tip.
+
+"Oh, we don't feel ready for anything more festive than a lynching
+party," muttered Dave, hotly.  "See here, you-----"
+
+"I s'pose ye think ye can do all ye wanter to me, jest because
+I've been doin' my stretch?" demanded Tip, aggressively.  "But
+don't be too sure.  Take yer hand offen my shoulder!"
+
+Dave didn't show any sign of immediate intention of complying.
+
+"_Take it off_!" insisted Tip.
+
+But Dave met the fellow's baleful gaze with a cool, steady look.
+Tip, muttering something, edged away from under Dave's extended
+hand.
+
+"Now, ye wanter understand," continued young Scammon, "that I
+can't be played with, jest because some folks think I'm down.
+If you come fooling around me you'll have to explain or apologize."
+
+"Tip," questioned Dave Darrin, sharply, "why did you just throw
+two brickbats at Dick Prescott's head?"
+
+"I didn't," retorted Tip, stolidly.
+
+"You _did_."
+
+"I didn't."
+
+"Tip," declared Dave, solemnly, "I won't call you a liar.  I'll
+just remark that you and truth are strangers."
+
+"I ain't interested in what you fellers got to say," flared Tip,
+sullenly.  "And I don't like your company, neither.  So jest skate
+along."
+
+"We're not going to linger with you, Tip, any longer than seems
+absolutely necessary," promised Dave, coolly.  "But what I want
+to say is this: If you make any more attempts to do Dick Prescott
+any harm our crowd will get you, no matter how far we have to
+go to find you.  Is that clear?"
+
+"I s'pose it is, if you say so," sneered young Scammon.
+
+"We'll get you," pursued Dave, "and we'll turn you over to the
+authorities.  One citizen like Dick Prescott is worth more than
+a million of your stamp.  If we find you up to any more tricks
+against Dick Prescott, or against any of us, for that matter,
+we'll soon have you doing your second 'stretch,' as you have learned
+to call a term at the penitentiary.  Tip, your best card will
+be to turn over a very new leaf, and find an honest job.  Just
+because you've been in jail once don't go along with the notion
+that it's the only place where you can find your kind of company.
+But whatever you do, steer clear of Dick Prescott and his chums.
+I think you understand that.  Now, go!"
+
+Tip tried to brazen it out, but there was a compelling quality
+in the clear, steady gaze of Dave Darrin's dark eyes.  After a
+moment Tip Scammon let his own gaze drop.  He turned and shuffled
+away.
+
+"Poor fellow!" muttered Dick.
+
+"Yes, with all my heart," agreed Dave.  "But the fellow doesn't
+want to get any notion that he can go about terrorizing folks
+in Gridley!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+RIPLEY LEARNS THAT THE PIPER MUST BE PAID
+
+
+Scammon, however, knew one person in Gridley whom he thought he
+could terrorize.  He started in promptly to do it.
+
+At three the next afternoon young Scammon loitered under a big,
+bare oak on one of the winding, little-traveled streets that led
+from Gridley out into the open country beyond.
+
+In summer it was a favorite thoroughfare, especially for young
+engaged couples who wanted to loiter along the road, chatting
+and picking wild flowers.
+
+In winter, however, the place was usually deserted, being more
+than a mile out of the city.
+
+As Tip lingered he caught sight of haughty Fred Ripley coming
+down the road at a fast walk.  Fred looked both angry and worried.
+Tip, as soon as he caught sight of the young fellow who imagined
+himself an "aristocrat," began to grin in his evil way.
+
+A dull, sullen, red fired Fred's cheeks when he caught sight of
+the one who was waiting for him.
+
+"Ye're most nearly on time," Tip informed the other.
+
+"See here, Scammon, what in blazes did you mean by sending me
+a note like the one I got from you" demanded Fred?
+
+Tip only grinned.
+
+"What did you mean, fellow?" Ripley insisted angrily.
+
+"I meant to get ye here, to let ye know what I had to say to ye,"
+Scammon retorted.
+
+"Why, confound you, fellow---" Fred began, stuttering a bit, but
+the other cut in on him in short fashion.
+
+"None o' that to me, now, Fred Ripley.  D'ye hear?  Me an' you
+used to be pretty good pals, once on a time."
+
+At this charge, Fred winced very plainly.
+
+"And maybe we'll be pals, now, too," Tip pursued, with the air
+of one who believed himself to be able to dictate terms.  "That
+is, for your sake, I hope we are, Ripley."
+
+"What are you talking about?  What do you want to see me about?
+Come to the point in mighty few words," Ripley commanded, impatiently.
+
+"Well, now, first-off, last year, before I went away for my health---"
+Tip grinned in ghastly fashion 'ye hired me to do a certain job
+for ye.  Right, so far, ain't I?"
+
+"Possibly," assented Fred, coldly.
+
+"Ye hired me to get hold of keys that could be used on one o'
+the High School locker rooms," Tip went on, cunningly.  "Ye hired
+me to steal some stuff from the coats o' the young gents that
+study there.  Then ye hired me to break inter Dick Prescott's
+room and get the loot inter his trunk.  Right, ain't I?"
+
+Tip spoke assertively, making no effort to keep his voice low.
+
+"For goodness' sake don't shout it all over four counties," protested
+Fred Ripley, glancing apprehensively about him.  His face was
+paler, now, from uneasiness.
+
+"Oh, I ain't afraid about anyone hearing me," Tip went on,
+unconcernedly.  "D'ye know why, Fred, my boy?  Because I done my
+stretch for the trick, and there ain't nuthin' more comin' to me on
+that score. If _you're_ 'fraid, jest go an' do yer stretch, like I
+did, an' then ye won't care who hears or knows!"
+
+Tip laughed cunningly.  Fred's face darkened.  He squirmed, yet
+found himself afraid to show anger.
+
+"So I dropped ye that note, tellin' ye to come here at three this
+aft'noon," Scammon continued.  "I told ye I hoped ye'd find it
+convenient to come, an' hinted that if ye didn't, ye might wish
+later, that ye had."
+
+"I'm here," retorted the Ripley heir.  "Now, what do you want
+to say to me?"
+
+"I'm broke," Tip informed Ripley, plaintively.  "Stony!  Understand?
+I hain't got no money."
+
+"You don't expect me to furnish you with any?" demanded Fred,
+his eyes opening wide in astonishment.  "I paid you, in full,
+last year."
+
+"Ye didn't pay me fer the stretch I done, did ye?" demanded Tip,
+insolently.  "How much did ye pay me for keeping my mouth closed,
+so you wouldn't have to do your stretch?"
+
+Fred winced painfully under that steady, half-ugly glance of the
+other.
+
+"And now," continued Scammon, in a half-hurt way, "ye think it's
+hard if I tell ye that I want a few dollars to keep food in my
+insides."
+
+"You've got your father," hinted Fred.
+
+"Sure, I have," Tip assented.
+
+"But it's mighty little he'll do for me until I get a job and
+settle down to it."
+
+"Well, why don't you?" asked Fred Ripley.  "That's the surest
+way to get straight with the world."
+
+"When I want advice," sneered Scammon, "I won't tramp all the
+way out here, an' ask _you_ for it.  Nope.  I don't want advice.
+What I want is money."
+
+"Oh, well, Tip, I'm sorry for you and your troubles.  Here's a
+dollar for you.  I wish I could make it more."
+
+Fred Ripley drew out the greenback, passing it over.  Tip took
+the money, studying it curiously.
+
+"Ye're sorry just a dollar's worth---is that it?  Well, old pal,
+ye'll have to be more sorry'n that.  I'll let ye off fer ten dollars,
+but hand it over quick!"
+
+Fred's first impulse was to get angry, but it didn't take him
+more than an instant to realize that it would be better to keep
+this fellow quiet.
+
+"I haven't ten dollars, Tip---on my honor," he protested, hesitatingly.
+
+"On yer---what?" questioned Scammon, with utter scorn.
+
+"I haven't ten dollars."
+
+"How much have ye?"
+
+There was something in Tip's ugly eyes that scared the boy.  Fred
+went quickly through his pockets, producing, finally, six dollars
+and a half.
+
+"I'll give you six of this, Tip," proposed Fred, rather miserably.
+
+"Ye'll give me _all_ of it, ye mean," responded Scammon.  "And ye'll
+meet me to-morrow aft'noon with five more---something for interest,
+ye know."
+
+"But I won't have five dollars again, as soon as that," argued
+Fred, weakly.
+
+"Yes, you will," leered Tip.  "You'll have to!"
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Fred, trying to bluster, but making
+a failure of the attempt.
+
+"It'll take five more to give me lock-jaw," declared Scammon.
+"I'm jest out of prison, and I mean to enjoy myself restin' a
+few days before  I settle down to a job again.  So, to-morrow,
+turn up with the five!"
+
+"I don't know where to get the money."
+
+"Find out, then," sneered the other.  "I don't care where you
+get it, but you've got to get it and hand it over to me to-morrow,
+or it'll be too late, an' Gridley'll be too hot a place for 'ye!"
+
+"I'll try," agreed Ripley, weakly.
+
+"Ye'll do more'n try, 'cause if ye fail me ye'll have no further
+show," declared Tip, with emphasis.
+
+"See, here, Scammon, if I can find another five---somehow---that'll
+be the last of this business?  You won't expect to get any more
+money out of me?"
+
+"The five that you're goin' to bring me tomorrow will be in full
+payment."
+
+"Of all possible claims to date?" Fred insisted.
+
+"Yes, in full---to date," agreed Scammon, grinning as though he
+were enjoying himself.
+
+"And there'll never be any further demands?" questioned Fred.
+
+"Never again!" Scammon asserted, with emphasis.
+
+"You promise that, solemnly?"
+
+"On my honor," promised the jailbird, sardonically.
+
+"I'll try to get you the money, Tip.  But see here, I'll be in
+front of the drug store next to the post office, at just three
+o'clock to-morrow afternoon.  You stop and look in the same window,
+but don't speak to me.  If I can get the five I'll slip it into
+your hand.  Then I'll move away.  You stand looking in the window
+a minute or so after I leave you, will you?"
+
+"Sure," agreed Scammon, cheerfully.
+
+"And don't do anything so plainly that any passerby can detect
+the fact that you and I are meeting there.  Don't let anyone see
+what I slip into your hand."
+
+"That'll be all right," declared Tip Scammon, readily enough.
+
+"And mind you, that's the last money you're ever to ask me for."
+
+"That'll be all right, too," came readily enough from the jailbird.
+
+"Then good-bye until to-morrow.  Don't follow me too closely."
+
+"Sure not," promised Tip.  "Ye don't want anyone to know that
+I'm your friend, and I'm good at keepin' secrets."
+
+For two or three minutes young Scammon remained standing under
+the bare tree.  But his gaze followed the vanishing figure of
+Fred Ripley, and a cunning look gleamed in Tip's eyes.
+
+Fred Ripley, when he had heard of Tip going to prison without
+saying a word, had been foolish enough to suppose that that
+incident in his own life was closed.  Fred had yet to learn that
+evil remains a long time alive, and that its consequences hit
+the evil doer harder than the victim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE CALL TO THE DIAMOND---FRED SCHEMES
+
+
+Recess!  As the long lines filed rhythmically down from the second
+floor, thence to the basement, the leaders of the files quickly
+discovered something new posted on the bulletin board near the
+boys' locker rooms.
+
+As quickly as the files broke, there was such a rush to see the
+new bulletin that those who got the best places had to read aloud
+to others.  This was what the bulletin proclaimed:
+
+Notice.
+
+_The gymnasium will be open at 2.30 this afternoon for the
+gathering of all male students, except freshmen, who may be interested
+in trying to make either the school or second baseball teams for
+the coming season.  Gridley will have some notable rivals in the
+field this next year.  Information comes that several of school
+baseball teams will have better material and longer training for
+next season.  It is earnestly desired that all members of the
+three upper classes who consider themselves capable of making
+either of the Gridley High School baseball teams be on hand this
+afternoon, when as full plans as possible will be made.
+
+By order of the Athletics Committee of the Alumni Association.
+
+(signed) Edward Luce,
+B.B. Coach._
+
+A shout of approval went up from half of those present
+as Purcell, of the junior class, finished reading.
+
+Many of those who had no thought of making the school or second
+teams were filled with delight at thought of the training season
+being so soon to open.
+
+One of the boys who was pleased was Fred Ripley.  He had handed
+that five-dollar bill to Tip Scammon the afternoon before, and
+now felt rather certain that he had closed the door on the whole
+Scammon episode.
+
+Like many another haughty, disagreeable person, Ripley had, in
+spite of his treatment of others, a keen desire to be well thought
+of.  The year before, in the sophomore class, Fred had played
+as one of the pitchers in the second team, and had done fairly
+well on the few occasions when he had been given a chance.
+
+"There's no good reason why I can't make the post of pitcher on
+the school team this year," thought young Ripley, with a thrill
+of hope and expectant delight.
+
+"Going to show up this afternoon?" asked Dave of Prescott.
+
+"Of course I am, Darrin," answered Prescott, as Dick & Co. met
+out on the sidewalk.
+
+"Going to try to make the regular team?"
+
+"Of course I am," declared Dick, smiling.  "And so, I hope, are
+every one of you fellows."
+
+"I'd like to," agreed Tom Reade.
+
+"Then don't say you'd _like_ to; say you're _going_ to," admonished
+Dick.  "The fellow who doesn't quite know never gets much of any
+place.  Just say to yourself that you're going to be one of the
+stars on the school team.  If you have to fall into the second
+team---don't be cast down over it---but make every possible effort
+toward getting on the top team.  That's the spirit that wins in
+athletics," finished Dick, sagely.
+
+"I'm going to make the school team," announced Dave Darrin.  "Not
+only that, but I'll proclaim it to anyone who'll be kind enough
+to listen.  The school nine, or 'bust,' for me."
+
+"Good enough!" cheered Dick.  "Now, then, fellows, we'll all be
+on hand this afternoon, won't we, and on every other afternoon
+that we're needed?"
+
+Dick & Co. carried that proposition by a unanimous vote.
+
+"But see here, fellows," urged Dick Prescott, "just try to keep
+one idea in mind, please. There's a good deal of objection, every
+year, that athletics are allowed to interfere with studies.  Now,
+as soon as the end of recess is called to-day, let's every one
+of us go back with our minds closed to baseball.  Let us all keep
+our minds right on our studies.  Why can't we six help to prove
+that interest in athletics puts the scholarship mark up, not down?"
+
+"We can," nodded Dave Darrin.  "Good!  I like that idea.  We'll
+simply go ahead and put our scholarship away up over where it
+is at present."
+
+To this the other chums agreed heartily.
+
+Luce, the coach for baseball, was one of the under submasters.
+He had made a record at college, for both baseball and scholarship.
+He was a complete enthusiast on the game of the diamond.  The
+year before he had trained the school nine to a record that beat
+anything in the High School line in the whole state.  His bulletin
+announced that he intended to try to make the coming nine the
+best yet.  It didn't say that, in so many words, but the bulletin
+implied it.
+
+Fred Ripley did not hit upon the idea of improved scholarship.
+Instead, that young man went into two classes, after recess,
+and reported "not prepared."  Then he settled back into a brown
+study of his chances in baseball.
+
+"I don't suppose Dick & Co. will have the nerve to try for anything
+better than the second nine," muttered Fred to himself.  "Still,
+one can never tell what that crowd will have the nerve to do!"
+
+School out, Fred hurried home faster than was his wont.  He caught
+his father just as the latter was leaving the lunch table.
+
+"Dad, can I have a few minutes' talk with you about one of my
+ambitions?" pleaded Fred.
+
+"Certainly, my boy," replied the wealthy, retired lawyer.  "I'm
+glad, indeed, to hear that you have any ambitions.  Come into
+the library, if you can let your luncheon go that long."
+
+"If you don't mind, Dad, I'd rather eat while I talk," urged Fred.
+"I have to be back at school before three."
+
+"What---under discipline?" inquired the lawyer.
+
+"No, sir; it's baseball that I wish to talk about."
+
+"Well, then, Fred, what is it?" asked his father.
+
+"Why, sir, we're going to get together on baseball, this afternoon.
+The start for the season is to be made early this year.  Gridley
+expects to put forth the finest High School nine ever."
+
+"I'm glad to hear that," nodded the lawyer. "School and college
+athletics, rightly indulged in, give the budding man health, strength,
+courage and discipline to take with him out into the battle of
+life.  We didn't have much in the way of athletics when I was
+at college, but I appreciate the modern tendency more than do
+some men of my age."
+
+Fred, though not interested in his father's praise of athletics
+waited patiently until his parent had finished.
+
+"I'm pretty sure, Dad, I can make the chance of being the star
+pitcher on the school team for this coming season, if only you'll
+back me up in it."
+
+"Why, as far as that goes," replied Lawyer Ripley, "I believe
+that about all the benefits of school athletics can be gained
+by one who isn't necessarily right at the top of the crowd."
+
+"But not to go to the top of the crowd, and not to try too, Dad,
+is contrary to the spirit of athletics," argued Fred, rather cleverly.
+"Besides, one of the best things about athletics, I think, is
+the spirit to fight for leadership.  That's a useful
+lesson---leadership---to carry out into life, isn't it, sir?"
+
+"Yes, it is; you're right about that, son," nodded the lawyer.
+
+"Well, sir, Everett, one of the crack pitchers of national fame,
+is over in Duxbridge for the winter.  He doesn't go south with
+his team for practice until the middle or latter part of February.
+Duxbridge is only twelve miles from here.  He could come over
+here, or you could let your man take me over to Duxbridge in your
+auto.  Dad, I want to be the pitcher of the crack battery in the
+school nine.  Will you engage Everett, or let me hire him, to
+train me right from the start in all the best styles of pitching?"
+
+"How much would it cost?" asked the lawyer, cautiously.
+
+"I don't know exactly, sir.  A few hundred dollars, probably."
+
+Fred's face was glowing with eagerness.  His mother, who was standing
+just behind him, nodded encouragingly at her husband.
+
+"Well, yes, Fred, if you're sure you can make yourself the star
+pitcher of the school nine, I will."
+
+"When may I go to see Everett, sir?" asked Fred, making no effort
+to conceal the great joy this promise had given him.
+
+"Since you're to be engaged for this afternoon, Fred, we'll make
+it to-morrow.  I'll order out the car and go over to Duxbridge
+with you.".
+
+It was in the happiest possible frame of mind, for him, that Fred
+Ripley went back to the High School that afternoon.  He didn't
+arrive until five minutes before the hour for calling the meeting;
+he didn't care to be of the common crowd that would be on hand
+at or soon after two-thirty.
+
+When he entered, he found a goodly and noisy crowd of some eighty
+High School boys of the three upper classes present.  Ripley nodded
+to a few with whom he was on the best terms.
+
+Settees had been placed at one end of the gym.  There was an aisle
+between two groups of these seats.
+
+"Gentlemen, you'll please come to order, now," called out Coach
+Luce, mounting to a small platform before the seats.
+
+It took a couple of minutes to get the eager, half-turbulent throng
+seated in order.  Then the coach rapped sharply, and instantly
+all was silence, save for the voice of the speaker.
+
+"Gentlemen," announced Mr. Luce, "it is the plan to make the next
+season the banner one in baseball in all our school's history.
+This will call for some real work, for constantly sustained effort.
+Every man who goes into the baseball training squad will be expected
+to do his full share of general gymnastic work here, and to improve
+every favorable chance for such cross-country running and other
+outdoor sports as may be ordered.
+
+"To-day, as we are so close to Christmas, we will arrange only
+the general details---have a sort of mapping-out, as it were.
+But immediately after the holidays the entire baseball squad
+that enrolls will be required to start at once to get in general
+athletic condition.  There will be hard---what some may call
+grilling---gym. work at the outset, and much of the gym. work
+will be kept up even after the actual ball practice begins.
+
+"Early in February work in the baseball cage must begin, and it
+will be made rather severe this year.  In fact, I can assure you
+that the whole training, this coming year, will be something that
+none but those who mean to train in earnest can get through with
+successfully.
+
+"Any man who is detected smoking cigarettes or using tobacco in
+any form, will be dropped from the squad instantly.  Every man
+who enrolls will be required to make a promise to abstain, until
+the end of the ball season, from tobacco in any form.
+
+"In past years we have often been urged to adopt the training
+table, in order that no greedy man may eat himself out of physical
+condition.  It is not, of course, feasible to provide such a table
+here at the gym.  I wish it were.  But we will have training table
+to just this extent:   Every member of the squad will be handed
+a list of the things he may eat or drink, and another list of
+those things that are barred.  The only exception, in the way
+of departure, from the training list, will be the Christmas dinner.
+Every man who enrolls is in honor bound to stick closely to his
+list of permissible foods until the end of the training season.
+
+"Remember, this year's work is to be one of the hardest work and
+all the necessary self-denial.  It must be a disciplined and sustained
+effort for excellence and victory.  Those who cannot accept these
+principles in full are urged not to enroll in the squad at all.
+
+"Now, I will wait five minutes, during which conversation will
+be in order.  When I call the meeting to order again I will ask
+all who have decided to enter the squad to occupy the seats here
+at my right hand, the others to take the seats at my left hand."
+
+Immediately a buzz of talk ran around that end of the gym.  The
+High School boys left their seats and moved about, talking over
+the coach's few but pointed remarks.
+
+"How do you like Mr. Luce's idea, Dick?" asked Tom Reade.
+
+"It's good down to the ground, and all the way up again," Dick
+retorted, enthusiastically.  "His ideas are just the ideas I'm
+glad to hear put forward.  No shirking; every effort bent on excelling,
+and every man to keep his own body as strong, clean and wholesome
+as a body can be kept.  Why, that alone is worth more than victory.
+It means a fellow's victory over all sloth and bad habits!"
+
+"Luce meant all he said, too, and the fellows know he did," declared
+Dave Darrin.  "I wonder what effect it will have on the size of
+the squad?"
+
+There was a good deal of curiosity on that score.  The five minutes
+passed quickly.  Then Coach Luce called for the division.  As
+the new baseball squad gathered at the right-hand seats there
+was an eager counting.
+
+"Forty-nine," announced Greg Holmes, as soon as he had finished
+counting.  "Five whole nines and a few extras left over."
+
+"I'm glad to see that Gridley High School grit is up to the old
+standard," declared Coach Luce, cheerily, after he had brought
+them to order.  "Our squad, this year, contains three more men
+than appeared last year.  It is plain that my threats haven't
+scared anyone off the Gridley diamond.  Now, I am going to write
+down the names of the squad.  Then I will ask each member, as
+his name is called, to indicate the position for which he wishes
+to qualify."
+
+There was a buzz of conversation again, until the names had all
+been written down.  Then, after Coach Luce had called for silence,
+he began to read off the names in alphabetical order.
+
+"Dalzell?" asked the coach, when he had gone that far down on
+the list.
+
+"First base," answered Dan, loudly and promptly.
+
+"Darrin?"
+
+"Pitcher," responded Dave.
+
+There was a little ripple of surprise.  When a sophomore goes
+in for work in the box it is notice that he has a good opinion
+of his abilities.
+
+A few more names were called off.  Then:
+
+"Hazelton?"
+
+"Short stop," replied Harry, coolly.
+
+"Whew!" An audible gasp of surprise went up and traveled around.
+
+After the battery, the post of short stop is the swiftest thing
+for which to reach out.
+
+"Holmes?"
+
+"Left field."
+
+"It's plain enough," sneered Fred Ripley to the fellow beside
+him, "that Dick & Co., reporters and raga-muffins, expect to be
+two thirds of the nine.  I wonder whom they'll allow to hold the
+other three positions?"
+
+Several more names were called off.  Then came:
+
+"Prescott?"
+
+"Pitcher," Dick answered, quietly.
+
+A thrill of delight went through Fred.  This was more luck than
+he had hoped for.  What great delight there was going to be in
+beating out Dick Prescott!
+
+"Reade?"
+
+"Second base."
+
+"Ripley?"
+
+"P-p-pitcher!" Fred fairly stuttered in his eagerness to get the
+word out emphatically.  In  fact, the word left him so explosively
+that several of the fellows caught themselves laughing.
+
+"Oh, laugh, then, hang you all!" muttered Fred, in a low voice,
+glaring all around him.  "But you don't know what you're laughing
+at.  Maybe I won't show you something in the way of real pitching!"
+
+"The first Tuesday after the holidays' vacation the squad will
+report here for gymnastic work from three-thirty to five," called
+the coach.  "Now, I'll talk informally with any who wish to ask
+questions."
+
+Fred Ripley's face was aglow with satisfaction.  His eyes fairly
+glistened with his secret, inward triumph.
+
+"So you think you can pitch, Prescott?" he muttered to himself.
+"Humph!  With the great Everett training me for weeks, I'll
+make you look like a pewter monkey, Dick Prescott."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+DAVE TALKS WITH ONE HAND
+
+
+The next afternoon Fred and his father went over to Duxbridge.
+
+They found the great Everett at home, and not only at home, but
+willing to take up with their proposal.
+
+The celebrated professional pitcher named a price that caused
+Lawyer Ripley to hesitate for a few moments.  Then catching the
+appealing look in his son's face, the elder Ripley agreed to the
+terms.  The training was to be given at Duxbridge, in Everett's
+big and almost empty barn.
+
+That night Lawyer Ripley, a man of prompt habit in business, mailed
+his check for the entire amount.
+
+Fred, in the privacy of his own room, danced several brief but
+exuberant jigs.
+
+"Now, I've got you, Dick Prescott!  And I've not only got you,
+but if you come in second to me, I'll try to keep in such condition
+that I pitch every important game of the whole season!"
+
+But the next morning the Ripley heir received a sad jolt.  In
+one of his text-books he ran across a piece of cardboard on which
+was printed, in coarse characters:
+
+"Tuday, same plas, same time.  Bring ten.  Or don't, if you dare!"
+
+"That infernal blackmailer, Tip Scammon!" flared Fred indignantly.
+
+In the courage of desperation Fred promptly decided that he would
+ignore the Scammon rascal.  Nor did Fred change his mind.  Besides,
+this afternoon he was due at Duxbridge for his first lesson under
+the mighty Everett.
+
+So Tip was on hand at the drug store beside the post office, but
+no Fred came.  Tip scowled and hung about in the neighborhood
+until after four o'clock.  Then he went away, a black look indeed
+on his not handsome face.
+
+Meanwhile, most of the people of Gridley, as elsewhere in the
+Christian world, were thinking of "Peace on Earth" and all that
+goes with it.  The stores were radiant with decorations and the
+display of gifts.  The candy stores and hot soda places were doing
+a rushing business.
+
+Dick, who had been scurrying about in search of a few news paragraphs,
+and had found them, encountered Dave Darrin.  Being something
+of a capitalist in these days, when "The Blade" was paying him
+two and a half to three dollars a week, Prescott invited his chum
+in to have a hot soda.  While they were still in the place Laura
+Bentley and Belle Meade entered.  The High School boys lifted
+their hats courteously to the girls and Dick invited them to have
+their soda with Dave and himself.
+
+"We hear that baseball is going to be a matter of great enthusiasm
+during the next few months," said Laura, as they sipped their
+soda.
+
+"Yes; and the cause of no end of heartburnings and envies," laughed
+Prescott.  "From just after the holidays to some time in April
+every fellow will be busy trying to make the school team, and
+will feel aggrieved if he hits only the second team."
+
+"Who's going to pitch for the school nine?" asked Belle.
+
+"Dick Prescott," declared Dave instantly.
+
+"I'd like to," nodded Dick, "but I've several good men against
+me.  Darrin may take it all away from me.  There are eight men
+down for pitching, altogether, so it isn't going to be an easy
+cinch for anyone."
+
+"The nine always has more than one pitcher.  Why can't _you_ make
+the position of pitcher, too?" asked Belle, looking at Dave.
+
+"Oh, I may make the job of brevet-pitcher on the second nine,"
+Dave laughed goodhumoredly.  "The only reason I put my name down
+for pitcher was so as to make the fight look bigger."
+
+"Who are the other candidates for pitcher?" asked Laura.
+
+"Well, Ripley's one," replied Dave.
+
+"Ripley?  Oh, _he_!" uttered Miss Bentley, in a tone of scorn.
+
+"I understand he's no fool of a pitcher," Dick remarked.
+
+"I congratulate him, then," smiled Laura.
+
+"On what?"
+
+"Not being a fool in everything," returned Laura.  Then she added,
+quickly:
+
+"I'm afraid that expresses my real opinion, but I've no right
+to say it."
+
+"There are two reasons why you shouldn't say it," added Dave,
+gravely.
+
+"What are they?" Laura wanted to know.
+
+"First of all---well, pardon me, but it sounds like talking about
+another behind his back.  The other reason is that Ripley isn't
+worth talking about, anyway."
+
+"Now, what are you doing?" demanded Belle.
+
+"Oh, well," Dave replied, "Ripley knows my opinion of him pretty well.
+But what are you doing this afternoon?"
+
+"We're going shopping," Laura informed the boys as the quartette
+left the soda fountain.  "Do you care to go around with us and
+look at the displays in the stores?"
+
+"That's about all shopping means, isn't it?" smiled Dick.  "Just
+going around and looking at things?"
+
+"Then if you don't care to come with us-----" pouted Miss Bentley.
+
+"Stop---please do, I beg of you," Dick hastily added.  "Of course
+we want to go."
+
+The two chums put in a very pleasant hour wandering about through
+the stores with the High School girls.  Laura and Belle _did_
+make some small purchases of materials out of which they intended
+to make gifts for the approaching holiday.
+
+As they came out of the last store they moved toward the corner,
+the girls intending to take a car to pay a little visit to an
+aunt of Laura's before the afternoon was over.
+
+Dick saw something in one of the windows at the corner and signed
+to Dave to come over.  The two girls were left, momentarily, standing
+on the corner.
+
+While they stood thus Fred Ripley came along.  His first lesson
+in pitching had been brief, the great Everett declining to tire
+the boy's arm too much at the first drill.  So young Ripley, after
+a twelve-mile trip in the auto through the crisp December air,
+came swinging down the street at a brisk walk.
+
+Just as this moment he espied the two girls, though he did not
+see Dick or Dave.  Belle happened to turn as Ripley came near
+her.
+
+"Hullo, Meade!" he called, patronizingly.
+
+It is a trick with some High School boys thus to address a girl
+student by her last name only, but it is not the act of a gentleman.
+Belle resented it by stiffening at once, and glancing coldly
+at Ripley without greeting him.
+
+In another instant Dave Darrin, at a bound, stood before the astonished
+Fred.  Dave's eyes  were flashing in a way they were wont to do
+when he was thoroughly angry.
+
+"Ripley---you cur!  To address a young woman in that familiar
+fashion!" glared Dave.
+
+"What have you to say about it?" demanded Fred, insolently.
+
+"This!" was Dave Darrin's only answer in words.
+
+Smack!  His fist landed on one side of Fred's face.  The latter
+staggered, then slipped to the ground.
+
+"There's the car, Dick," uttered Dave, in a low tone.  "Put the
+girls aboard."
+
+Half a dozen passers-by had already turned and were coming back
+to learn the meaning of this encounter.  Dick understood how awkward
+the situation would be for the girls, so he glided forward, hailed
+the car, and led Laura and Belle out to it.
+
+"But I'd rather stay," whispered Belle, in protest.  "I want to
+make sure that Dave doesn't get into any trouble."
+
+"He won't," Dick promised.  "It'll save him annoyance if he knows
+you girls are not being stared at by curious rowdies."
+
+Dick quickly helped the girls aboard the car, then nodded to the
+conductor to ring the bell.  A second later Dick was bounding
+back to his chum's side.
+
+Fred Ripley was on his feet, scowling at Dave Darrin.  The latter,
+though his fists were not up, was plainly in an attitude where
+he could quickly defend himself.
+
+"That was an unprovoked assault, you rowdy!" Fred exclaimed wrathfully.
+
+"I'd trust to any committee of _gentlemen_ to exonerate me," Dave
+answered coolly.  "You acted the rowdy, Ripley, and you'd show
+more sense if you admitted it and reformed."
+
+"What did he do?" demanded one of the curious ones in the crowd.
+
+"He addressed a young lady with offensive familiarity," Dave replied
+hotly.
+
+"What did _you_ do?" demanded another in the crowd.
+
+"I knocked him down," Dave admitted coolly.
+
+"Well, that's about the proper thing to do," declared another
+bystander.  "The Ripley kid has no kick coming to him.  Move on,
+young feller!"
+
+Fred started, glaring angrily at the speaker.  But half a dozen
+pressed forward about him.  Ripley's face went white with rage
+when he found himself being edged off the sidewalk into the gutter.
+
+"Get back, there, you, and leave me alone!" he ordered, hoarsely.
+
+A laugh from the crowd was the first answer.  Then some one gave
+the junior a shove that sent him spinning out into the street.
+
+Ripley darted by the crowd now, his caution and his dread of too
+much of a scene coming to his aid.  Besides, some one had just
+called out, banteringly:
+
+"Why not take him to the horse trough?"
+
+That decided Fred on quick retreat.  Ducked, deservedly, by a
+crowd on Main Street, Ripley could never regain real standing
+in the High School, and he knew that.
+
+As soon as they could Dick and Dave walked on to "The Blade" office.
+Here Darrin took a chair in the corner, occasionally glancing
+almost enviously at Prescott, as the latter, seated at a reporter's
+table, slowly wrote the few little local items that he had picked
+up during the afternoon.  When Dick had finished he handed his
+"copy" to Mr. Pollock, and the chums left the office.
+
+"Dick, old fellow," hinted Dave, confidentially, "I'm afraid I
+ought to give you a tip, even though it does make me feel something
+like a spy."
+
+"Under such circumstances," smiled Prescott, "it might be well
+to think twice before giving the tip."
+
+"I've thought about it _seventeen_ times already," Dave asserted,
+gravely, "and you're my chum, anyway.  So here goes.  When we
+were in the department store, do you remember  that the girls
+were looking over some worsteds, or yarns, or whatever you call
+the stuff?"
+
+"Yes," Prescott nodded.
+
+"Well, I couldn't quite help hearing Laura Bentley say to Belle
+that the yarn she picked up was just what she wanted for you."
+
+"What on earth did that mean?" queried Dick, looking almost startled.
+
+"It means that you're going to get a Christmas present from Laura,"
+Dave answered.
+
+"But I never had a present from a girl before!"
+
+"Most anything is likely to happen," laughed Dave, "now that you're
+a sophomore---and a reporter, too."
+
+"Thank goodness I'm earning a little money now," murmured Dick,
+breathing a bit rapidly.  "But, say, Dave!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"What on earth does one give a girl at Christmas?"
+
+"Tooth-powder, scented soap, ribbons---oh, hang it!  I don't know,"
+floundered Dave hopelessly.  "Anyway, I don't have to know.  It's
+your scrape, Dick Prescott!"
+
+"Yours, too, Dave Darrin!"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, I saw Belle buying some of that yarny stuff, too."
+
+"Great Scott!" groaned Dave.  "Say, what do you suppose they're
+planning to put up on us for a Christmas job?  Some of those
+big-as-all-outdoors, wobbly, crocheted slippers?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+HUH? WOOLLY CROCHETED SLIPPERS
+
+
+The night before Christmas Dick Prescott attended a ball, in his
+new capacity of reporter.
+
+Being young, also "green" in the ways of newspaper work, he imagined
+it his duty to remain rather late in order to be sure that he
+had all the needed data for the brief description that he was
+to write for "The Blade."
+
+Christmas morning the boy slept late, for his parents did not
+call him.  When, at last, Dick did appear in the dining room he
+found some pleasing gifts from his father and mother.  When he
+had sufficiently examined them, Mrs. Prescott smiled as she said:
+
+"Now, step into the parlor, Richard, and you'll find something
+that came for you this morning."
+
+"But, first of all, mother, I've something for you and Dad."
+
+Dick went back into his room, bringing out, with some pride, a
+silver-plated teapot on a tray of the same material.  It wasn't
+much, but it was the finest gift he had ever been able to make
+his parents.  He came in for a good deal of thanks and other words
+of appreciation.
+
+"But you're forgetting the package in the parlor," persisted Mrs.
+Prescott presently.
+
+Dick nodded, and hurried in, thinking to himself:
+
+"The worsted slippers from the girls, I suppose."
+
+To his surprise the boy found Dave Darrin sitting in the room,
+while, on a chair near by rested a rather bulky package.
+
+After exchanging "Merry Christmas" greetings with Darrin, Dick
+turned to look at the package.  To it was tied a card, which read:
+
+"From Laura Bentley and Isabelle Meade, with kindest Christmas
+greetings."
+
+"That doesn't look like slippers, Dave," murmured Dick, as he
+pulled away the cord that bound the package.
+
+"I'll bet you're getting a duplicate of what came to me," Darrin
+answered.
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"I'm not going to tell you until I see yours."
+
+Dick quickly had the wrapper off, unfolding something woolleny.
+
+"That's it!" cried Dave, jubilantly.  "I thought so.  Mine was
+the same, except that Belle's name was ahead of Laura's on the
+card."
+
+Dick felt almost dazed for an instant.  Then a quick rush of color
+came to his face.
+
+The object that he held was a bulky, substantial, woven "sweater."
+Across the front of it had been worked, in cross-stitch, the
+initials, "G.H.S."
+
+"Gridley High School!  Did you get one just like this, Dave?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But we can't wear 'em," muttered Dick.  "The initials are allowed
+only to the students who have made some school team, or who have
+captured some major athletic event.  We've never done either."
+
+"That's just the point of the gift, I reckon," beamed Darrin.
+
+"Oh, I see," cried Dick.  "These sweaters are our orders to go
+ahead and make the baseball nine."
+
+"That's just it," declared Dave.
+
+"Well, it's mighty fine of the girls," murmured Dick, gratefully.
+"Are you---going to accept yours, Dave?"
+
+"Accept?" retorted Dave.  "Why, it would be rank not to."
+
+"Of course," Prescott agreed..  "But you know what acceptance
+carries with it?  Now, we've got to make the nine, whether or
+not.  We pledge ourselves to that in accepting these fine gifts."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," nodded Dave, cheerily.  "You're going
+to make the team."
+
+"If there's any power in me to do it," declared Dick.
+
+"And you're going to drag me in after you.  Dick, old fellow,
+we've absolutely as good as promised that we will make the nine."
+
+Dick Prescott was now engaged in pulling the sweater over his
+head.  This accomplished, he stood surveying himself in the glass.
+
+"Gracious!  But this is fine," gasped young Prescott.  "And now,
+oh, Dave, but we've got to hustle!  Think how disgusted the girls
+will be if we fail."
+
+"We can't fail, now," declared Dave earnestly.  "The girls, and
+the sweaters themselves, are our mascots against failure."
+
+"Good!  That's the right talk!" cheered Prescott, seizing his
+chum's hand.  "Yes, sir!  We'll make the nine or bury ourselves
+under a shipload of self-disgust!"
+
+"Both of the girls must have a hand in each sweater," Dave went
+on, examining Dick's closely.  "I can't see a shade of difference
+between yours and mine.  But I'm afraid the other fellows in Dick
+& Co. will feel just a bit green with envy over our good luck."
+
+"It's a mighty fine gift," Dick went on, "yet I'm almost inclined
+to wish the girls hadn't done it.  It must have made a big inroad
+in their Christmas money."
+
+"That's so," nodded Darrin, thoughtfully.  "But say, Dick!  I'm
+thundering glad I got wind of this before it happened.  Thank
+goodness we didn't have to leave the girls out.  Though we would
+have missed if it hadn't been for you."
+
+"I wonder how the girls like their gifts?" mused Dick.
+
+It was sheer good luck that had enabled these youngsters to make
+a good showing.  A new-style device for women, consisting of heater
+and tongs for curling the hair, was on the market this year.
+Electric current was required for the heater, but both Laura and
+Belle had electric light service in their homes.  This new-style
+device was one of the fads of this Christmas season.  The retail
+price was eight dollars per outfit, and a good many had been sold
+before the holidays.  The advertising agent for the manufacturing
+concern had been in town, and had presented "The Blade" with two
+of these devices.  Despite the eight-dollar price, the devices
+cost only a small fraction of that amount to manufacture, so the
+advertising agent had not been extremely generous in leaving the
+pair.
+
+"What on earth shall we do with them?" grunted Pollock, in Dick's
+hearing.  "We're all bachelors here."
+
+"Sell 'em to me, if you don't want 'em," spoke up Dick, quickly.
+"What'll you take for 'em?  Make it low, to fit a schoolboy's
+shallow purse."
+
+"Hm!  I'll speak to the proprietor about it," replied Pollock,
+who presently brought back the word:
+
+"As they're for you, Dick, the proprietor says you can take the
+pair for two-fifty.  And if you're short of cash, I'll take fifty
+cents a week out of your space bill until the amount is paid."
+
+"Fine and dandy!" uttered Dick, his eyes glowing.
+
+"One's for your mother," hinted Mr. Pollock teasingly.  "_But
+who's the girl_?"
+
+"Two girls," Dick corrected him, unabashed.  "My mother never
+uses hair-curlers."
+
+"_Two girls_?" cried Mr. Pollock, looking aghast.  "Dick!  Dick!
+You study history at the High School, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir; of course."
+
+"Then don't you know, my boy, how often _two girls_ have altered
+the fates of whole nations?  Tremble and be wise!"
+
+"I haven't any girl," Dick retorted, sensibly, "and I think a
+fellow is weak-minded to talk about having a girl until he can
+also talk authoritatively on the ability to support a wife.  But
+there's a good deal of social life going on at the High School,
+Mr. Pollock, and I'm very, very glad of this chance to cancel
+my obligations so cheaply and at the same time rather handsomely."
+
+So Laura and Belle had each received, that Christmas morning,
+a present that proved a source of delight.
+
+"Yet I didn't expect the foolish boys to send me anything like
+this," Laura told herself, rather regretfully.  "I'm sure they've
+pledged their pocket money for weeks on this."
+
+When Belle called, it developed that she had received an identical
+gift.
+
+"It's lovely of the boys," Belle admitted.  "But it's foolish,
+too, for they've had to use their pocket money away ahead, I'm
+certain."
+
+Dick and Dave had sent their gifts, as had the girls, in both
+names.
+
+Christmas was a day of rejoicing among all of the High School
+students except the least-favored ones.
+
+Fred Ripley, however, spent his Christmas day in a way differing
+from the enjoyments of any of the others.  A new fever of energy
+had seized the young man.  In his fierce determination to carry
+away the star pitchership, especially from Dick Prescott, Ripley
+employed even Christmas afternoon by going over to Duxbridge
+and taking another lesson in pitching from the great Everett.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+FRED PITCHES A BOMBSHELL INTO TRAINING CAMP
+
+
+"One, two, three, four!  One, two, three, four!
+
+"Halt!  Rest!"
+
+"Attention!  Overhead to front and back.  Commence!  One, two,
+three, four!"
+
+Coach Luce's voice rang out in a solid, carrying tone of military
+command.
+
+The baseball squad was hard at work in the gymnasium, perspiring
+even though the gym. was not heated above fifty degrees.
+
+Dumb-bell drill was going off with great snap.  It was followed
+by work with the Indian clubs.  Then, after a brief rest, the
+entire squad took to the track in the gallery.  For ten minutes
+the High School young men jogged around the track.  Any fellow
+in the lot would have been ashamed to drop out, short of breath.
+
+As a matter of fact, no one was out of breath.  Mr. Luce was what
+the boys called a "griller," and he certainly knew all about whipping
+a lot of youngsters into fine physical shape.
+
+This training work was now along in the third week of the new
+winter term.
+
+Three times weekly the squad had been assembled.  On other days
+of the week, the young men were pledged to outside running, when
+the roads permitted, and to certain indoor work at other times.
+
+Every member of the big squad now began to feel "hard as nails."
+Slight defects in breathing had been corrected; lung-power had
+been developed, and backs that ached at first, from the work,
+had now grown too well seasoned to ache.  Every member of the
+squad was conscious of a new, growing muscular power.  Hard, bumpy
+muscles were not being cultivated.  The long, smooth, lithe and
+active "Indian" muscle, built more for endurance than for great
+strength, was the ideal of Coach Luce.
+
+After the jogging came a halt for rest.  Luce now addressed them.
+
+"Young gentlemen, I know, well enough, that, while all this work
+is good for you, you're all of you anxious to see the production
+of the regular League ball on this floor.  Now, the baseball cage
+will not be put up for a few days yet.  However, this afternoon,
+for the rest of our tour, I'm going to produce the ball!"
+
+A joyous "hurrah!" went up from the squad.  The ball was the real
+thing in their eyes.
+
+Coach Luce turned away to one of the spacious cupboard lockers,
+returning with a ball, still in the sealed package, and a bat
+with well wrapped handle.
+
+"I'll handle the bat," announced Mr. Luce, smiling.  "It's just
+barely possible that I, can drive a good liner straighter than
+some of you, and put it nearer where I want it.  Until the cage
+is in place, I don't like to risk smashing any of the gymnasium
+windows.  Now, which one of you pitchers is ambitious to do something?"
+
+Naturally, all of them were.  Yet none liked to appear too forward
+or greedy, so silence followed.
+
+"I'll try you modest young men out on my own lines, then," laughed
+the coach.  Calling to one of the juniors to stand behind him
+as catcher, Luce continued:
+
+"Darrin, as you're a candidate for pitcher, show us some of the
+things you can do to fool a batsman."
+
+Dave took his post, his face a bit red.  He handled the ball for
+a few moments, rather nervously.
+
+"Don't get rattled, lad," counseled the coach.  "Remember, this
+is just fun.  Bear in mind that you're aiming to send the ball
+in to the catcher.  Don't let the ball drive through a window
+by mistake."
+
+A laugh went up at this.  Dave, instead of losing his nerve, flashed
+back at the squad, then steadied himself.
+
+"Now, then, let her drive---not too hard," ordered Mr. Luce.
+
+Dave let go with what he thought was an outcurve.  It didn't fool
+the coach.  He deliberately struck the ball, sending it rolling
+along the floor as a grounder.
+
+"A little more twist to the wrist, Darrin," counseled the coach,
+after a scout from the squad had picked up the ball and sent it
+to this budding pitcher.
+
+Dave's next delivery was struck down as easily.  Then Darrin began
+to grow a bit angry and much more determined.
+
+"Don't feel put out, Darrin," counseled the coach.  "I had the
+batting record of my college when I was there, and I'm in better
+trim and nerve than you are yet.  Don't be discouraged."
+
+Soon Dave was making a rather decent showing.
+
+"I'll show you later, Darrin, a little more about the way to turn
+the hand in the wrist twist," remarked the coach, as he let Dave
+go.  "You'll soon have the hang of the thing.  Now, Prescott,
+you step into the imaginary box, if you please."
+
+Dick took to an inshoot.  His first serve was as easily clouted
+as Dave's had been.  After that, by putting on a little more steam,
+and throwing in a good deal more calculation, Dick got three successive
+balls by Mr. Luce.  At two of these, coach had struck.
+
+"You're going to do first-rate, Prescott, by the time we get outdoors,
+I think;" Mr. Luce announced.  "I shall pay particular attention
+to your wrist work."
+
+"I'm afraid I showed up like a lout," whispered Dave, as Dick
+rejoined his chums.
+
+"No, you didn't," Dick retorted.  "You showed what all of us
+show---that you need training to get into good shape.  That's
+what the coach is working with us for."
+
+"I'm betting on you and Dick for the team," put in Tom Reade,
+quickly.
+
+"Dick will make it, and I think you will, too, Dave," added Harry
+Hazelton.
+
+"I wish I were as sure for myself," muttered Greg Holmes, plaintively.
+
+"Oh, well, if I can't make the team," grinned Dan Dalzell, "I'm
+going to stop this work and go in training as a mascot."
+
+"Look at the fellow who always carries Luck in his pocket!" gibed
+Hazelton, good-humoredly.
+
+Coach Luce was now calling off several names rapidly.  These young
+men were directed to scatter on the gym. floor.  To one of them
+Mr. Luce tossed the ball.
+
+"Now, then," shot out Luce's voice, "this is for quick understanding
+and judgment.  Whoever receives the ball will throw it without
+delay to anyone I name.  So post yourselves on where each other
+man stands.  I want fast work, and I want straight, accurate work.
+But no amount of speed will avail, unless the accuracy is there.
+_And vice versa_!"
+
+For five minutes this was kept up, with a steam engine idea of
+rapidity of motion.  Many were the fumbles.  A good deal of laughter
+came from the sides of the gym.
+
+"Myself!" shouted Luce, just as one of the players received the
+ball.  The young man with the ball looked puzzled for an instant.
+Then,  when too late to count, the young man understood and drove
+the ball for the coach.
+
+"Not quick enough on judgment," admonished Mr. Luce.  "Now, we'll
+take another look at the style of an ambitious pitcher or two.
+Ripley, suppose you try?"
+
+Fred started and colored.  Next, he looked pleased with himself
+as he strode jauntily forward.
+
+"May I ask for my own catcher, sir?" Fred asked.
+
+"Yes; certainly," nodded the coach.
+
+"Rip must have something big up his sleeve, if any old dub of
+a catcher won't do," jeered some one at the back of the crowd.
+
+"Attention!  Rip, the ladylike twirler!" sang out another teasing
+student.
+
+"Let her rip, Rip!"
+
+A good many were laughing.  Fred was not popular.  Many tolerated
+him, and some of the boys treated him with a fair amount of
+comradeship.  Yet the lawyer's son was no prime favorite.
+
+"Order!" rapped out the coach, sharply.  "This is training work.
+You'll find the minstrel show, if that's what you want, at the
+opera house next Thursday night."
+
+"How well the coach keeps track of minstrel shows!" called another
+gibing voice.
+
+"That was you, Parkinson!" called Mr. Luce, with mock severity.
+"Run over and harden your funny-bone on the punching bag.  Run
+along with you, now!"
+
+Everybody laughed, except Parkinson, who grinned sheepishly.
+
+"Training orders, Parkinson!" insisted the coach.  "Trot right
+over and let the funny-bone of each arm drive at the bag for
+twenty-five times.  Hurry up.  We'll watch you."
+
+So Mr. Parkinson, of the junior class, seeing that the order was
+a positive one, had the good sense to obey.  He "hardened" the
+funny-bone of either arm against the punching bag to the tune
+of jeering laughter from the rest of the squad.  That was Coach
+Luce's way of dealing with the too-funny amateur humorist.
+
+Fred, meantime, had selected his own catcher, and had whispered
+some words of instruction to him.
+
+"Now, come on, Ripley," ordered Mr. Luce, swinging his bat over
+an imaginary plate.  "Let her come in about as you want to."
+
+"He's going to try a spit ball," muttered several, as they saw
+Fred moisten his fingers.
+
+"That's a hard one for a greenhorn to put over," added another.
+
+Fred took his place with a rather confident air; he had been drilling
+at Duxbridge for some weeks now.
+
+Then, with a turn of his body, Ripley let the ball go off of his
+finger tips.  Straight and rather slowly it went toward the plate.
+It looked like the easiest ball that had been sent in so far.
+Coach Luce, with a calculating eye, watched it come, moving his
+bat ever so little.  Then he struck.  But the spit ball, having
+traveled to the hitting point, dropped nearly twenty inches.
+The bat fanned air, and the catcher, crouching just behind the
+coach, gathered in the ball.
+
+Luce was anything but mortified.  A gleam of exultation lit up
+his eyes as he swung the bat exultantly over his head.  In a swift
+outburst of old college enthusiasm he forgot most of his dignity
+as a submaster.
+
+"_Wow_!" yelled the coach.  "That was a _bird_!  A lulu-cooler
+and a scalp-taker!  Ripley, I reckon you're the new cop that runs
+the beat!"
+
+It took the High School onlookers a few seconds to gather the
+full importance of what they had seen.  Then a wild cheer broke
+loose:
+
+"Ripley?  Oh, Ripley'll pitch for the nine!" surged up on all
+sides.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+DICK & CO. TAKE A TURN AT FEELING GLUM
+
+
+"What's the matter with Ripley?" yelled one senior.
+
+And another answered, hoarsely:
+
+"Nothing!  He's a wonder!"
+
+Fred Ripley was unpopular.  He was regarded as a cad and a sneak.
+But he could pitch ball!  He could give great aid in bringing
+an unbroken line of victories to Gridley.  That was enough.
+
+By now Coach Luce was a bit red in the face.  He realized that
+his momentary relapse into the old college enthusiasm had made
+him look ridiculous, in his other guise of High School submaster.
+
+But when the submaster coach turned and saw Parkinson butting
+his head against the punching bag he called out:
+
+"What's the matter, Parkinson?"
+
+"Subbing for you, sir!"
+
+That turned the good-natured laugh of a few on Mr. Luce.  Most
+of those present, however, had not been struck by the unusualness
+of his speech.
+
+Dick and Dave looked hard at each other.  Both boys wanted to
+make the team as pitchers.  Yet now it seemed most certain that
+Fred Ripley must stand out head and shoulders over any other
+candidates for the Gridley box.
+
+Dick's face shone with enthusiasm, none the less.  If he couldn't
+make the nine this year, he could at least feel that Gridley High
+School was already well on toward the lead over all competing
+school nines.
+
+"I wish it were somebody else," muttered Dave, huskily, in his
+chum's ear.
+
+"Gridley is fixed for lead, anyway," replied Dick, "if Ripley
+can always keep in such form as that."
+
+"Can Ripley do it again?" shouted one Gridley senior.
+
+"Try it, and see, Ripley," urged Mr. Luce, again swinging his
+bat.
+
+Fred had been holding the returned ball for a minute or two.
+His face was flushed, his eyes glowing.  Never before had he made
+such a hit among his schoolmates.  It was sweet, at last, to taste
+the pleasures of local fame.
+
+He stood gazing about him, drinking in the evident delight of
+the High School boys.  In fact he did not hear the coach's order
+until it came again.
+
+"Try another one, Ripley!"
+
+The young man moistened his fingers, placing the ball carefully.
+Of a sudden his arm shot out.  Again the coach struck for what
+looked a fair ball, yet once more Mr. Luce fanned air and the
+catcher straightened up, ball in hand.
+
+Pumph!  The lazily thrown ball landed in Ripley's outstretched
+left.  He moistened his  fingers, wet the ball, and let drive
+almost instantly.  For the third time Mr. Luce fanned out.
+
+Then Fred spoke, in a tone of satisfied self-importance:
+
+"Coach, that's all I'll do this afternoon, if you don't mind."
+
+"Right," nodded Mr. Luce.  "You don't want to strain your work
+before you've really begun it any other candidates for pitching
+want to have a try now?"
+
+As the boys of the squad waited for an answer, a low laugh began
+to ripple around the gym.  The very idea of any fellow trying
+after Ripley had made his wonderful showing was wholly funny!
+
+Coach Luce called out the names of another small squad to scatter
+over the gym. and to throw the ball to anyone he named.  Except
+for the few who were in this forced work, no attention was paid
+to the players.
+
+Fred Ripley had walked complacently to one side of the gym.  A
+noisy, gleeful group formed around him.
+
+"Rip, where did you ever learn that great work?"
+
+"Who taught you?"
+
+"Say, how long have you been hiding that thousand-candle-power
+light under a bushel?"
+
+"Rip, it was the greatest work I ever saw a boy do."
+
+"Will you show me---after the nine has been made up, of course?"
+
+"How did you ever get it down so slick?"
+
+This was all meat to the boy who had long been unpopular.
+
+"I always was a pretty fair pitcher, wasn't I?" asked Fred.
+
+"Yes; but never anything like the pitcher you showed us to-day,"
+glowed eager Parkinson.
+
+"I've been doing a good deal of practicing and study since the
+close of last season," Fred replied importantly.  "I've studied
+out a lot of new things.  I shan't show them all, either, until
+the real season begins."
+
+Fred's glance, in roaming around, took in Dick & Co.  For once,
+these six very popular sophomores had no one else around them.
+
+"Whew!  I think I've taken some wind out of the sails of Mr.
+Self-satisfied Prescott," Fred told himself jubilantly.  "We shan't
+hear so much about Dick & Co. for a few months!"
+
+"Well, anyway, Dick," said Tom Reade, "you and Dave needn't feel
+too badly.  If Ripley turns out to be the nine's crack pitcher,
+the nine also carries two relief pitchers.  You and Dave have
+a chance to be the relief pitchers.  _That_ will make the nine
+for you both, anyway.  But, then, that spitball may be the only
+thing Ripley knows."
+
+"Don't fool yourself," returned Prescott, shaking his head.  "If
+Ripley can do that one so much like a veteran, then he knows other
+styles of tossing, too.  I'm glad for Gridley High School---mighty
+glad.  I wouldn't mind on personal grounds, either, if only---if-----"
+
+"If Fred Ripley were only a half decent fellow," Harry Hazelton
+finished for him.
+
+Coach Luce soon dismissed the squad for the day.  A few minutes
+later the boys left the gym. in groups.  Of course the pitching
+they had seen was the sole theme.  Ripley didn't have to walk
+away alone to-day.  Coach Luce and a dozen of the boys stepped
+along with him in great glee.
+
+"It's Rip!  Old Rip will be the most talked about fellow in any
+High School league this year," Parkinson declared, enthusiastically.
+
+Even the fellows who actually despised Fred couldn't help their
+jubilation.  Gridley was strong in athletics just because of the
+real old Gridley High School spirit.  Gridley's boys always played
+to win.  They made heroes of the fellows who could lead them to
+victory after victory.
+
+Fred was far on his way home ere the last boy had left him.
+
+"I'll get everything in sight now," Ripley told himself, in ecstasy,
+as he turned in at the gateway to his home.  "Why, even if Prescott
+does get into the relief box, I can decide when he shall or shall
+not pitch.  I'll never see him get a _big_ game to pitch in.
+Oh, but this blow to-day has hurt Dick Prescott worse than a blow
+over the head with an iron stake could.  I've wiped  him up and
+put him down again.  I've made him feel sick and ashamed of his
+puny little inshoot!  Prescott, you're mine to do as I please
+with on this year's nine---if you can make it at all!"
+
+In truth, though young Prescott kept a smiling face, and talked
+cheerily, he could hardly have been more cast down than he was.
+Dick always went into any sport to win and lead, and he had set
+his heart on being Gridley's best man in the box.  But now-----
+
+Dick & Co. all felt that they needed the open air after the grilling
+and the surprise at the gym.  So they strolled, together, on Main
+Street, for nearly an hour ere they parted and went home to supper.
+
+The next day the talk at school was mostly about Ripley, or "Rip,"
+as he was now more intimately called.
+
+Even the girls took more notice of him.  Formerly Fred hadn't
+been widely popular among them.  But now, as the coming star of
+the High School nine, and a new wonder in the school firmament,
+he had a new interest for them.
+
+Half the girls, or more, were "sincere fans" at the ball games.
+Baseball was so much of a craze among them that these girls didn't
+have to ask about the points of the game.  They knew the diamond
+and most of its rules.
+
+Incense was sweet to the boy to whom it had so long been denied,
+but of course it turned "Rip's" head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE THIRD PARTY'S AMAZEMENT
+
+
+Eleven o'clock pealed out from the steeple of the nearest church.
+
+The night was dark.  Rain or snow was in the air.
+
+In a shadow across the street hung Tip Scammon.  His shabby cap
+was pulled down over his eyes, his hands thrust deep into the
+pockets of his ragged reefer.  Tip's eyes were turned toward the
+Ripley home opposite.
+
+"To think o' that feller in a fine, warm, soft bed nights, an'
+all the swell stuff to eat at table!" muttered Tip, enviously.
+"And then me, out in the cold, wearing a tramp's clothes!  Never
+sure whether to-morrer has a meal comin' with it!  But, anyway,
+I can make that Ripley kid dance when I pull the string!  He dances
+pretty tolerable frequent, too!  He's got to do it to-night, an'
+he'd better hurry up some!"
+
+Soon after the sound of the striking clock had died away, Tip's
+keen eyes saw a figure steal around one side of the house from
+the rear.
+
+"Here comes Rip, now.  He's on time," thought Tip.  "Huh!  It's
+a pity---fer---him that he wouldn't take a new think an' chase
+me.  But he's like most pups that hire other folks to do their
+tough work---they hain't 't got no nerve o' their own."
+
+Fred came stealthily out of the yard, after looking back at the
+house.  He went straight up to young Scammon.
+
+"So here ye are, pal," laughed Tip.  "Glad ye didn't keep me waitin'.
+Ye brought the wherewithal?"
+
+"See here, Tip, you scoundrel," muttered Fred, hoarsely, a worried
+look showing in his eyes, "I'm getting plumb down to the bottom
+of anything I can get for you."
+
+"I told ye to bring twenty," retorted young Scammon, abruptly.
+"That will be enough."
+
+"I couldn't get it," muttered Fred.
+
+"Now, see here, pal," warned Tip, threateningly, "don't try to
+pull no roots on me.  Ye can get all the money ye want."
+
+"I couldn't this time," Fred contended, stubbornly.  "I've got
+eleven dollars, and that's every bit I could get my hands on."
+
+"But I've _got_ to have twenty," muttered Tip, fiercely.  "Now,
+ye trot back and look through yer Sunday-best suit.  You have
+money enough; yer father's rich, an' he gives ye a lot.  Now,
+ye've no business spendin' any o' that money until ye've paid
+me what's proper comin' to me.  So back to the house with ye,
+and get the rest o' yer money!"
+
+"It's no use, Tip.  I simply can't get another dollar.  Here's
+the eleven, and you'd better be off with it.  I can't get any
+more, either, inside of a fortnight."
+
+"See here," raged young Scammon, "if ye think ye can play-----"
+
+"Take this money and get off," demanded Fred, impatiently.  "I'm
+going back home and to bed."
+
+"I guess, boy, it's about time fer me to see your old man," blustered
+Tip.  "If I hold off until to-morrer afternoon, will ye have the
+other nine, an' an extry dollar fer me trouble?"
+
+"No," rasped Fred.  "It's no use at all---not for another fortnight,
+anyway.  Good night!"
+
+Turning, Fred sped across the street and back under the shadows
+at the rear of the lawyer's great house.
+
+"I wonder if the younker's gettin' wise?" murmured Tip.  "He ain't
+smart enough to know that fer him to go to his old man an' tell
+the whole yarn 'ud be cheapest in the run.  The old man 'ud be
+mad at Rip, but the old man's a lawyer, an' 'ud know how to lay
+down the blackmail law to me!"
+
+Feeling certain that he was wholly alone by this time, Tip had
+spoken the words aloud or sufficiently so for him to be heard
+a few feet away by any lurker.
+
+Shivering a bit, for he was none too warmly clad, young Scammon
+turned, making his way up the street.
+
+Fully two minutes after Tip had gone his way Dick Prescott stepped
+out from behind the place where Tip had been standing.
+
+There was a queer and rather puzzled look on Dick's face.
+
+"So Fred's paying Tip money, and Tip knows it's blackmail?" muttered
+the sophomore.  "That can mean just one thing then.  When Tip
+held his tongue before and at his trial, last year, he was looking
+ahead to the time when he could extort money by threatening Fred.
+And now Tip's doing it.  That must be the way he gets his living.
+Whew, but Ripley must be allowed a heap of spending money if
+he can stand that sort of drain!"
+
+How Dick came to be on hand at the time can be easily explained.
+Earlier in the evening he had been at "The Blade" office.  Mr.
+Pollock had asked him to go out on a news story that could be
+obtained by calling upon a citizen at his home.  The story would
+be longer than Dick usually succeeded in turning in.  It looked
+attractive to a boy who wanted to earn money, so the sophomore
+eagerly accepted the assignment.
+
+As it happened, Dick had had to wait a long time at the house
+at which he called before the man he wanted to see returned home.
+Dick was on his way to "The Blade" office when he caught sight
+of Tip Scammon.  The latter did not see or hear the sophomore
+approaching.
+
+So Dick halted, darting behind a tree.
+
+"Now, what's Tip doing down here, near the Ripley place?" wondered
+Prescott.  "He must be waiting to see Fred.  Then they must have
+an appointment.  Dave always thought that Tip ambushed me with
+those brickbats at Fred Ripley's order.  There may be something
+of that sort in the wind again.  I guess I've got a right to listen."
+
+Looking about him, Prescott saw a chance to slip into a yard,
+get over a fence, and creep up rather close to Scammon, though
+still being hidden from that scoundrel.  At last Prescott found
+himself well hidden in the yard behind Tip.
+
+So Dick heard the talk.  Now, as he hurried back to "The Blade"
+office the young soph guessed shrewdly at the meaning of what
+he had heard.
+
+"Now, what had I better do about it?"  Dick Prescott asked himself.
+"What's the fair and honorable thing to do---keep quiet?  It
+would seem a bit sneaky to go and tell Lawyer Ripley.  Shall I
+tell Fred?  I wonder if I could make   him understand how foolish
+and cowardly it is to go on paying for a blackmailer's silence?
+Yet it's ten to one that Fred wouldn't thank me.  Oh, bother
+it, what had a fellow better do in a case like this?"
+
+A moment later, Dick laughed dryly.
+
+"I know one thing I could do.  I could go to Fred, tell him what
+I know, and scare him so he'd fall down in his effort to become
+the crack pitcher of the nine!  My, but he'd go all to pieces
+if he thought I knew and could tell on him!"
+
+Dick chuckled, then his face sobered, as he added:
+
+"Fred's safe from that _trick_, though.  I couldn't stand a glimpse
+of my own face in the mirror, afterward, if I did such a low piece
+of business."
+
+Prescott was still revolving the whole thing in his mind when
+he reached "The Blade" office.  He turned in the news story he
+bad been sent for.  As he did so the news editor looked up to
+remark:
+
+"We have plenty of room to spare in the paper to-night, Prescott."
+
+"Yes?  Well?"
+
+"Can't you give us a few paragraphs of real High School news?
+Something about the state of athletics there?"
+
+"Why, yes, of course," the young sophomore nodded.
+
+Returning to the desk where he had been sitting, Dick ran off
+a few paragraphs on the outlook of the coming High School baseball
+season.
+
+"Did you write that High School baseball stuff in this morning's
+paper, Dick?" asked Tom Reade, the next day.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You said that the indications are that Ripley will be the crack
+pitcher this season, and that he is plainly going to be far ahead
+of all the other box candidates."
+
+"That's correct, isn't it?" challenged Dick.
+
+"It looks so, of course," Tom admitted.  "But why did you give
+Ripley such a boost?  He's no friend of yours, or ours."
+
+"Newspapers are published for the purpose of giving information,"
+Dick explained.  "If a newspaper's writers all wrote just to please
+themselves and their friends, how many people do you suppose would
+buy the daily papers?  Fred Ripley is the most prominent box candidate
+we have.  He towers away over the rest of us.  That was why I
+so stated it in 'The Blade.'"
+
+"And I guess that's the only right way to do things when you're
+writing for the papers," agreed Darrin.
+
+"It's a pity you can't print some other things about Ripley that
+you know to be true," grumbled Hazelton.
+
+"True," agreed Dick, thoughtfully.  "I'm only a green, amateur
+reporter, but I've already learned that a reporter soon knows
+more than he can print."
+
+Prescott was thinking of the meeting he had witnessed, the night
+before, between Fred and Tip.
+
+After sleeping on the question for the night, Dick had decided
+that he would say nothing of the matter, for the present, either
+to the elder or the younger Ripley.
+
+"If Fred found out that I knew all about it, he'd be sure that
+I was biding my time," was what Dick had concluded.  "He'd be
+sure that I was only waiting for the best chance to expose him.
+On the other hand, if I cautioned his father, there'd be an awful
+row at the Ripley home.  Either way, Fred Ripley would go to pieces.
+He'd lose what little nerve he ever had.  After that he'd be
+no good at pitching.  He'd go  plumb to pieces.  That might leave
+me the chance to be Gridley's crack pitcher this year.  Oh, I'd
+like to be the leading pitcher of the High School nine!  But I
+don't want to win the honor in any way that I'm not positive is
+wholly square and honorable."
+
+Then, after a few moments more of thought:
+
+"Besides, I'm loyal to good old Gridley High School.  I want to
+see our nine have the best pitcher it can get---no matter who
+he is!"
+
+By some it might be argued that Dick Prescott was under a moral
+obligation to go and caution Lawyer Ripley.  But Dick hated talebearers.
+He acted up to the best promptings of his own best conscience,
+which is all any honorable man can do.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+TRYING OUT THE PITCHERS
+
+
+"Oh, you Rip!"
+
+"Good boy, Rip!"
+
+"You're the winning piece of leather, Rip!"
+
+"Get after him, Dick!"
+
+"Wait till you see Prescott!"
+
+"And don't you forget Dave Darrin, either!"  Late in March, it
+was the biggest day of Spring out at the High School Athletic
+Field.
+
+This field, the fruit of the labors of the Alumni Association
+for many years, was a model one even in the best of High School
+towns.
+
+The field, some six acres in extent, lay well outside the city
+proper.  It was a walled field, laid out for football, baseball,
+cricket and field and track sports.  In order that even the High
+School girls might have a strong sense of ownership in it, the
+field also contained two croquet grounds, well laid out.
+
+Just now, the whole crowd was gathered at the sides of the diamond.
+Hundreds were perched up on one of the stands for spectators.
+
+Down on the diamond stood the members of the baseball squad.
+As far as the onlookers could see, every one of the forty-odd
+young men was in the pink of physical condition.  The indoor training
+had been hard from the outset.   Weeks of cage work had been gone
+through with in the gym.  But from this day on, whenever it didn't
+rain too hard, the baseball training work was to take place on
+the field.
+
+Coach Luce now stepped out of the little building in which were
+the team dressing rooms.  As he went across the diamond he was
+followed by lusty cheers from High School boys up on the spectators'
+seats.  The girls clapped their hands, or waved handkerchiefs.
+A few already carried the gold and crimson banners of Gridley.
+Besides the High School young people, there were a few hundred
+older people, who had come out to see what the youngsters were
+doing.
+
+For this was the day on which the pitchers were to be tried out.
+Ripley was known to be the favorite in all the guessing.  In
+fact, there wasn't any guessing.  Some, however, believed that
+Dick, and possibly Dave, might be chosen as the relief pitchers.
+
+Dick himself looked mighty solemn, as he stood by, apparently
+seeing but little of what was going on.  Beside him stood Dave.
+The other four chums were not far off.
+
+Another wild howl went up from the High School contingent when
+two more men were seen to leave the dressing room building and
+walk out toward Coach Luce.  These were two members of the Athletic
+Committee, former students at Gridley High School.  These two
+were to aid the coach in choosing the men for the school team.
+They would also name the members of the school's second team.
+
+"Now, we'll try you out on pitching, if you're ready," announced
+Mr. Luce, turning to a  member of the junior class.  The young
+fellow grinned half-sheepishly, but was game.  He ran over to
+the box, after nodding to the catcher he had chosen.  Luce took
+the bat and stood by the home plate.  To-day the coach did not
+intend to strike at any of the balls, but he and the two members
+of the Athletic Committee would judge, and award marks to the
+candidates.
+
+"Oh, we don't want the dub!  Trot out Rip!" came a roaring chorus.
+
+Coach Luce, however, from this time on, paid no heed to the shouts
+or demands of spectators.
+
+The candidate for box honors now displayed all he knew about pitching,
+though some nervousness doubtless marred his performance.
+
+"Now, run out Rip!" came the insistent chorus again, after this
+candidate had shown his curves and had gone back.
+
+But it was another member of the junior class who came to the
+box for the next trial.
+
+"Dead ball!  Throw wild and cut it short!" came the advice from
+the seats.
+
+Then a sophomore was tried out.  But the crowd was becoming highly
+impatient.
+
+"We want Rip!  We demand Rip.  Give us Rip or give us chloroform!"
+came the insistent clamor.  "We'll come another day to see the
+dead ones, if you insist."
+
+Coach Luce looked over at Fred, and nodded.  The tumultuous cheering
+lasted two full minutes,  for Gridley was always as strong on
+fans as it wanted to be on players.
+
+Fred Ripley was flushed but proud.  He tried to hold himself jauntily,
+with an air of indifference, as he stood with the ball clasped
+in both hands, awaiting the signal.
+
+Ripley felt that he could afford to be satisfied with himself.
+The advance consciousness of victory thrilled him.  He had worked
+rather hard with Everett; and, though the great pitcher had not
+succeeded in bringing out all that he had hoped to do with the
+boy, yet Everett had praised him only yesterday.  One reason why
+Fred had not absolutely suited his trainer was that the boy had
+broken his training pledge by taking up with coffee.  For that
+reason his nerves were not in the best possible shape.  Yet they
+didn't need to be in order to beat such awkward, rural pitchers
+as Prescott or Darrin.
+
+For a while Coach Luce waited for the cheering for Ripley to die
+down.  Then he raised his bat as a signal.  Fred sent in his favorite
+spit-ball.  To all who understood the game, it was clear that
+the ball had not been well delivered.  The crowd on the seats
+stopped cheering to look on in some concern.
+
+"Brace, Ripley!  You can beat that," warned the coach, in a low
+tone.
+
+Fred did better the second time.  The third ball was nearly up
+to his form; the fourth, wholly so.  Now, Fred sent in two more
+spitballs, then changed to other styles.  He was pitching famously,
+now.
+
+"That's all, unless you wish more, sir," announced Fred, finally,
+when the ball came back to him.
+
+"It's enough.  Magnificently done," called Coach Luce, after a
+glance at the two members of the Athletic Committee.
+
+"Oh, you Rip!"
+
+"Good old Rip!"
+
+The cheering commenced again, swelling in volume.
+
+Coach Luce signaled to Dick Prescott, who, coolly, yet with a
+somewhat pallid face, came forward to the box.  He removed the
+wrapping from a new ball and took his post.
+
+The cheering stopped now.  Dick was extremely well liked in Gridley.
+Most of the spectators felt sorry for this poor young soph, who
+must make a showing after that phenomenon, Ripley.
+
+"The first two or three don't need to count, Prescott," called
+Luce.  "Get yourself warmed up."
+
+Fred stood at the side, looking on with a sense of amusement which,
+for policy's sake, he strove to conceal.
+
+"Great Scott!  The nerve of the fellow!" gasped Ripley, inwardly,
+as he saw Prescott moisten his fingers.  "He's going to try the
+spit-ball after what I've shown!"
+
+The silence grew deeper, for most of the onlookers understood
+the significance of Dick's moistened fingers.
+
+Dick drove in, Tom Reade catching.  That first spit-ball was not
+quite as good as some that Ripley had shown.  But Fred's face
+went white.
+
+"Where did Prescott get that thing?  He's been _stealing_ from the
+little he has seen me do."
+
+A shout of jubilation went up from a hundred throats now, for
+Dick had just spun his second spit-ball across the plate.  It
+was equal to any that Ripley had shown.
+
+"Confound the upstart!  He's getting close to me on that style!"
+gasped the astonished Ripley.
+
+Now, Dick held the ball for a few moments, rolling it over in his
+hands.  An instant later, he unbent.  Then he let drive.  The ball
+went slowly toward the plate, with flat trajectory.
+
+"Wow!" came the sudden explosion.  It was a _jump-ball_, going almost
+to the plate, then rising instead of falling.
+
+Three more of these Dick served, and now the cheering was the
+biggest of the afternoon.  Fred Ripley's mouth was wide open,
+his breath coming jerkily.
+
+Three fine inshoots followed.  The hundreds on the seats were
+standing up now.  Then, to rest his arm, Dick, who was wholly
+collected, and as cool as a veteran under fire, served the spectators
+with a glimpse of an out-curve that was not quite like any that
+they had ever seen before.  This out-curve had a suspicion of
+the jump-ball about it.
+
+Dick was pitching easily, now.  He had gotten his warming and
+his nerve, and appeared to work without conscious strain.
+
+"Do you want more, sir?" called Dick, at last.
+
+"No," decided Coach Luce.  "You've done enough, Prescott.
+Mr. Darrin!"
+
+Dave ran briskly to the box, opening the wrappings on a new ball
+as he stepped into the box.  After the first two balls Dave's
+exhibition was swift, certain, fine.  He had almost reached Dick
+with his performance.
+
+Ripley's bewildered astonishment was apparent in his face.
+
+"Thunder, I'd no idea they could do anything like that!" gasped
+Fred to himself.  "They're very nearly as good as I am.  How in
+blazes did they ever get hold of the wrinkles?  They can't afford
+a man like Everett."
+
+"Any more candidates?" called Coach Luce.  There weren't.  No
+other fellow was going forward to show himself after the last
+three who had worked from the box.
+
+There was almost a dead silence, then, while Coach Luce and the
+two members of the Athletics Committee conferred in whispers.
+At last the coach stepped forward.
+
+"We have chosen the pitchers!" he shouted.  Then, after a pause,
+Mr. Luce went on:
+
+"The pitchers for the regular school nine will be Prescott, Darrin,
+Ripley, in the order named."
+
+"Oh, you Dick!"
+
+"Bang-up Prescott!"
+
+"Reliable old Darrin!"
+
+"Ripley---ugh!"
+
+And now the fierce cheering drowned out all other cries.  But
+Fred Ripley, his face purple with rage, darted forward before
+the judges.
+
+"I protest!" he cried.
+
+"Protests are useless," replied Mr. Luce.  "The judges give you
+four points less than Darrin, and seven less than Prescott.  You've
+had a fair show, Mr. Ripley."
+
+"I haven't.  I'm better than either of them!" bawled Fred, hoarsely,
+for the cheering was still on and he had to make himself heard.
+
+"No use, Ripley," spoke up a member of the Athletics Committee.
+"You're third, and that's good enough, for we never before had
+such a pitching triumvirate."
+
+"Where did these fellows ever learn to pitch to beat me?" jeered
+Fred, angrily.  "They had no such trainer.  Until he went south
+with his own team, I was trained by-----"
+
+Fred paused suddenly.  Perhaps he had better not tell too much,
+after all.
+
+The din from the seats had now died down.
+
+"Well, Ripley, who trained you?" asked a member of the Athletics
+Committee.
+
+Fred bit his lip, but Dick broke in quietly:
+
+"I can tell.  Perhaps a little confession will be good for us
+all around.  Ripley was trained by Everett over at Duxbridge.
+I found out that much, weeks ago."
+
+"You spy!" hissed Fred angrily, but Dick, not heeding his enemy,
+continued:
+
+"The way Ripley started out, the first showing he made, Darrin
+and I saw that we were left in the stable.  Candidly, we were
+in despair of doing anything real in the box, after Ripley got
+through.  But I suppose all you gentlemen have heard of Pop Gint?"
+
+"Gint!  Old Pop?" demanded Coach Luce, a light glowing in his
+eyes.  "Well, I should say so.  Why, Pop Gint was the famous old
+trainer who taught Everett and a half dozen other of our best
+national pitchers all they first learned about style.  Pop Gint
+is the best trainer of pitchers that ever was."
+
+"Pop Gint is an uncle of Mr. Pollock, editor of 'The Blade,'" Dick
+went on, smilingly.  "Pop Gint has retired, and won't teach for
+money, any more.  But Mr. Pollock coaxed his uncle to train Darrin
+and myself.  Right faithfully the old gentleman did it, too.
+Why, Pop Gint, today, is as much of a boy-----"
+
+"Oh, shut up!" grated Fred, harshly, turning upon his rival.
+"Mr. Luce, I throw down the team as far as I'm concerned.  I won't
+pitch as an inferior to these two boobies.  Scratch my name off."
+
+"I'll give you a day or two, Mr. Ripley, to think that over,"
+replied Mr. Luce, quietly.  "Remember, Ripley, you must be a good
+sportsman, and you should also be loyal to your High School.
+In matters of loyalty one can't always act on spite or impulse."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Fred, stalking away.
+
+His keen disappointment was welling up inside.  With the vent
+of speech the suffering of the arrogant boy had become greater.
+Now, Fred's whole desire was to get away by himself, where he
+could nurse his rage in secret.  There were no more yells of "Oh,
+you Rip!"  He had done some splendid pitching, and had made the
+team, for that matter, but he was not to be one of the season's
+stars.  This latter fact, added to his deserved unpopularity,
+filled his spirit with gall as he hastened toward the dressing
+rooms.  There he quickly got into his street clothes and as hastily
+quitted the athletic field.
+
+Therein Fred Ripley made a mistake, as he generally did in other
+things.  In sport all can't win.  It is more of an art to be a
+cheerful, game loser than to bow to the plaudits of the throng.
+
+"Mr. Prescott," demanded Coach Luce, "how long have you been
+working under Pop Gint's training?"
+
+"Between four and five weeks, sir."
+
+"And Darrin the same length of time?"
+
+"Yes, sir," nodded Dave.
+
+"Then, unless you two find something a whole lot better to do
+in life, you could do worse than  to keep in mind the idea of
+trying for positions on the national teams when you're older."
+
+"I think we have something better in view, Mr. Luce," Dick answered
+smilingly.  "Eh, Dave?"
+
+"Yes," nodded Darrin and speaking emphatically.  "Athletics and
+sports are good for what they bring to a fellow in the way of
+health and training.  But a fellow ought to use the benefits as
+a physical foundation in some other kind of life where he can
+be more useful."
+
+"I suppose you two, then, have it all mapped out as to what you're
+going to do in life?"
+
+"Not quite," Dick replied.  "But I think I know what we'd like
+to do when we're through with our studies."
+
+There were other try-outs that afternoon, but the great interest
+was over.  Gridley fans were satisfied that the High School had
+a pitching trio that it would be difficult to beat anywhere except
+on the professional diamond.
+
+"If anything _should_ happen to Prescott and Darrin just before
+any of _the big games_," muttered Ripley, darkly, to himself, "then
+I'd have my chance, after all!  Can't I get my head to working
+and find a way to _make_ something happen?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE RIOT CALL AND OTHER LITTLE THINGS
+
+
+"To your seat, Mr. Bristow!  You're acting like a rowdy!"
+
+Principal Cantwell uttered the order sharply.
+
+Fully half the student body had gathered in the big assembly room
+at the High School.  It was still five minutes before the opening
+hour, and there had been a buzz of conversation through the room.
+
+The principal's voice was so loud that it carried through the
+room.  Almost at once the buzz ceased as the students turned to
+see what was happening.  Bristow had been skylarking a bit.
+Undoubtedly he had been more boisterous with one of the other
+fellows in the assembly room than good taste sanctioned.
+
+Just as naturally, however, Bristow resented the style of rebuke
+from authority.  The boy wheeled about, glaring at the principal.
+
+"Go to your seat, sir!" thundered the principal, his face turning
+ghastly white from his suppressed rage.
+
+Bristow wheeled once more, in sullen silence, to go to his seat.
+Certainly he did not move fast, but he was obeying.
+
+"You mutinous young rascal, that won't do!" shot out from the
+principal's lips.  In another instant Mr. Cantwell was crossing
+the floor rapidly toward the slow-moving offender.
+
+"Get to your seat quickly, or go in pieces!" rasped out the angry
+principal.
+
+Seizing the boy from behind by both shoulders, Mr. Cantwell gave
+him a violent push.  Bristow tripped, falling across a desk and
+cutting a gash in his forehead.
+
+In an instant the boy was up and wheeled about, blood dripping
+from the cut, but something worse flashing in his eyes.
+
+The principal was at once terrified.  He was not naturally courageous,
+but he had a dangerous temper, and he now realized to what it
+had brought him.  Mr. Cantwell was trying to frame a lame apology
+when an indignant voice cried out:
+
+"_Coward_!"
+
+His face livid, the principal turned.
+
+"Who said that?" he demanded, at white heat.
+
+"_I_ did!" admitted Purcell, promptly.  Abner Cantwell sprang at
+this second "offender."  But Purcell threw himself quickly into
+an attitude of defence.
+
+"Keep your hands off of me, Mr. Cantwell, or I'll knock you down!"
+
+"Good!"
+
+"That's the talk!"
+
+The excited High School boys came crowding about the principal
+and Purcell.  Bristow was  swept back by the surging throng.
+He had his handkerchief out, now, at his forehead.
+
+"Some of you young men seize Purcell and march him to my private
+office," commanded the principal, who had lacked the courage to
+strike at the young fellow who stood waiting for him.
+
+"Will you fight Purcell like a man, if we do?" asked another voice.
+
+"Run Cantwell out!  He isn't fit to be here!" yelled another voice.
+
+Mr. Drake, the only submaster in the room at the time, was pushing
+his way forward.
+
+"Calmly, boys, calmly," called Drake.  "Don't do anything you'll
+be sorry for afterwards."
+
+But those who were more hot headed were still pressing forward.
+It looked as though they were trying to get close enough to lay
+hands on the now trembling principal.
+
+Under the circumstances, Mr. Cantwell did the very worst thing
+he could have done.  He pushed three or four boys aside and made
+a break across the assembly room.  Once out in the corridor, the
+principal dove into his private office, turning the key after
+him.  Secure, now, and his anger once more boiling up, Mr. Cantwell
+rang his telephone bell.  Calling for the police station, he called
+for Chief Coy and reported that mutiny and violence had broken
+loose in the High School.
+
+"That seems almost incredible," replied Chief Coy.  "But I'll
+come on the run with some of my men."
+
+Several of the fellows made a move to follow the principal out
+into the corridor.  Dick Prescott swung the door shut and threw
+himself against it.  Dave Darrin and Tom Reade rushed to his support.
+The other chums got to him as quickly as they could.
+
+"Nothing rash, fellows!" urged Dick.  "Remember, we don't make
+the laws, or execute them.  This business will be settled more
+to our satisfaction if we don't put ourselves in the wrong."
+
+"Pull that fellow Prescott away from the door!" called Fred Ripley,
+anxious to start any kind of trouble against Dick & Co.  Submaster
+Drake, forcing his way through the throng, calming the hottest-headed
+ones, turned an accusing look on Fred.  The latter saw it and
+slunk back into the crowd.
+
+Bristow, still holding his handkerchief to his head, darted out
+of the building.
+
+Submaster Morton and Luce, bearing the excitement, came up from
+class rooms on the ground floor.  They entered by the same door
+through which Bristow had left.
+
+Over on the other side of the room, fearing that a violent riot
+was about to start, some of the girls began to scream.  The women
+teachers present hurried among the girls, quieting them by reassuring
+words.
+
+"Now, young gentlemen," called Mr. Drake, "we'll consider all
+this rumpus done with.  Discipline reigns and Gridley's good name
+must be preserved!"
+
+This brought a cheer from many, for Mr. Drake was genuinely respected
+by the boys as a good and fair-minded man.  Such men as Drake,
+Morton or Luce could lead these warm-hearted boys anywhere.
+
+Stepping quickly back to the platform, Drake sounded the bell.
+In an instant there was an orderly movement toward the desks.
+At the second bell all were seated.
+
+"In the absence of the principal," began Mr. Drake, "I-----"
+
+A low-voiced laugh started in some quarters of the room.
+
+"Silence!" insisted Mr. Drake, with dignity.  "School has opened.
+I-----"
+
+He was interrupted by a new note.  Out in the yard sounded the
+clanging of a bell, the quick trot of horses' feet and the roll
+of wheels.  The boys looked at one another in unbelieving astonishment.
+
+Then heavy steps sounded on the stairway.  Outside Mr. Cantwell's
+voice could be heard:
+
+"I'll take you inside, chief!"
+
+In came the principal, his face now white from dread of what he
+had done, instead of showing the white-heat of passion.  After
+him came Chief Coy and three policemen in uniform.
+
+For at least a full half minute Chief Coy stood glancing around the
+room, where every student was in his seat and all was orderly.
+The boys returned the chief's look with wondering eyes.
+Then Mr. Coy spoke:
+
+"Where's your riot, principal?  Is this what you termed a mutiny?"
+
+Mr. Cantwell, who had gone to his post behind the desk, appeared
+to find difficulty in answering.
+
+"Humph!" muttered the chief, and, turning, strode from the room.
+His three policemen followed.
+
+Then there came indeed an awkward silence.
+
+Submaster Drake had abandoned the center of the stage to the principal.
+Mr. Cantwell found himself at some loss for words.  But at last
+he began:
+
+"Young ladies and young gentlemen, I cannot begin to tell you
+how much I regret the occurrences of this morning.  Discipline
+is one of my greatest ideals, and this morning's mutiny-----"
+
+He felt obliged to pause there, for an angry murmur started on
+the boys' side, and traveled over to where the girls were seated:
+
+"This morning's mutiny-----" began the principal again.
+
+The murmur grew louder.  Mr. Cantwell looked up, more of fear
+than of anger in his eyes.  Mr. Drake, who stood behind the principal,
+held up one hand appealingly.  It was that gesture which saved
+the situation at that critical moment.  The boys thought that
+if silence would please Mr. Drake, then he might have it.
+
+"Pardon me, sir," whispered Drake in Cantwell's ear.  "I wouldn't
+harp on the word mutiny, sir.  Express your regret for the injury
+unintentionally done Bristow."
+
+Mr. Cantwell wheeled abruptly.
+
+"Who is principal here, Mr. Drake?"
+
+"You are, sir."
+
+"Then be good enough to let me finish my remarks."
+
+This dialogue was spoken in an undertone, but the students guessed
+some inkling of its substance.
+
+The submaster subsided, but Mr. Cantwell couldn't seem to remember,
+just then, what he wanted to say.  So he stood gazing about the
+room.  In doing this he caught sight of the face of Purcell.
+
+"Mr. Purcell!" called the principal.
+
+That young man rose, standing by his seat.  "Mr. Purcell, you
+made some threat to me a few minutes ago?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What was that threat?"
+
+"I told you that, if you laid hands on me, I'd floor you."
+
+"Would you have done it?"
+
+"At the time, yes, sir.  Or I'd have tried to do so."
+
+"That is all.  The locker room monitor will go with you to the
+basement.  You may go for the day.  When you come to-morrow morning,
+I will let you know what I have decided in your case."
+
+Submaster Drake bit his lips.  This was not the way to deal with
+a situation in which the principal had started the trouble.  Mr.
+Drake wouldn't have handled the situation in this way, nor would
+Dr. Thornton, the former principal.
+
+But Purcell, with cheerfulness murmured, "Very good, sir," and
+left the room, while many approving glances followed him.
+
+Messrs. Morton and Luce shuffled rather uneasily in their seats.
+Mr. Cantwell began to gather an idea that he was making his own
+bad matter worse, so he changed, making an address in which he
+touched but lightly upon the incidents of the morning.  He made
+an urgent plea for discipline at all times, and tried to impress
+upon the student body the need for absolute self-control.
+
+In view of his own hasty temper that last part of the speech nearly
+provoked an uproar of laughter.  Only respect for Mr. Drake and
+the other submasters prevented that.  The women teachers, or
+most of them, too, the boys were sure, sided with them secretly.
+
+The first recitation period of the morning was going by rapidly,
+but Mr. Cantwell didn't allow that to interfere with his remarks.
+At last, however, he called for the belated singing.  This was
+in progress when the door opened.  Mr. Eldridge, superintendent
+of schools, entered, followed by Bristow's father.  That latter
+gentleman looked angry.
+
+"Mr. Cantwell, can you spare us a few moments in your office?"
+inquired Mr. Eldridge.
+
+There was no way out of it.  The principal left with them.  In a
+few minutes there was a call for Mr. Drake. Then two of the women
+teachers were sent for.  Finally, Dick Prescott and three or four
+of the other boys were summoned.  On the complaint of a very angry
+parent Superintendent Eldridge was holding a very thorough
+investigation.  Many statements were asked for and listened to.
+
+"I think we have heard enough, haven't we, Mr. Eldridge?" asked
+the elder Bristow, at last.  "Shall I state my view of the affair
+now?"
+
+"You may," nodded the superintendent.
+
+"It is plain enough to me," snorted Mr. Bristow, "that this principal
+hasn't self-control enough to be charged with teaching discipline
+to a lot of spirited boys.  His example is bad for them---continually
+bad.  However, that is for the Board of Education to determine.
+My son will not come to school to-day, but he will attend to-morrow.
+As the first step toward righting to-day's affair I shall expect
+Mr. Cantwell to address, before the whole student body, an ample
+and satisfactory apology to my son.  I shall be present to hear
+that apology myself."
+
+"If it is offered," broke in Principal Cantwell, sardonically,
+but Superintendent Eldridge held up a hand to check him.
+
+"If you don't offer the apology, to-morrow morning, and do it
+properly," retorted Mr. Bristow, "I shall go to my lawyer and
+instruct him to get out a warrant charging you with felonious
+assault.  That is all I have to say, sir.  Mr. Eldridge, I thank
+you, sir, for your very prompt and kind help.  Good morning, all!"
+
+"At the close of the session the principal wishes to see Mr. Prescott,"
+read Mr. Cantwell from the platform just before school was dismissed
+that afternoon.
+
+Dick waited in some curiosity.
+
+"Mr. Prescott, you write for 'The Blade,' don't you?" asked Mr.
+Cantwell.
+
+"Sometimes, sir."
+
+"Then, Mr. Prescott, please understand that I forbid you to write
+anything for publication concerning this morning's happenings."
+
+Dick remained silent.
+
+"You will not, will you?"
+
+"That, Mr. Cantwell, is a matter that seems to rest between the
+editor and myself."
+
+"But I have forbidden it," insisted the principal, in surprise.
+
+"That is a matter, sir, about which you will have to see the editor.
+Here at school, Mr. Cantwell, I am under your orders.  At 'The
+Blade' office I work under Mr. Pollock's instructions."
+
+The principal looked as though he were going to grow angry.  On
+the whole, though, he felt that he had had enough of the consequences
+of his own wrath for one day.  So he swallowed hard and replied:
+
+"Very good, then, Mr. Prescott.  I shall hold you responsible
+for anything you publish that I may consider harmful to me."
+
+Dick did print an account of the trouble at school.  He confined
+himself to a statement of the facts that he had observed with
+his own eyes.  Editorially "The Blade" printed a comment to the
+effect that such scenes would have been impossible under the
+much-missed Dr. Thornton.
+
+Mr. Cantwell didn't have anything disagreeable to say to Dick
+Prescott the next morning.  Purcell took up the burden of his
+studies again without comment.  The principal did apologize effectively
+to young Bristow before the student body, while the elder Bristow
+stood grimly by.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE STEAM OF THE BATSMAN
+
+
+All of Dick & Co. had made the High School nine, though not all
+as star players in their positions.
+
+Holmes had won out for left field, and Hazelton for shortstop.
+As far as the early outdoor practice showed, the latter was going
+to be the strongest man of the school in that important position.
+
+Dalzell and Reade became first and second basemen.
+
+During the rest of March practice proceeded briskly.  Six days
+in every week the youngsters worked hard at the field in the afternoons.
+When it rained they put in their time at the gym.
+
+On the second of April Coach Luce called a meeting of the baseball
+squad at the gym.
+
+"We're a week, now, from our first game, gentlemen," announced
+the coach.  "I want you all to be in flawless condition from now
+on.  I will put a question to you, now, on your honor.  Has any
+man broken training table?"
+
+No one spoke or stirred.  Ripley, who had gotten over the worst
+of his sulks, was present, but he did not admit any of his many
+breaches of the training table diet that he was pledged to follow
+at home.
+
+"Has any man used tobacco since training began?" continued the
+coach.
+
+Again there was silence.
+
+"I am gratified to note that I can't get a response to either
+question," smiled Mr. Luce.  "This assures me that every one of
+you has kept in the strictest training.  It will show as soon
+as you begin to meet Gridley's opponents in the field.
+
+"Faithful observance of all training rules bespeaks a good state
+of discipline.  In all sports, and in team sports especially,
+discipline is our very foundation stone.  Every man must sacrifice
+himself and his feelings for the good of the team.  Each one of
+you must forget, in all baseball matters, that he is an individual.
+He must think of himself only as a spoke in the wheel.
+
+"During the baseball season I want every man of you in bed by
+nine-thirty.  On the night before a game turn in at eight-thirty.
+Make up your minds that there shall be no variation from this.
+In the mornings I want every man, when it isn't raining, to go
+out and jog along the road, in running shoes and sweaters, for
+twenty minutes without a break; for thirty minutes, instead, on
+any morning when you can spare the time.
+
+"Whenever you can do so, practice swift, short sprints.  Many
+a nine, full of otherwise good men, loses a game or a season's
+record just because this important matter of speedy base running
+has been neglected.
+
+"Not only this, but I want every one of you to be careful about
+the method of sprinting.  The man who runs flat-footedly is using
+up steam and endurance.  Run balanced well forward on the balls
+of your feet.  Throw your heels up; travel as though you were
+trying to kick the backs of your thighs.  Breathe through the
+nose, always, in running, and master to the highest degree the
+trick of making a great air reservoir of your lungs.  We have
+had considerable practice, both in jogging and in sprinting, but
+this afternoon I am going to sprint each man in turn, and I'm
+going to pick all his flaws of style or speed to small pieces.
+We will now adjourn to the field for that purpose.  Remember,
+that a batsman has two very valuable assets---his hitting judgment
+and his running steam.  Wagons are waiting outside, and we'll
+now make quick time to the field."
+
+Arriving there, Coach Luce led them at once to the dressing rooms.
+
+"Now, then, we want quick work!" he called  after the sweaters
+and ball shoes had been hurriedly donned.
+
+"Now let us go over to the diamond; go to the home plate as I
+call the names.  Darrin Ripley-Prescott-Reade-Purcell-----"
+
+And so on.  The young men named made quick time to the plate.
+
+"You're up, Darrin.  Run!  Two bases only.  Halt at second!  Ripley,
+run!  Reade, run!  Not on your flat feet, Ripley.  Up on your
+toes, man!  Reade, more steam!"
+
+Then others were given the starting word.  Coach did not run more
+men at a time than he could readily watch.
+
+"Prescott, throw your feet up behind better.  You've been jogging,
+but that isn't the gait.  Holmes, straighten back more---don't
+cramp your chest!"
+
+So the criticisms rang out.  Luce was an authority on short sprinting.
+He had made good in that line in his own college days.
+
+"Jennison, you're not running with your arms!  Forget 'em!"
+
+Jennison promptly let his arms hang motionless at his sides.
+
+"Come in, Jennison!" called coach.
+
+Jennison came in.
+
+"You mustn't work your arms like fly-wheels, nor like piston rods,
+either," explained Mr. Luce.  "Keep your elbows in fairly close
+to your sides; fists loosely closed and forward, a little higher
+than your elbows.  Now, all runners come in."
+
+Gathering the squad about him, and demanding close attention,
+Mr. Luce showed the pose of the body at the instant of starting.
+
+"Now, I'm going to run to first and second," continued the coach.
+"I want every man of you to watch closely and catch the idea.
+You note how I hold my body---sloping slightly forward, yet with
+every effort to avoid cramping the chest.  Observe how I run on
+the forward part of the ball of the foot---not exactly on the
+toes, but close to it.  See just how it is that I throw my feet
+up behind me.  And be very particular to note that I keep my hands
+and arms in just this position all the way.  Now, then, when
+you strike at a ball, and expect to hit it, have your lungs inflated
+ready for the first bound of the spurt.  Now---watching, all of
+you?"
+
+After an instant Mr. Luce shouted, "Strike!" and was off like
+a flash.  Many of the boys present had never seen coach really
+sprint before.  As they watched during the amazingly few seconds
+a yell of delight went up from them.  This was sprinting!
+
+"Did you all find time to observe?" smiled coach, as he came loping
+in from second base.
+
+"We all watched you," laughed Dick.  "But the time was short."
+
+"You see the true principle of the sprint?"
+
+"Yes; but it would take any of us years to get the sprint down
+that fine," protested Darrin.
+
+"Don't be too sure of that," retorted coach.  "Some of you will
+have doubled the style and steam of your sprint by the time you're
+running in the first game.  Now, don't forget a word of what I've
+said about the importance of true sprinting.  I've seen many a
+nine whose members had a fine battery, and all the fielders good
+men; yet, when they went to the bat and hit the leather, their
+sprinting was so poor that they lost game after game.  From now
+on, the sprint's the thing!  Yet don't overdo it by doing it all
+the time.  Take plenty of rest and deep breathing between sprints.
+Usually, a two-bag sprint is all you need.  Now, some more of
+you get out and try it."
+
+Rapidly coach called off the names of those he wanted to try out.
+Some of these young men did better than the starters, for they
+had learned from the criticisms, and from the showing of Luce's
+standard form.
+
+Presently the young men were standing about in various parts of
+the field, for none came in until called.
+
+"Ripley," said Mr. Luce, turning to that young man, "you have
+the build and the lines of a good sprinter."
+
+"Thank you, sir," nodded Fred.
+
+"And yet your performance falls off.  Your lung capacity ought
+to be all right from your appearance.  What is the trouble?  Honestly,
+have you been smoking any cigarettes?"
+
+"Not one," Fred declared promptly.
+
+Mr. Luce lifted the boy's right hand, scanning it.
+
+"If I were going to make such a denial," remarked coach coolly,
+"I'd be sure to have a piece of pumice stone, and I'd use it often
+to take away those yellowish stains."
+
+The light-brownish stains were faint on Fred's first and second
+fingers.  Yet, under careful scrutiny, they could be made out.
+
+Ripley colored uncomfortably, jerking his hand away.
+
+"Better cut out the paper pests," advised coach quietly.
+
+"Only one, once in a while," murmured the boy.  "I won't have
+even that many after this."
+
+"I should hope not," replied Mr. Luce.  "You're under training
+pledge, you know."
+
+All Fred meant by his promise was that he would use pumice stone
+painstakingly on his finger tips hereafter.
+
+Within the next few days, Dick and Darrin made about the best
+showing as to sprinting form, though many of the others did remarkably
+well.
+
+"Ripley isn't cutting out the cigarettes," decided Mr. Luce, watching
+the running of the lawyer's son.  "He proves it by his lack of
+improvement.  His respiration is all to the bad."
+
+Mr. Luce was shrewd enough to know that, in Fred Ripley, he had
+a liar to deal with, and that neither repeated warnings nor renewed
+promises were worth much.  So he held his peace.
+
+In a few days more, all the members of the Athletics Committee
+who could attend went to the field.  A practice match between
+the first and second teams had been ordered.  Ripley consented
+to pitch for second, while Dick pitched for the school nine.
+The latter nine won by a score of eleven to two, but that had
+been expected.  It was for another purpose that the members of
+the Athletics Committee were present.
+
+After the game, there was a brief conference between coach and
+the committee members.
+
+"It is time, now, to announce the appointment of captain," called
+coach, when he had again gathered the squad.  "Purcell, of the
+junior class, will be captain of the nine.  Prescott, of the sophomore
+class, will be second, or relief captain."
+
+Then the announcements were made for the second nine.
+
+And now the first game was close at hand.  The opponent was to
+be Gardiner City High School.  Gardiner possessed one of the strongest
+school nines in the state.  Coach Luce would have preferred an
+easier opponent for the first regular game, but had to take the
+only match that he could get.
+
+"However, young gentlemen," he announced to the squad on the field,
+"the Gridley idea is that all opponents look alike to us.  Your
+city and your school will demand that you win---not merely that
+you try to win!"
+
+"We'll win---no other way to do!" came the hearty promise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A DASTARD'S WORK IN THE DARK
+
+
+Thanks to the methods Dick & Co. had started the year before of
+raising funds for High School athletics through stirring appeal
+to the local pride of the wealthy residents of the city, the school
+nine had an abundant supply of money for all needs.
+
+Through the columns of "The Blade" Prescott warmed up local interest
+effectively.  Tickets sold well ahead of the time for the meeting
+with Gardiner City High School.
+
+"Prescott, you've been picked to pitch for the Gardiner game,"
+Coach Luce informed the sophomore.  "We're going to have almost
+the hardest rub of the season with this nine, on account of its
+being our first game.  Gardiner City has played two games already,
+and her men have their diamond nerve with them.  Keep yourself
+in shape, Mr. Prescott.  Don't take any even slight chance of
+getting out of condition."
+
+"You may be sure I won't," Dick replied, his eyes glowing.  "You
+know, Mr. Luce, that, though I played some on second football
+team last fall, this is the first chance I've had to play on the
+regular team."
+
+"As the game is close at hand," continued the coach, "I'd even
+be careful not to train too much.  You're in as fine condition,
+now, as you can be this season.  Sometimes, just in keeping up
+training, a fellow has something happen to him that lays him up
+for a few days."
+
+"It won't happen to me, sir," Dick asserted.  "I'm going to take
+care of myself as if I were glass, until the Gardiner game is
+over."
+
+"You won't get too nervous, will you?"
+
+"I may be a bit, before the game," Dick confessed, candidly.
+
+"But after the game starts?"
+
+"Once the game opens, I shall forget that there's any such fellow
+as Prescott, sir.  I shall be just a part of Gridley, with nothing
+individual about me."
+
+"Good!  I like to hear you talk that way," laughed Mr. Luce.
+"I hope you'll be able to keep up to it when you go to the diamond.
+Once the game opens, don't let yourself have a single careless
+moment.  Any single point we can get away from Gardiner will have
+to be done by just watching for it.  You saw them play last year?"
+
+"I did," Prescott nodded.  "Gridley won, four to three, and until
+the last half of the last inning we had only one run.  I thought
+nothing could save us that day."
+
+"Nothing did," replied the coach, "except the hard and fast can't-lose
+tradition of Gridley."
+
+"We're not going to lose this time, either," Dick declared.  "I
+know that I'm going to strike out a string in every inning.  If
+I go stale, you have Darrin to fall back on, and he's as baffling
+a pitcher as I can hope to be.  And Ripley is a wonder."
+
+"He would be," nodded Mr. Luce, sadly, "if he were a better base
+runner at the same time."
+
+It seemed as though nothing else could be talked of in Gridley
+but the opening game.  Just because it was the starter of the
+season the local military band, reinforced to thirty-five pieces,
+was to be on hand to give swing and life to the affair.
+
+"Are you going, Laura?" Dick asked, when he met Miss Bentley.
+
+"Am I going?" replied Laura, opening her eyes in amazement.  "Why,
+Dick, do you think anything but pestilence or death could keep
+me away?  Father is going to take Belle and myself.  The seats
+are already bought."
+
+Prescott's own parents were to attend.  Out of his newspaper money
+he had bought them grand stand seats, and some one else had been
+engaged to attend in the store while the game was on.
+
+"You'll have a great chance, Dick, old fellow, against a nine
+like Gardiner," said Dave Darrin.  "And, do you know, I'm glad
+it's up to you to pitch?  I'm afraid I'd be too rattled to pitch
+against a nine like Gardiner in the very first game of the season.
+All I have to do is to keep at the side and watch you."
+
+"See here, Dave Darrin," expostulated his chum, "you keep yourself
+in the best trim, and make up your mind that you may _have_ to
+be called before the game is over.  What if my wrist goes lame
+during the game?"
+
+"Pooh!  I don't believe it will, or _can_," Dave retorted.  "You're
+in much too fine shape for that, Dick."
+
+"Other pitchers have often had to be retired before a game ended,"
+Prescott rejoined, gravely.  "And I don't believe that I am the
+greatest or the most enduring ever.  Keep yourself up, Dave!
+Be ready for the call at any second."
+
+"Oh, I will, but it will be needless," Dave answered.
+
+Dalzell and Holmes were other members of the school nine squad
+who had been picked for this first game.  Purcell was to catch,
+making perhaps, the strongest battery pair that Gridley High School
+had ever put in the field.  Half of Dick & Co. were to make up
+a third of the nine in its first battle.
+
+"I'm getting a bit scared," muttered Dan, the Friday afternoon
+before the Saturday game.
+
+"Now, cut all that out," Dick advised.  "If you don't I'll report
+you to the coach and captain."
+
+This was said with a grin, and Dick went on earnestly:
+
+"Dan, the scared soldier is always a mighty big drag in any battle.
+It takes two or three other good soldiers to look after him and
+hold him to duty."
+
+"I'll admit, for myself, that I wish the druggist knew of some
+sort of pill that would  give me more confidence for this confounded
+old first game," muttered Greg Holmes.
+
+"I can tell you how to get the pill put up," Prescott hinted.
+
+"I wish you would, then." But Greg spoke dubiously.
+
+"Tell the druggist to use tragacanth paste to hold the pill together."
+
+"Yes?-----" followed Greg.
+
+"And tell the druggist to mix into each pill a pound of good old
+Yankee ginger," wound up Prescott.  "Take four, an hour apart
+before the game to-morrow."
+
+"Then I'd never play left field," grinned Greg.
+
+"Yes, you would.  You'd forget your nervousness.  Try it, Greg."
+
+The three were walking up Main Street, when they encountered Laura
+Bentley and Belle Meade.
+
+"What are you going to do to-morrow?" asked Laura, looking at
+the trio, keenly.  "Are you going to win for the glory and honor
+of good old Gridley?"
+
+"Dick is," smiled Greg.  "Dan and I are going to sit at the side
+and use foot-warmers."
+
+"You two aren't losing heart, are you?" asked Belle, looking at
+Dick Prescott's companions with some scorn.
+
+"N-n-not if you girls are all going to take things as seriously
+as that," protested Greg.
+
+"Every Gridley High School girl expects the nine to win to-morrow,"
+spoke Laura almost sternly.
+
+"Then we're going to win," affirmed Dan Dalzell.  "On second thought,
+I'll sell my footwarmers at half the cost price."
+
+"That's the way to talk," laughed Belle.  "Now, remember,
+boys---though Dick doesn't need to have his backbone stiffened---if
+you boys haven't pride enough in Gridley to carry you through
+anything, the Gridley High School girls are heart and soul in the
+game.  If you lose the game to-morrow don't any of you ever show up
+again at a class dance!"
+
+The girls went away laughing, yet they meant what they said.
+Gridley girls were baseball fans and football rooters of the most
+intense sort.
+
+Dave wanted to be abed by half past eight that evening, as Coach
+Luce had requested; but about a quarter past eight, just as he
+was about to retire, his mother discovered that she needed coffee
+for the next morning's breakfast, so she sent him to the grocer's
+on the errand.  Dick, while eating supper, thought of an item
+that he wanted to print in the next day's "Blade."  Accordingly,
+he hurried to the newspaper office as soon as the meal was over.
+It was ten minutes past eight when Dick handed in his copy to
+the night editor.
+
+"Time enough," muttered the boy, as he reached the street.  "A
+brisk jog homeward is just the thing before pulling off clothes
+and dropping in between the sheets."
+
+As Dick jogged along he remembered having noticed, on the way
+to the office, Tip Scammon in a new suit of clothes.
+
+"Tip's stock is coming up in the world," thought young Prescott.
+"But I wonder whether Tip earned that suit or stole it, or whether
+he has just succeeded in threatening more money out of Ripley.
+How foolish Fred is to stand for blackmail!  I wonder if I ought
+to speak to him about it, or give his father a hint.  I hate to
+be meddlesome.  And, by ginger!  Now I think of it, Tip looked
+rather curiously at me.  He---oh!---_murder_!"
+
+The last exclamation was wrung from Dick Prescott by a most amazing
+happening.
+
+He was passing a building in the course of erection.  It stood
+flush with the sidewalk, and the contractor had laid down a board
+walk over the sidewalk, and had covered it with a roofed staging.
+
+Just as Dick passed under this, still on a lope, a long pole was
+thrust quickly out from the blackness inside the building.  Between
+Dick's moving legs went the pole.
+
+Bump!  Down came Dick, on both hands and one knee.  Then he rolled
+over sideways.
+
+Away back in the building the young pitcher heard fast-moving
+feet.
+
+In a flash Dick tried to get up.  It took him more time than he
+had expected.  He clutched at one of the upright beams for support.
+
+Half a dozen people had seen the fall.  Stopping curiously, they
+soon turned, hurrying toward Prescott.
+
+Forgotten, in an instant, was the youngster's pain.  His face
+went white with another throbbing realization.
+
+"The game to-morrow!  This knee puts me out!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE HOUR OF TORMENTING DOUBT
+
+
+"Oh, no!  That mustn't be.  I've got to pitch in to-morrow's game!"
+
+Prescott ground out the words between his clenched teeth.  The
+consciousness of pain was again asserting itself.
+
+"What's the matter, Prescott?" called the first passer-by to reach
+him.
+
+"Matter enough," grumbled Dick, pointing to the pole that lay
+near him.  "See that thing?"
+
+"Yes.  Trip over it?"
+
+"I did.  But some one thrust it between my legs as I was running
+past here."
+
+"Sho!" exclaimed another, curiously.  "Now, who would want to
+do that?"
+
+"Anyone who didn't want me to pitch to-morrow's game, perhaps,"
+flashed Dick, with sudden divination.
+
+"What's this?" demanded a boy, breaking in through the small crowd
+that was collecting.  "Dick---you hurt?"
+
+It didn't take Dave many seconds to understand the situation.
+
+"I'll bet I know who did it!" he muttered, vengefully.
+
+"Who?" spoke up one of the men.
+
+But Dick gave a warning nudge.  "Oh, well!" muttered Dave Darrin.
+"We'll settle this thing all in our own good time."
+
+"Let me have your arm, Dave," begged young Prescott.  "I want
+to see how well I can walk."
+
+The young pitcher had already been experimenting, cautiously,
+to see how much weight he could bear on his injured left leg.
+
+"Take my arm on the other side," volunteered a sympathetic man
+in the crowd.
+
+Dick was about to do so, when the lights of an auto showed as
+the machine came close to the curb.
+
+"Here's a doctor," called some one.
+
+"Which one?" asked Dick.
+
+"Bentley."
+
+"Good!" muttered Dave.  "Dr. Bentley is medical examiner to the
+High School athletic teams.  Ask Dr. Bentley if he won't come
+in here.  Stand still, Dick, and put all the weight you can on
+your sound leg."
+
+Prescott was already doing this.
+
+Dr. Bentley, a strong looking man of about fifty, rather short
+though broad-shouldered, took a quick survey of the situation.
+
+"One of you men help me put Prescott in the tonneau of my car,"
+he directed, "and come along with me to Prescott's home.  The
+lad must not step on that leg until it has been looked at."
+
+Dick found himself being lifted and placed in a comfortable seat
+in the after part of the auto.  Dave and the man who had helped
+the physician got in with him.
+
+Barely a minute later Dr. Bentley stopped his car before the Prescott
+book store.
+
+"You stay in the car a minute," directed the physician.  "I want
+to speak to your mother, so she won't be scared to death."
+
+Mrs. Prescott, from whom Dick had inherited much of his own pluck,
+was not the kind of woman to faint.  She quickly followed Dr.
+Bentley from the store.
+
+"I'm hurt only in my feelings, mother," said Dick cheerfully.
+"I'm afraid I have a little wrench that will keep me out of the
+game tomorrow."
+
+"That's almost a tragedy, I know," replied Mrs. Prescott bravely.
+
+The physician directing, the boy was lifted from the car, while
+Mrs. Prescott went ahead to open the door.
+
+Dave Darrin followed, his eyes flashing.  Dave had his own theory
+to account for this state of affairs.
+
+Into his own room Dick was carried, and laid on the bed.  Mrs.
+Prescott remained outside while Dave helped undress his chum.
+
+"Now, let us see just how bad this is," mused the physician aloud.
+
+"It isn't so very bad," smiled Dick.  "I wouldn't mind at all,
+if it weren't for the game to-morrow.  I'll play, anyway."
+
+"Huh!" muttered Dave, incredulously.
+
+Dr. Bentley was running his fingers over the left knee, which
+looked rather red.
+
+"Does this hurt?  Does this?  Or this" inquired the medical man,
+pressing on different parts of the knee.
+
+"No," Dick answered, in each case.
+
+"We don't want grit, my boy.  We want the truth."
+
+"Why, no; it doesn't hurt," Dick insisted.  "I believe I could
+rub that knee a little, and then walk on it."
+
+"I hope that's right," Dave muttered, half incredulously.
+
+Dr. Bentley made some further examination before he stated:
+
+"I knew there was nothing broken there, but I feared that the
+ligaments of the knee had been strained.  That might have put
+you out of the game for the season, Prescott."
+
+"I'll be able to sprint in the morning," declared the young pitcher,
+with spirit.
+
+"You fell on your hands, as well, didn't you?" asked the physician.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"That saved you from worse trouble, then.  The ligaments are not
+torn at all.  The worst you've met with, Prescott, is a wrench
+of the knee, and there's a little swelling.  It hurt to stand
+on your foot when you first tried to do so, didn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"It would probably hurt a little less, now.  No---don't try it,"
+as Dick started to bolster himself up.  "You want that knee in
+shape at the earliest moment, don't you?"
+
+"Of course I do, doctor."
+
+"Then lie very quiet, and do, in everything, just what you are
+told."
+
+"I've got to pitch to-morrow afternoon, you know, doctor.  And
+I've got to run bases."
+
+Dr. Bentley pursed his lips.
+
+"There's a chance in a thousand that you'll be able, Prescott.
+The slight swelling is the worst thing we have to deal with,
+I'm glad to say.  We'll have to keep the leg pretty quiet, and
+put cold compresses on frequently."
+
+"I'll stay here and do it," volunteered Dave, promptly.
+
+"You have to pitch to-morrow, Dave, if anything _should_ make the
+coach order me off the field," interposed Dick, anxiously.  "And
+you ought to be home and in bed now."
+
+"If Mrs. Prescott will put on the bandages up to one o'clock to-night
+that will be doing well enough," suggested Dr. Bentley.  "I shall
+be in to look at the young man quite early in the morning.  But
+don't attempt to get up for anything, do you understand, Prescott?
+You know---" here Dr. Bentley assumed an air of authority---"
+I'm more than the mere physician.  I'm medical director to your nine.
+So you're in duty bound to follow my orders to the letter."
+
+"I will---if you'll promise me that I can pitch," promised the
+boy fervently.
+
+"I can't promise, but I'll do my best."
+
+"And, Dave," pressed Dick, "you'll skip home, now, and get a big
+night's rest, won't you?  There's a bare chance that you _might_
+have to throw the ball to-morrow.  But I won't let you, if I can
+stop it," Prescott added wistfully.
+
+So Dave departed, for he was accustomed to following the wishes
+of the head of Dick & Co. in such matters.
+
+Mrs. Prescott had come in as soon as the lad had been placed between
+the sheets.  Dr. Bentley gave some further directions, then left
+something that would quiet the pain without having the effect
+of an opiate.
+
+"It all depends on keeping the leg quiet and keeping the cold
+compresses renewed," were the medical man's parting words.
+
+Twenty minutes later Dave telephoned the store below.  Darrin
+was in a state of great excitement.
+
+"Tell Dick, when he's awake in the morning," begged Dave of Mr.
+Prescott, who answered the call, "that Gridley pitchers seem to
+be in danger to-night.  At least, _two_ of 'em are.  I was right
+near home, and running a bit, when I passed the head of the alley
+near our house.  A bag of sand was thrown out right in front of
+my feet.  How I did it I don't quite know yet, but I jumped over
+that bag, and came down on my feet beyond it.  It was a fearfully
+close call, though.  No; I guess you hadn't better tell Dick to-night.
+But you can tell him in the morning."
+
+Though "The Blade" somehow missed the matter, there were a good
+many in Gridley who had heard the news by Saturday morning.  It
+traveled especially among the High School boys.  More than a dozen
+of them were at the book store as soon as that place was opened.
+
+"How's Dick?" asked all the callers.
+
+"Doing finely," replied the elder Prescott, cheerily.
+
+"Great!  Is he going to pitch this afternoon?"
+
+"Um---I can't say about that."
+
+"If he can't, Mr. Prescott, that'll be one of Gridley's chances
+gone over the fence."
+
+Dave was on hand as early as he could be.  Dick had already been
+told of the attempt on his chum the night before.
+
+"You didn't see the fellow well enough to make out who he was?"
+Prescott pressed eagerly.
+
+"No," admitted Dave, sadly.  "After a few seconds I got over my
+bewilderment enough to try to give chase.  But the dastard had
+sneaked away, cat-foot.  I know who it was, though, even if I
+didn't see him."
+
+"Tip Scammon?"
+
+"Surely," nodded Darrin.  "He's Ripley's right hand at nasty work,
+isn't he?"
+
+"I'd hate to think that Fred had a hand in such mean business,"
+muttered Dick, flushing.
+
+"Don't be simple," muttered Dave.  "Who wanted to be crack pitcher
+for the nine?  Who pitches to-day, if neither of us can?  That
+would be a mean hint to throw out, if Ripley's past conduct didn't
+warrant the suspicion."
+
+Later in the morning there was another phase of the sensation,
+and Dave came back with it.  He was just in time to find Dick
+walking out into the little parlor of the flat, Dr. Bentley watching.
+
+"Fine!" cheered Dave.  "How is he, doctor?"
+
+"Doing nicely," nodded Dr. Bentley.
+
+"But how about the big problem---can he pitch to-day?"
+
+"That's what we're trying to guess," replied the physician.  "Now,
+see here, Prescott, you're to sit over there by the window, in
+the sunlight.  During the first hour you will get up once in every
+five minutes and walk around the room once, then seating yourself
+again.  In the second hour, you'll walk around twice, every five
+minutes.  After that you may move about as  much as you like,
+but don't go out of the room.  I think you can, by this gentle
+exercise, work out all the little stiffness that's left there."
+
+"And now for my news," cried Dave, as soon as the medical man
+had gone.  "Fred Ripley ran into trouble, too."
+
+"Got hurt, you mean?" asked Dick quickly.
+
+"Not quite," went on Darrin, making a face.  "When Fred was going
+into the house last night he tripped slightly---against a rope
+that had been stretched across the garden path between two stakes."
+
+"But Fred wasn't hurt?"
+
+"No; he says he tripped, but he recovered himself."
+
+"I'm afraid you don't believe that, Dave?"
+
+"I ought to, anyway," retorted Darrin dryly.  "Fred is showing
+the rope."
+
+"A piece of rope is easy enough to get," mused Dick.
+
+"Yep; and a lie is easy enough for some fellows to tell.  But
+some of the fellows are inclined to believe Rip, so they've started
+a yarn that Gardiner High School is up to tricks, and that some
+fellows have been sent over in advance to cripple our box men
+for to-day."
+
+"That's vile!" flushed Prescott indignantly, as he got up to make
+the circuit of the room.  "The Gardiner fellows have always been
+good, fair  sportsmen.  They wouldn't be back of any tricks of
+that sort."
+
+"Well, Fred has managed to cover himself, anyway," returned Dave
+rather disgustedly.  "He called his father and mother out to see
+the rope before he cut it away from the stakes.  Oh, I guess a
+good many fellows will believe Ripley's yarn!"
+
+"I'm afraid you don't, Dave;"
+
+"Oh, yes; I'm easy," grinned Darrin.
+
+"Can you see two young ladies, Richard?" asked Mrs. Prescott,
+looking into the room.
+
+"Certainly, mother, if I get a chance.  My vision is not impaired
+in the least," laughed Dick.
+
+Mrs. Prescott stood aside to admit Laura and Belle, then followed
+them into the room.
+
+"We came to make sure that Gridley is not to lose its great pitcher
+to-day," announced Laura.
+
+"Then your father must have told you that I'd do," cried Dick,
+eagerly.
+
+"Father?" pouted Miss Bentley.  "You don't know him then.  One
+can never get a word out of father about any of his patients.
+But he said we might call."
+
+The visit of the girls brightened up twenty minutes of the morning.
+
+"Of course," said Laura, as they rose to go, "you mustn't attempt
+to pitch if you really can't do it, or if it would hurt you for
+future games."
+
+"I'm afraid the coach won't let me pitch, unless your father says
+I can," murmured Dick, with a wry face.
+
+Few in Gridley who knew the state of affairs had any idea that
+Dick Prescott would be able to stand in the box against Gardiner.
+But the young pitcher boarded a trolley car, accompanied by Dave
+Darrin, and both reached the Athletic Field before two o'clock.
+Dr. Bentley was there soon after.  In the Gridley dressing room,
+Dick's left leg was bared, while Coach Luce drew off his coat
+and rolled up his shirt sleeves.  Under the physician's direction
+the coach administered a very thorough massage, following this
+with an alcohol rubbing.
+
+When it was all over Dick rose to exhibit the motions of that
+leg before the eyes of the doubtful physician.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WHEN THE HOME FANS QUIVERED
+
+
+"Is Prescott going to toss!"
+
+"They say not."
+
+"It's a shame."
+
+"And there's a suspicion," whispered one of the High School speakers,
+"that the other name of the shame is Fred Ripley."
+
+"He ought to be lynched!"
+
+"But he claims that an attempt was made against him, also."
+
+"Ripley never was strong on the truth."
+
+Though the gossip about Fred Ripley was not general, the anxiety
+over Pitcher Prescott was heard on all sides.
+
+"It'll be a sure hoodoo if Prescott can't pitch the season's first
+game," declared a man who seldom missed a High School game on
+the home diamond.
+
+Before three o'clock the grand stand was comfortably filled.
+The cheaper seats beyond held about as many spectators as they
+were built to hold.
+
+The attendance, that day, was nearly three thousand.  Gardiner
+had sent a delegation of nearly one-tenth of this number.
+
+Before three o'clock the band began to play.  Whenever the musicians
+launched into a popular baseball ditty the crowd joined with the
+words.
+
+"Prescott is going to pitch!"
+
+"No, he isn't."
+
+"The word has just been passed around.  Besides, his name's down
+on the score card."
+
+"The score cards were printed yesterday."
+
+Finally, curiosity could stand it no longer.  A committee left
+the grand stand to go toward the dressing rooms building.  But
+a policeman waved them back.
+
+"None but players and officials allowed in there," declared the
+officer.
+
+"We want to find out whether Prescott is going to pitch," urged
+the spokesman.
+
+"I heard something about that," admitted the policeman.
+
+"What was it?  Quick!"
+
+"Let me see.  Oh!  Prescott wants to pitch; the coach is half
+willing, but the doctor ain't certain."
+
+This was the best they could do, so the committee returned to
+their seats.  But nothing was settled.
+
+At three-twenty, just as the band ceased playing, the compact
+bunch of Gardiner fans sent up the yell:
+
+"Here they come!  Our fellows!  The only ones!"
+
+Using their privilege as visiting team, the Gardiner players were
+now filing on to the field for a little warming-up practice.
+
+"Throw him down, McCluskey!" tooted the band, derisively.  But
+the cheers from the wild Gardiner fans nearly drowned out the
+instrumental racket.  Quickly the visitors had a practice ball
+in motion.  Now the home fans waited breathlessly.
+
+At last the band played again.  "See the Conquering Hero Comes!"
+
+Gridley High School, natty and clean looking in their gray and
+black uniforms, with black stockings, caps and belts, came out
+on the field.  Instantly there was craning of necks to see if
+Prescott were among the players.
+
+"There he is!" yelled one of the High School fans.  "There's our
+Dick!  Wow!"
+
+Cheering went up from every Gridley seat.  The bleachers contributed
+a bedlam of noise.  "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!" blared forth
+the band.  Girls and women stood up, waving fans, handkerchiefs,
+banners.  Another round of cheering started.  Dick walked quietly,
+looking neither to right nor left.  Yet the boy was wondering,
+in astonishment, if kings usually got such a welcome.
+
+By the time the cheering had ceased, Fred Ripley, also in uniform,
+strolled out and walked toward the sub bench.
+
+A hiss greeted Ripley.  It was not loud, nor insistent, and presently
+died out.  But Fred went as white as a sheet, then, with eyes
+cast downward, he dropped to his seat at the end of the sub bench.
+His chest heaved, for the greeting had unnerved him.
+
+"I wonder why I usually get that sort of thing, while that fellow
+Prescott has a band to play him in," muttered Fred.
+
+The bulk of the audience was now quiet, while the three hundred
+visiting fans roared out one of their school yells.
+
+Then followed a noisy whooping of the Gridley High School yell.
+
+Coach Luce had walked over to a post behind the sub bench.
+
+Umpire Foley, his mask dangling from his left hand, now summoned
+Purcell and the Gardiner captain.  A coin spun up in the air.
+Gardiner's diamond chieftain won the toss, and chose first chance
+at the bat.  Purcell's men scattered to their fielding posts,
+while the young captain of the home team fastened on his catcher's
+mask.
+
+The umpire took a ball from its package, inspected it, then tossed
+it to Dick Prescott, who stood in the box awaiting it.  There
+was a moment's tense expectation, followed by the command that
+set all the real fans wild:
+
+"_Play ball_!"
+
+Gardiner High School had put up a husky young giant who stood
+beside the plate, a confident grin on his face as he swung the
+bat.
+
+Dick moistened his fingers.  The batsman saw that, and guessed
+what was coming.  He didn't guess quite low enough, however, for,
+though he stooped and swung the stick lower, the ball went under
+it by three inches.
+
+"Strike one!" called Mr. Foley, judicially.
+
+An imperceptible signal told Purcell what was coming next.  Then
+it came---a jump ball.  This time Gardiner's batsman aimed low
+enough but it proved to be a jump ball.
+
+"Strike two!"
+
+A howl of glee went up from all quarters, save from the Gardiner
+visitors.
+
+Again Dick signaled.  His third was altogether different---a bewildering
+out-curve.  Gardiner's batsman didn't offer, but Purcell caught
+the leather neatly.
+
+"Strike three, and out!  One out!" announced the umpire.
+
+"Whoop!" The joy from the home fans was let loose.  With a disgusted
+look, Gardiner's man slouched back to the players' bench.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE GRIT OF THE GRAND OLD GAME
+
+
+In that half of the inning it was one, two, three---down and out!
+
+Even Fred Ripley found himself gasping with admiration of Prescott's
+wonderfully true pitching.
+
+Yet the joy of the home fans was somewhat curbed when Gridley
+went to bat and her third man struck out after two of the nine
+had reached bases.
+
+So the first inning closed without score.  Gardiner had found
+that Gridley was "good," and the latter realized that even young
+Prescott's pitching could not do it all.
+
+The first five innings went off quickly, neither side scoring.
+
+"It'll be a tie at dark," sighed some of the fans.
+
+"Oh, well, a tie doesn't score against Gridley," others added,
+consolingly.
+
+In the five innings Dick Prescott had to run twice.  The first
+time he was left at first base.  The second time he had reached
+second, and was cautiously stealing third, when Gridley's batsman,
+Captain Purcell, struck his side out on a foul hit.
+
+"How's your wrist holding up?" asked Purcell, in a low tone, as
+Dick came in.
+
+"It feels strong.
+
+"Do you think Darrin had better have the rest of the game?"
+
+"Not on account of my wrist."
+
+"But can you run the bases to the end?"
+
+"If it doesn't call for any more running than we've had," smiled
+Dick.
+
+Then he caught the ball, held it an instant, signaled, and let
+drive.  It was the same Gardiner batsman whom Prescott had struck
+out at the opening of the game.  This time the young giant got
+the range of the ball by sheer good guessing.
+
+Crack!  It soared.  Right field ran backward after the ball.
+Now the Gardiner fans were up and yelling like Comanches.
+
+"Leg it, Prendergast!"
+
+The runner touched first bag, then darted on for second.  Right
+field was still after the ball.
+
+"Whoop!  He's pulverized the second bag!"
+
+"Just look at third, old man, and come steaming home over the
+plate!"
+
+That runner had been well trained.  He was close upon third base
+and going with unabated speed.
+
+He kicked the bag---then a warning cry told him that right field
+had the ball.
+
+A swift look over his shoulder, and Prendergast fell back upon
+third just before the ball dropped into the third baseman's hands.
+
+"Safe on third!" came the umpire's announcement.  The ball arched
+over to Dick Prescott.  Purcell signaled him to let the ball come
+in over the plate.
+
+Now the air was all a-tingle.  The visitors had a run in sight.
+Dick felt the thrill, but steeled himself against any impulsiveness
+or loss of nerve.  He signaled the drive, then let go.  Three
+strikes and out, the ball all the while so closely under control
+that Prendergast fidgeted but did not dare steal far from third.
+
+Then came Dowdy to the bat.  He was far and away the best batsman
+from Gardiner.  Prendergast began to edge in.
+
+"Strike one!" from the umpire.
+
+Crack!  The leather hung low, a little to the left of shortstop,
+who raced after it.  Prendergast was going in at a tremendous
+clip.  As shortstop reached the ball, he swooped down on it, stopped
+its rolling, and rising quickly, hurled it in across the plate.
+
+Purcell was waiting, and made a good catch.  It looked close.
+Everyone eyed Umpire Foley.
+
+"Runner safe home," he decided.
+
+There was a gasp of disappointment, but the decision was fair.
+Prendergast had made good by a fraction of a second---and there
+was a man on first.
+
+"Oh, Dick!  Oh, Prescott!" wailed the home fans.  "We look to
+you."
+
+Dick's answer was to strike the next man out, with never a chance
+for the man on first to steal away from Dalzell and make second.
+Then a short fly filled first and second.  Dick struck out a
+second man---then a third.
+
+But this was getting on Gridley's nerves.  Despite Prescott's
+fine pitching, it began to look as though Gardiner High School
+was fitted for getting the only one or two runs that the game
+would witness.
+
+In the eighth, Gardiner got a second run, but that inning closed
+with Gridley as much "stumped" as ever.
+
+"Why play the ninth?" yelled one of the visitor fans.  "Let's
+go and drink tea.  Gridley boys are nice little fellows, but-----"
+
+"How's that wrist?" asked Captain Purcell, anxiously, as the players
+changed places to begin the ninth.  Coach Luce had stepped close,
+too, and looked anxious.
+
+"Just a bit lame, of course," Dick admitted.  "But I'm going to
+pull through."
+
+"You're sure about it?" Purcell asked.
+
+"Sure enough!"
+
+The first Gardiner man to bat went out on the third ball sent
+past him.  Then a second.  Now came Prendergast to the bat, blood
+in his eye.  He glared grimly at young Prescott, as though to
+say:
+
+"Now, I'll take it out of you for making a comedian of me the
+first time I held the stick!"
+
+Dick felt, somehow, that Prendergast would make good.
+
+The first ball that Prescott put over the plate was a called strike.
+At the second serve---
+
+Crack! and Prendergast was running.
+
+Dan Dalzell gauged the flight of that ball better than anyone
+else on the diamond.  He side-stepped like a flash, falling back
+a couple of paces.  Then pulling the leather down out of the air,
+he leaped back to first.  He was holding the ball in his left
+hand when Prendergast, breathing fast, hopped at the bag.
+
+"Runner out!" called Umpire Foley.  Prendergast stamped back,
+with a look of huge disgust.  And now Gridley came in at the bat.
+
+"It's no use!  We're whipped!"  That was the comment everywhere
+as Gridley came in from the field prepared for a last effort.
+
+Gridley's first and second men went bad---the first struck out,
+and the second knocked a foul bit that was caught.
+
+"Greg, you've got to go to bat next," whispered Dick to Holmes,
+just a moment before.  "Oh, _don't_ you strike out.  Hit something
+drive it somewhere.  Remember Gridley can't and won't lose!  Get
+the Gridley spirit soaked into you instanter.  Chase that leather
+_somewhere_!"
+
+Gardiner's pitcher, his face beaming, faced Holmes, whom he did
+not regard as one of the team's heavyweights in batting skill.
+Visiting fans were rising, preparing to leave the stand.
+
+"Strike one!"
+
+"There he goes!"
+
+"Strike two!"
+
+"It's all over."
+
+Crack!  Greg was off like a colt.  Running was in his line.  He
+had swatted the ball somewhere over into left field, and he didn't
+care where it landed.  Gardiner's left field was forced to pick
+up the leather.
+
+Greg didn't know that anyone had the ball.  He didn't care; he
+had to make first, anyway.
+
+He kicked the bag, turning for the second lap.  Then he saw the
+sphere coming through the air, and slid back.
+
+"Runner safe on first!"
+
+Gridley, with its nerve always on hand, felt that there was a
+ray of hope.  The good, old, strong and fierce school yell went
+up.  The soprano voices of the girls sounded high on the air.
+
+Now Dan Dalzell came up to the plate, bat in hand.  Dan hadn't
+hit a thing during the afternoon, but he meant to do so, now.
+It was either that or the swan-song!
+
+"Strike one!---" a groan came from Gridley, a cheer from Gardiner.
+
+But Dan was not in the least confused.  He was ready for the next
+ball.
+
+_Biff_!  It was the pistol shot for Greg, who was off like a two-legged
+streak, with Dan, ninety feet behind but striving to catch up.
+The ball came to first only a quarter-second behind Dan's arrival.
+
+"Both runners safe!"
+
+"Oh, now, _Purcell_!"
+
+The man now hovering over the plate knew he simply _had_ to do something.
+He was captain of the nine.  He had caught like a Pinkerton detective
+all afternoon, but now something was demanded of his brain and
+brawn.
+
+"Strike one!" called the umpire, with voice that grated.
+
+"Good-bye!"
+
+"Strike two!" came again the umpire's rasping tones.
+
+Even now Gridley fans wouldn't admit cold feet, but the chills
+were starting that way.
+
+Crack!
+
+"Whoop!" Then the battle-cry of Gridley rose frantically from
+all the seats---Purcell had made first base.
+
+"Prescott!"
+
+"It's yours!"
+
+"_Don't_ fall down!"
+
+Schimmelpodt, a wealthy old German contractor, rose from his seat,
+shouting hoarsely:
+
+"Bresgott I gif fifdy tollars by dot Athletic Committee bis you
+win der game vor Gridley!"
+
+The offer brought a laugh and a cheer.  Schimmelpodt rarely threw
+away money.
+
+Dick, smiling confidently, stood bat in hand.
+
+Most other boys might have felt nervous with so much depending
+on them.  But Dick was one of the kind who would put off growing
+nervous until the need of steady nerves was past.
+
+It was always impossible for him to admit defeat.
+
+The game stood two to nothing in favor of the Gardiner nine, but
+Gridley had bases full.
+
+Dick's help might not have been needed for all the uneasiness
+that he displayed.
+
+There was no pallor about his face, nor any flush.  His hands
+grasped the willow easily, confidently.
+
+"Strike one!"
+
+Prescott had missed the ball, but it failed to rattle him.
+
+"Strike two!"
+
+The boy was still undaunted, though he had lost two chances out
+of the three.
+
+Again he tried for the ball.
+
+Swish!  It was a foul hit, out sidewise.  Gardiner's catcher darted
+nimbly in under the ball.
+
+Home fans groaned.
+
+As for Dick, he didn't turn his head to look.  Catcher had the
+ball in his fingers, but fumbled it.  It slipped.
+
+"Hard luck," muttered the standing Gardiner fans, waiting to give
+their final cheer of victory.
+
+Dick's next sight of the ball was when it sailed lazily over his
+head, into the hands of the man in the box.
+
+"I hope Dick is bracing," groaned one of Gridley's subs.
+
+"He isn't," retorted Dave Darrin.  "He's just on the job, steady
+as iron, cool as a cucumber and confident as an American."
+
+Gardiner's pitcher measured his man critically, then signaled
+the next ball.
+
+It came, just as Dick, closely watching the pitcher, expected
+it to come, a swift, graceful out-curve.
+
+_Bang_!
+
+At least it sounded like a gunshot.  Dick Prescott struck the
+ball with all his might.  He  struck with greatest force just
+barely below the center of the sphere.
+
+It was a fearful crack, aimed right and full of steam and speed.
+
+"_Wow_!"
+
+Three base-runners, at the first sound had started running for
+all they were worth.  Dick's bat flew like a projectile itself,
+fortunately hitting no one, and Prescott was running like Greek
+of old on the Olympic field.
+
+One man in!
+
+The ball had gone past the furthest limits of outfield.  Before
+it had touched the ground Dick Prescott touched first and started
+for second.
+
+Gardiner right and left fields were running a race with center
+field.
+
+The latter was the one to get it, but his two supporters simply
+couldn't stand still.
+
+Prescott kicked the second bag.  Almost at the same instant the
+second man was in.
+
+Score tied!
+
+What about that ball?
+
+It was rolling on the ground, now, many yards ahead of the flying
+center-field.
+
+Dick was nearing third, the man ahead of him fast nearing the
+home plate.
+
+Centerfield had the ball in his hands, whirling as if on springs.
+
+Third man safe home---Dick Prescott turning the third bag and
+into the last leg of the diamond.
+
+Center-field threw with all his might, but the distance was long.
+
+Second base had to stoop for the ball.  Even at that, it got past
+his hands.  He wheeled, bolted after the ball, got it and made
+a throw to the catcher.
+
+Out of the corner of his eyes, young Prescott saw the arching
+ball descend, a good throw and a true one.
+
+Yet, ere it landed in the catcher's hand, Dick, by the fraction
+of a second, had sprinted desperately across the home plate.
+
+"Runner safe home!"
+
+"Whoo-oopee!  Wow!  wow!  wow!" rang the chorus of thousands.
+
+"Four to two!"
+
+"What about Gridley, _now_?"
+
+"What about Dick Prescott?"
+
+Then words were lost in volleys of cheers.  The Gardiner fans
+who had risen to cheer slipped dejectedly down from the stand.
+
+And Dick Prescott?
+
+While running he had given no thought to his knee.
+
+Now, as he dashed across the plate, and heard the umpire's decision,
+he tried to stop, but slipped and went down.  He tried to rise,
+but found it would be better to sit where he was.
+
+The game was over.  Gridley, having made the winning runs in the
+last half of the ninth, the rules of the game forbade any further
+attempts to pile up score.
+
+One of the first of the great crowd to leap over into the field
+and cross the diamond was Coach Luce.  He ran straight to the
+young pitcher's side, kneeling close by him.
+
+"You've given your knee a fearful twist, Prescott.  I could see
+it," said Luce sympathetically.
+
+"What do I care?" Dick called back, his face beaming.  "The score's
+safe, isn't it?"
+
+Had it not been for the state of his knee Prescott would have
+been snatched up by a dozen hands and rushed across the field
+in triumph.  But Mr. Luce waved them all back.  Dick's father
+and mother came hurrying across the field to see what was wrong
+with their boy.
+
+"Let me lean on you as I get up, Mr. Luce," begged Dick, and the
+coach was only too quick to help the boy to his feet.  Then, with
+the aid of Luce's arm, Dick was able to show his parents that
+he could walk without too much of a limp.
+
+"You did it for us, Dick, old boy!" greeted Captain Purcell, as
+soon as he could get close.
+
+"Did I?" snorted the young pitcher.  "I thought there were four
+of us in it, with five others helping a bit."
+
+"It was the crack you gave that ball that brought us in," glowed
+Purcell.  "Gracious, I don't believe that Gardiner pitcher was
+ever stung as badly as that before!"
+
+The band was playing, now.  As the strain stopped, and the young
+pitcher came across the field, leaning now on Dave Darrin's arm,
+the music crashed out again into "Hail to the Chief!"
+
+"You see, Purcell.  You're getting your share of the credit now,"
+laughed Dick.  "The band is playing something about a captain,
+isn't it?"
+
+In the dressing room Dick had abundant offers of help.  Fred Ripley
+was the only silent one in the group.  He changed his togs for
+street clothes as quickly as he could and disappeared.  Later,
+Dave Darrin and Greg Holmes helped Dick on to a street car, and
+saw him safely home.  That knee required further treatment by
+Dr. Bentley, but there was time, now, and no game depending on
+the result.
+
+"Fred, I can't say much for your appetite tonight," remarked his
+father at the evening meal.
+
+"Neither can I, sir," Fred answered.
+
+"Are you out of sorts?"
+
+"Never felt any better, sir."
+
+"Being out in the open air all this April afternoon should have
+given you an appetite.
+
+"I didn't do anything this afternoon, except sit around in my
+ball togs," Fred grumbled.
+
+"I hope you'll have a few good games to pitch this season," his
+father went on.  "You worked hard enough, and I spent money enough
+on the effort to prepare you."
+
+"You can't beat some people's luck---unless you do it with a club,"
+grumbled Fred, absently.
+
+"Eh?" asked his father, looking up sharply from his plate.  But
+the boy did not explain.
+
+Late that night, however, breaking training rules for the tenth
+time, Fred was out on the sly to meet Tip Scammon.  The pair
+of them laid plans that aimed to stop Dick Prescott's career
+as High School pitcher.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+SOME MEAN TRICKS LEFT OVER
+
+
+Mr. Schimmelpodt had offered that fifty dollars in a moment of
+undue excitement.
+
+For two or three days afterward he wondered if he couldn't find
+some way out of "spending" the money that would yet let him keep
+his self-respect.
+
+Finding, at last, that he could not, he wrote out the check and
+mailed it.  He pinned the check to a half-sheet of paper on which
+he wrote, "Rah mit Prescott!"
+
+A few days later Mr. Schimmelpodt turned from Main Street into
+the side street on which Dick's parents kept their store and their
+home.
+
+"Ach!  Und dere is de door vot that boy lives by," thought Mr.
+Schimmelpodt, just before he passed Dick's door.  "Yen der game
+over was, und I saw dot boy go down---ach!"
+
+For Mr. Schimmelpodt had suited the action to the word.  Out from
+under him his feet shot.  But Mr. Schimmelpodt, being short and
+flabby of leg, with a bulky body above, came down as slowly as
+big bodies are supposed to move.  It was rather a gradual tumble.
+Having so much fat on all portions of his body Mr. Schimmelpodt
+came down with more astonishment than jar.
+
+"Ach!  Such a slipperyishness!" he grunted.  "Hey, Bresgott---!
+look out!"
+
+The door had opened suddenly at this early hour in the morning.
+Dick, charged with doing a breakfast errand for his mother at
+the last moment, sprang down the steps and started to sprint away.
+
+At the first step on the sidewalk, however, Dick's landing foot
+shot out from under him.
+
+He tried to bring the other down in time to save himself.  That,
+too, slipped.  Dick waved his arms, wind-mill fashion in the quick
+effort to save himself.
+
+"Bresgott," observed the seated contractor, solemnly, "I bet you
+five tollars to den cents dot you-----"
+
+Here Schimmelpodt waited until Dick settled the question of the
+center of gravity by sprawling on the sidewalk.
+
+"---Dot you fall," finished the German, gravely.  "I---Und I yin!"
+
+"Why, good morning, Mr. Schimmelpodt," Dick responded, as he started
+to get up.  "What are you doing here."
+
+"Oh, choost vaiting to see bis you do the same thing," grunted
+the contractor.  "It was great sport---not?"
+
+"Decidedly 'not,'" laughed Dick, stepping gingerly over a sidewalk
+that had been spread thinly with some sticky substance.  "Can
+I help you up, Mr. Schimmelpodt?"
+
+The German, who knew his own weight, glanced at the boy's slight
+figure rather doubtfully.
+
+"Bresgott, how many horsepower are you alretty?"
+
+But Dick, standing carefully so that he would not slip again,
+displayed more strength than the contractor had expected.  In
+another moment the German was on his feet, moving cautiously away,
+his eyes on the sidewalk.  Yet he did not forget to mutter his
+thanks to the boy.
+
+As Dick now went on his way again, slipping around the corner
+and into a bakeshop, he noticed that his right wrist felt a bit
+queer.
+
+"Well, I haven't broken anything," he murmured, feeling of the
+wrist with his left hand.  "But what on earth happened to the
+sidewalk."
+
+As he paused before his door on the way back, he looked carefully
+down at the sidewalk.  Right before the door several flags in
+the walk appeared to be thinly coated with some colorless specimen
+of slime.
+
+"It looks as though it might be soft soap," pondered Prescott,
+examining the stuff more closely.  "It'll be dry in a half an
+hour more, but I think I had better fix it."
+
+In the basement was a barrel of sand that was used for sanding
+the icy sidewalk in winter.  As soon as Dick had run upstairs
+with the bread he went below, got a few handfuls of sand and fixed
+the sidewalk.
+
+At recess Dick noticed just enough about his wrist to make him
+speak about it to Submaster Luce.
+
+"Let me see it," demanded coach.  "Hm!" he muttered.  "Another
+peculiar accident, and only two days before our game with Chichester!
+See Dr. Bentley about your wrist at his office this afternoon.
+I'm beginning to think, Prescott, that it's a fortunate thing
+for you that the medical director is paid out of the fund.  You'd
+bankrupt an ordinary citizen if you're going to keep on having
+these tumbles."
+
+Dr. Bentley's verdict was that, while the wrist was not in a condition
+that need bother men much in ordinary callings, yet, as a pitcher's
+wrist, it would need rest and care.
+
+"I've just got the tip that I'm to pitch in the Chichester game,"
+said Dave, coming to his chum that afternoon.
+
+"Yes; Doe thinks I ought to look after this wrist---that it wouldn't
+stand extraordinary strain during the next few days.  But, Dave,
+old fellow, watch out!  Keep your eye on the sidewalks near your
+home.  Don't prowl in lonely places after dark.  Act as if you
+were made of glass until you get on the field at the Chichester
+game."
+
+Darrin glanced shrewdly at his friend, then nodded.
+
+"I'm on, Dick!  Confound that fellow, Ripley.  And he's as slick
+and slippery as an eel.  I don't suppose there is any way that
+we can catch him?"
+
+"If I knew a way I'd use it," growled Prescott.  "I'm sick of
+having this thing so onesided all the time.  Ripley plans, and
+we pay the piper.  The blackguard!"
+
+"Then you're sure Ripley is at the bottom of these accidents?"
+
+"The accidents are planned," retorted Dick.  "Who else would care
+to plan them, except that disagreeable fellow?"
+
+"I'd like to get just proof enough to justify me in demanding
+that he stand up before me for twenty rounds," gritted Dave Darrin.
+
+Dave did take extraordinary care of himself, and was on hand to
+pitch at the game with Chichester.  This game, like the first,
+was on the home grounds.
+
+It was a close game, won by Gridley, two to one.  In some respects
+Chichester's fielding work was better than the home team's.  It
+was undying grit that won the battle---that and Dave Darrin's
+pitching.
+
+As the jubilant home fans left the ball grounds it was the general
+opinion that Dave Darrin was only the merest shade behind Dick
+Prescott as a pitcher.
+
+"Either one of them in the box," said Coach Luce to a friend,
+"and the game is half won."
+
+"But how about Ripley?"
+
+"Ripley?" replied the coach.  "He made a good showing in the tryouts,
+but we haven't had in the field yet.  He will be, though, the
+next  game.  We play Brayton High School over at Brayton.  It's
+one of the smaller games, and we're going to try Ripley there."
+
+Then the coach added, to himself:
+
+"Ripley is presentable enough, but I believe there's a big yellow
+streak in him somewhere.  I wouldn't dare to put Fred into one
+of the big games requiring all the grit that Prescott or Darrin
+can show!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A TIN CAN FOR THE YELLOW DOG
+
+
+With Ripley in the box Gridley won its third game of the season,
+beating Brayton High School by a score of five to two.
+
+"It ought to have been a whitewash against a small-fry crowd like
+Brayton," Coach Luce confided to Captain Purcell.
+
+"What was our weak spot, Coach?"
+
+"Have you an opinion, Captain?" asked the coach.
+
+"Yes, but I'm afraid I'm wrong."
+
+"What is your idea?"
+
+"Why, it seemed to me, Mr. Luce, that Ripley went stiff at just
+the wrong times.  Yet I hate to say that, and I am afraid I'm
+unfair, for Rip surely does throw in some wonderful balls."
+
+"You've struck my idea, anyway," responded Mr. Luce.  "Please
+don't say anything about it to the other men.  But, between ourselves,
+Captain, I think we'll do well to give Ripley few and unimportant
+chances this season.  Most people can't see where real grit comes
+in, in baseball"
+
+"Yet you think the lack of grit, or stamina, is just what ails
+Rip?" asked Captain Purcell keenly.
+
+"You can judge, from what I've said," replied Coach Luce.
+
+"I'm glad then, Coach, for it shows I wasn't so far off the track
+in my own private judgment."
+
+Yet, to hear Fred Ripley tell about the game, it wasn't such a
+small affair.  He judged his foemen by the fact that they had
+to contend with _him_.
+
+"Five to two is the safest margin we've had yet," he confided
+to those who listened to him at the High School.  "More than that,
+we had Brayton tied down so that, at no time in the game, did
+they have any show to break the score against us.  Now, if Luce
+and Purcell fix it up for me to pitch the real games of the season"
+
+"Oh, cut it out, Rip," advised one listener, good-naturedly.
+"Brayton is only a fishball team, anyway.  Not a real, sturdy
+beef-eater in the lot."
+
+The season moved on briskly now.  Dick pitched two games, and
+Darrin one in between Prescott's pair.  Dick's first game was
+won by a score of one to nothing; his second game, the return
+date against Gardiner, was a tie.  The game in which Darrin pitched
+was won by a score of three to two.
+
+Then came a game with a team not much above Brayton's standing.
+
+"Prescott and Darrin must be saved for some of the bigger games,"
+decided Coach Luce.  "Purcell, don't you think it will be safe
+to trust Ripley to pitch against Cedarville High School?"
+
+"Yes," nodded the captain of the nine.  "I don't believe Cedarville
+could harm us, anyway, if we put left field or shortstop in the
+box."
+
+Fred Ripley was notified.  At once Cedarville became, in his talk,
+one of the most formidable nines on the state's High School circuit.
+
+"But we'll skin 'em, you'll see," promised Fred, through the week.
+"Be at the game, and see what I can do when I'm feeling well.
+Cedarville has no chance."
+
+Ripley was in high spirits all through the week.  All through
+that Saturday forenoon he moved about in a trance of exultation.
+Yet, underneath it all, he was somewhat seedy in a physical sense,
+for he had been out late the night before to meet Tip and hand
+over some money.
+
+Late that Saturday forenoon, Lawyer Ripley returned from a business
+trip.  Soon after he returned home, and had seen a man in his
+library, he went in search of his wife.
+
+"Where's Fred?" demanded the lawyer.
+
+"He went out up the street, to get a good walk," replied Mrs.
+Ripley.  "You know, my dear, he is to pitch for Gridley in one
+of the biggest games of the season this afternoon."
+
+"Hm!" said the lawyer.  "Well, see here.  Let Fred have his luncheon.
+Don't say a word until then.  As soon as he is over with the
+meal, send him to me in the library.  Don't give him any hint
+until he has finished eating."
+
+"Is---is anything wrong?" asked Mrs. Ripley, turning around quickly.
+
+"Just a few little questions I want to talk over with the boy,"
+replied Mr. Ripley.
+
+It was shortly after one o'clock when Fred stepped into the library.
+This apartment was really in two rooms, separated by folding
+doors.  In the front room Mr. Ripley had his desk, and did his
+writing.  Most of his books were in the rear room.  At the time
+when Fred entered the folding doors were closed.
+
+"You wished to see me, sir?" Fred asked, as he entered.
+
+"Yes," said his father, pointing to a chair; "take a seat."
+
+"I hope it isn't anything that will take much time," hinted Fred.
+"you know, sir, I've got to be at the field early this afternoon.
+I am to pitch in one of the biggest-----"
+
+"I'll try to be very brief," replied the lawyer, quietly.  "Fred,
+as you know, whenever I find I have more money about me than I
+care to carry, I put it in the private safe upstairs.  Your mother
+and I have a place where we hide the key to that old-fashioned
+safe.  But, do you know, I have been missing some money from that
+safe of late?  Of course, it would be sheer impudence in me to
+suspect your mother."
+
+"Of course it would," agreed Fred, with feigned heartiness.  He
+was fighting inwardly to banish the pallor that he knew was creeping
+into his cheeks.
+
+"Have you any theory, Fred, that would help to account for the
+missing of these sums of money?" pursued the lawyer, one hand
+toying with a pencil.
+
+"Do you suspect any of the servants?" asked the boy, quickly.
+
+"We have had all our servants in the family for years," replied
+the lawyer, "and it would seem hard to suspect any of them."
+
+"Then whom can you suspect, sir?"
+
+"Fred, do you know, I have had a quiet little idea.  I am well
+acquainted with the scrapes that young fellows sometimes get into.
+My experience as a lawyer has brought me much in contact with
+such cases.  Now, it is a peculiar thing that young fellows often
+get into very bad scrapes indeed in pursuing their peculiar ideals
+of manliness.  Fred, have you been getting into any scrapes?
+Have you found out where your mother and I hide the key to the
+safe?  Have you been helping yourself to the money on the sly?"
+
+These last three questions Lawyer Ripley shot out with great suddenness,
+though without raising his voice.
+
+The effect upon young Ripley was electrical.  He sprang to his
+feet, his face dramatically expressive of a mingling of intense
+astonishment and hurt pride.
+
+"Dad," he gasped, "how can you ask me such questions?"
+
+"Because I want the answer, and a truthful one," replied the lawyer,
+coolly.  "Will you oblige me with the answer?  Take your time,
+and think deliberately.  If you have made any mistakes I want
+you to be fair and honorable with me.  Now, what do you say, sir?"
+
+Fred's mind had been working like lightning.  He had come to the
+conclusion that it would be safe to bluff his denial through to
+the end.
+
+"Father," he uttered, earnestly, in a voice into which he tried
+to throw intense earnestness and sincerity, "I give you my word
+of honor, as a Ripley, that I know nothing more about the missing
+money than you have just told me."
+
+"You are sure of that, Fred?"
+
+"Sure of it, sir?  Why, I will take any oath that will satisfy-----"
+
+"We don't want any perjury here," cut in the lawyer, crisply,
+and touched a bell.
+
+The folding doors behind them flew open with a bang.  As Fred
+started and whirled about he beheld a stranger advancing toward
+them, and that stranger was escorting---Tip Scammon.
+
+The stranger halted with his jailbird companion some five or six
+feet away.  The stranger did not appear greatly concerned.  Tip,
+however, looked utterly abashed, and unable to raise his gaze
+from the floor.
+
+"With this exhibit, young man," went on the lawyer, in a sorrowful
+tone, "I don't suppose it is necessary to go much further with
+the story.  When I first began to miss small sums from the safe
+I thought I might merely have made a mistake about the sums that
+I had put away.  Finally, I took to counting the money more carefully.
+Then I puzzled for a while.  At last,  I sent for this man, who
+is a detective.  He has come and gone so quietly that probably
+you have not noticed him.  This man has had a hiding place from
+which he could watch the safe.  Early last evening you took the
+key and opened the safe---robbed it!  You took four five-dollar
+bills, but they were marked.  This man saw you meet Tip Scammon,
+saw you pass the money over, and heard a conversation that has
+filled me with amazement.  So my son has been paying blackmail
+money for months!"
+
+Fred stood staggered, for a few moments.  Then he wheeled fiercely
+on Scammon.
+
+"You scoundrel, you've been talking about me---telling lies about
+me," young Ripley uttered hoarsely.
+
+"I hain't told nothing about ye," retorted Tip stolidly.  "But
+this rich man's cop (detective) nabbed me the first thing this
+morning.  He took me up inter yer father's office, an' asked me
+whether I'd let _him_ explore my clothes, or whether I'd rather
+have a policeman called in.  He 'splained that, if he had to call
+the poor man's cop, I'd have to be arrested for fair.  So I let
+him go through my clothes.  He found four five-spots on me, and
+told me I'd better wait an' see yer father.  So I'm here, an'
+not particular a bit about having to go up to the penitentiary
+for another stretch."
+
+"It hasn't been necessary, Fred, to question Scammon very far,"
+broke in the elder Ripley.  "That'll do, now, Haight.  Since Scammon
+volunteered to give the money back, and said he didn't know it
+had been stolen, you can turn him loose."
+
+The detective and Tip had no more than gone when Lawyer Ripley,
+his face flushed with shame, wheeled about on his son.
+
+"So you see, Fred, what your word of honor the word of a Ripley---is
+sometimes worth.  You have been robbing me steadily.  How much
+you have taken I do not know as I have not always counted or recorded
+money that I put in the safe."
+
+Fred's face had now taken on a defiant look.  He saw that his
+father did not intend to be harsh, so the boy determined to brave
+it out.
+
+"Haven't you anything to say?" asked the lawyer, after a brief
+silence.
+
+"No," retorted Fred, sulkily.  "Not after you've disgraced me
+by putting a private detective on my track.  It was shameful."
+
+That brought the hot blood rushing to his father's face.
+
+"Shameful, was it, you young reprobate?  Shameful to you, when
+you have been stealing for weeks, if not for months?  It is you
+who are dead to the sense of shame.  Your life, I fear, young
+man, cannot go on as it has been going.  You are not fitted for
+a home of wealth and refinement.  You have had too much money,
+too easy a time.  I see that, now.  Well, it shall all change!
+You shall have a different kind of home."
+
+Fred began to quake.  He knew that his father, when in a mood
+like this, was not to be trifled with.
+
+"You---you don't mean jail?" gasped the boy with a yellow streak
+in him.
+
+"No; I don't; at least, not this time," retorted his father.
+"But, let me see.  You spoke of an engagement to do something
+this afternoon.  What was it?"
+
+"_I was_ to have pitched in the game against Cedarville High School."
+
+"Go on, then, and do it," replied his father.
+
+"I---I can't pitch, now.  My nerves are too-----"
+
+"Go on and do what you're pledged to do!" thundered Lawyer Ripley,
+in a tone which Fred knew was not to be disregarded.  So the boy
+started for the door.
+
+"And while you are gone," his father shot after him, "I will think
+out my plan for changing your life in such a way as to save whatever
+good may be in you, and to knock a lot of foolish, idle ideas
+out of your head!"
+
+Fred's cheeks were ashen, his legs shaking under him as he left
+the house.
+
+"I've never seen the guv'nor so worked up before---at least, not
+about me," thought the boy wretchedly.  "Now, what does he mean
+to do?  I can't turn him a hair's breadth, now, from whatever
+plan he may make.  Why didn't I have more sense?  Why didn't I
+own up, and 'throw myself on the mercy of the court'?"
+
+In his present mood the frightened boy knew he couldn't sit still
+in a street car.  So he walked  all the way to the Athletic Field.
+He was still shaking, still worried and pale when at length he
+arrived there.
+
+He walked into the dressing room.  The rest of the nine and the
+subs were already on hand, many of them dressed.
+
+"You're late, Mr. Ripley," said Coach Luce, a look of annoyance
+on his face.
+
+Outside, the first of the fans on the seats were starting the
+rumpus that goes under the name of enthusiasm.
+
+"I---I know it.  But---but---I---I'm sorry, Mr. Luce.  I---I believe
+I'm going to be ill.  I---I know I can't pitch to-day."
+
+So Coach Luce and Captain Purcell conferred briefly, and decided
+that Dave Darrin should pitch to-day.
+
+Darrin did pitch.  He handled his tricky curves so well that puny
+Cedarville was beaten by the contemptuous score of seventeen to
+nothing.
+
+Meanwhile, Fred Ripley was wandering about Gridley, in a state
+of abject, hopeless cowardice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+DICK IS GENEROUS BECAUSE IT'S NATURAL
+
+
+"Say, will you look at Rip?"
+
+No wonder Harry Hazelton exploded with wonder as he turned to
+Dan Dalzell and Greg Holmes.
+
+In this warmer weather, the young men loitered in the school yard
+until the first bell.
+
+These three members of Dick & Co. were standing near the gateway
+when Fred Ripley turned the nearest corner and came on nervously,
+hurriedly, a hang-dog look in his face.
+
+What had caught Harry Hazelton's eye, and now made his comrades
+stare, was the new suit that Fred wore.  Gone was all that young
+man's former elegance of attire.  His stern father had just left
+the boy, after having taken him to a clothing store where Fred
+was tricked out in a coarse, ready-made suit that had cost just
+seven dollars and a half.  A more manly boy would have made a
+better appearance in such clothes, but it was past Fred Ripley.
+And he was miserably conscious of the cheap-looking derby that
+rested on his head.  Even his shoes were new and coarse.
+
+Ripley hurried by the chums, and across the yard, to be met at
+the door by Purcell, who stared at him in candid astonishment.
+
+"Oh, say, Rip!" demanded Purcell.  "What's the bet?"
+
+"Shut up!" retorted Ripley, passing quickly inside.
+
+"Fine manners," grinned Purcell to a girl who had also paused,
+impelled by excusable curiosity.
+
+Dick, when he came along, heard the news from Hazelton and the
+others.
+
+"What can be the cause of it all?" asked Tom Reade, wonderingly.
+
+"Oh, some row with his father," decided Dick slowly.  "When I
+was up on Main Street I saw them both going into Marsh's clothing
+store."
+
+"I asked poor old Rip what the bet was," chuckled Purcell as he
+joined the group.
+
+"Say, if you want to have fun at recess," proposed Dan Dalzell,
+"let's about twenty of us, one after the other, go up and ask
+Rip what the bet is, and how long it's for?"
+
+"Say," retorted Dick sternly, eyeing hapless Dan, "I believe,
+if you got into a fight and knocked a fellow down, you'd jump
+on him and keep hammering him."
+
+"Not much I wouldn't, old safety-valve," retorted Dan, reddening.
+"But I see that you're right, Dick.  Rip has never been any friend
+of ours, and to jump him now, when he's evidently down at home,
+would be too mean for the principles of Dick & Co."
+
+"I'd rather give the poor fellow a helping hand up, if we could,"
+pursued young Prescott musingly, "Purcell, do you think there'd
+be any use in trying that sort of thing?"
+
+"Why, I don't know," replied Captain Purcell, easy going and good
+hearted.  "Barring a few snobbish airs, I always used to like
+Rip well enough.  He was always pretty proud, but pride, in itself,
+is no bar to being a decent fellow.  The only fellow who comes
+to harm with pride is the fellow who gets proud before he has
+done anything to be proud of.  At least, that's the way it always
+hit me."
+
+"Ripley certainly looked hang-dog," commented Hazelton.
+
+"And he must feel mightily ashamed over something," continued
+Dick.  "I wonder if his father has found out anything about Tip
+Scammon and certain happenings of last year.  That might account
+for a lot.  But what do you say, fellows?  If Ripley has been
+a bit disagreeable and ugly, shall we try to make him feel that
+there's always a chance to turn around and be decent?"
+
+"Why, I'd believe in trying to point out the better road to Old
+Nick himself," replied Dave Darrin warmly.  "Only, I don't believe
+in doing it in the preachy way---like some people do."
+
+"That's right," nodded Dick.  "See here, Purcell, if Ripley is
+looking down in the mouth at recess, why don't you go up to him
+and talk baseball?  Then call us over, after you've raised some
+point for discussion.  And we'll tip two or three other fellows
+to join in, without, of course, getting a crowd."
+
+"I'll try it," nodded Purcell.  "Though I can't guess how it will
+turn out.  Of course, if Rip gives us the black scowl we'll have
+to conclude that no help is wanted."
+
+It was tried, however, at recess.  Purcell went about it with
+the tact that often comes to the easy going and big hearted.
+Soon Purcell had Dick and Dave with Fred and himself.  Then the
+other chums drifted up.  Two or three other fellows came along.
+After some sulkiness at first Fred talked eagerly, if nervously.
+On the whole, he seemed grateful.
+
+When Dick reached home that day he felt staggered with astonishment.
+Waiting for him was a note from Lawyer Ripley, asking the boy
+to be at the latter's office at half-past two.
+
+"I shall take it as a very great favor," the note ran on, "and,
+from what I know of you, I feel certain that you will be glad
+to aid me in a matter that is of vast importance to me."
+
+"What on earth is coming?" wondered Dick.  But he made up his
+mind to comply with the request.
+
+Promptly to the minute Dick reached the street door of the office
+building.  Here he encountered Dave Darrin and Dalzell.
+
+"You, too?" asked Dick.
+
+"It looks as though all of Dick & Co. had been summoned," replied
+Dave Darrin.
+
+On entering the lawyer's office they found their other three chums
+there ahead of them.   Tip Scammon was there, also, looking far
+from downcast.
+
+Lawyer Ripley looked very grave.  He looked, too, like a man who
+had a serious task to perform, and who meant to go about it courageously.
+
+"Young gentlemen, I thank you all," said the lawyer slowly.  "I
+am pursuing a matter in which I feel certain that I need your
+help.  There has been some evil connection between Scammon and
+my son.  What it is Scammon has refused to tell me.  I will first
+of all tell you what I _do_ know.  I am telling you, of course,
+on the assumption that you are all young men of honor, and that
+you will treat a father's confidence as men of honor should do."
+
+The boys bowed, wondering what was coming.  Lawyer Ripley thereupon
+plunged into a narration of the happenings of the day before,
+telling it all with a lawyer's exactness of statement.
+
+"And now I will ask you," wound up Mr. Ripley, "whether you can
+tell me anything about the hold that Scammon seems to have exercised
+over my son?"
+
+"That's an embarrassing question, sir," Dick replied, after there
+had been a long pause.
+
+"Do you know the nature of that hold?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"May I ask how you know?"
+
+"I overheard a conversation, one night, between your son and Tip
+Scammon."
+
+"What was the substance of that conversation?" pressed the lawyer.
+
+"I don't quite see how I can tell you, sir," Dick responded slowly
+and painfully.  "I'm not a tale bearer.  I don't want to come
+here and play the tittle-tattle on your son."
+
+"I respect your reluctance," nodded Lawyer Ripley.  "But let me
+put it to you another way.  I am the boy's father.  I am responsible
+for his career in this world, as far as anyone but himself can
+be responsible.  I am also seeking what is for the boy's best
+good.  I cannot act intelligently unless I have exact facts.
+Both my son and Scammon are too stubborn to tell me anything.
+In the cause of justice, Prescott, will you answer me frankly?"
+
+"That word, 'justice,' has an ominous sound, sir," Prescott answered.
+"It is generally connected with the word punishment, instead
+of with the word mercy."
+
+"I suspect that my son has been your very bitter enemy, Prescott,"
+said the lawyer keenly.  "I suspect that he has plotted against
+you and all your chums.  Would you now try to shield him from
+the consequences of such acts?"
+
+"Why, sir, I think any boy of seventeen is young enough to have
+another chance."
+
+"And I agree with you," cried the lawyer, a sudden new light shining
+in his eyes.  "Now, will you be wholly frank with me if I promise
+you that my course toward my son will be one that will give him
+every chance to do better if he wants to?"
+
+"That's an odd bargain to have to make with a father," smiled
+Dick.
+
+"It _is_," admitted Lawyer Ripley, struck by the force of the
+remark.  "You've scored a point there, Prescott.  Well, then,
+since I _am_ the boy's father, and since I want to do him full
+justice on the side of mercy, if he'll have it---will you tell
+all of the truth that you know to that boy's father?"
+
+Dick glanced around at his chums.  One after another they nodded.
+Then the High School pitcher unburdened himself.  Tip Scammon
+sat up and took keen notice.  When Dick had finished with all
+he knew, including the tripping with the pole, and the soft-soaping
+of the sidewalk before his home door, Tip was ready to talk.
+
+"I done 'em all," he admitted, "includin' the throwin' of the
+brickbats.  The brickbats was on my own hook, but the pole and
+the soft soap was parts of the jobs me and Fred put up between
+us."
+
+"Why did you throw the brickbats on your own hook?" asked Lawyer
+Ripley sharply.
+
+"Why, you see, 'squire, 'twas just like this," returned Tip.
+"After I'd done it, if I had hurt Prescott, then I was goin' to
+go to your son an' scare 'im good an' proper by threatenin' to
+blab that he had hired me to use them brickbats.  That'd been
+good fer all his spendin' money, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Yes, and for all he could steal, too," replied Lawyer Ripley.
+
+"I didn't know nothing about his stealin' money," retorted Tip,
+half virtuously.  "I jest thought he had too much pocket money
+fer his own good, an' so I'd help him spend some of it.  But,
+see here, lawyer, ye promised me that, if I did talk, nothin'
+I told yer should be used against myself."
+
+"I am prepared to keep that promise," replied Mr. Ripley coldly.
+
+The sound of a slight stir came from the doorway between the outer
+and inner office.  There in the doorway, his face ghastly white,
+his whole body seeming devoid of strength, leaned Fred Ripley.
+
+"I had almost forgotten that I asked you to come here," said Mr.
+Ripley, as he looked up.  "How long have you been here?"
+
+"Not very long, perhaps, but long enough to know that Dick Prescott
+and the rest have been doing all they can to make matters harder
+for me," Fred answered in a dispirited voice.
+
+"As it happens, they have been doing nothing of the sort," replied
+the lawyer crisply.  "Come in here, Fred.  I have had the whole
+story of your doings, but it was on a pledge that I would give
+you another chance to show whether there's any good in you.  Fred,
+I can understand, now that you've always thought yourself better
+than most boys---above them.  The truth is that you've a long
+way to go to get up to the level of ordinary, decent, good American
+boyhood.  You may get there yet; I hope so.  But come, sir, are
+you going to make a decent apology to Prescott and his friends
+for the contemptible things you've tried to do to them?"
+
+Somehow, Fred Ripley managed to mumble his way through an apology,
+though he kept his eyes on the floor all the while.  Full of
+sympathy for the father who, if proud, was at least upright,
+Dick and his chums accepted that apology, offered their hands,
+then tip-toed out, leaving father and son together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+ALL ROADS LEAD TO THE SWIMMING POOL
+
+
+In the next few weeks, if Fred Ripley didn't improve greatly in
+popularity, he was at all events vastly quieter and more reserved
+in his manner.
+
+Tip Scammon had vanished, so far as common knowledge went.  Mr.
+Ripley, feeling somewhat responsible for that scamp's wrong doing,
+in that Fred had put him up to his first serious wrong doing,
+had given Scammon some money and a start in another part of the
+country.  That disappearance saved Scammon from a stern reckoning
+with Prescott's partners, who had not forgotten him.
+
+Fred was again a well-dressed boy, also a well-mannered one.
+He had very little to say, and he kept his snobbishness, if any
+remained, well concealed.
+
+Dick & Co., after the scene in the lawyer's office, if not exactly
+cordial with the unhappy junior, at all events remembered that
+they had agreed to "forget."  Nor were Prescott and his chums
+priggish enough to take great credit to themselves for their behavior.
+They merely admitted among themselves that any fellow ought to
+have the show that was now accorded to the younger Ripley.
+
+Baseball had gone off with an hurrah this season, though there
+had been an enormous amount of hard work behind all the successes.
+
+Now, but one game remained.  Out of fourteen played, so far, only
+one had resulted in a tie; the others had all been victories
+for Gridley.
+
+With the warm June weather commencement was looming near.  One
+Wednesday morning there was a long and tedious amount of practice
+over the singing that was to be offered at the close of the school
+year.
+
+"Huh!  I thought we'd never get through," snorted Prescott, as
+he raced out into the school yard.  "And we were kept ten minutes
+over the usual time for recess."
+
+"Gee, but it's hot to-day," muttered Tom Reade, fanning himself
+with his straw hat.
+
+"Oh, what wouldn't I give, right now, for a good swim down at
+Foster's Pond!" muttered Purcell moodily.
+
+"Well, why can't we have it?" suggested Gint.
+
+"We couldn't get back by the time recess is over," replied Purcell.
+
+"The end of recess would be when we _did_ get back, wouldn't it!"
+asked a senior.
+
+"Let's go, anyway!" urged another boy, restlessly.
+
+As students were allowed to spend their recess quietly on the
+near-by streets, if they preferred, the girls generally deserted
+the yard.
+
+The spirit of mischievous mutiny was getting loose among the young
+men.  Nor will anyone who remembers his own school days wonder
+much at that.  In June, when the end of the  school year is all
+but at hand, restraints become trebly irksome.
+
+Dick's own face was glowing.  As much as any boy there he wanted
+a swim, just now, down in Foster's Pond.  Oh, how he wanted it!
+
+"See here, fellows," Prescott called to some of the nearest ones.
+"And you especially, Charley Grady, for you're studying to be
+a lawyer."
+
+"What has a lawyer to do with the aching desire for a swim?" inquired
+Grady.
+
+"Well, post us a bit," begged Dick.  "What was it the great Burke
+had to say about punishing a community?"
+
+"Why," responded Grady thoughtfully, "Burke laid down a theory
+that has since become a principle in law.  It was to the effect
+that a community cannot be indicted."
+
+"All of us fellows---_all_ of us might be called a community,
+don't you think?" queried Dick.
+
+"Why---er---aha---hem!" responded Grady.
+
+"Oh, come, now, drop the extras," ordered Dick.  "Time is short.
+Are we a community, in a sort of legal sense?  Just plain yes
+or no."
+
+"Well, then, yes!" decided Grady.
+
+"Whoop!" ejaculated Dick, placing his straw hat back on his head
+and starting on a sprint out of the yard.  His chums followed.
+Some of the fellows who were nearer the gate tried to reach it
+first.  In an instant, the flight was general.
+
+"Come on, Rip!  You're not going to hang back on the crowd, are
+you?" uttered one boy, reproachfully.  "Don't spoil the community
+idea."
+
+So Fred Ripely tagged on at the rear of the flight.
+
+"What is it, boys---a fire?" called Laura Bentley.  A dozen girls
+had drawn in, pressing against the wall, to let this whirlwind
+of boys go by.
+
+"Tell you when we get back," Purcell called.  "Time presses now."
+
+It took the leaders only about four minutes to reach Foster's
+Pond.  Even Ripley and the other tail-enders were on hand about
+a minute later.  There was a fine grove here, fringed by thick
+bushes, and no houses near.  In a jiffy the High School boys were
+disrobing.
+
+"And the fellow who 'chaws' anyone else's clothes, to-day," proposed
+Dick, "is to be thrown in and kept in, when he's dressed!"
+
+"Hear!  hear!"
+
+Dick was one of the first to get stripped.  He started on a run,
+glided out over a log that lay from the bank, and plunged headlong
+into one of the deepest pools.  Then up he came, spouting water.
+
+"Come on, in, fellows!  The water's _grand_!" he yelled.
+
+Splash!  splash!  The surface of the pond at that point was churned
+white.  The bobbing  heads made one think of huckleberries bobbing
+on a bowl of milk.
+
+Splash!  splash!  More were diving in.  And now the fun and the
+frolic went swiftly to their height.
+
+"This is the real thing!" vented one ecstatic swimmer.  "Down
+with 'do-re--mi-fa-sol!"
+
+"As long as we're all to be hanged together, what say if we don't
+go back at all to-day?" questioned Purcell.
+
+There were some affirmative shouts, but Dick, who had just stepped
+back on the bank for a moment shook his head.
+
+"Don't be hogs, fellows!" he urged.  "Don't run a good thing into
+the ground.  We'll have our swim, get well cooled off---and then
+we'd better go back looking as penitent as the circumstances seem
+to call for."
+
+"I guess it's the wise one talking," nodded Purcell, as he climbed
+to the bank preparatory to another dive.
+
+For at least twenty minutes the High School boys remained at their
+delightful sport.  Then cries started here and there:
+
+"All out!  All out!"
+
+Reluctantly the youngsters began to leave the water.
+
+"Now, don't let anyone lag," begged Purcell.  "As we ran away
+together, we ought all to go back together."
+
+So dressing went on apace.  Then the fellows began to look at
+each other, wonderingly.  To be sure, they didn't stand so much
+in personal awe of the principal.  But then Mr. Cantwell had the
+Board of Education behind him.  There was Superintendent Eldridge,
+also, and back of it all, what parents might---oh, hang it, it
+began to look just a bit serious now.
+
+"Who are the heroes here?" called out one fellow.
+
+"Why?" demanded another.
+
+"Well, we need our assured brave ones to lead going back."
+
+"That's where the baseball squad comes in, then," nodded Purcell.
+"School nine and subs first, second team following.  Then let
+the chilly-footed ones bring up the rear."
+
+"We can go back in column of fours," proposed Dick, as he fastened
+on his collar, "with no leaders or file-closers.  Then it will
+be hard to guess at any ring-leaders."
+
+"That's the best idea yet," agreed Purcell.  "Then, fellows, a
+block from the school, let the baseball squad form first, and
+then all of the rest of you fall in behind in column of fours,
+just as you happen along."
+
+"And keep good ranks, and march the best you know how," urged
+Dick.  "Unyielding ranks may suggest the community idea to Prin."
+
+"Then we won't have to explain it," laughed Grady.
+
+"Oh, come, now," shouted another, "don't flatter yourselves that
+we're going to get out of some tall explaining."
+
+A block from the school the order was given to form fours.  This
+was quickly done.  Purcell, Dick, Darrin and Dan Dalzell composed
+the first four as the line turned into the yard.
+
+There at the main doorway the culprits beheld the principal.
+And that gentlemen certainly looked almost angry about something.
+The weather indications were for squalls in the High School.
+
+"Go to your seats in the assembly room," said the principal, coldly,
+as the head of the line neared him.  As the boys wore no overcoats
+it was not necessary to file down to the locker rooms first.
+They marched into the hat room just off of the assembly room.
+And here they found Mr. Drake on duty.
+
+"No conversation here.  Go directly to your seats," ordered Mr.
+Drake.
+
+The few girls who were not at classes looked up with eyes full
+of mischievous inquiry when the boys entered the big room.  The
+principal and Mr. Drake took their seats on the platform.  The
+late swimmers reached for their books, though most of them made
+but a pretense of study.  Almost at once there was another diversion
+made by the girls who were returning from recitations.
+
+Then the bell was struck for the beginning of the next period.
+Out filed the sections.  The boys began to feel that this ominous
+quiet boded  them no good.  Not until closing time did the principal
+make any reference to the affair.
+
+"The young ladies are dismissed for the day," he remarked.  "The
+young gentlemen will remain." Clang!
+
+Then a dead silence fell over the room.  It was broken, after
+a minute, by the principal, who asked:
+
+"Where were you, young gentlemen, when the end of recess bell
+rang this morning!"
+
+No one being addressed, no one answered.
+
+"Where were you, Mr. Purcell?"
+
+"Swimming at Foster's Pond, sir."
+
+"All of you?"
+
+"All of us, sir, I think."
+
+"Whose idea was it?"
+
+"As I remember, sir, the idea belonged to us all."
+
+"Who made the first proposal?"
+
+"That would be impossible to say, now, sir."
+
+"Do you remember anything about it?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"I believe the fellows voted that Mr. Grady, who is studying to
+be a lawyer, should represent us as counsel."
+
+"Ah! I shall be very glad, then, to hear from Judge Grady," the
+principal dryly remarked.
+
+"Judge" Grady bobbed up, smiling and confident---or he seemed
+so.  As for the rest of the fellows, the principal's frigid coolness
+was beginning to get on their nerves.
+
+"Mr. Principal," began Grady, thrusting his right band in between
+his vest buttons, "the illustrious, perhaps immortal Burke, once
+elucidated a principle that has since become historic, authoritative
+and illuminating.  Among American and English jurists alike, Burke's
+principle has been accepted as akin to the organic law and the
+idea is that a community cannot be indicted."
+
+It was a fine speech, for Grady had real genius in him, and this
+was the first chance he had ever had.  The principal waited until
+the budding legal light had finished.  Then Mr. Cantwell cleared
+his throat, to reply crisply:
+
+"While I will not venture to gainsay Burke, and he is not here
+to be cross-examined, I will say that the indictment of the community,
+in this instance, would mean the expulsion of all the young men
+in the High School.  To that form of sentence I do not lean.
+A light form of punishment would be to prohibit absolutely the
+final baseball game of the school season.  A sever form would
+be to withhold the diplomas of the young men of the graduating
+senior class.  I think it likely that both forms of punishment
+will be administered, but I shall not announce my decision to-day.
+It will come later.  The young men are dismissed."  Clang!
+
+Dismay would have been a mild name for what the fellows felt when
+they found themselves outside the building.  Of the principal,
+in a rage they were little afraid.  But when the principal controlled
+his temper he was a man in authority and of dangerous power.
+
+After his own meal, and some scowling reflection, Mr. Cantwell
+set out to find his friend and backer in the Board of Education,
+Mr. Gadsby.  That custodian of local education heard Mr. Cantwell
+through, after which he replied:
+
+"Er---um----ah---my dear Cantwell, you can't very well prohibit
+the game, or talk of withholding diplomas from the young men of
+the graduating class.  Either course would make you tremendously
+unpopular.  The people of Gridley would say that you were lacking
+in---era sense of humor."
+
+"Sense of humor?" raged the principal, getting up and pacing the
+floor.  "Is it humorous to have a lot of young rascals running
+all over one's authority?"
+
+"Certainly not," responded Mr. Gadsby.  "You should---er---preserve
+discipline."
+
+"How am I to preserve discipline, if I can't inflict punishments?"
+insisted Mr. Cantwell.
+
+"But you should---er---that is---my dear Cantwell, you should
+make the punishments merely fit the crimes."
+
+"In such an outrageous case as to-day's," fumed the principal,
+"what course would have been taken by the Dr. Thornton whom you
+are so fond of holding up to me as a man who knew how to handle
+boys?"
+
+"Dr. Thornton," responded Mr. Gadsby, "would have been ingenious
+in his punishment.  How long were the boys out, over recess time?"
+
+"Twenty-five minutes."
+
+"Then," returned Mr. Gadsby, "I can quite see Dr. Thorton informing
+the young men that they would be expected to remain at least five
+times as long after school as they had been improperly away from
+it.  That is---er---ah---he would have sent for his own dinner,
+and would have eaten it at his desk, with scores of hungry young
+men looking on while their own dinners went cold.  At three
+o'clock---perhaps---Dr. Thornton would have dismissed the
+offenders.  It would be many a day before the boys would try
+anything of that sort again on good old Thornton.  But you, my
+dear Cantwell, I am afraid you have failed to make the boys respect
+you at all times.  The power of enforcing respect is the basis of
+all discipline."
+
+"Then what shall I do with the young men this time?"
+
+"Since you have---er---missed your opportunity, you---er---can
+do nothing, now, but let it pass.  Let them imagine, from day
+to day, that sentence is still suspended and hovering over them."
+
+Wily Dick Prescott had been to see Mr. Gadsby, just before the
+arrival of the principal.   In his other capacity of reporter
+for "The Blade" the High School pitcher had said a few earnest
+words to his host.  Mr. Gadsby, with his eye turned ever toward
+election day and the press, had been wholly willing to listen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE AGONY OF THE LAST BIG GAME
+
+
+"Ya, ya, ya!  Ye gotter do somethings!"
+
+This from Mr. Schimmelpodt.  That gentleman was waving one of
+his short, fat arms wildly.  It may as well be stated that from
+the smaller extremity of that arm, namely, his hand---a small
+crimson and gold banner attached to a stick cut circles in the
+air.
+
+"Go to it, Gridley!"
+
+"Get busy!  You can't take a black eye at this end of the season."
+
+Gridley High School with a season's record of one tied game and
+a long tally of victories, seemed now in dire straits.
+
+Sides were changing for the last half of the ninth inning.
+
+Gridley had taken seven runs.  Wayland High School, with six runs
+already to their credit, was now going to bat for the last inning
+unless the score should be tied.
+
+The perfect June day, just before commencement, had brought out
+a host.  Wayland had sent nearly four hundred people.  The total
+attendance was past four thousand paid admissions.
+
+Herr Schimmelpodt, who, since his first enthusiasm, had not missed
+a game, was now among the most concerned.
+
+The band was there, but silent.  The leader knew that, in this
+state of affairs the spectators wanted to make the noise themselves.
+
+"Oh, you Dick!"
+
+"Strike 'em out as fast as they come up."
+
+"Save Gridley!"
+
+"Aw, let somebody have a game," roared a voice from the Wayland
+seats, "and we need this one!"
+
+"Prescott, remember the record!"
+
+"No defeats this year!"
+
+"Don't give us one, now!"
+
+Dick & Co. were in full force on the nine today.  True, Dave Darrin
+sat only on the sub bench to-day, but he was ready to give relief
+at any moment if Gridley's beloved pitcher, Prescott, went under.
+
+Holmes was out in left field; Hazelton was the nimble shortstop;
+Dalzell pranced at the first bag on the diamond; Tom Reade was
+eternally vigilant on second base.
+
+Gridley's High School girls, devoted feminine fans as any in the
+world, were breathing soft and fast now.  If only Dick, backed
+at need by the outfield, could keep Wayland from scoring further,
+then all was well.  If Wayland should score even once in this
+inning, it would make a tie and call for a tenth inning.  If Wayland
+scored twice---but that was too nerve-racking to contemplate.
+
+Then a hush fell.  The umpire had called for play.
+
+Dick let drive with his most tantalizing spitball.  The leather
+fell down gracefully under the Wayland's batsman's guess, and
+Purcell mitted the ball.
+
+"Strike one!"
+
+A hopeful cheer went up from Gridley seats, to be met with one
+word from Wayland fans:
+
+"Wait!"
+
+Dick served the second ball.  Swat!  There it went, arching up
+in the air, a fair hit.  As fast as he could leg it went Holmes
+after it, and with good judgment.  But the ball got there before
+Greg did.  In a twinkling, the young left fielder had the ball
+up and in motion.  Tom Reade caught it deftly at second, and wheeled
+toward first.  But the runner saw his error in leaving first,
+and slid back in season.
+
+Turning back, with his lips close together, Dick tried a new batsman.
+Two strikes, and then the visitor sent out a little pop-over
+that touched ground and rolled ere Harry Hazelton could race in
+and get it, driving it on to first base.
+
+"Safe at first," called the umpire, and the other Waylander had
+reached second.
+
+"O-o-o-h!"
+
+"Don't let 'em have it, Dick---_don't_!"
+
+The wail that reached his ears was pathetic, but Prescott paid
+no heed.  He was always all but deaf to remarks from the spectators.
+He knew what he was trying to do, and he was coming as close
+as a hard-worked pitcher could get to that idea at the fag-end
+of the game.
+
+The fatigue germ was hard at work in the young pitcher's wrist,
+but Dick nerved himself for better efforts.  Despite him, however,
+a third batsman got away from him, and from Greg, and now the
+bases were full.
+
+"_O-o-oh, Dick_!"
+
+It was a wail, full of despair.  Though he paid no direct heed
+to it the sorely pressed young pitcher put up his left hand to
+wipe the old sweat out of his eyes.  His heart was pounding with
+the strain of it.  Dick Prescott, born soldier, would have died
+for victory, _just_ then.  At least, that was what he felt.
+
+The Wayland man who now stood over the plate looked like a grinning
+monkey as he took the pitcher's measure.
+
+"Go to it, Dickson---kill the ball!" roared the visiting fans.
+"Just a little two-bagger---that's all!"
+
+Dick felt something fluttering inside.  In himself he felt the
+whole Gridley honor and fame revolving during that moment.  Then
+he resolutely choked down the feeling.  The umpire was signaling
+impatiently for him to deliver.
+
+Dick essayed a jump ball.  With a broadening grin Dickson of Wayland
+reached for it vigorously.  He struck it, but feebly.  Another
+of those short-winded, high-arched pops went up in air.
+
+There was no hope or chance for Hazelton to get to the spot in
+time---and Wayland's man away from third was steaming in while
+Purcell made the home plate at a bound.
+
+Dick raced---raced for all he was worth, though his heart felt
+as if steam had shut down.
+
+Across the grass raced Prescott, as though he believed he could
+make history in fifths of seconds.
+
+In his speed he went too far.  The ball was due to come down behind
+him.
+
+There was no time to think.  Running at full speed as he was,
+Pitcher Dick rose in the air.  It looked like an incredible leap---but
+he made it.  His hands pulled the slow-moving popball down out
+of the air.
+
+Barely did Dick's feet touch the ground when he simply reached
+over and dropped the ball at Purcell.
+
+The captain of the Gridley nine dropped to one knee, hands low,
+but he took the leather in---took it just the bare part of a second
+before the Waylander from third got there.
+
+For an instant the dazed crowd held its breath just long enough
+to hear the umpire announce.
+
+"Striker out!  Out at home plate.  Two out!"
+
+Then the tumult broke loose.
+
+For an instant or two Dick stood dizzy just where he had landed
+on his feet.
+
+Umpire Davidson came bounding over.
+
+"Do you want to call for a relief pitcher, Prescott?"
+
+"No---Wayland pitched all through with one man!"
+
+Back to the box marched Dick Prescott, but he took his time about
+it.  He had need of a clear head and steadier nerves and muscles,
+for Wayland had a man again at third, and another dancing away
+from second.  There was plenty of chance yet to lose.
+
+"Prescott ought to call you out," whispered Fred Ripley to Dave.
+
+"And I'd get out there on the dead run, just as you would, Rip.
+But you know how Dick feels.  Wayland went through on one man,
+and Dick's going to do it if he lives through the next few minutes!"
+
+While that momentary dizziness lasted, something happened that
+caused the young pitcher to flush with humiliation.  Sandwiched
+in between two strikes were called balls enough to send the new
+batsman to first, and again the bases were full.  One more "bad
+break" of this kind and Wayland would receive the tie run as a
+present.  And then one more---it would be the High School pitcher
+handing the only lost game of the season as a gift to the visitors!
+
+Dick braced himself supremely for the next man at bat.
+
+"Strike one!"
+
+It wasn't the batter's fault.  A very imp had sat on the spitball
+that Prescott bowled in.
+
+"Strike two!"
+
+The batsman was sweating nervously, but he couldn't help it.
+Dick Prescott had fairly forced himself into the form of the first
+inning.  But it couldn't last.
+
+Gink!  It was only a little crack at the ball, struck rather downward.
+A grounding ball struck the grit and rolled out toward right
+infield.  There was no shortstop here.  The instant that Prescott
+took in the direction he was on the run.  There was no time to
+get there ahead of the rolling leather.  It was Dick's left foot
+that stopped it, but in the same fraction of a second he bent
+and swooped it up---wheeled.
+
+Wayland's man from third base looked three fourths of the way
+in.  Captain Purcell, half frantic, was doubled up at the home
+plate.
+
+Into that throw Dick put all the steam he had left in.  The leather
+gone from his hand, he waited.  His heart seemed to stop.
+
+To half the eyes that looked on, ball and runner seemed to reach
+the home plate at the same instant.  The umpire, crouching, squinting,
+had the best view of all.
+
+It was an age before Dick, with the mists before his eyes, heard
+the faraway words for which thousands waited breathlessly:
+
+"Out at home---three out!"
+
+Three disheartened base runners turned and slouched dispiritedly
+toward the dressing rooms.
+
+"You could have hit that ball a better swipe," growled Wayland's
+captain to the last man at bat.  The victim of the rebuke didn't
+answer.  He knew that he had faced a pitcher wholly rejuvenated
+by sheer grit and nerve force.
+
+At its loudest the band was blaring forth "At the Old Ball Game,"
+and thousands were following with the words.  Wayland fans were
+strolling away in dejection, but Gridley folks stood up to watch
+and cheer.
+
+The whole nine had done its duty in fine shape, but Dick Prescott
+had made himself the idol of the Gridley diamond.
+
+When the band stopped, the cheers welled forth.  The lion's share
+was for Prescott, but Darrin was not forgotten.  Even Ripley,
+who had pitched three of the minor games, came in for some notice.
+
+Dick?
+
+With the strain and suspense gone he felt limp and weak for a
+few minutes.  Under the cold shower he revived somewhat.  Yet,
+when he started homeward, he found that he ached all over.  With
+the last game of the season gone by, Dick half imagined that his
+right wrist was a huge boil.
+
+At the gateway Schimmelpodt, that true devotee of sport, waited.
+As the young High School pitcher came forth Herr Schimmelpodt
+rested a fat hand on the boy's shoulder, whispering in his ear:
+
+"Ach!  But I know vere is dere a _real_ jointed fishpole.  It
+was two dollar, but now it stands itself by, marked to one-nineteen.
+In der morning, Bresgott, it shall be yours.  Und listen!"
+
+Dick looked up into the blinking eyes.
+
+"Dot fishpole for der summer use is goot fine!  Und venever you
+see me going by bis my vagon, don't you be slow to holler und
+ask me for a ride!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+CONCLUSION
+
+
+Commencement Day!
+
+For a large percentage of High School boys and girls, the end
+of the sophomore year marks the end of their schooling.
+
+This was true at Gridley as elsewhere.  When the crowd came forth
+from commencement exercises at the Opera House on this bright,
+warm June afternoon, there were not a few of the sophomores who
+were saying good-bye to the classic halls of instruction.
+
+Not so, however, with Dick & Co.  They were bound all the way
+through the course, and hoped to take up with college or other
+academic training when once good old Gridley High School must
+be left behind.
+
+"What are you going to do this summer, Prescott?" asked Dr. Bentley,
+gripping the lad's arm, as Dick stood on the sidewalk chatting
+with Dave Darrin.
+
+"Work, mostly, doctor.  I'm getting near the age when fellow should
+try to bear some of the expense of keeping himself."
+
+"What will you work at?"
+
+"Why, reporting for 'The Blade.' I believe I can capture a good
+many stray dollars this summer."
+
+"Good enough," murmured Dr. Bentley, approvingly.  "But are you
+going to have any spare time?"
+
+"A little, I hope---just about enough for some rest."
+
+"Then I'll tell you where you can take that rest," went on the
+medical man.  "My family are going into camp for the summer, in
+three days.  They'll be over at the lake range, on a piece of
+ground that I've bought there.  You can get over once in a while,
+and spend a night or two, can't you?  Mrs. Bentley charged me
+to ask you and Darrin," added the physician.  "Belle Meade is
+going to spend the summer in camp with Laura."
+
+Both boys were prompt with their thanks.
+
+"Confound it," muttered Dr. Bentley, "I'm forgetting two thirds
+of my message at that.  The invitation includes all of Dick &
+Co.  Now remember you'll all be looked for from time to time,
+and most heartily welcome."
+
+Both boys were most hearty in their thanks.  This took care of
+whatever spare time they might have, for Dave, too, was to be
+busy a good deal of the time.  He had work as an extra clerk at
+the express office.
+
+Then the two girl chums came along.  Dick and Dave strolled along
+with Laura and Belle.  The other partners of Dick & Co. were soon
+to be seen, their narrow-brimmed straw hats close to bobbing picture
+hats.
+
+"Your father gave us a message, Laura," Dick murmured to the girl
+beside him.
+
+"And you're going to accept it?" asked the girl quickly.
+
+"At any chance to be honestly away from work," Dick promised fervently.
+"Yet at my age a fellow must keep something of an eye toward
+business, too, Laura."
+
+"Yes," she answered slowly, glancing covertly at the bronzed young
+face and the strong, lithe body.  "You're nearing manhood, Dick."
+
+"Just about as rapidly as you're growing into womanhood, Laura,"
+answered the boy.
+
+Dave and Belle were chatting, too, but what they said wouldn't
+interest very staid old people.
+
+Gridley was prouder than ever of its athletic teams.  The great
+record in baseball, with Dick & Co. in the team, was something
+worth talking about.
+
+Lest there be some who may think that a season of baseball with
+no defeats is an all but impossible record, the chronicler hastens
+to add that there are, through the length and breadth of these
+United States, several High School teams every year that make
+such a showing.
+
+Yet, in baseball, as in everything else, the record is reached
+only by nines like the Gridley crowd, where the stiffest training,
+the best coaches and the best individual nerve and grit among
+the players are to be found.
+
+Did Fred Ripley truly make good?
+
+What else happened?
+
+These and various other burning questions must now be answered
+in the chronicle of the time to which they belonged.  So the reader
+is referred to the next volume in this series, which is to be
+published at once under the caption: "_The High School Left End;
+Or, Dick & Co. Grilling on the Football Gridiron_."
+
+At the same time, no interested reader will allow himself to overlook
+the second volume in the "_High School Boys' Vacation Series_,"
+which runs parallel with this present series.  All the wonderful
+summer vacation adventures that followed the sophomore year of
+Prescott and his chums will be found in the volume published under
+the title, "_The High School Boys' In Summer Camp; Or, The Dick
+Prescott Six Training for the Gridley Eleven_."  It is a thrilling
+story that no follower of the fortunes of these lads can afford
+to overlook.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The High School Pitcher, by H. Irving Hancock
+
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