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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12690-0.txt b/12690-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6489226 --- /dev/null +++ b/12690-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6975 @@ +*** 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 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e43a863 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12690 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12690) diff --git a/old/12690.txt b/old/12690.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c9e8d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12690.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7360 @@ +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. 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