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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 Rival Pitchers + A Story of College Baseball + +Author: Lester Chadwick + +Release Date: April 30, 2012 [EBook #39582] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIVAL PITCHERS *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 392px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="392" height="600" alt="cover" title="cover" /> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 380px;"> +<a name="image01" id="image01"><img src="images/image01.jpg" width="380" height="600" + alt="THE GAME WON—PHIL, AMID A RIOT OF CHEERS, KEPT ON TO SECOND" + title="THE GAME WON—PHIL, AMID A RIOT OF CHEERS, KEPT ON TO SECOND" /></a><br /> +<span class="caption"><a href="#Page_92">THE GAME WON—PHIL, AMID A RIOT OF CHEERS, KEPT ON TO +SECOND</a></span> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h1>THE RIVAL PITCHERS</h1> + +<p class="noi subtitle">A Story of College Baseball</p> + +<p class="p4 noic">BY</p> +<p class="noi author">LESTER CHADWICK</p> + +<p class="noi works">AUTHOR OF “A QUARTER-BACK’S PLUCK,” ETC.</p> + +<p class="p6 noic">ILLUSTRATED</p> + +<p class="p6 noic">NEW YORK<br /> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="adbox"> +<p class="noic">BOOKS BY LESTER CHADWICK</p> + +<hr class="r15" /> +<p class="noic"><b>THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES</b></p> + +<p class="noic">12mo. Illustrated</p> + +<p class="p2 noi hang">THE RIVAL PITCHERS<br /> + A Story of College Baseball</p> + +<p class="noi hang">A QUARTER-BACK’S PLUCK<br /> + A Story of College Football</p> + +<p class="noic">(Other volumes in preparation)</p> + +<p class="noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY NEW YORK</p> +</div> + +<p class="p2 noic">Copyright, 1910, by<br /> +<span class="smcap">Cupples & Leon Company</span></p> +<hr class="r15" /> +<p class="noic"><span class="smcap">The Rival Pitchers</span></p> + +<p class="p6 right">Printed in U. S. A.</p> + + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width: 20%;" /> +<col style="width: 70%;" /> +<col style="width: 10%;" /> +<tr> + <td class="tdchap">CHAPTER</td> + <td class="tdl"></td> + <td class="tdchap">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">I</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">The Old Bell Clapper</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">II</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">A Good Throw</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">19</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">III</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">A Baseball Meeting</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">27</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">IV</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">The Hazing</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">42</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">V</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">A Scrub Game</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">51</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">VI</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">The Pole Rush</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">62</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">VII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Tom Holds His Own</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">69</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">VIII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">At Practice</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">77</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">IX</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">A Game with Boxer Hall</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">86</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">X</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">A Coil of Wire</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">93</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XI</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">An Electric Shock</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">104</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Tom Doesn’t Tell</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">112</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">A Girl and a Game</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">120</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIV</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Tom’s Curves</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">132</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XV</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">A Sophomore Trick</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">139</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVI</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Tom Makes a Discovery</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">147</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">An Expostulation</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">152</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVIII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">Some “Old Grads”</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">160</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIX</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">Tom in Cold Water</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">168</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XX</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">A Game of Another Sort</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">176</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXI</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">On the Grill</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">185</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">Dark Days</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">192</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXIII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">At the Dance</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">200</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXIV</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Dress Suits Come High</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">208</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXV</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">Tom in a Game</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">216</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXVI</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">The Freshman Dinner</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">227</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXVII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">Tom Is Kidnapped</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">234</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXVIII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">The Escape</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">240</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXIX</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">Anticipations</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">247</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXX</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">A Great Game</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">255</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXXI</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">Langridge Appeals</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">272</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXXII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">The Final Contest</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">281</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXXIII</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">Victory</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">293</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#image01">THE GAME WON—PHIL, AMID A RIOT OF CHEERS, KEPT ON TO +SECOND</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#image02">THE MAN ALLOWED THEM TO PILE IN</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#image03">DR. CHURCHILL HAD TO TURN HIS FACE AWAY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#image04">THE BATTER MISSED EACH TIME</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h1>THE RIVAL PITCHERS</h1> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h2> + +<h3>THE OLD BELL CLAPPER</h3> + + +<p>Down the green campus they strolled, a motley +group of sturdy freshmen, talking excitedly. In +their midst was a tall, good-looking lad, who +seemed to be the center of discussion. Yet, in +spite of the fact that the others appeared to be +deferring something to him, he regarded them with +rather an amused and cynical smile on his face. +He paused to brush an invisible bit of dust from +his well-fitting clothes.</p> + +<p>“Well, aren’t we going to make a try for it to-night?” +asked one youth, whose hat was decorated +with a silk band, yellow and maroon in color. “My +uncle, who used to be a football coach here, says +the freshmen always used to get it the first week +of the term. My uncle——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, let up about your uncle, Fenton!” exclaimed +the lad on whose word the others seemed +to depend a great deal. “I’ve heard nothing but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +your uncle, your uncle, ever since you came here. +Give us something new.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, Fred Langridge, but my +uncle——”</p> + +<p>“There you go again!” interrupted Fred. “I +guess I know what the custom is, as well as your +uncle. He hasn’t been here in fifteen years.”</p> + +<p>“I know that, but he says——”</p> + +<p>“Say, if you speak uncle again, I’ll land you +one on the jaw, and that’ll keep you quiet for a +while.” The words, in spite of their aggressiveness, +were good-natured enough, and were spoken +with a smile. Ford Fenton, who seldom took part +in any conversation about college sports or frolics +without mentioning his relative, who had been a +well-known coach at Randall, looked first surprised, +then hurt, but as he saw that the sympathies of +his companion freshmen were with Langridge, he +concluded to make the best of it.</p> + +<p>“I guess I know what the customs are here,” +repeated the well-dressed lad. “Didn’t I get turned +down at the exams, and ain’t I putting in my second +year as freshman? I helped get the clapper +last year, and I’ll help again this term. But I know +one thing, Fenton, and that’s not two.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” eagerly asked the youth who +had boasted of his uncle.</p> + +<p>“That’s this: You may not get the clapper, but +you’ll get something else.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter?”</p> + +<p>For answer Langridge silently pointed to the +gay hatband of the other.</p> + +<p>“Take it off—take it off,” he said. “Don’t you +know it’s against the sacred customs of Randall +College for a freshman to wear the colors on his +hat until after the flagpole rush? Don’t you know +it, I ask?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I heard something about it.”</p> + +<p>“Better strip it off, then,” went on Langridge. +“Here come Morse and Denfield, a couple of +scrappy sophs. They’ll have it off you before you +can say ‘all Gaul is divided into three parts,’ which +you slumped on in Latin to-day.”</p> + +<p>Fenton looked up, and saw approaching the +group of freshmen which included himself, two +tall lads, who walked along with the swagger that +betokened their second year at college. The hand +of Fenton went to his hat, to take off the offending +band, but he was too late. The sophomores +had seen it. They turned quickly and strode over +to the group of first years.</p> + +<p>“Would you look at that, Morse!” called Denfield +in simulated wrath.</p> + +<p>“I should say so,” came the answer. “The +nerve of him! Hi, fresh, what are you doing with +that hatband?”</p> + +<p>Then Fenton did something totally opposed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +the spirit of Randall College. He, a freshman, +dared to talk back to a sophomore.</p> + +<p>“I’m wearing it,” replied he pertly. “Does it +look as if I was playing ping-pong with it?”</p> + +<p>The sophomores could hardly believe their ears. +There was no imitation in the surprise that showed +on their faces.</p> + +<p>“For the love of Mike! Listen to him!” gasped +Morse. “Grab him, Denfield! Wow! But things +are coming to a pretty pass when a fresh talks like +that the first week. Look out now, youngster, +you’re going to get a little lesson in how to behave +to your betters.”</p> + +<p>The two sophomores reached out their hands +to grab Fenton. He made a spring to get behind +a protecting wall of his comrades, and for a moment +it looked as if the second year lads would be +bested, for there were at least fifteen freshmen. +But Langridge knew better than to let his friends +get into trouble that way.</p> + +<p>“Let ’em have him,” he advised in a low voice. +“It’s the custom, and he knew it. He deserves it +all.”</p> + +<p>Thereupon the freshmen divided, and offered +no opposition to the twain, who gathered in their +man. Morse snatched off the hat with the offending +band, and, while Denfield held the struggling +Fenton, ripped off the ribbon. Then with his +knife Morse began cutting the hat to pieces.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Here, quit that!” yelled Fenton. “That’s a +new hat!”</p> + +<p>“Softly, softly, little one,” counseled Denfield. +“I pray thee speak softly.”</p> + +<p>Though Fenton struggled to escape, the other +easily held him, and the freshman was forced to +witness the destruction of his nice, new soft hat. +Having thus, as he believed, wiped out the insult +offered, Morse carefully folded the ribbon and +placed it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Maybe you’ll get a chance to wear it—after the +pole rush,” he said calmly. “I don’t believe you +will, for we’re going to wipe up the ground with +you freshmen this term. But if you do, I’ll give +you back your ribbon—er—what’s your name, +freshman?”</p> + +<p>“Fenton,” answered the humiliated one.</p> + +<p>“Fenton what?”</p> + +<p>“Ford Fenton.”</p> + +<p>“Say ‘Fenton, sir,’” counseled Langridge in the +other’s ear.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know how to reply to a gentleman?” +asked Denfield fiercely, shaking Fenton from a +neckhold he had. “Say sir, when you speak to a +soph.”</p> + +<p>“Sir!” cried Fenton, for the grip hurt him.</p> + +<p>“That’s better. Now remember, no more ribbons +until after the pole rush, and maybe not +then. This to all you freshies,” added Morse.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, we know that,” put in Langridge. “But +we’ll all be wearing them after next week, and +we’ll be wearing something else, too.”</p> + +<p>“Nixy on the clapper, old chap!” called Denfield. +“We won’t stand for that.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see,” responded Langridge. “All is not +gold that doesn’t come out in the wash.”</p> + +<p>“Ha! He speaks in parables!” cried Morse. +“Well done, old chap! But come on, Denfield. +I’ve got a date.”</p> + +<p>The youth holding Fenton gave him a sudden +turn and twist that sent him spinning to the ground, +and as he picked himself up the two sophomores +walked off, as dignified as senators.</p> + +<p>“Confound them!” muttered Fenton as he +brushed the dust off his clothes. “I’ve a good +mind to——”</p> + +<p>“Easy, now,” advised Langridge. “They’re +sophs, you know. Go easy!”</p> + +<p>“But that’s no reason why we should let them +walk all over us!” exclaimed a sturdy lad, who had +watched, with rising anger, the attack on Fenton. +“I don’t see why a crowd of us fellows should take +whatever mean things they want to inflict.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, Clinton,” declared Langridge. +“It’s college custom, just the same as it is for +us to take the clapper out of the chapel bell, have +it melted up, and cast into watch charms. It’s +college custom, that’s all.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That’s all right, it may be; but I like to see a +fair fight!” went on Phil Clinton. “I could have +tackled Morse alone, and he’s bigger than I am.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe you could, but you’d have the whole +sophomore class down on us if you did, and you +know what that means. No, let it go. Fenton +brought it on himself by wearing the band.”</p> + +<p>“I wish they’d tackled me,” murmured the +sturdy Clinton.</p> + +<p>“I wish they had,” echoed Fenton. “Look at +my hat.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, my uncle says I can have a +new one!” piped up a shrill voice, in imitation of +Fenton’s usual tones.</p> + +<p>“Holly Cross, or I’m a Dutchman!” exclaimed +Langridge, turning quickly to glance at a newcomer, +who had joined the ranks of the freshmen. +“Where’ve you been, Holly?”</p> + +<p>“Down by the boathouse, watching the crew +practice. I’ll give you an imitation of Billy Housenlager +pulling,” and Holly, or Holman, Cross, +began a pretense of rowing in grotesque style.</p> + +<p>“That’s Dutch all over,” admitted Langridge. +“He goes at it like a house and lot.”</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” demanded Holly, for he had seen +from afar the little rumpus. “Has ‘my uncle’ been +cutting up?” and he winked at Fenton.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” began the aggrieved one, +who did not seem to know when he was being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +made fun of. “Look at my hat,” and he held up +the felt article, which was in tatters.</p> + +<p>“New style,” commented Holly casually. “Good +for hot weather. Fine for a souvenir. Hand it +around and we’ll all put our initials on it, and you +can hang it in your room. But say, is there anything +doing?”</p> + +<p>“There may be, to-night,” answered Langridge.</p> + +<p>“So—so?” asked Holly with a wink, the while +he pretended to ring an imaginary bell.</p> + +<p>“Keep it mum,” was Langridge’s answer. “You +fellows want to meet at the boathouse to-night,” +he went on, as if giving orders. “Don’t forget +what I told you, and don’t walk as if you had new +shoes on. Take it easy. Be there at eight o’clock. +Come along, Holly. I want to talk to you.”</p> + +<p>Langridge linked his arm in that of the newcomer, +and the two strolled off to one side of the +college campus, while the group of freshmen made +their way toward one of the two large dormitory +buildings.</p> + +<p>“He orders us around as if we were working +for him,” objected Phil Clinton. “Langridge +takes too much for granted.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s been here a year, and I s’pose he +feels like a soph,” remarked Sid Henderson.</p> + +<p>“Maybe, but that doesn’t make him one. He +thinks because he’s got plenty of money, and comes +from Chicago, that he can run things here, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +he’s not going to run me,” and Phil stuck out his +square, well-formed jaw in a manner that betokened +trouble.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you going to help get——” began Ed +Kerr, who was quite a chum of Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Easy!” cautioned Sid. “Here are some +sophs.”</p> + +<p>A group of second-year students passed the freshmen +with suspicious glances, but, seeing no offending +colors, nor any other evidences of anything +that could be taken to mean that their traditional +prey had violated any rules, they saw nothing objectionable.</p> + +<p>“Don’t mention clapper,” went on Sid.</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” agreed Ed Kerr. “But I was +going to say that Fred knows the ropes better than +we do. If we stick to him we’ll come out all +right. It’s no fun to try for—for it, and have the +sophs give us the merry ha-ha.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ll try to get it,” assented Phil Clinton, +“but I don’t like being ordered around.”</p> + +<p>“Langridge doesn’t mean anything by it,” spoke +his friend.</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t like it.” And with that the lads +passed into the dormitory, for it was nearly time +for supper, and the rule was that they must come +to the tables neatly dressed.</p> + +<p>A little later Langridge and Holly strolled up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +to the buildings where the three hundred students +of Randall College were housed.</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll be on hand, eh?” asked Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I reckon so. But it seems like a lot +of work for what we get out of it.”</p> + +<p>“Get out of it! You old anthropoid!” exclaimed +Langridge. “What’s the matter with you? Going +back on the college customs?”</p> + +<p>“What’s an anthropoid?” asked Holly Cross, +as he deftly juggled three stones with one hand. +“How’s that for good work?” he asked irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>“An anthropoid is a second cousin to a cynic,” +answered Langridge, “and a cynic is a fellow whose +liver is out of order, which makes him have a bad +taste in his mouth and get out of the wrong side +of bed.”</p> + +<p>“Get out, you camel-backed asteroid!” cried +Holly. “There’s nothing the matter with my +mouth, and I can get out of either side of my cot +without knowing which side it is.”</p> + +<p>“Are you coming to-night?”</p> + +<p>“Sure, I’ll be there.”</p> + +<p>“All right; that’s what I want to know.”</p> + +<p>Holly and Langridge passed into the east dormitory, +where they had been preceded by the other +group of freshmen. This building was given over +to rooms for the first year and senior students, +while in the west dormitory the sophomores and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +juniors, as being the least likely to indulge in +hazing and horse-play, did their studying and +sleeping.</p> + +<p>There are few institutions of learning better +known throughout the Middle West than Randall +College. It had been established several decades +before, and though small at first, and unimportant, +the thorough methods used soon attracted attention +from parents who had sons to educate. Many +a well-known man of to-day, who has made his +mark in the world, owes part of his success, at +least, to Randall College, and he is proud to acknowledge +it. In time, because of liberal endowments, +and because the institution became better +known, its influence spread, until, from a small +seat of learning, it became a large one, and now +students from many States attend there.</p> + +<p>Randall College was most fortunately situated. +It was on the outskirts of the town of Haddonfield, +and thus was connected by railroad with the +outside world. It was far enough away from town +to be rid of the distractions of a semi-city life, yet +near enough so that the advantages of it could be +had.</p> + +<p>The buildings composing the college consisted +of several in addition to the main one, containing +the classrooms, lecture halls, laboratories, study +rooms and the like. There was Biology Hall, a +magnificent gift from an alumnus, and Booker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +Memorial Chapel, a place of worship, containing +some wonderful stained-glass windows. The +chapel was the gift of a lady, whose only son had +died while attending the school. Back of the main +college building, and somewhat to the left, was +a modest structure, where the faculty, including +Dr. Albertus Churchill, the venerable president, +had their living apartments.</p> + +<p>Farther to the rear of the main structure were +two buildings that contained dormitories and rooms +for the three hundred or more students. There +were two dormitory buildings, the east and the +west, and, for obvious reasons, one, the eastern, +was inhabited by the freshmen and seniors, while +the juniors and sophomores lived, moved and had +their being in the other.</p> + +<p>The gymnasium, which was well equipped, was +located a little to the left of the west dormitory, +and it adjoined the baseball diamond and the football +gridiron. Skirting the edges of this big, +level field were the grandstands and bleachers, for +sports had a proper and important part in life at +Randall.</p> + +<p>Standing on the knoll in front of the main building, +one looked down a gentle, grassy slope to +Sunny River, which twisted in and out, lazily +enough, around a hill that contained the college +and the grounds. The campus swept down, in a +sort of oval, to the very edge of the stream. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +there is no finer sight in all this country than to +stand on the steps of the main building some fine +summer day (or, for that matter, a wintry one) +and look off to the river. If you are patriotic, and +of course you are, you will take off your hat to +the colors that fly from a tall flagpole in the center +of the campus.</p> + +<p>Sunny River was a beautiful stream, not as broad +as some rivers, but sufficiently so to provide boating +facilities for the Randall students. On it, every +year, was held the annual regatta, Randall and +some other institutions participating. There was +a large boathouse on the edge of the river, located +on your left as you stood on the campus, facing the +water.</p> + +<p>Sunny River flowed into Lake Tonoka, which +was about a mile below the college, and in the +midst of the lake was Crest Island. What exciting +times that lake and river have seen during the +summer season! What rowing races! What +swimming races! What jolly picnics! And, let +us whisper, what mysterious scenes on nights when +some luckless candidate was initiated into a secret +society!</p> + +<p>On the farther side of the river from the village, +and near the junction with the lake, was a sort of +park, or summer resort. A trolley line ran from +it to the town of Haddonfield, but the students +more often preferred to walk to the village, rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +than wait for the cars, which ran on uncertain +schedules.</p> + +<p>At the lower end of Lake Tonoka, just over the +line in another State, was Boxer Hall, a college +somewhat smaller than Randall, while to the west, +fifteen miles away, was Fairview Institute, a co-educational +school that was well patronized. The +three institutions had a common interest in sports, +and there was a tri-collegiate league of debating +clubs that often furnished milder, if more substantial, +excitement.</p> + +<p>It was an evening in early April, of the new +term after the Easter vacation, that a number of +freshmen, who had taken part in the lively scene +of the afternoon, and some students who had not, +met silently and stealthily back of the boathouse +on the back of Sunny River. The night was cloudy, +and thus it was darker than usual at that hour.</p> + +<p>“Have you fellows got the rope?” asked Langridge +in a whisper, as he took his place at the head +of the little force.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” answered Phil Clinton.</p> + +<p>“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” retorted Langridge +arrogantly. “I’ve seen the time it’s been +forgotten.”</p> + +<p>“What are we going to do with it?” asked Sid +Henderson.</p> + +<p>“Use it to hang a soph with,” spoke Holly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +Cross. “Prepare to meet thy doom!” he added +in a sepulchral voice.</p> + +<p>“Cut it out, Holly,” advised Langridge. “I’m +afraid the sophs are on to us as it is.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll rush ’em!” exclaimed Phil Clinton +aggressively.</p> + +<p>“No, that won’t do any good. We’d never get +the clapper, then.”</p> + +<p>“I know a good way,” spoke Fenton. “My +uncle says——”</p> + +<p>“Say, you and your uncle ought to be in a glass +case and in the museum,” called Holly. “Dry up, +Fenton!”</p> + +<p>“Where’s the Snail?” asked Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Here,” replied Sam Looper, who, from his +slow movements, and from the fact that he loved +to prowl about in the dark, for he could see well +after nightfall, had gained that nickname. “What +do you want?”</p> + +<p>“Will you climb up the rope after I get it in +place?”</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>“Then come on,” whispered Langridge. “I +guess it’s safe now. There don’t appear to be any +one stirring.”</p> + +<p>The mysterious body of freshmen moved off +in the darkness toward the Booker Memorial +Chapel. Their object, as you have probably +guessed, was to climb to the steeple and remove<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +the clapper from the bell, a prank that was sanctioned +by years of custom at Randall College. +Once the big tongue of iron was secured, it would +be taken to a village jeweler, who would have it +melted up and cast into scores of miniature clappers.</p> + +<p>These, when nickel-plated, made appropriate +watch charms for the freshmen class, and suitably, +they thought, demonstrated their superiority over +their long-time rivals, the sophomores. For it was +the duty of the second-year students, if possible, +to prevent the taking away of the clapper. The +purloining of it must always be done the first week +after the Easter vacation, and if this passed by +without the freshmen being successful, the clapper +was safe, immune and inviolate. Hence the need +of haste, as but two more nights were left. Once +the clapper was taken the class had to contribute +money enough to buy another for the voiceless +bell.</p> + +<p>Silently, as befitted the occasion, the lads made +their way from the rendezvous at the boathouse +toward the chapel. Their plan was simple. On +top of the cupola which held the bell was a large +cross. It was the custom to tie a stone, or some +weight, to a light cord, throw the weight over the +cross, and by means of the thin string haul up a +heavy rope. Up this rope some freshman would +climb, remove the clapper, and slide down again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +while his comrades stood guard against any attack +of sophomores.</p> + +<p>“Who’s going to throw the stone?” asked Ed +Kerr, as he walked along beside Langridge.</p> + +<p>“I am, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course,” repeated Clinton in a low +voice. “You want to run everything.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Fred Langridge is a good pitcher,” +spoke Sid Henderson. “He’s likely to make the +’varsity this year.”</p> + +<p>“Um!” was all Phil said.</p> + +<p>The boys reached the chapel, and, under the direction +of Langridge, the cord and rope were made +ready.</p> + +<p>“Got a good stone?” asked the leader.</p> + +<p>“Here’s a hunk of lead,” replied Ed. “I made +it on purpose. It’s not so likely to slip out as a +stone.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good. Hand it over.”</p> + +<p>The lead was soon fastened to the cord.</p> + +<p>“Look out, now, here goes!” called Langridge. +“I’m going to pitch it over. Be all ready, Snail.”</p> + +<p>He stepped back, and tossed the lead, intending +to make the cord fall across one arm of the cross. +But either his aim was poor, or he could not discern +well enough in the darkness the outlines of +the cross.</p> + +<p>“Missed it!” exclaimed Clinton.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, so would you,” growled Langridge. +“Some one stepped on the cord.”</p> + +<p>“Let Snail try,” suggested Henderson.</p> + +<p>“I’m doing this throwing,” declared Langridge +curtly.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t look so,” murmured Phil.</p> + +<p>Langridge tried again, but with no success.</p> + +<p>“Hurry,” spoke Kerr. “The sophs will be out +soon.”</p> + +<p>Langridge made a third attempt, and failed. +Then Snail Looper called out in an excited whisper:</p> + +<p>“Here come the sophs! Cut it!”</p> + +<p>“No!” cried Langridge. “Hold on! I’ll get +it over now. Fight ’em back, boys!”</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h2> + +<h3>A GOOD THROW</h3> + + +<p>There was excitement in the ranks of the freshmen. +They formed in a ring about Langridge, +who once more prepared to throw the weight over +the cross.</p> + +<p>“Hold ’em back, boys!” he pleaded. “We can +do it. It won’t take five minutes to get the clapper +after the rope’s up.”</p> + +<p>“But first you’ve got to get it up,” replied +Clinton.</p> + +<p>“And I will. Cut out your knocking. Here +goes!”</p> + +<p>Off to the right could be seen a confused mass +of shadows moving toward the chapel. They +were the sophomores, who in some mysterious manner +had heard of the attempt to take the clapper, +and who now determined to prevent it.</p> + +<p>“They’re coming,” said Kerr ominously.</p> + +<p>“I know it,” answered Langridge desperately. +“Keep still about it, can’t you?” he asked fretfully. +“You make me nervous, and I can’t throw well.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Humph! He must be a fine pitcher if he gets +nervous,” declared Clinton.</p> + +<p>Langridge glanced at the circle of freshmen +about him. There were enough of them to stand +off the rush of the sophomores, who, as they came +nearer, were observed to be rather few in number.</p> + +<p>“Here it goes!” exclaimed the rich youth, and +he threw the lead weight with all his force. It +struck the cross, but did not carry the cord over +the arm.</p> + +<p>“At ’em, fellows! At ’em!” yelled the leading +sophomores. “Tear ’em apart! Don’t let ’em +get the clapper!”</p> + +<p>There was a struggle on the outer fringe of +freshmen, who crumpled up under the attack of +the second-year lads.</p> + +<p>“Hold ’em back!” yelled Langridge. There +was no longer any need of caution.</p> + +<p>The sophomores were hurled back by the weight +of superior numbers. Seeing this their leader hastily +sent for reinforcements. Meanwhile the others +renewed their attack on the freshmen. Langridge +prepared to make another cast.</p> + +<p>“He’ll never do that in a week!” exclaimed +Clinton in disgust. “Why doesn’t some one who +can throw try it?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll throw, all right!” cried Langridge, as he +untangled the cord, which was in a mass at his +feet. He was about to make another attempt,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +when a lad stepped to his side—a lad who was a +stranger to the others. Where he had come from +they did not know.</p> + +<p>“Let me try,” he said pleasantly. “I used to be +pretty fair at throwing stones. Your arm is tired, +I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” demanded Langridge suspiciously. +“Are you a soph? How’d you get here?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not a soph,” replied the other good-naturedly, +in a pause that followed a second hurling +back of the attackers, who withdrew to wait +for reinforcements. “I’m a freshman. My name +is Parsons—Tom Parsons. I’m a little late getting +here this term. In fact, I just arrived to-night. +I was on my way from the depot to the college, +when, as I crossed the campus, I heard what was +up. As I’m a freshman, I decided to join in. +Hope it’s all right.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know you,” said Langridge hesitatingly, +fearing this was a trick of the enemy. “You +may be a soph——”</p> + +<p>“No, I assure you I’m not,” said Tom Parsons. +“Wait a minute. Is there any one here named +Sidney Henderson?”</p> + +<p>“That’s my name,” replied Sid.</p> + +<p>“Then you ought to know me. I’m to room with +you, I believe. At least, I have a letter from Dr. +Albertus Churchill to that effect. He’s quartered +me on you.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right!” cried Henderson. “Parsons +is a freshman, all right. I didn’t remember +about it. Sure, he’s all right. It’s a queer time +to arrive, though.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it?” agreed Tom good-naturedly. +“Couldn’t help it, though. Train was late.”</p> + +<p>“Here come some more sophs!” called Kerr.</p> + +<p>“Get that line over, for cats’ sake!” demanded +Clinton.</p> + +<p>“I will!” exclaimed Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Shall I throw it?” asked Tom. “I guess——”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do my own throwing,” replied the other +coldly.</p> + +<p>“If he knows how to throw, let him try,” suggested +Clinton. “We want to get that clapper +some time to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Go ahead, Fred,” urged Kerr. “I guess your +arm ain’t in shape yet.”</p> + +<p>Langridge murmured something, but as there +arose a general demand that he let some one else +try, and as a new body of sophomores were rushing +down to the attack, he handed over the lead +weight.</p> + +<p>“Can you pitch?” he asked of Tom.</p> + +<p>“A little,” was the quiet reply.</p> + +<p>The two faced each other in the darkness, as if +trying to see of what stuff each was made. It was +the first time Tom Parsons and Fred Langridge +met, and it was rather prophetic that this first meeting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +should presage others which were to follow, +and in which the rivalry thus early established was +to be fought out to the bitter end.</p> + +<p>“Hurry!” urged Kerr. “We’re going to have +our hands full now. They’re going to rush us.”</p> + +<p>Tom Parsons grasped the lead weight, and +shook the cord to free it of kinks. He stepped +back a few feet, looked up in the darkness to where +the cross was dimly visible, and then, drawing +back his arm, sent the lead with great force and +straight aim up into the air.</p> + +<p>“A good throw!” cried Sid Henderson, as the +moon, just then coming out from behind a bank of +clouds, showed that the cord had fallen squarely +over one arm of the cross, the weight coming down +to the ground on the other side of the chapel.</p> + +<p>“A good throw!” echoed Clinton.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” growled Langridge. “I could have +done as well on the next try.”</p> + +<p>“Haul up the rope!” ordered Kerr. “Lively, +now!”</p> + +<p>Several lads ran around to where the end of the +cord, still attached to the weight, was on the +ground. All around a struggle was going on, the +freshmen endeavoring to hold back the attacking +sophomores. Now and then a second-year lad +would break through the protecting fringe, only to +be hurled or pushed back again by the defenders.</p> + +<p>Quick hands hauled on the cord, and the heavier<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +rope rose in the air and slipped over the cross. +It was held down on one side by several turns +taken around a post. Then it was made taut at the +opposite end.</p> + +<p>“Shin up now, Snail!” cried Langridge, who had +again assumed command of things. “Quick! +We’ll hold the rope! Get the clapper!”</p> + +<p>The night-loving youth moved slowly forward. +But, in spite of his lack of speed, he managed to +make good time up the rope, which he skilfully +ascended hand over hand.</p> + +<p>“Don’t let ’em get the clapper!” “Break +through and yank down the rope!” were the cries +of the sophomores.</p> + +<p>Again and again they hurled themselves against +the circle of freshmen, who protected the two +groups of their comrades holding either end of +the rope.</p> + +<p>“Hold ’em, boys! Hold ’em!” pleaded Langridge.</p> + +<p>Tom Parsons threw himself into the thick of the +fight. He gave blows, and he took them, all in +good nature. Once, when a small sophomore +broke through, Tom picked him up bodily and deposited +him outside the circle of defenders.</p> + +<p>“Say, he’s got muscle, all right,” observed +Clinton to Kerr.</p> + +<p>“That’s what. There’s class there, all right.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +Shouldn’t wonder but what he’d give Langridge a +rub for pitcher, if he plays baseball.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’ll play, all right. A fellow who can +throw as he did can’t help playing.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s that?” asked Sid in a breathing spell, +following a temporary repulse of the enemy.</p> + +<p>“The new lad—Tom Parsons.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, he plays ball,” said Sid. “His father +knows my father. They used to be chums in Northville, +a country town. That’s how Tom happened +to come here, and he asked if he couldn’t room +with me. He plays ball, all right.”</p> + +<p>“Pitch?” asked Clinton laconically.</p> + +<p>“I think so. Look out, here they come again!”</p> + +<p>The conversation was interrupted to repel another +rush.</p> + +<p>“Look out below!” suddenly called the Snail +from his perch near the cupola.</p> + +<p>“Got the clapper?” yelled Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Yep! Here it is!”</p> + +<p>Something fell with a thud in the midst of a +group of freshmen. It was the bell clapper, which +the Snail had unhooked. Tom Parsons made a +dive for it.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take that!” exclaimed Langridge roughly, +as he shoved the newcomer to one side and grabbed +up the mass of iron.</p> + +<p>“I was only going to help,” replied Tom good-naturedly.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Cut with it!” ordered Kerr. “We can’t hold +’em much longer, and we don’t want ’em to get it +now. Skip, Langridge. Take some interference +with you.”</p> + +<p>As if it was a football game, several lads made +a sort of flying wedge in front of Langridge, with +him inside the apex, and, thus protected, he bored +through the mass of sophomores.</p> + +<p>“After him!” yelled several second-years, who +had become aware of the trick. “He’s got the +clapper!”</p> + +<p>Most of the lads rushed away from the chapel, +only those remaining who were holding the rope +taut. Some of these even started away.</p> + +<p>“Hold on!” yelled the Snail. “I’m up here yet! +I want to get down!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t leave Sam up there!” cried Kerr. “Hold +the rope, fellows, until he shins down.”</p> + +<p>Several freshmen ran back.</p> + +<p>“I’ll help hold,” volunteered Tom, though there +was a temptation to join the fighting throng that +surrounded Langridge and his defenders.</p> + +<p>The Snail slid to the ground, the rope was pulled +from the cross, and the lads, coiling it up as they +ran, hastened to the aid of their freshmen comrades.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h2> + +<h3>A BASEBALL MEETING</h3> + + +<p>“Swat ’em, freshmen! Swat ’em!” was the +rallying cry of the first-year lads.</p> + +<p>“Get the clapper! Get the clapper! Don’t let +them get away with it!” implored the sophomores.</p> + +<p>There was a confused mass of arms, legs and +bodies. The mass swayed, now this way, now that. +Tom Parsons, the Snail, Ed Kerr and some others +who had remained behind to manage the rope, +threw themselves into the fray. Their help turned +the tide of battle, and the sophomores, who were +outnumbered, turned and fled, leaving the freshmen +victors of the fight.</p> + +<p>“Have you got the clapper, Langridge?” called +Kerr anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” and the lad addressed produced +the unwieldy souvenir from underneath his coat.</p> + +<p>“Then get it to our room and hide it,” went on +Kerr. “They’ll not give up yet. We’ve got to +expect a hunt for it to-night.”</p> + +<p>Kerr and Langridge, who roomed together,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +started away, the clapper of the bell safe in their +possession, while the others brought up the rear, +a guard against a possible unexpected attack. But +none was made, and presently the long, iron tongue +was safely hidden in the rooms of the freshmen.</p> + +<p>“I say,” remarked Tom Parsons to Sidney Henderson, +when the excitement had somewhat calmed +down, “I wonder if I’d better report to the proctor, +or to Dr. Churchill to-night. I’ve just entered, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the use?” asked his companion. +“You’re to room with me—that’s settled. Mr. +Zane, the proctor, won’t want to be disturbed. +Besides, I rather think that Dr. Churchill, our +venerable and respected head—by the way, we call +him Moses, you know—I say I don’t believe he’d +thank you for coming.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, there’s been more or less of doings +to-night. Of course, the faculty are not supposed +to know that we take the bell clapper, but +you can bet they do know. They pretend not to, +and take no notice of it. If you were to go and +ring Moses up at this hour, he’d have to become +aware—take cognizance, he’d call it—of our little +racket. That might make trouble. No, on the +whole, let the proctor and Moses alone.”</p> + +<p>“Why Moses?”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I say—why Moses?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I see. Well, we call him that from his +name. Church and hill. Moses went up on a hill +to preach about the church, hence—aha! see?”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t draw a map,” answered Tom, +“even if I am from the country.”</p> + +<p>“That’s so, you’re from Northville, where dad +used to live.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I wouldn’t boast of it, if I were you—especially +when any of the fellows are around.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“Well, of course it’s all right with me—I understand, +but they might make fun of you—rig +you, you understand.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I understand, but I don’t mind being +‘rigged,’ as you call it. I fancy I can do some +‘rigging’ on my own hook.”</p> + +<p>“All right, it’s your funeral. I’ve warned you.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks. But if you think it’s all right for me +to go right to your room, and bunk, without telling +Dr. Churchill—excuse me, Moses—why, I’m +willing.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right. Come on, we’ll go to my +room. There may be some excitement after a bit.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“Well, the sophs may try to get the clapper +back. They generally do. We’ll have to help +fight ’em in that case.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course. By the way, what do you fellows +do with the bell tongue, anyhow?”</p> + +<p>Sid told about the watch charms.</p> + +<p>“You’ll get one,” he added. “That was a good +throw you made.”</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe. It was hard to see in the dark. +I guess What’s-his-name could have made it, only +he tired himself all out.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you mean Langridge.”</p> + +<p>“Is that his name?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I don’t like him very well, but he’s got +lots of dough, and the fellows hang around him. +He’s manager of the baseball team.”</p> + +<p>“He is?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Got the election because he’s willing to +spend some of his money to support the team.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s white of him.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, Fred’s all right, only for what ails +him. He’s got some queer ways, and he thinks +some of us ought to bow down to him more than +we do. But I won’t, and I guess Kerr is getting +sick of him. Some fellows think he got to be +manager, and keeps the place, because he used some +money. There’s been talk about it.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s Kerr?”</p> + +<p>“The fellow with the black hair. He’s catcher +on the nine.”</p> + +<p>“I see.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Are you going to play ball?” asked Henderson +as they entered the room Tom was to share.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to. Is there any chance?”</p> + +<p>“Guess so. The nine’s not all made up yet. +They’re going to have a meeting to-morrow, or +next day, and try out candidates. You’ll have as +good a chance as any one. Where do you play?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been pitching.”</p> + +<p>Henderson uttered a low, long whistle.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?”</p> + +<p>“That’s Langridge’s pet place. He thinks he’s +a regular Christy Mathewson.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I haven’t disputed it,” replied Tom +quietly. “But if you don’t mind, I’m going to +take off my shoes; my feet are tired. Think any +sophs will come?”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t likely now. They’d been here some +time ago if they were coming. Guess I’ll turn in. +I’ve got to get up early and do some boning on my +trigonometry. It’s rotten stuff, ain’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I rather like it.”</p> + +<p>“Um!” was all the answer Sid made, as he prepared +for bed, while Tom also undressed.</p> + +<p>Tom Parsons had come to college, not because +he wanted to have “a good time,” nor because it +was the fashion, nor because his father had the +money to send him. Tom came because he wanted +to gain knowledge, to fit himself for a place in +life, and he earnestly wanted to learn. At the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +same time he did not belong to the class known as +“digs.” Tom was a sport-loving lad, and it +needed but a look at his well-set head, on broad +shoulders, his perfectly rounded neck, his long, lithe +limbs, small hips and deep chest, to tell that he +was an athlete of no little ability.</p> + +<p>Tom’s hair was inclined to curl, especially when +he was warm from running or wrestling, and when +it clung about his bronzed forehead in little brown +ringlets, he was an attractive figure, as more than +one girl had admitted. But Tom, to give him his +due, never thought about this.</p> + +<p>He was tall and straight, and he could do more +than the regulation on the bars, or with dumbbells, +while on the flying rings, or at boxing, you +would want to think twice before you challenged +him.</p> + +<p>But Tom’s specialty, if one may call it such, +was on the baseball diamond. He had played in +all the positions ever since he was a little lad, and +he and the other country boys laid out a diamond +in a stubble field, with stones for bases, and a +hickory club for a bat. But Tom had a natural +bent toward pitching, and he gradually developed +it, principally by his own unaided efforts, together +with what he could pick up out of athletic books, +or what was told to him by his companions. In +twirling the ball Tom’s muscles, hardened by work +on the farm, served him in good stead.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>For Tom Parsons was a farmer lad, though, perhaps, +not a typical one. His father was fairly +well-to-do, and had a large acreage in the town of +Northville. Tom was an only son, though there +were two sisters, of whom he thought the world.</p> + +<p>When Tom had finished his course at the village +academy, and had expressed a wish to go to college, +his father consented. He furnished part of the +money, and the rest Tom supplied himself, for he +was an independent sort of lad, and thought it his +duty to take part of his savings to gain for himself +a better education than was possible in his home +town.</p> + +<p>So Tom, as you have seen, came to Randall, and +of the manner of his arrival, due to a combination +of circumstances, you have been duly informed. He +made two resolutions before coming. One was to +stand well in his classes, and the other—well, you +shall learn the other presently.</p> + +<p>Tom slowly undressed. He was not used to +change, for he had been a “home boy” for years, +though he was no milksop, and did not in the least +mind roughing it. But, after the reaction of the +night, when he was in the little room with the lad +who was to be his chum, he felt a bit lonely. It +was new and strange to him, and he thought, not +without a bit of regret, of the peaceful farmhouse +in Northville, with his mother and father seated +in the big, comfortable dining-room, talking, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +the girls reading books, or sewing, under the light +of a big lamp.</p> + +<p>Tom looked slowly about the little room that +was to be his “home” for some time to come.</p> + +<p>Randall was not a rich college, and, in consequence, +the dormitories and study apartments were +not elaborately furnished. There was a sufficiency, +and that was all. Of course, there was nothing to +prevent the students from adding such articles to +their rooms as they wanted, or thought they desired, +and some, whose parents were wealthy, had +nicely furnished studies.</p> + +<p>But the one occupied by Sid and Tom was quite +plain. There was a worn rug on the floor, so worn, +in fact, that the floor showed through it in several +places. But Sid remarked that it was a virtue +rather than otherwise, for it obviated the necessity +of being careful about spilling things on the rug, +and also did away with the necessity of a door mat.</p> + +<p>“They can’t harm the rug, no matter how much +mud they bring in,” Sid had said, when Tom suggested +getting a new one.</p> + +<p>There were two small iron cots or single beds +in the apartment, a bureau for each lad, a closet +for clothes, but which closet contained balls, gloves, +bats, sweaters, old trousers and other sporting +“goods,” almost to the exclusion of clothes. And +then the closet did not contain it all, for many +articles overflowed into the room, and no amount<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +of compression sufficed to get things entirely within +the closet. There was always something sticking +out. Several old chairs, one a lounging one with a +broken set of springs in the seat, a sofa that creaked +in every joint, like an old man with rheumatism, +a table with a cover spotted with ink, a shelf of +books, an alarm clock, some cheap pictures, prints +from sporting papers, and water pitchers and +bowls completed the furnishings.</p> + +<p>Tom wondered, as he fell asleep, whether the +sophomores would make a further attempt to regain +the clapper, but they did not, and the night +was undisturbed by further pranks. At chapel +next morning Dr. Churchill, after the usual devotions, +announced with a twinkle in his deep-set +eyes that the reason there was no bell to call the +students to worship was because the tocsin was +clapperless.</p> + +<p>“It mysteriously disappeared during the night,” +went on the president, “and—er—well, ahem! +I think matters may take their usual course,” he +finished quickly, trying hard not to smile.</p> + +<p>It was always this way. By “usual course” Dr. +Churchill and the students understood that the +freshmen would meet, make up by contributions +enough to buy a new clapper, and the incident +would be closed until another year brought new +freshmen to the college.</p> + +<p>This course was followed. Langridge, who was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +president of the class, called a meeting that afternoon, +the amount needed was quickly subscribed, +and the money was taken to Dr. Churchill.</p> + +<p>“Why do you encourage that nonsense?” asked +Professor Emerson Tines, the Latin instructor +(dubbed “Pitchfork” by the college lads in virtue +of his name). “Why do you submit to it?”</p> + +<p>He happened to be with the president when +Langridge brought in the money.</p> + +<p>“I don’t submit to it, Professor Tines.”</p> + +<p>“But you encourage it.”</p> + +<p>“No; I simply ignore it.”</p> + +<p>“But the clapper is taken year after year.”</p> + +<p>“Is it?” asked the doctor innocently. “Well, +now, so I have been informed by the janitor, but, +you know, of my own knowledge I am not aware +of it. It is simply hearsay evidence, and I never +like to depend on that.”</p> + +<p>“But, my dear sir, don’t you <i>know</i> that the clapper +is taken by the first-year pupils?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I do,” answered the good doctor with +a smile, “but I’m not going to admit it. I was +young once myself, Professor Tines.”</p> + +<p>“So was I!” snapped the Latin teacher as he +went to his own apartments.</p> + +<p>“I—I doubt it, and that’s not hearsay evidence, +either, I’m afraid,” murmured Dr. Churchill, as +he resumed his study of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom Parsons, after chapel, introduced himself +to Dr. Churchill and the proctor, and was properly +enrolled on the college books. He was assigned +to his classes, and soon began to feel himself at +home among the students.</p> + +<p>“Well, are you going?” asked Sid of Tom that +afternoon, as they came from the last recitation.</p> + +<p>“Going where?”</p> + +<p>“To the baseball meeting. Didn’t you see the +notice?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>His roommate showed it to Tom. It was a +note on the bulletin board in the gymnasium, stating +that all interested in the baseball nine, whether +as players or as supporters, were invited to meet +in the basket-ball court that afternoon.</p> + +<p>“Of course I’m going,” declared Tom.</p> + +<p>The size of the throng that gathered in the +gymnasium was proof enough of the interest taken +in affairs of the diamond by the Randall students. +There was talk of nothing save bases, balls, strikes, +sacrifices, bunts, home runs, fielding, pitching, catching, +and what-not. Langridge called the meeting +to order, and in a few words explained that the +object of it was to get the team in shape for the +spring games.</p> + +<p>“I understand that there are a number of new +men with us this year,” he went on in easy tones. +There was no use in denying that the well-dressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +lad knew how to talk, and that to get up in front +of a throng did not embarrass him. “I hope, as +manager as well as a player,” he went on, “that we +shall find some good material. The team needs +strengthening in several places, and it is up to us +to do it. Now I have a list here of the former +players, and the names of some who have already +signified a desire to try for places this year. I’ll +read them.”</p> + +<p>It was quite a long list, and Tom Parsons, listening +to it, began to wonder if he would have any +chance among so many.</p> + +<p>“If there are any others who would like to put +their names down as candidates, I’ll take them,” +announced Fred.</p> + +<p>Several stepped forward, and their names were +noted, together with the positions they desired to +play.</p> + +<p>“Go on up,” urged Sid to Tom.</p> + +<p>The country lad advanced to where Langridge +stood.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to try for a place,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you would, eh?” asked the other, and the +sneer in his voice was evident. “Well, don’t you +think you’d better wait until the hayseed is out of +your hair?” and he laughed.</p> + +<p>“Here’s a comb,” retorted Tom quickly, extending +a small pocket one. “Maybe you’ll give +me a hand. I can’t see the back of my head.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That’s one on you, Langridge,” cried Phil +Clinton. “That’s the time you got yours good +and proper.”</p> + +<p>Tom was smiling good-naturedly, but the other +was scowling.</p> + +<p>Tom looked Langridge straight in the eye, and +the other turned aside. The country lad put back +the comb into his pocket.</p> + +<p>“What’s your name?” growled Langridge, +though he knew it full well.</p> + +<p>“Tom Parsons.”</p> + +<p>“Where do you want to try for?”</p> + +<p>“Pitcher.”</p> + +<p>There was some confusion in the room, but it +ceased at Tom’s reply.</p> + +<p>“Pitcher!” exclaimed Langridge.</p> + +<p>“I said pitcher,” replied Tom quietly.</p> + +<p>“Why—er—I’m pitcher on the ’varsity nine!” +fairly snarled Langridge. “That is, I was last +year and expect to be again. Do you mean pitcher +on the scrub?”</p> + +<p>“On the ’varsity,” spoke Tom, smiling the least +bit.</p> + +<p>Langridge shot a look at him from his black +eyes. It was a look that boded Tom no good, for +the former pitcher had recognized in the new arrival +a formidable rival.</p> + +<p>“Put his name down,” called Sid. “You might +get a sore arm, and we’d need a substitute.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<p>Langridge glanced quickly at the speaker.</p> + +<p>“His name is down,” he answered quietly—more +quietly than any one expected him to speak. +“Are there any others?”</p> + +<p>No one answered.</p> + +<p>“We’ll meet for practice to-morrow afternoon,” +went on Langridge. “Of course, it’s understood +that no one plays on the team who +doesn’t contribute his share of expenses,” and he +looked straight at Tom Parsons.</p> + +<p>Without a word the country lad drew out a +wallet, none too well filled, to judge by the looks +of it.</p> + +<p>“What’s the tax?” he asked, still smiling.</p> + +<p>“The—er—the finance committee attends to +that,” was the answer Langridge made. “They’ll +meet to-night.”</p> + +<p>Evidently he had not expected so ready a compliance +on Tom’s part.</p> + +<p>“Well, if it’s all settled, I move we adjourn,” +suggested Ed Kerr. “Let’s have a scrub game, +for luck.”</p> + +<p>At that moment a lad came hurrying into the +gymnasium.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Langridge?” he asked excitedly.</p> + +<p>“Here,” replied the baseball manager. “What’s +up?”</p> + +<p>“Hazing!” was the somewhat breathless answer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +“The sophs are going to try it on to-night, to get +square about the bell clapper. I just heard it.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff!” cried Phil Clinton. “Now +we’ll get a chance to have some fun.”</p> + +<p>“And I’ll pay ’em back for slashing my hat,” +added Ford Fenton. “My uncle says——”</p> + +<p>But what his respected relative had remarked +was not learned, as the boys rushed from the room +to prepare for the ordeal that they knew awaited +them.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h2> + +<h3>THE HAZING</h3> + + +<p>“What sort of hazing do they do?” asked Tom +Parsons of Sid Henderson as the two youths followed +their companions from the gymnasium.</p> + +<p>“Oh, all sorts. It’s hard to tell. Mostly they +come in your room and make a rough house, but +not too rough, for the proctor doesn’t stand for it. +They’ll tumble you about, tear down any ornaments +you may have up, pour a pitcher of water +in the bed, and make things unpleasant generally.”</p> + +<p>“Are we supposed to stand for that?” There +was a grim look settling on Tom’s face.</p> + +<p>“Well, what can you do when three or four big +sophs are holding you?”</p> + +<p>“Not much, that’s a fact. But I’m going to +fight back.”</p> + +<p>“So am I, but that’s all the good it’ll do. If +they don’t put enough on you in your room they’ll +tackle you outside, when you’re alone, and maybe +chuck you into the river or lake, or make you walk +Spanish, or force you to parade through town doing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +the wheelbarrow act. Oh, you’ve got to take +some hazing in one form or another.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t mind getting my share. So +they’re coming to-night, eh?”</p> + +<p>“So the twin said.”</p> + +<p>“The twin—who’s he?”</p> + +<p>“The little fellow that brought word. I don’t +know whether he was Jerry or Joe Jackson. I +didn’t look closely enough to see.”</p> + +<p>“Why, is it hard to tell?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. They’re two brothers, Jerry and Joe. +They come from some town in New Jersey. We +call them the ‘Jersey Twins,’ and they look so +much alike it’s hard to tell them apart. The only +way you can tell is when they’re playing ball.”</p> + +<p>“How then?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Jerry plays right field, and Joe left. +Then it’s easy to say which is which; but when +they come to bat it always happens that some one +on the other team makes a kick. They think we’re +ringing in the same man twice, and we have to explain. +That’s what I’ve heard. Of course, I’ve +only been here a week.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, then they’ve played here some time?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; they’re juniors. It was mighty white of +Jerry or Joe, whichever it was, to tip us off. Now +we’ll be ready for the sophs.”</p> + +<p>“What can you do?”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you know in time, as we do now, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +can take down the best things in our room, so they +won’t get busted, and we can hide the bed clothes, +so they won’t get soaked. Then we can put on our +old clothes. It’s no fun to have a good suit ruined, +especially when you don’t find new clothes growing +on trees.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right. Let’s go to our room and make +ready.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ve got plenty of time. I fancy it won’t +be until after dark. The only thing is for all of us +freshmen to keep together if we go out. For if +they catch two or three of us alone they’ll put it all +over us. But I guess there won’t be any scrub game +now. The sophs would break it up.”</p> + +<p>“When do we have any rest from them?”</p> + +<p>“In about two weeks. After the pole rush.”</p> + +<p>“The pole rush?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. It’s an old college custom, as Fenton’s +uncle would say. We freshmen form a ring about +the big flag-pole on a certain night and the sophs +try to pull us away. If they make us leave inside of +fifteen minutes it means we can’t wear the class college +colors until next term. If we win, why, we +sport a hat like Fenton had—the one Morse and +Denfield slashed up.”</p> + +<p>“I see. But, say, I’d like to know more about +the ball team. Does Langridge run it all?”</p> + +<p>The two lads by this time were in their room, +where they proceeded to hide under the beds and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +bureaus their choicest possessions against the prospective +raid. It was close to the supper hour and +they did not have much time.</p> + +<p>“No, Langridge doesn’t run everything,” answered +Sid. “He’s manager, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“That seems a lot.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it is in a way, though it’s only because he +has plenty of cash and isn’t afraid to spend it. But +he couldn’t be elected captain. He tried, but was +defeated his first term, though he made the managership.”</p> + +<p>“Who is captain?”</p> + +<p>“Bricktop Molloy was last year, but this season +we’re going to have a new one. I guess Dan Woodhouse +stands as good a show as any one. He’s a +senior and a fine player.”</p> + +<p>“Woodhouse—that’s an odd name.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we call him Kindlings for short. I’m going +to vote for him.”</p> + +<p>“So will I then; I’ll depend on your say-so.”</p> + +<p>“I fancy you threw a scare into Langridge,” went +on Sid as he carefully slid under a mat at the edge +of the bed a picture of a football game.</p> + +<p>“How so?”</p> + +<p>“Telling him you wanted to try for pitcher. It +was like stepping on his corns. He thinks he’s got +a cinch on that position. Always has ever since he +helped win a game last year.”</p> + +<p>“Has he?”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know. It depends on who is captain. +Langridge wants to see Ed Kerr elected +captain. If that happens, he and Ed will run things +to suit themselves. Ed’s quite a chum of Langridge, +though Ed’s a better fellow all around. The +only reason some of the fellows won’t vote for Ed +is that he’s too thick with Langridge. But if old +Kindlings is elected he’ll not take any orders from +Langridge.”</p> + +<p>“Langridge doesn’t seem to be very popular with +you,” observed Tom.</p> + +<p>“He isn’t. I don’t like him. Yet he’s all right +in a way. You see, he’s pretty well off in his own +right. His father died, leaving him quite a sum, +and when his mother died he got more. His uncle +is his guardian, but he doesn’t look after Fred very +closely, and Fred does pretty much as he pleases. +Now that isn’t good for a lad, though I don’t mind +admitting I wish I had plenty of money. But +Langridge is something of a sport. He has good +clothes—better than most of us here—he has all +he wants to spend, and he’s liberal with it. He has +quite a following and lots of fellows like him. He +doesn’t care what he does with his money, and +that’s the whole thing in a nutshell. That’s why +he’s manager and for no other reason. But, as I +said, Woodhouse won’t stand for any of his dictation.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe I’ll get a chance then,” mused Tom.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I guess you will. I’d like to see another good +pitcher on the nine. Maybe we’d win more games +if we had a good one.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know whether I’m a good one or not,” +answered Tom. “I want to try, though. Back +home they used to say I had a good delivery.”</p> + +<p>Sid did not answer at once. He was thinking +that to pitch on a country nine was vastly different +from doing the same thing on a good-sized college +team. But he did not want to discourage his roommate.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said after a pause, in which he surveyed +the somewhat dismantled room, “I don’t +know whether it’s pitching, or catching, or fielding, +or what it is our team needs, but it’s something. +We’re at the bottom of the league and have been +for some years.”</p> + +<p>“What league is that?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I forgot you didn’t know. Well, it’s the +Tonoka Lake League. You see, our college, Boxer +Hall and Fairview Institute have a triangular +league for the championship. But we haven’t won +it in so long that the memory of man runneth not +to the contrary, as the legal documents have it. +Last year we had a good chance to be second, but +Langridge got a glass arm in the final game and +we were dumped. That’s why I say we need a +new pitcher, and I’m glad you’re going to try +for it.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Maybe I’ll do worse.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Langridge sure does deliver a good +ball,” said Sid slowly; “the only trouble is that +he——”</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly and seemed embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“Well?” asked Tom questioningly.</p> + +<p>“Maybe you’ll find it out for yourself,” concluded +Sid Henderson. “There’s the supper gong. +Come on. There’ll be hot work after a bit.”</p> + +<p>Puzzling somewhat over the answer his chum +had made to the question regarding Langridge and +wondering what it was he might find out for himself, +Tom followed Sid to the dining hall, where +throngs of students were already gathered.</p> + +<p>There was something in the air that told of mischief +to come. The sophomores, who dined together, +maintained a very grave and decorous air, +utterly out of keeping with their usual mood. +There was silence instead of talk and laughter at +their table.</p> + +<p>“They’re almost as dignified as the seniors,” remarked +Phil Clinton to Tom as he took a seat next +to him. “It means trouble. Look out.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’re looking out,” replied Tom.</p> + +<p>Few lingered over the meal, and, going back to +their room, Sid and Tom took their best clothes +and hid them in a closet at the end of the long corridor. +It was a closet used for the storage of odds +and ends.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There, I don’t believe they’ll find them there,” +spoke Sid. “Now we’re ready for them.”</p> + +<p>On their way back to their apartment they heard +some one preceding them down the long hall.</p> + +<p>“Who’s that?” asked Sid.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” replied Tom. “Let’s take a +look. Maybe it was some one spying on us.”</p> + +<p>They hastened their steps and saw some one +hurry around a corner.</p> + +<p>“Did you see him?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Sid slowly.</p> + +<p>“Was it a soph?”</p> + +<p>“It was Langridge,” came the hesitating answer.</p> + +<p>“I wonder what he was doing up here?” inquired +Tom.</p> + +<p>“I wonder too,” added his chum.</p> + +<p>There was a rush of feet in the hall below and +the sound of voices in protest.</p> + +<p>“Here they come!” cried Sid. “The hazers! +Come on!” And he slid into the room, followed by +Tom. They slammed the portal shut and bolted it.</p> + +<p>The noise below increased, and there was the +sound of breaking doors.</p> + +<p>“Do they smash in?” asked Tom, to whom a college +life was a new experience.</p> + +<p>“Sure, if you don’t open.”</p> + +<p>“Going to open?”</p> + +<p>“I am not. Let ’em break in. They’ll have to +pay for the damage.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>In spite of lively scenes on the floor below, the +noise was kept within a certain range. Neither the +freshmen nor the sophomores desired to have their +pranks interrupted by the college authorities, which +would be sure to be the case if the fun grew too +hilarious.</p> + +<p>The noise seemed to be approaching the room of +Sid and Tom.</p> + +<p>“Here they come,” whispered the country youth.</p> + +<p>Sid nodded and there was a grim smile on his +face. An instant later the door was tried.</p> + +<p>“The beggars have locked it!” some one exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Break it in!” another added.</p> + +<p>“Ask ’em to open first,” counseled a third. +“We’ve smashed so many now that we’ll have a +pretty bill to pay.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, blazes, give it your shoulder, Battersby,” +exclaimed a loud voice.</p> + +<p>“Going to open, fresh?” called out a student on +the other side of the portal.</p> + +<p>“Nope!” cried Sid.</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s pause and then some one +hurled himself at the door. The bolt held for a +few seconds, but on a second rush there was a splintering +of wood, the screws pulled out and the portal +flew open, giving admittance to a crowd of sophomores.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h2> + +<h3>A SCRUB GAME</h3> + + +<p>“Stripped!” exclaimed a tall sophomore with a +broken nose. “The beggars have stripped their +den!”</p> + +<p>“I told you some one had been giving us away,” +added another. “They knew we were coming. +Didn’t you, fresh?” and he turned to Sid and Tom.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” replied Sid as he looked around the +room, which was bare of the articles that usually +afforded the second-year men an opportunity for +causing annoyance.</p> + +<p>“Who tipped you off?” asked he of the broken +nose.</p> + +<p>“Yes, tell us,” chimed in several others. “We +won’t do a thing to him but make him sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we had a dream,” put in Tom with a grin.</p> + +<p>“Ha! Here’s a fresh fresh!” exclaimed +“Broken-nose.” “Well, fellows, let’s give ’em a +shower bath, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“Look under the beds,” suggested a big sophomore.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Nope; haven’t time, Gladdus. Here, some of +you hold ’em while the rest of us douse ’em.”</p> + +<p>In an instant Sid and Tom were grasped each by +half a dozen hands and pulled to the middle of the +room. Then Broken-nose and some others took +the two water pitchers and poured the contents over +the two freshmen. It was not a pleasant ordeal, but +Tom and his chum bore it unflinchingly. It was +useless to struggle.</p> + +<p>“Oh, this is no fun!” exclaimed Gladdus. “They +don’t fight.”</p> + +<p>“The odds are too heavy,” retorted Tom +quickly. “I’ll take any one of you alone,” he +added, and he looked as if he meant it.</p> + +<p>“Let me take him on,” pleaded a tall sophomore.</p> + +<p>“No—none of that,” declared Broken-nose, who +was addressed as Fenmore. “We’ve got lots to +do yet. I wonder where their good clothes are. +They’ve got on old togs. We’ll give ’em a soaking.”</p> + +<p>Tom and Sid were glad that they had hidden +their garments in the hall closet. There was a +hasty search on the part of the sophomores, but as +nothing was disclosed the second-year men prepared +to leave.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” ordered Fenmore. “There’s no +water left in their pitchers, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we could get more H<sub>2</sub>O if we could find +their togs,” spoke another.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>Just then another second-year youth came along.</p> + +<p>“I know where their clothes are,” he said. “In +the closet at the end of the hall. Langridge——”</p> + +<p>“Shut up!” cried Gladdus.</p> + +<p>“Come on, fellows!” called Fenmore. “We’ll +soak ’em good.”</p> + +<p>Sid groaned as the sophomores released him and +Tom and made a run for the closet.</p> + +<p>“We’d ought to have scattered ’em,” he said. +“Now we’ll have to wear wet duds to chapel to-morrow. +We can’t go in these,” and he looked at +his dripping garments—clothes in which he did +cross-country running and played tennis—old and +somewhat ragged and muddy habiliments.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear what that soph said?” demanded +Tom.</p> + +<p>“You mean——”</p> + +<p>“I mean about Langridge. He gave us away. +He told them where our clothes were; the mean +sneak!”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” chimed in Sid. “That’s what he +was doing up here—spying on us. Oh, I’ll pay +him back all right!”</p> + +<p>“So will I!” declared Tom fervently as a triumphant +shout down the corridor announced that +their clothes had been discovered. The garments, +dripping wet and all out of shape, were thrown into +their room a little later.</p> + +<p>“Well, wouldn’t that put your nerves on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +gazabo!” exclaimed Sid disgustedly. “Oh, Langridge, +I’ll have it in for you!”</p> + +<p>The hazing went on until after midnight and +then the dormitory quieted down. Scarcely a +freshman escaped and those who absented themselves +from their rooms were due to be put on the +grill later.</p> + +<p>Tom and Sid sat up late, wringing as much of the +water as they could from their clothes and drying +them somewhat by inserting an electric light bulb +in the arms of the coats and the legs of the trousers. +Fortunately their bedding was not wet or the boys +would have passed a miserable night. As it was +they did not have a good one, and they arose early +to hang their moist clothes out of the window to let +the morning sun finish the work of drying.</p> + +<p>But they were not the only ones in this plight, +and it was a bedraggled lot of freshmen who appeared +at chapel—that is, all but Langridge. He +was spick and span as he always was, dressed in +expensive clothes.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t they get at you?” asked Sid as he and +Tom caught up to the wealthy youth on the way to +class.</p> + +<p>“Get at me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, your clothes don’t seem to have suffered.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, this is another suit. They wet one for me, +but I had this put away.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And no sneak went and told the sophs where +you put it, did they?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” asked Langridge quickly, and he +turned a bit pale.</p> + +<p>“I say no sneak gave you away?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you mean,” and Langridge +turned aside.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, you do,” said Sid quickly. “You know +all right and we know, and what’s more, you’ll get +what’s coming to you all right. That’s all from +yours truly, but look out—that’s all—look out, +Fred Langridge!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was +the cool retort, and then the students passed into the +class room.</p> + +<p>It was two days later that the miniature clappers, +which had been made from the tongue of the big +bell, were received, and a proud lot of freshmen +they were, including Tom Parsons, who attached +them to their watch chains.</p> + +<p>“Now, if we win the pole rush, we’ll be all to +the merry,” exclaimed Phil Clinton as he walked +along the campus toward the gymnasium. “I’m +just aching for a chance to pummel some of those +sophs. They certainly made a rough house of my +room the other night.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ll get the chance all right,” remarked +Sid. “The rush is a week from to-night. But say,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +how about the baseball election? Isn’t Langridge +taking his own time calling it?”</p> + +<p>“He sure is. He’s trying to work up votes for +Kerr for captain, but he can’t do it. The fellows +haven’t anything against Ed, but he’s too thick +with Langridge. I’m for old Kindlings.”</p> + +<p>“So are we,” put in Tom.</p> + +<p>“They’ve got to hold the election to-morrow,” +said Phil. “That’s the last day, according to the +rules. Why, we haven’t had a bit of practice yet. +We don’t know who’s going on the scrub and who +has a chance for the ’varsity. I hope I can get +center field.”</p> + +<p>“Had you rather play there?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“I always have. I fancy I know that position +better than I do any other. But, to tell you the +truth, I like football better than baseball. I’m +going to try for the eleven this fall.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you make it. But what’s going on?” +asked Tom as he saw a little commotion about the +gymnasium.</p> + +<p>“It’s a scrub game,” exclaimed Sid. “That’s the +stuff. Come on. Maybe we’ll get a chance. Langridge +sees that he’s got to get things going.”</p> + +<p>They hurried to the gymnasium and found that +preparations were under way for a scrub game. +There was also a notice on the bulletin board stating +that the election for captain would be held the +following day.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I wonder if he’s got enough votes for Kerr?” +mused Sid. “I hope not—for the sake of the +team.”</p> + +<p>The crowd, including students from all four +classes of the college, moved off toward the diamond. +Rivalries were forgotten in the interest in +the game. The lads were not in uniform, but had +on old clothes. Langridge was issuing orders and +two temporary captains were chosen, they selecting +their men. Bob, or “Bricktop” Molloy, the captain +of last year, had one scrub team, and Pete Backus, +who rejoiced in the nickname “Grasshopper” from +the fact that he was always trying to see how far +and how high he could jump, had another. Langridge +assumed the rôle of manager, though there +was little to manage.</p> + +<p>“Now play lively, boys,” he urged. “I want to +arrange for some other games this season besides +those in the league, and we want to win some +of ’em.”</p> + +<p>To his delight Tom found himself chosen by +Bricktop, together with Sid and Phil Clinton. +Langridge held a whispered conversation with +Backus, the other captain, and was promptly +chosen on that hastily formed nine.</p> + +<p>“I’ll pitch and Ed Kerr’ll catch,” Langridge announced, +as if that settled it. And it was noticeable +that Backus did not make a protest, though he was +as good a catcher as was Kerr.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Will you pitch for us, Parsons, me lad?” asked +Bricktop with just a trace of rich Irish brogue. +“Sure and I heard what ye did, me lad, the night +of the clapper.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that was mostly luck, I guess,” replied +Tom modestly, “though I’d like the chance to pitch +now.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, then, an’ you’ll have it,” replied the Irish +lad with a twinkle in his honest blue eyes. “Come +on, fellows. We’re last at the bat.”</p> + +<p>“Hold me down, somebody!” exclaimed Dutch +Housenlager as he turned a hand spring and came +down so close to Molloy that the former captain +was nearly sent over. “I’m feeling like a two-year-old.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, Dutch, me lad,” exclaimed +Bricktop, relapsing into a broader brogue as his +feelings came uppermost. “This isn’t a stable, +though, and we can dispense with the horse play +until after the game if you can accommodate yourself +to the exigencies of the occasion,” and he spoke +much after the manner of Dr. Churchill, for Bricktop, +in spite of the fact that he was a senior, “grave +and reverend,” liked fun and his joke. “If you +will kindly resume the upright stature befitting a +human being,” he went on, “you may try to stop +whatever balls come in the direction of shortstop, +for there’s where ye’ll play.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” answered Dutch good naturedly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +“I’m agreeable, my fair captain. But would you +mind keeping your hat on? When the sun strikes +your red-gold locks it dazzles my eyes.”</p> + +<p>“Go on wit’ your blarney!” exclaimed Molloy, +making a punch at Housenlager, who skilfully +ducked it.</p> + +<p>The diamond was in fine shape, for it had been +cut and rolled and the base lines marked off in +readiness for the opening of the season. The +grass was like velvet and the clean, fresh green, contrasted +with the brown earth of the diamond +proper, the long white lines, the new bases and +the level field made a picture that rejoiced the +heart of every lad.</p> + +<p>“Wow! isn’t it great?” cried Tom. “And the +smell! Do you smell the green grass, Sid, and the +earth, and—and the baseball smell? Isn’t it +great?”</p> + +<p>“Cheese it!” cried Phil Clinton with a laugh. +“You’ll be spouting poetry next.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could,” returned Tom a little more +soberly. “I never get out on a ball field but I want +to orate something like Thermopylæ or Horatius +at the Bridge. The fever of the game gets in my +blood.”</p> + +<p>“There is something in that,” admitted Phil. +“Oh, it’s a great game. There’s none greater except +football, and when I see the gridiron marked +off and hear the ‘ping’ of somebody’s boot against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +the pigskin my heart begins to thump and I catch +my breath and want to take the ball to batter down +a stone fence and make a touchdown.”</p> + +<p>“Bravo!” cried Sid. “You’re as bad as Tom.”</p> + +<p>“Quit talking and get to practice!” exclaimed a +voice at the rear of the lads, and they turned to see +Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Say, who told you to give orders?” asked Sid +quickly. “Bricktop is our captain.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’re going to have a little warm-up +practice first,” remarked Langridge. Then he +turned to Tom and said: “So you’re going to pitch +against me?”</p> + +<p>“It seems so.”</p> + +<p>“Humph!” was all Langridge said as he walked +away.</p> + +<p>Two or three good batters on each side began +knocking flies for the others to catch and Tom and +his chums soon found themselves warming up in +earnest. The country lad discovered that he could +judge the balls quite accurately and he made some +good throws from a long distance.</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” suddenly called Bricktop Molloy. +“Come on, fellows! Out in the field. Parsons, +let’s see what sort of a twirler you are.”</p> + +<p>Tom went to the box. He was a trifle nervous, +but he controlled himself as well as he could. The +first man up was Langridge, and there was an unpleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +look on the face of the rich youth as he +faced his rival.</p> + +<p>Tom sent in an out curve and he was pretty sure +it was going over the plate. But he heard the +umpire cry: “One ball!” and he was much surprised. +There was a mocking smile on the face of +Langridge. Tom held the next ball rather longer. +He threw in a peculiar little drop. Langridge saw +it coming and struck savagely at it, but a resounding +“thump” told Tom that the horsehide had +landed safe in Molloy’s mitt.</p> + +<p>“One strike!” yelled the umpire, and Tom’s +heart was glad.</p> + +<p>“That’s the way to do it!” cried Phil Clinton, +from center field. “Strike him out!”</p> + +<p>Langridge hit the next ball, though it was only +a weak liner, which Tom stopped and threw over to +first, but there was no need, for Langridge had seen +the uselessness of running.</p> + +<p>“One out. Go on with the game,” sang out +Bricktop.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h2> + +<h3>THE POLE RUSH</h3> + + +<p>Tom managed to strike out the next man, but the +third batter knocked a two-bagger, and Kerr, who +followed, sent a beautiful long fly to right field, +where Jerry Jackson muffed it. There was wild +delight on the part of Pete Backus and his men +when they got in three runs before Tom managed +to strike out another player, retiring the side.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s not so bad,” spoke Bricktop, but +there was some dubiousness in his tone.</p> + +<p>“My pitching was bum,” acknowledged Tom, +“but I’ll do better next inning.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you will, me lad,” said Captain Molloy +kindly. “It’s a new ground to you.”</p> + +<p>There was a confident air about Langridge when +he took his position in the box and it was somewhat +justified when he struck out the first two men in +quick succession.</p> + +<p>“He’s doing better than I thought he would,” +said Sid.</p> + +<p>“He’s a good pitcher,” admitted Tom honestly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +for he saw that his rival had something that he +himself lacked—a better control of the ball, though +Tom could pitch a swifter curve.</p> + +<p>Tom was third at the bat. Now a good pitcher +is usually a notoriously bad hitter. Tom proved +an exception to the rule, though perhaps he had not +developed into such a good pitcher yet that it applied +in his case. He faced Langridge confidently +and even smiled mockingly as a swift ball came in. +Tom was a good judge of it and saw that it was +going wild, so he did not attempt to strike it. His +judgment was confirmed when the umpire sang out:</p> + +<p>“Ball one!”</p> + +<p>Langridge looked annoyed and sent in a swift +one. Tom’s bat met it squarely and it went well +over the center fielder’s head.</p> + +<p>“Go on! go on, me brave lad!” yelled Molloy, +his brogue very pronounced. “That’s the stuff!”</p> + +<p>“Take two bases! take two!” cried Phil.</p> + +<p>“Make it three! make it three!” begged Sid, and +three Tom made it, for he was a swift runner, and +the ball rolled provokingly away from the fielder +who raced after it.</p> + +<p>“Well, you can bat, anyway, me lad,” observed +Molloy as Tom came in on a safe hit made by Sid +a little later.</p> + +<p>“Does that mean I can’t pitch?” asked Tom with +a smile.</p> + +<p>“Not a bit of it. It only accentuates it, so to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +speak. You’re all right—<i>facile princeps</i> as the old +Romans have it—which, being interpreted, means +you can come in and sit at our training table.”</p> + +<p>Tom’s side only gathered in two runs, however, +and from then on up to the eighth inning the team +Langridge was on held the lead, the score at the +beginning of the ninth inning being 10 to 8 in favor +of Backus’ men. That inning Tom and his chums +rather went to pieces as regarded fielding, nor did +Tom shine brilliantly in the box. He struck out +two men and then he seemed to lose control of the +ball. The bases were filled, two men knocking a +one and two bagger respectively and another getting +his walking papers. Then Tom got nervous, +and just when he should have held himself well in +hand to keep the score down, he gave another man +a chance to amble easily to first on four balls and +forced in a run.</p> + +<p>There were cries of derision from the opposing +players and an ominous silence on the part of Captain +Molloy and his men. The next man got a one-bagger +and the player who followed him knocked +a pop fly, which Molloy, who was on third, missed. +The inning ended with three more runs in favor of +Langridge and his mates, making the score 13 to 8.</p> + +<p>“Six runs to win and five to tie,” murmured Molloy. +“Can we do it, boys?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Phil Clinton confidently. Phil always +fought to the last ditch. But it was not to be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +Tom made one run and Sid another, but that was +all. Langridge struck out his last man with the +bases full and the game ended.</p> + +<p>“I thought you were a pitcher,” sneered Langridge +as the teams filed off the field, and there were +several laughs at Tom’s expense, for he had not +made a good showing in the box.</p> + +<p>“Sure he can pitch,” cried Molloy, coming to +Tom’s defense. “The ground was new to him, +that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Rats!” retorted Langridge, and Tom was too +humiliated to make a reply.</p> + +<p>“Just the same he’ll make a good pitcher,” said +Mr. James Lighton, the coach of the ’varsity, who +had strolled out to watch the practice. “He has a +swift ball, but he lacks control. We can make a +first-class pitcher of him, Molloy.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I hope so,” murmured the red-haired +youth. “We didn’t do very well last year with +Langridge, though he seems to have improved to-day.”</p> + +<p>“So will young Parsons,” declared the coach. +“You watch him. I’ll take him in hand as soon as +the team is in shape. He’ll probably have to go on +the scrub first, but he won’t stay there long.”</p> + +<p>But Tom did not hear these comforting words, +and it was with rather a bitter feeling in his heart +that he went to his room to dress for supper.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You’ll be better next game,” said Sid, trying to +console him.</p> + +<p>“Maybe there won’t be any next game for me,” +was Tom’s reply. “I saw Kerr and Langridge talking +together, and I’m sure it was about me.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right. Kerr isn’t going to be captain +of the ’varsity.”</p> + +<p>“Are you sure?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. I’ve got a straight tip. We’ve votes +enough to elect old Kindlings Woodhouse.”</p> + +<p>And so it proved the next day, when the election +was held. Dan Woodhouse received forty more +ballots than did Kerr and his election, after the +first test, was made unanimous, a compliment always +paid. Then baseball matters began in earnest. +Candidates were chosen, Coach Lighton ordered +regular practice and established a training +table. Tom was much chagrined when he found +that he was named for pitcher on the scrub, while +Langridge got the coveted place as pitcher on the +’varsity, but Sid told his chum that the scrub was +but a stepping stone to the final goal. And when +the coach began to take Tom in hand and give him +some much-needed instruction about control Tom +began to feel that, after all, perhaps he had a +chance.</p> + +<p>It was about a week later, following some rather +hard practice on the diamond, that a hurried knock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +was heard on the door of the room occupied by Sid +and Tom.</p> + +<p>“Come,” called Sid, looking up from his Latin +book.</p> + +<p>“Pole rush to-night!” cried Dutch Housenlager, +poking his head in and rapidly withdrawing it, as +though he feared a book would be hurled at him. +“Meet on the campus at eight o’clock. Old +clothes—it’s going to be a hard fight.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff!” exclaimed Sid, throwing his +book across the room. “Come on, Tom. We’ll +have a battle royal with our traditional enemies, the +sophs.”</p> + +<p>The pole rush was like the cane or cannon rushes +held in other colleges. Half a dozen of the strongest +of the freshmen formed a circle, with linked +arms about the big flag pole on the campus. About +them in concentric circles their chums formed a +series of defensive rings. Then the sophomores +came at them with a rush, seeking to displace the +first-year lads and arrange themselves in a circle +about the pole. If they succeeded in doing this inside +of fifteen minutes it meant that the freshmen +could wear no college colors their first term. It +was to this rush that Tom, Sid and their friends +hurried when Dutch and some others went about +to the various rooms sounding the rallying cry.</p> + +<p>Out on the campus that soft spring evening was +a motley crowd of students. On one side were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +gathered the sophomores and on the other the +freshmen.</p> + +<p>“My, there are a lot of ’em,” remarked Phil +Clinton. “I shouldn’t wonder but they’ve rung in +some seniors on us.”</p> + +<p>“No, they wouldn’t do that,” declared Sid. +“They’re a big class.”</p> + +<p>Langridge and some others were going about +selecting the men who were to form the first circle +about the pole. Tom and Phil, who were both +sturdy lads, were chosen for this honor.</p> + +<p>“In place! in place!” cried the impatient sophomores.</p> + +<p>“Line up! line up, fellows!” shouted Langridge.</p> + +<p>Tom and his chums took their positions. The +protectors formed about them.</p> + +<p>“Hold fast, everybody!” cautioned Phil as he +grasped Tom’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Here they come! here they come!” was the +warning cry, and with a rush the sophomores +hurled themselves against the mass of lads about +the pole.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h2> + +<h3>TOM HOLDS HIS OWN</h3> + + +<p>It seemed for a moment as if the first-year boys +would be quickly shoved aside and their places +taken by the sophomores, for so heavy was the impact +that the outer and second lines of defense +were broken through and the attackers were in the +midst of the defenders.</p> + +<p>“Throw ’em back! throw ’em back!” yelled +Phil Clinton. “Tackle low!”</p> + +<p>“Think you’re playing football?” panted Tom, +for some of his mates had been pushed against him +and he almost lost his grip on Phil’s arm.</p> + +<p>“It’s like a scrimmage,” replied Phil. “That’s +the stuff, boys!” he added as the lines of defense +formed again.</p> + +<p>The freshmen by a fierce effort succeeded in +blocking the advance of their enemies, and those +who had penetrated part way into the circles were +hurled back. But the battle had only just begun.</p> + +<p>Once more came the rush of sophomores, the +members of the class calling to each other encouragingly. +There were more of them than there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +were of freshmen, but the latter had the advantage +of a firm base of support, for the lads nearest the +pole clung to that and those adjoining them locked +their arms or legs about those of their comrades, +thus forming a compact mass.</p> + +<p>“Pick ’em off one by one!” yelled Gladdus, one +of the leading sophomores. “Bore a way in there, +Fenmore, and some of you fellows. We ought to +get them away.”</p> + +<p>“Hold fast! Hold fast, everybody!” cried +Tom, for the joy of battle was upon him and his +heart exulted in the struggle that was going on +about him, in the pressure of bodies against his, +the labored breathing, the panting, the fierce grips +that were broken only to be made anew.</p> + +<p>The sophomores now began other tactics. Several +of them would grab a freshman in the outer +circle. They would pluck him from the restraining +grasp of his companions, and then, when a hole +was thus made, other sophomores would bore their +way in to repeat the process. So quickly was this +done and so strong was the peculiar attack that, +almost before the freshmen knew it, Gladdus and +Fenmore, two of the most aggressive attackers, had +reached the circle that was about the pole. The +two boldly grabbed at Tom, at the same time calling +out:</p> + +<p>“Sophs this way! Sophs this way! Here’s +meat for us!”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom suddenly felt himself being pulled away +from the pole. The grips of Phil Clinton on one +side and Sid Henderson on the other were slipping +from his arms.</p> + +<p>“Hold fast! Don’t let them take you!” cried +Phil.</p> + +<p>“I won’t!” gasped Tom.</p> + +<p>He thought of a trick he had acquired in wrestling. +Quickly arching his back like a bow, he +suddenly straightened it with a snap, and the holds +of Gladdus and Fenmore were broken. They were +hurled back and then other freshmen took them up +bodily, thrusting them beyond the outer line of +defense.</p> + +<p>Then the whole body of sophomores quickly +threw themselves against the freshmen, as if to +force them away from the pole by weight of numbers. +They nearly succeeded, and Tom and his +fellow defenders of the flag staff thought their +arms would be pulled out of the sockets. But, as +if it was a second down in a fierce football game, +the freshmen held their opponents and thrust the +wave of sophomores back.</p> + +<p>So it went on, the attack becoming fiercer until, +when the timekeepers announced that there were +but two more minutes left in which to hold or gain +the pole, the second-year men seemed fairly to +overwhelm the others.</p> + +<p>“Tear ’em up! tear ’em up!” pleaded Gladdus.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Hold, boys, hold!” begged Langridge. And +hold they did, for when time was called the defenders +were found with their arms still locked about +the flag staff.</p> + +<p>“We win, fellows!” yelled Tom, capering about, +with his hands grasping those of Sid and Phil.</p> + +<p>Then followed an impromptu war dance, while +the vanquished sophomores filed away in the darkness, +the exultant freshmen sending cheer after +cheer out on the air.</p> + +<p>“Here’s where we wear ribbons on our hats!” +cried Ford Fenton. “Now, I’d like to see any +soph make me take it off.”</p> + +<p>He pulled from his pocket a band and fixed it +to a new hat he had bought to replace the slashed +one.</p> + +<p>“You came prepared, didn’t you?” asked Holly +Cross. “Here, let me give you an imitation of a +soph,” and he held out the decorated hat, though +the gaily decorated band could not be seen in the +darkness, and pretending to regard it with horror, +minced along like some grotesque dancer on the +stage.</p> + +<p>“Good! good!” cried his fellows.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff, Holly, old chap!” remarked +Phil. “We’ll have you in the next play.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you fellows run the colors up on +the flag pole?” proposed a lad who had stood +watching the fun.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That’s it, Jerry Jackson!” exclaimed Sid. +“Good idea.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not Jerry, I’m Joe,” replied the Jersey +twin.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have to take your word for it,” went on +Sid. “Say, you two ought to wear labels. We’re +always getting you mixed up.”</p> + +<p>Amid much laughter and joking a long streamer +of yellow and maroon was fastened to the halyards +and run up to the truck. Langridge had the colors +with him, anticipating a victory.</p> + +<p>“We ought to have a parade now,” suggested +Fenton. “My uncle says——”</p> + +<p>“If you say uncle again inside of a week, we’ll +duck you!” cried Sid as he jostled Ford to one +side. “We know him by heart by this time.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe he ever had an uncle,” declared +Kerr. “But come on, fellows, let’s have a parade.”</p> + +<p>The idea took at once, and the victorious freshmen +formed in line and marched about the college +buildings, singing songs and yelling joyfully, for +it had been a good, fair, clean fight, and they had +won.</p> + +<p>“Let’s go to Haddonfield and get out hat bands,” +proposed Langridge. “We’ll all be wearing them +in the morning.”</p> + +<p>As discipline was rather relaxed during the first +two weeks of the term and as it was the custom for +the victorious class to celebrate in some way the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +idea was adopted and the joyous lads made for the +town, which at their advent at once awakened from +a sort of evening nap. They went to a dealer who +made a specialty of college goods and soon all were +decked out in the gay hat bands, all save a few +who, like Fenton, had already provided themselves +with the articles.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you aren’t used to such things as this +down on the farm, are you?” asked Langridge of +Tom sneeringly as they were about ready to depart +for the college. “Corn husking bees and quilting +parties are more in your line.”</p> + +<p>“Wa’al, thet’s what they be!” retorted Tom +quickly, imitating the nasal drawl of the typical +farmer. “We folks down Northville way is some +pumpkins when it comes t’ huskin’ corn. Was you +ever there, sonny?”</p> + +<p>His manner was so patronizing and the effect of +his words and assumed mannerisms so odd that +the lads about him burst out laughing, much to the +annoyance of Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Going to the post-office for the mail and meeting +the pretty country girls was about the height of +your enjoyment, wasn’t it?” persisted the rich +youth, who seemed bound to pick a quarrel with +Tom.</p> + +<p>“Wa’al, now you’re talkin’,” came the quick answer +in the same drawl.</p> + +<p>There was something rather strange about Langridge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +His eyes seemed very bright and his cheeks +were flushed. He evidently took Tom’s acquiescence +as an indication that the country lad was +willing to have fun poked at him.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you got lots of letters from the pretty +country lasses, enclosing locks of their red hair,” +sneered Langridge.</p> + +<p>“You bet I did,” exclaimed Tom, still imitating +a farmer’s peculiarities, “but I want to tell ye +suthin’, an’ when you come out Northville way, +mebby you’ll remember it.” Then, suddenly becoming +serious and with a change in his manner, he +added: “I also used to get letters from gentlemen, +but I don’t believe you could write me one!” +There was a snap in his words.</p> + +<p>“What—what’s that?” cried Langridge, taking +a step toward Tom.</p> + +<p>“You heard what I said,” was the retort.</p> + +<p>“That’s the time you got yours all right, Langridge,” +exclaimed Phil Clinton. “You can’t tell +by the looks of a haystack how far a cow can jump, +you know.”</p> + +<p>Langridge fairly glared at Tom. He seemed +to want to make some reply, but the words stuck +in his throat.</p> + +<p>“I’ll—I’ll get——” he stammered, and then, +turning on his heel, he linked his arm in that of +Kerr and the two started off down the street.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You held you own that time, Tom,” said Sid as +a little later they followed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I don’t mind a joke, but he went a little +too far. My people live in the country, and I’m +proud of it, and proud of all my friends in Northville. +But come on, let’s get back to our room. +I’ve got some studying to do.”</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2> + +<h3>AT PRACTICE</h3> + + +<p>Following the exciting scenes of the pole rush +it was rather difficult for any of the lads to settle +down to study that night, but for some it was a +necessity, and Tom and Sid were in this number. +Tom, by reason of missing the first week of the +term, was a little behind his class, but he was a +fine student, and the instructor saw that there +would be no trouble for the lad in covering the lost +ground. With Sid it was another matter. Though +faithful and earnest, studying did not come easy +for him, and, as he expressed it, he had to “bone +away like a ground hog” to get facts and dates fixed +in his mind. Consequently, because of the evening +of fun, ten o’clock saw Sid and Tom busy in their +room over their books.</p> + +<p>For an hour or more nothing was heard but the +occasional turning of the pages or the noise of a +pencil being rapidly pushed across the paper. At +length Tom, with a sigh of relief, closed his +chemistry and remarked:</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There, I guess that will do for to-night. My +eyes are tired.”</p> + +<p>“So are mine,” added Sid. “I’m going to kiss +this Latin prose good-night and put it to bed,” and +he threw the book under his cot. “Pleasant +dreams,” he added sarcastically. “Gee! but I hate +Latin,” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Why do you take it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dad thinks I’ll need it. I’d a heap sight +rather learn to play the banjo.”</p> + +<p>“Not much comparison there, Sid.”</p> + +<p>“No, but don’t mention comparison. That reminds +me of grammar, and grammar reminds me +of verbs, and verbs naturally bring to mind declension, +and—there you are. Let’s talk about +something pleasant.”</p> + +<p>“What do you call pleasant?”</p> + +<p>“Well, baseball, for instance, though maybe that +isn’t very pleasant for you, since you didn’t make +the first team.”</p> + +<p>“No,” admitted Tom frankly, “it isn’t pleasant +to think about. I did want to get on the first team +and I may yet. But I’ve learned one thing since +coming here.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good. Maybe I’d better call up Moses +and tell him. He’ll feel encouraged that some of +the students are progressing.”</p> + +<p>“No, I wouldn’t advise you to do that,” spoke +Tom with a laugh that showed his white, even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +teeth. “In fact, what I’ve learned didn’t have +much to do with books.”</p> + +<p>“What was it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s been made very clear to me that it’s +something different from being a big fish in a little +puddle than acting the part of a small-sized finny +resident in a more extended body of water, to put +it scientifically.”</p> + +<p>“Meaning what, if you don’t mind translating?” +came from Sid as he stretched out on the rather +worn and springless sofa.</p> + +<p>“Meaning that I had an idea that I was about +as good as the next one in the pitching line, but I +find I’m not.”</p> + +<p>“Proceed,” came calmly from Sid, who had his +eyes shut.</p> + +<p>“No, I’m afraid I might disturb your slumbers,” +said Tom quickly, and there was a curious change +in his voice.</p> + +<p>Sid sat up quickly.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, old man,” he exclaimed. “I +was listening all right and I’m interested, honest I +am. Only my eyes hurt to-night. But it must be +quite different, coming from a small village to a +fairly large college. Did you have a good nine at +Northville?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” went on Tom, somewhat mollified at his +chum’s interest, “we cleaned up all the other nines +around there. I was considered a crackajack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +pitcher, but I guess now the reason for that may +have been that the others were rotten batsmen.”</p> + +<p>“There’s something in that,” admitted Sid judicially. +“You see, things are peculiar here. Now +take Langridge. Nobody, unless it’s Kerr and a +few others, cares much about him. Yet he’s a +fairly consistent pitcher, and he’s the best they’ve +had in some years, they tell me. Now our college +has had rather hard luck on the diamond, especially +in the Tonoka Lake League. There was a better +chance of winning the championship last year than +in any previous one, but we didn’t make good. It +wasn’t altogether Langridge’s fault. He didn’t +have very good support, I’m told. Now they’ve +decided to keep him on, or, rather he’s engineered +things so that, as manager, he keeps himself on. +And there are some hopes of pulling out somewhere +in the lead of the league this season. But +Langridge is his own best friend.”</p> + +<p>“And he keeps me from pitching on the ’varsity,” +said Tom somewhat bitterly.</p> + +<p>“Can you blame him?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t know that I can,” was the frank +answer. “I s’pose I’d do the same thing. But I +hope in time to be a better pitcher than he is.”</p> + +<p>“How are you coming on with the coach?”</p> + +<p>“Fine. Mr. Lighton has given me some good +pointers, and I needed them. My curves are all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +right and so is my speed. It’s my control that’s +weak, and I’m getting rid of some of my faults.”</p> + +<p>“We’re going to have a practice game with you +scrubs to-morrow or next day,” said Sid. “Maybe +you’ll get a chance to show what you can do then.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so. I want to show Langridge that he +isn’t the only bean in the pot, to put it poetically.”</p> + +<p>“Very poetically,” murmured Sid, who seemed +to be dozing off.</p> + +<p>“Say, Sid,” exclaimed Tom suddenly, “do you +remember what you started to say about Langridge +the other day and stopped?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“What was it?”</p> + +<p>“I’d rather not tell. You’ll probably find out +for yourself before long. I did, though not many +know it.”</p> + +<p>“You mean——”</p> + +<p>“I’m not going to say what I mean. Only,” and +Sid suddenly sat up, “it may increase your chances +of pitching on the ’varsity.”</p> + +<p>“I think I know,” said Tom slowly, and he began +to get ready for bed.</p> + +<p>A practice game between the ’varsity and the +scrub was called for the next afternoon. The first +team was in rather disorganized shape yet. That +is to say, not all the players were in permanent positions +and shifts were likely to be made at any +time as practice brought out defects or merits. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +was even said that some now on the ’varsity might +be relegated to the scrub and some from the second +team advanced. Tom secretly hoped so in his +case, but his common sense told him he stood a slim +chance. Langridge, of course, was pitcher on the +first team and Kerr was the catcher. Kindlings +Woodhouse played on third, where he could direct +the efforts of his men.</p> + +<p>When the scrub and regular teams were out on +the diamond ready for the practice game Kindlings +looked over his players.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Sid Henderson?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“He got turned back in Latin at last class,” volunteered +Jerry Jackson.</p> + +<p>“Here he comes now,” added Joe Jackson, as if +he was an echo to his brother.</p> + +<p>Sid came running up, all out of breath, buttoning +his blouse as he advanced.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter, son?” asked the captain.</p> + +<p>“That rotten Latin.”</p> + +<p>“Be careful,” warned Kindlings. “Don’t slump +too often or you may put us in a hole. You aren’t +the only first baseman that ever lived, but you’re +pretty good, and I don’t want to go to work training +you in and have you fired off the team by the +faculty for not keeping up your studies.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll be careful,” promised Sid confidently, +and then the game started.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>The ’varsity played snappy ball and the scrub +seemed a bit ragged, naturally perhaps as there was +less incentive for them to play hard.</p> + +<p>“Brace up, fellows,” implored Tom toward the +close of the game. “They’re only four runs ahead +of us, and if we can knock out a couple of three-baggers +we’ll throw a scare into them. They’re +weak in right and left field. Soak the horsehide +toward either of the twins, but don’t get it near +Phil Clinton. If he gets it within a foot of his +mitt, it’s a goner.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a wonder you wouldn’t strike out more +men,” said Fenton. “My uncle says that when he +was a coach——”</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” yelled the umpire, and the reminiscence +was cut short.</p> + +<p>The scrubs did “take a brace” and began finding +the curves of Langridge, much to that pitcher’s +annoyance. Tom made a neat two-bagger, but died +on third, though the score was bettered in favor of +the scrub by two more runs.</p> + +<p>Tom went to his box with a firm step and a more +certain feeling about his ability than he had ever +experienced before. He was sure he could strike +out at least two men, and he did so, including +Langridge and Holly Cross.</p> + +<p>Holly, who was a good batter, was laughed at +by his chums.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You’ll have to do better than that,” warned +Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Do better yourself,” retorted Holly. “I didn’t +want to hit it, anyhow. I was giving you an imitation +of how close I could come to it and miss it.”</p> + +<p>“Those imitations don’t do on this circuit,” +added the tall Kindlings. “It’s mighty risky in a +game.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, in a game,” admitted Holly with a +laugh.</p> + +<p>Tom gave one man a chance to walk and the +next popped out a fly that Dutch Housenlager +neatly gathered in. The game ended with no runs +for the ’varsity in the last inning and they had +beaten the scrub by only two runs.</p> + +<p>“It might be worse,” said Mr. Lighton grimly +as the teams filed off the diamond. “It might be +worse, Woodhouse, but I don’t like it.”</p> + +<p>“Neither do I,” admitted the captain gloomily. +“We tackle Boxer Hall in the first of the league +series next week, and I think I’ll have to make some +more shifts. What do you think of Langridge?”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s all right—yet. If he doesn’t——” +The coach stopped suddenly, seemed about to say +something and then evidently thought better of it. +“At any rate,” he finished, “if worst comes to +worst, we can put Parsons in. He’s improving +every day, and with a little more coaching so that +he isn’t quite so awkward and can run better, he’ll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +make a star player. He’ll be on the first team next +year.”</p> + +<p>“He wants to get on this year.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he will,” and with that the coach +walked off rather abruptly.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></h2> + +<h3>A GAME WITH BOXER HALL</h3> + + +<p>The grandstand was filled with cheering students. +In one section were the cohorts of Randall +College, led in giving their cries by “Bean” Perkins, +who had a voice like unto that of some fog horn. +There was a mass of glowing colors as flags and +streamers were waved in the wind.</p> + +<p>In another part of the stand a smaller but no +less enthusiastic throng sent up exultant cries of +rivalry, calling out repeatedly: “Boxer! Boxer! +Boxer!”</p> + +<p>Scattered among the students in each of the two +divisions of the stand were girls and more girls, +all of them pretty, at least in the eyes of their admirers, +and all of them sporting one college colors +or the other.</p> + +<p>The bleachers were filled by ardent supporters +of the game who were not so particular about having +a roof over their heads and who, for one reason +or another, had to look to the difference in cost +between a grandstand ticket and one on the side +benches.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the occasion of the first regular game of +the season in the Tonoka Lake League between +Randall College and Boxer Hall. As the opposing +players came out for warm-up practice the yells, +cheers and cries were redoubled, and the stands +seemed a waving riot of colors, like some great +bed of flowers.</p> + +<p>The sounds of balls impinging on thick mitts, of +willow bats cracking out hot liners or lofty flies +were heard all over the diamond. Never had the +grass seemed greener and never had the field +looked so inviting. It was a perfect day for the +game.</p> + +<p>There was not a little anxiousness on the part +of the Randall players as they “sized up” their +opponents. They found them a sturdy lot of +youngsters.</p> + +<p>“They’re playing snappy ball,” observed Coach +Lighton to Captain Woodhouse.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and so will we,” predicted Kindlings. +“Just watch us.”</p> + +<p>“I intend to. That’s why I’m out here. Now +let me give you and Langridge a few pointers,” +and he called the pitcher to him, the three strolling +off to one side of the field.</p> + +<p>Tom Parsons was on hand, and it does him no +discredit when it is stated that there was a feeling +of envy in his heart. But it was honest envy. He +wanted to get out on the diamond and do his share<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +in helping the Randall team to win. But he could +only look on and cheer with the others.</p> + +<p>To win or lose the first game meant much to +either team. Not so much to Boxer Hall, perhaps, +as that team had run Fairview Institute a +close second for the championship, but to Randall +the winning of the game might put the necessary +“snap” into the lads, while to lose it might so discourage +them that it would be well on in the season +before they would “take a brace.”</p> + +<p>So it is no wonder that there was a feeling of +nervousness on the part of the coach and the +players.</p> + +<p>The practice was over. The preliminaries had +been arranged, the home team, Randall, having +the privilege of being last to bat. Langridge, with +final instructions from the coach, took his place in +the box.</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” fairly howled the umpire, and the +game was on.</p> + +<p>“Ping!” That was the sound of the bat colliding +with the ball, the first ball that Langridge threw. +Describing a graceful curve, the white sphere sailed +up into the air. Ed Kerr, hoping it might be a +foul, had thrown off his mask and was wildly looking +for it, but it was winging its way toward Jerry +Jackson in right field. A yell went up from the +two hundred college supporters of Boxer Hall, but +it was changed to a groan when one of the Jersey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +twins neatly gathered in the fly and put the runner +out. Langridge breathed a sigh of relief and +struck out the next two men.</p> + +<p>Not a man got to first on the Randall team in +the initial inning. Kerr knocked a pop fly, but it +was caught by the pitcher, who repeated Langridge’s +trick and sent the next two men to the +bench in short order.</p> + +<p>The next three innings saw goose eggs in the +squares of both teams, the only hitting that was +done being foul tips.</p> + +<p>“It’s a pitchers’ battle,” began to be whispered +from seat to seat, and so it seemed. In the sixth +inning Randall succeeded in getting a man to first +on balls, and then began an attempt on the part of +the onlooking students of that college to get the +pitcher’s “goat,” which, being interpreted, meant +to “rattle” him. That he had a “glass arm” was +the mildest epithet hurled at him, but Dave Ogden, +who was doing the twirling for Boxer Hall, only +smiled in a confident sort of way and struck out the +next man.</p> + +<p>He was not so successful with Kindlings Woodhouse, +and the captain hammered out a pretty fly +that was good for two bases and sent Bricktop +Molloy to third. The Randall boys were rejoicing +now, for they saw a chance to score the first +run. And the run itself was brought in by the +blue-eyed and red-haired Molloy a moment later,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +when Phil Clinton knocked a hot liner right between +the Boxer Hall shortstop and the third baseman. +But that ended the fun, though the score was +1 to 0 in favor of the home team.</p> + +<p>This may have been an incentive to the visitors, +for straightway they began pounding Langridge, +and when the seventh inning ended the score was +4 to 2 in favor of Boxer Hall.</p> + +<p>“Boys, we’ve got to down ’em!” said Woodhouse +fiercely. “Don’t let them put the game on +ice this way. Don’t do it. Take a brace.”</p> + +<p>In the eighth inning it looked as if there was +going to be a slump in Randall stock. Langridge +seemed to go to pieces and issued walking passes +to two men, while he was batted for a two-bagger +and a three-base hit. But with a gritting +of their teeth the others rallied to his support, and +though the visitors tucked away two more runs, +making the score 6 to 2, at which their cohorts +went into a fine frenzy, that was all they could do.</p> + +<p>“Fellows, we’re going to win!” cried Captain +Paul, or “Pinky” Davenport, of the Boxers.</p> + +<p>“Wait a bit, son,” advised Kindlings dryly.</p> + +<p>In the ending of the eighth there was a look of +“do or die” about the Randall players. Tom Parsons +felt himself gripping the sides of the seat +until the board hurt his hands.</p> + +<p>“Oh, if I could only get down there and play!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +he whispered to himself. “Why can’t I? why can’t +I?” But he couldn’t and he knew it.</p> + +<p>Rather to their own surprise the Randall lads +began finding the ball with surprising regularity. +They batted it out “for keeps,” as Molloy said, +and they managed to tie the score. Then came the +ever nerve-thrilling ninth inning in a close game. +By great good luck, after he had given one man +his base on balls, Langridge retired a trio in one-two-three +order, and the score still stood a tie.</p> + +<p>“Now, fellows, slam it into them. Wallop the +hide off ’em—sting ’em—souse ’em—put ’em in +brine for next year!” implored Holly Cross. “I’m +first up, and I’m going to give you a correct imitation +of a man making a home run.”</p> + +<p>But he didn’t. Holly struck out miserably and +he went away into a far corner and thought gloomy +thoughts. Not for long, however. A resounding +crack of the bat told him some one had knocked a +fly. It was Phil Clinton, and he started for first +like a deer with the hounds after it.</p> + +<p>“My, but he can run!” exclaimed Tom in admiration. +“Wouldn’t he be fine covering the gridiron +with the ball tucked under his arm? Go on! go on! +That’s the stuff, Phil! Pretty! pretty! That’s a +beaut! that’s a beaut!”</p> + +<p>Tom was on his feet yelling at the top of his +voice. So were hundreds of other lads and girls +also. But the Boxer third baseman was right near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +the ball. He gathered it in and hurled it to first. +It would have been all over with Phil, in spite of +his magnificent run, except that the first baseman +missed it, and <a href="#image01">Phil, amid a riot of cheers, kept on +to second</a>.</p> + +<p>That sealed the fate of the Boxers. They +“slumped” and went to pieces badly. The Randall +lads garnered a run and so they won the game—the +first of the season—by a score of 7 to 6.</p> + +<p>And then what cheering there was!</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></h2> + +<h3>A COIL OF WIRE</h3> + + +<p>“Bonfires to-night, fellows—bonfires multiplied +by seven and one more!” cried Captain +Woodhouse as he gathered the victorious nine +about him and tried to hug each member. “Well +played, my hearties! Yo ho! and a heave, yo ho! +You shall dine sumptuously this day, an it +please ye!”</p> + +<p>“Hold hard there!” came the laughing but calming +voice of the coach. “No breaking of training +just because you’ve won the first game. Not +much! You’ve got to buckle down harder than +ever from now until school closes.”</p> + +<p>“Not even a cigarette?” asked Holly Cross, with +a wink at his chums.</p> + +<p>“Or an ice cream soda?” added Bricktop, his +blue eyes twinkling.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” answered the coach with another +laugh, not taking the trouble to return an answer +to so obvious a question. “They are going to +cheer you. Get ready to give them a yell in return.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>The defeated team had gathered together. +There was an air of sullenness about the members +at losing the game, but this mood quickly passed +under the entreaties of Pinky Davenport, who was +a sportsman and “a good loser,” as he besought his +men to “perk up and wallop ’em next time.” He +called for three cheers for the victors, and they +were followed by the Boxer Hall yell.</p> + +<p>Back came three ringing acclamations and a +“tiger” from Woodhouse and his mates, and their +yell, as weird a combination of words and syllables +as could well be devised, brought the whole concourse +of spectators standing up in acknowledgment. +Then came more cheering, and the nines +disappeared into the dressing-rooms beneath the +grandstand, while the crowds filed away.</p> + +<p>“Well,” remarked Sid as he walked along with +Tom a little later, “it was a glorious victory, as the +poem says. I don’t exactly remember what it was +all about nor how we did it, but ‘’twas a glorious +victory.’”</p> + +<p>“Now you’re talking,” was Phil Clinton’s opinion. +“Eh, Tommy, my lad?”</p> + +<p>Tom was rather silent. He had cheered the +nine until his throat ached, but somehow there was +to him a hollowness in the winning.</p> + +<p>“Too bad you couldn’t play, old man,” commented +Sid. “I was almost hoping Langridge +would strain his arm, and then——”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Don’t!” exclaimed Tom quickly. “That’s bad +luck, and, what’s worse, Sid, it’s treason.”</p> + +<p>“Then give me liberty or buy me a seltzer lemonade, +Patrick Henry!” declaimed Phil. “Honest +now, Tom, weren’t you just aching to get out and +play?”</p> + +<p>“I was,” replied Tom so earnestly that the +others looked curiously at him. “I never wanted +so much in my life to get into a game. Why, I’d +even been glad to act as backstop. But it’s all +right,” he added quickly. “It was a great game, +and maybe I’ll have a chance to play next year if +I live that long,” and he laughed, but there was no +mirth in it.</p> + +<p>“Mighty pretty lot of girls at the game,” observed +Sid, as if to change the subject.</p> + +<p>“That’s what,” agreed Tom, glad to get on a +more congenial topic.</p> + +<p>“Oh, wait until we play Fairview Institute,” said +Phil.</p> + +<p>“Why?” from Tom.</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s co-ed, you know—girl students as +well as boys. And, say, maybe there aren’t some +stunners among ’em! They take in all the games +at home and some that aren’t, and they have flags +and a yell of their own. They know how to yell, +too. I was over to a ball game there last year, +before I thought of coming to Randall, and say, it +was immense. There was one——”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Cut it out, if it’s about a girl,” advised Sid. +“When you get on the dame question, you don’t +know where to stop. Sufficient to say that there +are some.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and then some more,” added Phil. “Wait +until we go there or they come here. Then you’ll +see something worth seeing.”</p> + +<p>“May the day come soon,” spoke Tom with a +laugh. “I sat next to a mighty pretty girl to-day +all right. She had a flag of Randall colors, and +when we won she waved it so hard she nearly put +my eye out.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you made a fuss,” said Phil with a +grin.</p> + +<p>“Of course. I turned to apologize and so did +she, and I knocked her hat all squeegee and she +blushed and I got red, and then—well, I up and +asked her if she had a brother at college.”</p> + +<p>“That’s going some,” commented Sid. “What +did she say? Did you learn her name? Where +does she live?”</p> + +<p>“Fair and softly, little one,” advised Tom, with +a sort of assumed superciliousness. “Trust your +Uncle Dudley for that.”</p> + +<p>He walked on a few paces.</p> + +<p>“Well?” demanded Phil.</p> + +<p>“Is that all?” cried Sid.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Tom, provokingly mysterious +about it.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Go on. Tell a fellow, do.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the use?” asked Tom. “I saw her +walking off after the game with another fellow.”</p> + +<p>“Who?” demanded his two chums.</p> + +<p>“Langridge.”</p> + +<p>“With him?” exclaimed Sid, and there was a +new meaning in his tones. “Who was the girl?”</p> + +<p>“Her name was Madge Tyler,” replied Tom +slowly.</p> + +<p>“Madge Tyler!” repeated Sid. “Why, her +brother used to go here. He graduated two years +ago. He was a crackajack first baseman. And so +Madge Tyler is going with Langridge?” he questioned.</p> + +<p>“Or he with her,” said Tom dryly. “I don’t +see that it makes much difference. Why, hasn’t he +got a right to?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I s’pose if you put it that way, he has,” +went on Sid. “Only——” and he stopped abruptly.</p> + +<p>“Only what?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“Only—nothing. Say, here’s a chance to buy me +that seltzer lemonade. I think you ought to stand +treat for Phil and me, Tom, seeing that if it hadn’t +been for us the game would have been lost and you +wouldn’t have met Miss Madge.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that it has benefited me much,” +replied Tom.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, you old cart horse?” asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +Phil, thumping his friend on the back. “Seeing the +game won or meeting the pretty girl? I believe +you said she was pretty.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say so, but she is—very. But I meant +about meeting her. Langridge seems to have a +mortgage in that direction, I fancy.”</p> + +<p>“He makes me sick!” exclaimed Phil. “He and +the airs he gives himself. But come on in here,” and +he turned toward a drug store. “I’m like a lime +kiln, I’m so warm. It’s your treat, Tom.”</p> + +<p>“All right, I’m willing.”</p> + +<p>“Did Miss Madge ask you to call?” inquired +Phil as the three were wending their way toward +college again.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t say so! Well, it seems to me that +for a new acquaintance you rushed matters fairly +well.”</p> + +<p>“I forgot to add,” said Tom slowly, “that I +knew her before—back in Northville where I live. +She moved away from there some years ago and I +didn’t recognize her at first. But she knew me at +once.”</p> + +<p>“Wow! You old coffee percolator!” shouted +Sid. “Why didn’t you dish that out to us first, instead +of letting us think you made an impression +simply by the aid of your manly figure? So you +knew her of old. Ha! ha! Likewise ho! ho! I +begin to smell a concealed rodent in the woodpile.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You didn’t give me a chance,” was Tom’s quiet +answer, and then he fell to talking about the game +until he and Sid got to their room. Later there +were bonfires and fun galore in honor of the victory.</p> + +<p>Coach Lighton gave the nine no rest. Early the +next Monday afternoon, as soon as lessons were +over, he had them out on the diamond playing +against the scrub. Somewhat to the surprise of +members of the second team as well as that of the +’varsity, Tom Parsons struck out an unusual number +of players.</p> + +<p>“You fellows will have to bat better than this,” +growled Langridge when practice was over and the +’varsity game had been saved merely by a fumble +on the part of a scrub fielder. “This won’t do.”</p> + +<p>“Physician, heal thyself,” quoted Captain Woodhouse +with a grim smile. “You struck out twice, +Langridge.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, but batting isn’t my best specialty +and it is for some of you fellows.”</p> + +<p>“True enough,” admitted Kindlings gravely, +“and we must brace up a bit for the game next +Saturday with Fairview.”</p> + +<p>“The captain is right, boys,” added the coach. +“You must do some hard hitting.”</p> + +<p>“Or else Tom Parsons mustn’t pitch so well,” +said Phil Clinton in a low voice to Sid. “How +about it?”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That’s right. He’s improving wonderfully. +Langridge will have to look to his pitching arm.”</p> + +<p>At that moment the wealthy youth passed by +Phil and Sid. He heard what they said, and if +they could have seen his face then they would have +been somewhat puzzled at the look on it. But +neither Tom nor any of his friends saw.</p> + +<p>It was the next day after the scrub game that as +Tom was alone in his room, “boning” away on +Latin, a knock sounded on the door.</p> + +<p>“Come!” he cried, and, much to his surprise, +Langridge entered.</p> + +<p>“You’re becoming a regular greasy dig, aren’t +you?” he asked pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve got to do some studying, you know. +That’s what I came here for.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know and all that sort of thing, but if +you’re going in for athletics you can’t pound away +at your books too hard.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I guess what pounding I do won’t hurt +me,” and Tom laid aside the volume, the while +wondering why Langridge had called on him. +Tom distinctly was not in the rich youth’s set.</p> + +<p>“I hope not,” and the other’s manner was becoming +more and more cordial. “But I say, Parsons, +don’t you want to help us get one in on the +sophs?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. You can always count on me. What is +it this time?”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, you know the little open pavilion down +near the river?”</p> + +<p>“The one near the boathouse?”</p> + +<p>“That same.”</p> + +<p>“Sure I know it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you know according to ancient and revered +college tradition that is sacred to the sophomores. +None other but members of the second-year +class may go there. If one of us freshmen is +caught there it means a ducking, to say the least.”</p> + +<p>“So I’ve heard.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Kerr and I were in there the other day, +for we heard that the sophs were off on a little +racket, and we didn’t think we’d be disturbed. We +had a couple of girls there and were having a little +confab when along came Gladdus and Battersby, +grabbed us before we knew it and chucked us into +the H<sub>2</sub>O, whence we floundered like drowned rats.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I heard about it.”</p> + +<p>“So did the whole college, I guess. Now Kerr +and I feel that not only have we been insulted, but +that the whole freshman class has.”</p> + +<p>“I agree to that.”</p> + +<p>“And will you help us to get even?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. What you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“You’ll see later. What I need now is a coil of +wire. I want to know if you’ll get it for me.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, but why can’t you get it for yourself?”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve got about all +the marks I can stand this term, and merely because +I happened to play an innocent trick in class to-day +I’m forbidden to leave the college grounds for +a week. Just when I want to go to town, too. So +I’ve got to get some one else to get the wire for me, +and I thought you would. I’ll pay for it, of +course.”</p> + +<p>“Sure I’ll get it,” agreed Tom, not stopping to +think that Kerr, the special chum of Langridge, +might have acted for his friend. “What kind do +you want?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you. Here’s the money,” and Langridge +handed over a bill, also giving Tom a memorandum +of the kind of wire wanted and where to +get it in Haddonfield.</p> + +<p>“And one more thing,” the other youth added as +he prepared to take his leave.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t, for the life of you, tell a soul that you +got the wire for me. I want it kept a dead secret. +The trick will be all the better then. Will you +promise?”</p> + +<p>“I will.”</p> + +<p>“On your honor as a freshman of Randall College?”</p> + +<p>Tom wondered at the other’s insistence.</p> + +<p>“Of course I will. Shall I swear?” and Tom +laughed.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No, your word is enough,” spoke Langridge +significantly. “Have the wire by to-night, and +we’ll teach the sophs a lesson they won’t soon forget.”</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></h2> + +<h3>AN ELECTRIC SHOCK</h3> + + +<p>Late that same afternoon Tom, having gone to +town alone, that he might accomplish his mission +unobserved, came back with a coil of telegraph +wire concealed under his sweater at his waist. He +smuggled it to Langridge’s room without being +seen.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff, old man,” cried Langridge +heartily, but there was an air of patronizing superiority +in his manner that Tom did not like. Still, he +reasoned, the other could not rid himself of an inborn +habit so easily, and it really seemed, in spite +of the fact that Tom might be regarded as a rival +of Langridge, that the latter was doing his best to +be friendly.</p> + +<p>“I s’pose it wouldn’t do to ask what’s up, would +it?” inquired Tom as he was about to leave.</p> + +<p>“Hardly,” replied Langridge with what he +meant to be a genial smile. “It might get out, you +know. But you can be in at the death, so to speak. +The whole freshman class will assemble at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +boathouse about nine. There’ll be a full moon +and we can have a good view of the sophs’ pavilion.”</p> + +<p>“Are they going to be there?”</p> + +<p>“I hope so. In fact I’m counting on it. This +is the night of their annual moonlight song festival. +They gather in and about the pavilion and +make the night hideous with snatches of melody. +They’re rotten singers—the sophs this year—but +that is neither here nor there. The point is that +they’ll be there, and it’s up to us freshmen to give +’em a little surprise party.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’re going to arrange the wire so +they can’t get into the pavilion without cutting it,” +suggested Tom, “or else put it across the path to +trip them up.”</p> + +<p>“Er—yes—something like that,” replied Langridge +hastily. “Oh, by the way, have you a knife? +I lost mine out rowing the other day. I’ll give it +back to you to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Tom passed over his knife, a good-sized one, +with his name engraved on the handle. His father +had given it to him.</p> + +<p>“Don’t lose it,” he cautioned. “I think a great +deal of it.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll not,” promised Langridge. “Now don’t +forget to be on hand.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be there to see the fun.”</p> + +<p>“And maybe you’ll see more than you bargain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +for,” whispered Langridge as Tom went out. +There was a curious look on the face of the ’varsity +pitcher.</p> + +<p>One by one, by twos and threes or in small +groups, silent figures stole away from dormitories +that night and gathered about the pavilion or the +boathouse, which was not far from it. To the +first place went the sophomores, bent on having +their annual frolic of song. To the second rendezvous +traveled the freshmen, but they went more +silently, for they did not want their natural enemies +to learn of their presence.</p> + +<p>The sophomores, however, were on their guard. +From time immemorial it had been the custom for +the first-year class to endeavor to break up the +song fest of their predecessors, and it was the +function of the first years to do this in as novel a +manner as possible.</p> + +<p>Tradition had it that various methods had been +used, such as setting fire to the pavilion, digging +pits in the paths that led to it and covering the +holes with leaves and grass, laying a line of hose +to the place, so that at an opportune moment the +singers would be drenched and routed. The latter +was a favorite plan and most successful.</p> + +<p>But to-night a more strict guard than usual had +been kept over the battle-scarred pavilion. All +that day a committee had been on the watch so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +that it was thought impossible that any hose could +be used or any pits dug.</p> + +<p>Now the sophomores were beginning to gather +in and around the small shelter. They were jubilant, +for they began to think they had outwitted +their never-ceasing enemies.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the freshmen were not idle. In large +numbers they had quietly gathered at the boathouse, +in the dark shadows of which they remained in hiding, +waiting for the opening of the singing and the +consequent breaking up of the sophomore body.</p> + +<p>“What’s the game?” asked Sid of Tom as those +two and Phil Clinton made their way to the rendezvous. +“Water pipes, fire or something brand +new?”</p> + +<p>“You can search me,” was Tom’s non-committal +answer. “I hope it’s something new. There +doesn’t seem to be any provisions for a bonfire and +none of us swiped the fire hose.”</p> + +<p>“Langridge and his committee have it in +charge,” said Phil. “There’s some secrecy about +it, and very properly, too. Last year, I understand, +it leaked out and the fun was spoiled.”</p> + +<p>Tom did not reply, but he wondered what use +Langridge was going to make of the wire.</p> + +<p>“They ought to start soon now,” whispered +Phil. “There’s a good crowd of them there.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and they’ve got scouts out all around,” +added Sid as he and his chums saw a number of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +shadowy figures patroling the stretch around the +pavilion. “They’re not going to be caught unawares.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how we’re going to break ’em up,” +remarked Phil.</p> + +<p>“You wait and you’ll see,” exclaimed Langridge, +who was moving about among the freshmen. “Say, +Ed, you’d better go now and light the fuse.”</p> + +<p>“Is it an explosion?” asked Sid eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Better be careful,” cautioned Phil.</p> + +<p>Tom’s heart was thumping. He began to see +the use to which the wire might be put, and he was +afraid lest he had taken part in some dangerous +prank. If Langridge had planned to explode a +mine under the pavilion, some one might be injured.</p> + +<p>“There’ll be no explosion, only an explosion of +wrath pretty soon,” replied Langridge. “Go ahead, +Kerr. Let ’em sing one song and they’ll think +we’ve called it off. Then let it go.”</p> + +<p>Kerr hurried off, keeping in the shadows. No +sooner had he started than a movement was noticeable +among the sophomores, groups of whom +could easily be seen now, as the moon was well up.</p> + +<p>Then, on the stillness of the night, there broke +a song. It was an old melody, sacred to Randall, +and, in spite of being rendered by hilarious students, +it was well done.</p> + +<p>“That’s not half bad,” commented Phil.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +“They’ve got some good members for the glee +club there.”</p> + +<p>“It’s punk!” sneered Langridge. “Wait until +we have a song fest. We’ll make them feel sick!”</p> + +<p>The melody continued, and coming as it did +from the distance, while all about was the wondrous +beauty of the moon, the effect produced on +Tom Parsons was one of distinct pleasure. It was +like being at some play.</p> + +<p>“What a pity,” he thought, “to spoil it all! +What brutes we college fellows are—sometimes. I +like to listen to that.”</p> + +<p>The song was softer now, and then it broke forth +into a full chorus, well rendered.</p> + +<p>“It’s a shame to break it up,” reasoned Tom. +Then a class feeling overcame him. After all, the +sophomores were their traditional enemies, and +college tradition demanded that they disperse the +gathering.</p> + +<p>“Kerr ought to be there now,” whispered Langridge. +“The fuse will burn for two minutes.”</p> + +<p>“Fuse—fuse,” repeated Phil. “It <i>must</i> be an +explosion. You want to be careful, Langridge.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know what I’m doing,” was the answer. +“But mind now, no squealing, whatever happens.”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t say that,” was Phil’s quick retort. +“We’re Randall College freshmen,” as if that was +all that was necessary.</p> + +<p>Kerr glided in from somewhere.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well?” asked Langridge.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right.”</p> + +<p>The sophomores had started another song. +They were about through the second verse when +there came a series of sudden yells from the pavilion. +There were cries of pain, and Langridge, +in the midst of the freshmen, called out:</p> + +<p>“That’s it! That’s the stuff! Rah! rah! sophs! +This time we break you up. Cheer, boys, cheer!”</p> + +<p>The freshmen set up an exultant cry as it became +evident that, in some way, the gleeful singing +of the second-year lads had been stopped. There +was an excited movement in the pavilion, yet the +waiting freshmen could not see that anything had +taken place.</p> + +<p>Then came a cry—two exclamations—louder +and more anguished than any that had preceded. +There was a yell—a protesting yell—and then +some one in the pavilion shouted:</p> + +<p>“Cut it, fellows! The hand railing is charged +with electricity!”</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for the freshmen!” called Langridge, +and the response came spontaneously, for his +mates knew that they had triumphed over the +sophomores.</p> + +<p>Suddenly above the confused cheering and shouting +there came another cry.</p> + +<p>“Help me, fellows! Oh, help—help!” screamed +some one inside the pavilion.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a confused movement among the +singers. Something seemed to have happened—something +serious. The freshmen stopped their +cheering and crowded up. A big sophomore broke +through the throng and dashed toward the college.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” called Tom, and he had +an uneasy feeling as he asked the question.</p> + +<p>“Matter? It’s you confounded freshmen, that’s +what’s the matter! Gladdus and Battersby have +been knocked unconscious.”</p> + +<p>“Unconscious?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, by a powerful current of electricity. Get +out of my way, fresh, or I’ll knock you down! I’m +going for a doctor. Some of you had better notify +the proctor,” he added to a few of his classmates +who followed him on the run. “This is serious +business.”</p> + +<p>“Come on, fellows,” advised Langridge. “It’s +all right. We broke up the pavilion meeting all +right.”</p> + +<p>“But maybe some one is seriously hurt,” said Sid.</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, it was only a current from the incandescent +light lamps. It couldn’t hurt them. Come +on, take a sneak away from here. We’ve had our +fun. And mind, everybody keep his mouth shut,” +and Langridge disappeared in the shadows of the +trees, while ahead of him panted several sophomores +on their way to summon a physician.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></h2> + +<h3>TOM DOESN’T TELL</h3> + + +<p>Tom and Sid hurried along in the midst of the +freshmen, Phil Clinton trailing after them. The +three found themselves in a little group, comparatively +alone.</p> + +<p>“Maybe we’d better do something,” proposed +Tom.</p> + +<p>“No, best not to interfere,” advised Sid. “Let +them manage it.”</p> + +<p>“But if Gladdus and Battersby are hurt——”</p> + +<p>“Come on,” urged Phil. “We’re likely to be +caught any minute. Proc. Zane will be out after +all that racket. Let’s get to our rooms and lay +low.”</p> + +<p>When Tom and Sid were in their apartment the +scrub pitcher turned to his chum and asked:</p> + +<p>“Did you know what was in the wind to-night, +Sid?”</p> + +<p>“No. I left it all to Langridge and Kerr. But +I guess it’s all right. Why?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing much. But if some one is +hurt——”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Nonsense, don’t worry. Why, that’s nothing +to what other classes have done. I remember hearing +a story of how——”</p> + +<p>But Sid’s yarn was interrupted by a tap at the +door, and Ford Fenton slid in. There was rather +a frightened look on his face.</p> + +<p>“What’s up, Fenton?” asked Sid.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, but something is. They’ve carried +Gladdus and Battersby into the infirmary, and +there’s a lot of scurrying about. They’ve sent for +a doctor from town, and Moses and Proc. Zane +have gone down to the pavilion.”</p> + +<p>“What for?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“Blessed if I know. Say, but we broke up their +singing all right, didn’t we? It was great. My +uncle says——”</p> + +<p>“Shut up!” cried Tom, and there was such unusual +irritability in his tone that the other two +looked at him in surprise. He saw it and went +on: “I—I didn’t exactly mean that, Fenton, old +chap, but I’m—I’m all upset.”</p> + +<p>“For cats’ sake, what about?” demanded Sid. +“You don’t mean to say you’re worried because our +class knocked out a couple of greasy old sophs?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I—er——”</p> + +<p>There came another interruption, and a lad entered.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the Snail,” exclaimed Sid as Sam Looper +crawled in and closed the door softly behind him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +“He can find out what’s up. How about it, Snail—any +news?”</p> + +<p>Sam blinked his eyes as if the light hurt him.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been around—around,” he said slowly, +waving his hand to take in the whole compass of +the college and grounds. “I saw ’em carry the two +sophs away. They’re badly burned and shocked. +Langridge is a fool!” They had seldom seen the +Snail so excited. “He went and strung a wire from +the electric light circuit to the iron hand rail around +the pavilion. Only he made a mistake in the connections +and got the wires crossed with the powerful +arc circuit. The incandescent is only a hundred +and ten volts, while the arc is twenty-four hundred. +Some difference. Only that they got a small part of +it, they’d be dead instead of merely badly shocked.”</p> + +<p>Tom Parsons half uttered an exclamation.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Sid quickly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing. Go on, Snail.”</p> + +<p>“That’s about all,” came from Sam. “Pitchfork—he’s +a sort of doctor, you know—he’s working +over ’em now. I guess they’ll be all right.”</p> + +<p>Tom started to leave the room.</p> + +<p>“Where you going?” inquired Sid.</p> + +<p>“Out. I—I must see what’s happened!”</p> + +<p>“You stay here!” ordered Sid, half fiercely. +“You’ll be nabbed in a minute. Proc. Zane has his +scouts out, waiting to corral everybody. Here,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +Snail, you go. You know how to keep out of +sight.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” agreed Sam, who liked nothing better +than to prowl around in the dark. “Wait here and +I’ll sneak back.”</p> + +<p>“Be careful,” cautioned Ford.</p> + +<p>The Snail slowly winked his half-shut eyes, but +did not speak. Then he closed the door softly and +they heard him tiptoeing down the corridor.</p> + +<p>“The Snail will find out,” almost whispered Sid. +Somehow they all appeared to be under a strain. +Tom was pacing back and forth in the room. Ford +stood with his back to the mantel, his hands clasped +behind him. Sid tried to look at a book, but he +took no sense of the words. Finally, with an exclamation, +he threw it on the sofa. Ford quietly +left the room and a little later Phil Clinton came +in. Sid and Tom saw that he had heard all.</p> + +<p>Tom ceased his nervous walk and went over to +the sofa. He sat down on it, the ancient piece of +furniture creaking with his weight. But he was not +there half a minute before he arose and began pacing +up and down again. Then he tried an easy +chair, whence there floated up a little cloud of dust +from the old cushions. There was silence in the +apartment, broken only by the ticking of a fussy +little alarm clock. It seemed to double up on the +number of seconds allotted to a minute. The three +could hear each other’s breathing. They were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +under some strain, though, for the life of them, +neither Sid nor Phil could tell what it was.</p> + +<p>“Why doesn’t some one say something?” asked +Phil at length, and it was as if some one had broken +the silence in a church.</p> + +<p>Sid picked up the book he had cast aside. Then +he threw it down again, for there sounded the noise +of a person coming along the corridor. The Snail +came in.</p> + +<p>“Well?” gasped Tom, and it was as if he had +shouted it, though he spoke in a low, tense voice.</p> + +<p>“They’re in a bad way,” said the Snail slowly, +“but there’s a chance to pull them through. +There’s going to be an investigation, I heard. +Langridge is likely to——”</p> + +<p>There came a knock on the door. The lads +started guiltily. Phil, being nearest the portal, +opened it, though if it was one of the proctor’s +“scouts,” as was likely, he would be “up” for +breaking one of the college rules about being in +another room after the prescribed hours. It was a +“scout,” Mr. Snell, a sort of upper janitor.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Parsons,” said the scout deferentially—and +he took no notice of the presence of the Snail or +Phil, for which they were duly grateful—“Mr. +Parsons, the proctor would like to see you in his +office.”</p> + +<p>“Now?” asked Tom, and his heart began to beat +double strokes.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now, yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>Without a look at his chums Tom went out and +to the office. He was afraid lest he might betray +the secret he feared would be disclosed at any +moment—the secret of the coil of wire.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Parsons,” began Proctor Zane slowly when +the door had closed behind Tom, “there has been +a serious accident to-night.”</p> + +<p>Tom bowed. He could not trust his voice.</p> + +<p>“Two students were badly hurt and the results +may be lasting. They are only just now out of +danger.”</p> + +<p>Once more Tom bowed. He could not speak. +The beating of his heart was choking him.</p> + +<p>“As a rule,” went on the proctor judicially, “I +take no notice of the—er—the affairs between the +different classes or student bodies. But this time I +am obliged to. Dr. Churchill and myself have +made an examination of the pavilion where this +outrage occurred. We discovered the wires running +from the electric light circuit to the hand rail. +We discovered where a spring connection had been +made, so that, by the burning away of a fuse, the +parts of the spring closed, the wires came in contact +and the current filled the hand rail. We also discovered +something else.”</p> + +<p>He paused, and Tom, for the first time, looked +the proctor full in the face. Mr. Zane held out a +small object.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>“This knife was found near where the wires were +fastened to the railing,” he said. “It has your +name on it. Is it yours?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied Tom.</p> + +<p>“You took part in this affair?”</p> + +<p>“I am a freshman.”</p> + +<p>“That is answer enough. Did you attach the +wires?”</p> + +<p>“No, and I had nothing to do with that part +of it.”</p> + +<p>“Your knife would seem to indicate that you +had.”</p> + +<p>No answer from Tom.</p> + +<p>“Did you use your knife to attach the wires?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know who did?”</p> + +<p>“I think I do.”</p> + +<p>“Will you tell?”</p> + +<p>Tom could almost hear his heart beating. There +was a singing in his ears. Then he answered:</p> + +<p>“No. I cannot tell, Mr. Zane. I—I——”</p> + +<p>“That will do,” said the proctor gravely. “I did +not expect you would tell.”</p> + +<p>Tom turned and made his way from the room. +There was a mist before his eyes. There came +back to him the promise he had made to Langridge. +On his honor as a freshman he had agreed not to +give information. When he gave the promise he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +had not known how serious it would be. But, +nevertheless, it was a promise.</p> + +<p>Tom stumbled into his room. The Snail and +Phil were gone. Sid sat with the light turned low. +He jumped up as his chum came in.</p> + +<p>“Tom,” he cried, “what’s the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” was the answer in a dull, spiritless +tone. Tom threw himself into a chair. The fussy +little clock ticked away. Half an hour passed and +not a word was spoken.</p> + +<p>“You’d better go to bed, old man,” said Sid +gently. “It’ll be all right to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Without a word Tom began to undress. The +light was turned out. Sid was dozing off when he +heard his chum tossing restlessly on his bed.</p> + +<p>“Tom,” he called through the darkness, “can I +help you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” came the answer, and then Tom lay quiet. +But he did not sleep.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></h2> + +<h3>A GIRL AND A GAME</h3> + + +<p>There was a more complete investigation the +next day. The report was also circulated that the +two sophomores were not so badly injured as had +at first been feared. But there was something in +the air which showed that stringent measures were +likely to be taken by the faculty.</p> + +<p>Dr. Churchill was ten minutes late in opening +chapel that morning, and there was much stately +moving to and fro on the part of the instructors. +On the face of Professor Emerson Tines there was +a look of satisfaction, as if he was glad that some +one had gotten into trouble.</p> + +<p>“Look at Pitchfork!” said Sid to Tom, but +Tom’s face had not lost its anxious look.</p> + +<p>“For Heaven’s sake, cheer up!” whispered Phil +Clinton. “They’ll think you did the whole business +if they see your face, Tom.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Churchill made an unusual prayer that +morning. Though he did not directly refer to the +happening of the previous night, it was in his petition, +and many a freshman, impressed by the solemn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +words, then and there resolved to abjure in +the future unseemly pranks and to become a +“grind.”</p> + +<p>“The freshman class will remain after chapel this +morning,” announced the venerable head of Randall, +and as the other classes filed out there were +commiserating looks cast at the unlucky first-years +by the juniors and seniors and vindictive glances +bestowed by the sophomores.</p> + +<p>The examination was a long and searching one. +Tom was questioned at length, but all he would +admit was that he took part in the affair, though he +stated that he had had nothing to do with fixing +the wires. Nor did he tell of having brought the +coil to Langridge. His knife was damaging evidence +against him, and he was content to let it +stand as such. Kerr manfully admitted lighting +the fuse which sprung the wires together and sent +the current sizzling into the hand rail, but he would +go no further nor tell who had strung the conductors.</p> + +<p>The faculty dismissed the class and the instructors +went into executive session.</p> + +<p>“Maybe we’ll all be in for it,” predicted Phil as +the lads strolled off to their classrooms. “They +may suspend us all for a week.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe they’d do that,” was Sid’s opinion. +“They may forbid any of us taking part in +athletics, though.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, they might do that,” added Fenton. “My +uncle says——”</p> + +<p>The boys all stopped and looked at him. No one +spoke a word. Fenton squirmed under their unflinching +gaze.</p> + +<p>“Well—well,” he began hesitatingly, “he ought +to know, for he was a coach here——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and you’re a regular trolley car, with an +automatic gong that rings up the same thing every +time,” exclaimed Langridge. “They wouldn’t dare +keep us out of athletics for such a little joke as that. +Why, the whole student body would be up in arms. +The ball team would go to pieces, and we’d lose the +championship. They wouldn’t dare.”</p> + +<p>“Glad you think so,” remarked Holly Cross +calmly. “But I can see us giving a good imitation +of a lot of fellows in trouble. Maybe we—that is, +whoever strung those wires, for I don’t know who +it was—maybe we went a little too far. If I’d have +known what was up, I’d have made a kick.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, is that so?” sneered Langridge. But he +did not admit his part in the prank and he let Tom +suffer for him, for that afternoon it was announced +that Tom was to be suspended for two weeks and +Kerr for three. Every other member of the freshman +class was barred from leaving the college +grounds for a week.</p> + +<p>There arose a mighty protest over this, for there +was a game scheduled with Fairview Institute at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +the end of the week, and if the class was kept within +bounds it meant that many of the nine could not +play and that all the freshmen would be barred +from witnessing the second of the championship +struggles, as the contest was to take place at Fairview.</p> + +<p>Then the faculty reconsidered the matter, being +“almost human,” as Phil said, and, with the possible +exception of Professor Tines, having once +been young and fond of sport themselves. They +made a new ruling: That the class was to keep +within bounds until the day of the game, when all +would be allowed to attend save Tom and Kerr. +In their case no exception would be made.</p> + +<p>There was more objecting, but the ruling stood. +It meant that Tom could not pitch on the scrub and +that Kerr could not catch on the ’varsity, whereat +there was much anguish of soul, for the Fairview +team was a hard proposition, and it would take the +best that was in the Randall lads to beat them. But +there was no help for it.</p> + +<p>Nor did Tom reproach Langridge for having +gotten him into the trouble. Tom had hoped that +his rival would confess and shoulder the blame, in +which case, merely having brought the wire on a +supposition that it was to be used for a comparatively +harmless prank, Tom’s case would not have +been nearly so bad. But Langridge said nothing. +Sid heard somehow of the ’varsity pitcher’s part in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +the trick. Then Tom’s chum expressed the belief +that Langridge had deliberately acted so as to get +Tom into trouble because the rich lad had feared +the newcomer might supplant him as pitcher.</p> + +<p>But Tom would not hear of this. He took his +suspension grimly, silently, and though barred from +class, he kept up his studies; nor did he neglect his +practice of throwing curves, Kerr gladly agreeing +to catch for him, for the two were outcasts from +the diamond, Tom not even being allowed to play +on the scrub.</p> + +<p>“But two weeks and three weeks can’t last forever,” +declared Kerr, “though I sure would like to +see the Fairview game.”</p> + +<p>Saturday came and with it a feeling of apprehension +on the part of the Randall students, for various +reports had come to them of the prowess of their +rivals. The team made ready to depart for Fairview +Institute. They were to go by rail to the college +that was fifteen miles away. Tom and Kerr, +about the only ones in the athletic set who remained +at Randall, looked wistfully at their departing comrades.</p> + +<p>And then, so suddenly that it seemed like a +miracle, their sorrow was turned to joy, for the +proctor sought them out on the campus, where the +team was being cheered previous to departure, and +announced in the case of the two suspended students +that they might go to the game, but take no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +part, even in an emergency. They gladly accepted +the terms. Dr. Churchill’s heart had softened at +the last moment.</p> + +<p>“Girls, girls, girls!” exclaimed Tom as he +walked out on the field with Sid and Phil and saw +the grandstand at Fairview massed with gay femininity. +“And all pretty too!”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” agreed Sid. “What did I tell you? +But what interests me more is the other team. +Jove! but they are quick,” for the Fairview students +were batting and catching in a manner to provoke +admiration.</p> + +<p>There were shrill cries of encouragement from +the girls and more hoarse shouts from the male +students, for at Fairview the sexes were about +evenly divided, both boys and girls taking equal +interest in sports.</p> + +<p>Coach Lighton shook his head dubiously as he +saw the Randall boys stream out on the diamond +for practice.</p> + +<p>“I hope Cross will appreciate the seriousness of +the matter,” he said. “He can’t begin to touch +Kerr at catching, yet he’s the best one we can +put in.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” agreed Kindlings. “But maybe we’ll +make out. I hope so.”</p> + +<p>Kerr was as nervous as a girl at not being able to +play. He paced up and down the coaching lines +until Kindlings, fearing he would disconcert the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +team, sent him to the grandstand, where Tom had +already gone.</p> + +<p>Well, that game with Fairview is ancient history +now. Sufficient to say that after a good beginning, +when they gathered three runs the first inning and +held their opponents down to a goose egg, principally +through the pitching of Langridge, the Randall +lads went to pieces and the Fairviews ran away +with them. Langridge was finally fairly batted out +of the box and the final score was 16 to 4 in favor +of the co-educational institution.</p> + +<p>It was a sorely disappointed nine that filed off +the diamond, nor could the generous cheers of the +victors apply any balm to the wounds.</p> + +<p>“Such pitching!” grumbled Phil as he was in the +dressing-room. “That lost us the game as much +as anything else. Langridge didn’t seem to be in +form.”</p> + +<p>The pitcher overheard him.</p> + +<p>“I say, Clinton,” he called out sneeringly, “you +mind your own affairs. I train as good as you, and +I didn’t miss a fly that came right into my hands,” +for Phil had thus offended, letting in a run.</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen you pitch better,” spoke Sid quietly, +for he and several others were “sore” at Langridge, +who plainly enough had not been in his usual good +form.</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe. I can’t be on edge all the while,” +and the pitcher laughed nervously.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom, in the grandstand, was making his way +down amid a bevy of pretty girls and wishing he +had some one who would introduce him to them +when he heard a voice call his name. He turned +quickly and saw Madge Tyler in a bewilderingly +pretty dress, her hair framing her face in a most +bewitching manner, while her eyes were bright with +the joy of youth and the fire thereof.</p> + +<p>“Too bad, wasn’t it?” she asked sympathetically, +holding out her hand to Tom. “I was so sorry for +Mr. Langridge!”</p> + +<p>“Why Langridge?” asked Tom quickly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, because the pitcher seems to have to +work so hard, and then to be defeated——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was unpleasant—the defeat,” agreed +Tom. “But are you going out?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I came over with friends to see the game, +but I seem to have missed them in the crush.”</p> + +<p>“Then let me be your escort back to Haddonfield?” +asked Tom. “I’m rather by my lonesome, +too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thank you. I dare say——”</p> + +<p>She paused and looked over the moving mass of +students, boys and girls who were laughing happily +or walking away dejectedly according to the colors +they wore. Tom followed her gaze. He saw +Langridge approaching and he knew that Miss +Tyler had seen him also.</p> + +<p>“There’s Mr. Langridge!” she exclaimed. “I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +wonder how he feels? He promised to meet me +after the game.”</p> + +<p>Tom took a sudden resolve. He did not stop to +think that it might be a foolish one. He was actuated +solely by what he argued to himself was a +platonic interest in the pretty girl at his side. He +had known her in childhood, he knew her people, +and they were old friends of his folks. Of late +Tom had heard certain rumors about Langridge, +nothing serious as rumors about college students +go, but enough to make Tom glad that, in the case +of his sisters, Langridge could not get to know +them. It was therefore with somewhat the same +feeling that he might have warned his sisters that +he spoke to Miss Tyler.</p> + +<p>“You and Mr. Langridge are quite friendly,” +he said in what he intended to be a light tone.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” came the frank answer. “I like him +immensely. I like all college boys—when they’re +nice,” she finished with a little laugh.</p> + +<p>Tom’s face was grave, and she saw it. With a +girl’s intuition she felt that there was something in +the air, and, girl-like, she wanted to know what it +was.</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t I like him?” she demanded with an +arch look.</p> + +<p>“Well—er—that is—no, Miss Madge!” burst +out Tom, speaking more loudly than he had intended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +to. “You won’t mind me speaking about it, +for I’ve known you so many years.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m not so ancient as all that!” exclaimed +the girl rather pertly.</p> + +<p>“No,” admitted Tom, and he felt that he was +getting into deep water and beyond his depth. +But he would not retreat and floundered on: “No, +but I—I know your folks wouldn’t like you to go +with Langridge—that is, too much, you know. He +does not bear a very good——”</p> + +<p>There was a hand on Tom’s shoulder, and he +felt himself wheeled suddenly around, to be confronted +by Langridge. The pitcher had brushed +his uniform and looked particularly handsome in a +well-fitting suit, while there was a healthy glow to +his face.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you’d better repeat over again, Parsons,” +he said somewhat sternly, “what you were +just saying to Miss Tyler about me. I didn’t catch +it all!”</p> + +<p>“I—er—I——” Tom was choking, and the +girl bravely came to his relief.</p> + +<p>“We were just talking about you,” she admitted +with a nervous little laugh. “I was saying how disheartening +it must be to pitch through a hard game +and then lose it. And Tom—I mean Mr. Parsons, +but I always call him Tom, for I’ve known him so +long—he was just saying—er—he was just saying +that you were rather—well, rather a flirt. I believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +that was it, wasn’t it, Tom?” and she looked +quickly at him, but there was meaning in her glance.</p> + +<p>Langridge kept his hand on Tom’s shoulder and +the two looked each other straight in the face unflinchingly. +Miss Tyler lost some of her blushes +and her cheeks began to pale. Then Tom spoke +quietly.</p> + +<p>“If you wish to know exactly what I said,” was +his quiet but tense answer, “I will tell you—later,” +and he swung on his heel and started down the +grandstand steps.</p> + +<p>For an instant Langridge stared after him. +Then, with a little laugh, he turned to Miss Tyler.</p> + +<p>“Poor Parsons is sore because he’s been suspended,” +he said. “He can’t even pitch on the +scrub. But how pretty you’re looking to-day, Miss +Madge.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Tyler, please,” she corrected him.</p> + +<p>“Mayn’t I even call you Miss Madge after I’ve +been defeated in the game?” he pleaded, and he +looked at her boldly. “It would be—er—well, +sort of soothing to me.”</p> + +<p>“Would it?” and she laughed lightly.</p> + +<p>“It surely would,” and he bent closer toward +her.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, you may—but only on occasions of +defeat.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’m going to lose every game,” he added<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +promptly as he turned at her side and walked down +the steps.</p> + +<p>Tom Parsons, strolling alone over the now +vacant diamond, saw them together, and there was +a strange feeling in his heart.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></h2> + +<h3>TOM’S CURVES</h3> + + +<p>There was lively practice of the Randall nine +the following week, and Coach Lighton said some +things that hurt, but they were needed. Nor was +Langridge spared, though he affected not to mind +the sharp admonition that he must pitch more consistently.</p> + +<p>The nine played a game Saturday with an outside +team, more for practice than anything else, and +won it “hands down,” as Holly Cross said. But, +after all, it was not much credit to the ’varsity, for +their opponents were not as good as the college +scrub. Holly caught, the period of Kerr’s suspension +not being up yet.</p> + +<p>Tom kept at his practice, but he was more than +glad when he could resume his class work again +and take his place on the second nine.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll tackle work together,” said the +coach one afternoon to Tom, for Mr. Lighton had +not been allowed to give him directions during the +suspension weeks. “I hope you haven’t gone stale, +Parsons.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I hope not. Kerr and I have been sort of practicing +together.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good. I hope, before the season is over, +that you and he will go into a regular game together. +If not, you’ll have your ‘innings’ next +year, if you progress as you have been doing.”</p> + +<p>Tom was glad of the praise, but he would have +been more glad of a chance to get on the ’varsity. +Still he determined to do his best on the scrub, but +it was hard and rather thankless work.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lighton put him through a hard course of +“sprouts” that afternoon. With some members of +the scrub to bat against him, Tom sent in swift +and puzzling balls, for all the while his ability to +curve was increasing and his control was improving. +That afternoon he struck out six men in succession, +retiring them without having given any +one of them more than two balls. It was very +good work, and the fact that the men were not +extraordinary good hitters did not detract from it.</p> + +<p>“That’s fine!” cried Mr. Lighton enthusiastically. +“I’m going to——” But what he was +going to do he did not say.</p> + +<p>“They ought to make you substitute pitcher on +the ’varsity team,” was the opinion of Dutch Housenlager +when the practice was over. “Rod Evert +isn’t one-two-six with you, and he doesn’t do any +practicing to speak of.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe he feels that he doesn’t have to, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +Langridge seems to make good nearly every time,” +spoke Tom.</p> + +<p>“Aw, rats! All that keeps Langridge manager +is his money. He certainly runs the financial end +of the game to perfection. And if he wasn’t manager +he wouldn’t be pitcher. But the fellows know +he takes a lot of responsibility from them, and +they’re just easy enough to let things slide. Some +day we’ll be up against it. Langridge will be +knocked out of the box, Evert won’t be in form, +and we’ll lose the game.”</p> + +<p>“Unless they call on ‘yours truly,’” interjected +Tom with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” agreed Dutch seriously. “That’s my +point. I wish they’d name you for sub. I’m going +to ask——”</p> + +<p>“No, no!” expostulated Tom quickly. “If I +can’t get there on my own merits, I don’t want it. +No favors, please. I can wait.”</p> + +<p>“Well, just as you say, of course. But say, +there’s the Grasshopper. Watch me make him +jump.”</p> + +<p>He pointed to Pete Backus, a tall student, who +seemed to be measuring off a certain distance on a +grassy stretch down near the river.</p> + +<p>“Looks as if he was going to jump without you +making him,” observed Tom.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s always jumping. He thinks he’s +great at it. Wants to make the track team, but he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +can’t seem to do it. He’ll do his distance easily +one day and fall down the next. You can’t depend +on him. But I’ll make him jump now. +Sneak down behind those bushes.”</p> + +<p>Tom followed Dutch softly. There were no +other students about and they managed to gain +the screen of the bushes unobserved by the Grasshopper, +who was intent on measuring distances +with a pocket tape. The two conspirators could +see where he had been practicing the broad jump.</p> + +<p>The Grasshopper stood close to a clump of elder +bushes, with his back to them. He was preparing +for another test. Dutch Housenlager, who was +not happy unless he was engaged in some joke or +horse play, silently cut a long pole and fastened to +it a big pin, which he extracted from some part of +his garments. Then, seeing a good opening that +gave access to a tender part of the rear elevation +of the Grasshopper’s legs, he thrust with no gentle +hand just as poor Pete was about to throw himself +forward in a standing broad jump.</p> + +<p>“Wow!” cried the punctured one.</p> + +<p>But it was so sudden that he did not have time to +stop his leap, which he was on the verge of making, +and he sprang through the air like an animated +jumping-jack.</p> + +<p>“Fine! fine!” cried Dutch, rising up from his +place of concealment. “That’s the time you beat +your own record, Grasshopper.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>Pete turned. He looked over the space he had +covered. His heels had come down at least a foot +beyond where he had previously landed. The look +of anger on his face, as he felt of his pricked leg, +turned to one of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“By Jove! I believe you’re right,” he exclaimed. +“I have done better by—let’s see”—and he measured +it—“by fourteen inches.”</p> + +<p>“I told you so,” called Dutch, still laughing. +“Next time you want to jump, just let me get in +the bushes behind you. It’ll be good for an extra +foot every time.”</p> + +<p>“Um,” murmured the Grasshopper, still rubbing +his leg reflectively. “It was an awful jab though, +Dutch.”</p> + +<p>“What of it? Look at your distance,” and +once more Pete looked happy as he again measured +the space he had covered.</p> + +<p>“Poor old Grasshopper,” commented Dutch as +he and Tom strolled along the campus, leaving the +jumper still at his practice. “Poor old Grasshopper! +He’ll never make the track team.”</p> + +<p>The next few days saw Tom putting in all his +spare time practicing curves under the watchful eye +of Mr. Lighton. The ’varsity played with the +scrub and narrowly escaped a good drubbing. +Langridge seemed to be asleep part of the time +and issued a number of walking papers. It was +after the contest, which the regulars had pulled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +out of the fire with rather scorched fingers, that +the coach called Captain Woodhouse and Langridge +to him.</p> + +<p>“I rather think we’d better make a little shift,” +he said.</p> + +<p>“In what way?” asked Langridge quickly.</p> + +<p>“Well, I think we ought to name Parsons as +substitute pitcher on the ’varsity. He’s been doing +excellent work, fully equal to yours, Langridge. +Of course he’s a little uncertain yet, but one big +game would take that out of him. I’d like to see +him pitch at least part of the game against Boxer +next week.”</p> + +<p>“Does that mean you’re dissatisfied with me?” +asked Langridge quickly, and his face flushed.</p> + +<p>“Not necessarily. But I think it rather risky +not to provide better than we have for a substitute +pitcher. Evert is available, of course, but as he is +a junior his studies are such that he can’t devote +the necessary time to practice. Parsons ought to +be named.”</p> + +<p>“Do you demand that in your official capacity +as coach, Mr. Lighton?” asked Kindlings. “Because +if you do, I’ll agree to it at once.”</p> + +<p>“No, I merely make that suggestion to you.”</p> + +<p>The captain looked at the manager. Langridge +stood with a supercilious smile on his face.</p> + +<p>“I presume I shall have something to say as +manager,” he remarked.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Certainly,” admitted the coach gravely.</p> + +<p>“Then I say Parsons shan’t act as substitute +pitcher. I’m good for the season, and I’m going +to play it out. I see his game. He wants to oust +me and he’s taken this means of doing it. He got +you to plead for him, Mr. Lighton. I’ll not stand +for it.”</p> + +<p>“You’re entirely mistaken, Langridge,” said the +coach, with the least suspicion of annoyance in his +even voice. “It is my own idea. Parsons does not +even know that I have spoken to you; in fact, I +believe that he would not allow me to.”</p> + +<p>Langridge was sneering now.</p> + +<p>“I guess he would,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Then you, as manager, don’t want Parsons as +substitute pitcher?” asked the coach.</p> + +<p>“No!” snapped Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Of course if you order it, Mr. Lighton,” began +honest Kindlings with an uneasy look at the coach—“of +course if you make a point of it——”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t,” and Mr. Lighton spoke quietly. +“That was not my intention—just yet. Parsons +will remain on the scrub then, at least for the present. +Later I may—er—I may make a point of it,” +and he turned and walked away.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></h2> + +<h3>A SOPHOMORE TRICK</h3> + + +<p>While knowing nothing of the efforts Coach +Lighton was making in his behalf, Tom continued +hard practice at his pitching. Every day he made +some improvement until his friends on the scrub +regarded him as a marvel. But, as if some mysterious +whisper had come to Langridge, the latter +also showed improvement. He spent more time +in practice and at one game, when it looked as if +the scrub would beat the ’varsity, chiefly due to +Tom’s fine pitching, Langridge saved the day by +brilliant work in the box. The coach was pleased +at this and Tom could not help feeling that his +chances were farther away than ever.</p> + +<p>There were many other phases of college life, +aside from baseball, that appealed to Tom. He +liked his studies and he gave them more attention +than perhaps any other lad of the sporting set. +He was not a “greasy dig,” by which was meant a +student who burned midnight oil over his books, +but he stood well in his classes, for learning came +naturally to him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not so, however, to his roommate. Poor Sid +had to “bone” away rather hard to get along, and, +as he was required to put in a certain amount of +time on the diamond, his lessons sometimes suffered. +He was warned one day by Professor +Tines, in the Latin class, that if he did not show +more improvement he would be conditioned and +not allowed to play on the team.</p> + +<p>“And that mustn’t happen,” declared Captain +Woodhouse. “Take a brace, Sid. Don’t go +throwing us down now. It’s too late to break in +another first baseman.”</p> + +<p>Sid promised, and, for a time, stood better in +his class. In the meanwhile other sports went on +at Randall College. The crew was out every day +on the river and the ’varsity eight-oared shell, several +doubles and some singles held impromptu +races. A freshman eight was formed and Tom +was asked to join, but he wisely refused, for he +reasoned that he could not give enough time to it +to become a member of a racing crew without +sacrificing either baseball or his studies, and he +would do neither.</p> + +<p>“But you’ll never make the ’varsity nine,” argued +Captain Bonsell, of the freshman crew. +“Much better to train with us, for I’ll promise you +a place in the boat when it comes to the championship +race. You’ll never be the ’varsity pitcher.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>For Bonsell had looked with envy on Tom’s big +muscles.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m not going to give up until the last +game,” declared Tom stoutly. “Maybe I’ll get +a chance at the tail end. Langridge can’t last forever, +though far be it from me to wish him any +bad luck.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” spoke Bonsell with a laugh, “the survival +of the fittest. I wish you luck, old man.”</p> + +<p>So Tom practiced and practiced and practiced +until on the scrub his name became one to conjure +with. But Langridge remained in his place on the +’varsity and Evert was the substitute pitcher. Between +Tom and Langridge there was more than +ever a coldness. It was not due to the sneaking +act of the rich lad in not absolving Tom from +blame in the wire episode, but might more properly +be ascribed to the incident connected with Miss +Tyler, though neither youth was willing to admit +this. In spite of himself, Tom found that he was +entertaining a certain indescribable feeling toward +the girl. Often, at night, he would recall her +laughing, tantalizing face as she walked away with +Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Hang it all!” Tom would exclaim to his pillow. +“He’s not fit for her! She ought to know it. I +practically told her, yet she went off with him, +after all. Confound it all, I can’t understand girls, +anyhow.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Tom might well have been comforted, for +no one else does either, though many believe that +they do.</p> + +<p>But, though part of Tom’s coldness toward +Langridge was based on the latter’s meanness +about the wire and though probably the ’varsity +pitcher kept aloof from Tom for the same reason, +there was no disposition on Tom’s part to complain +or “squeal.” As far as the faculty was concerned, +Tom was guilty of the prank that had had so +nearly a fatal ending. But he did not complain. +He had given his word.</p> + +<p>“Well, Tom, old man, going along?” asked Sid +one day as he came in from a biology lecture and +tossed his text-book under the bed, though he +knew he would have to crawl for it afterward.</p> + +<p>“Going along where?”</p> + +<p>“The team’s going to Dodville for a game with +a big prep. school there. Not much as regards a +game, but it will be fun. It’s a nice trolley trip, +and I hear all the subs are going.”</p> + +<p>“But I’m not a sub.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re a scrub, and that’s almost the +same. Come along and root for us, anyhow, +though I guess we’ll wipe up the earth with the +preps.”</p> + +<p>“I thought we had a game with Boxer to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“We did, but they canceled it, as they have to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +fill in a postponed game with Fairview, so we’ve +shifted our schedule. Will you come?”</p> + +<p>“Sure, if there’s room.”</p> + +<p>“Of course there is. Langridge has hired two +special trolleys. You know he’s not going to play +the regular ’varsity team. Only freshmen are to +be allowed on it. It’s more for practice than anything +else.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” exclaimed Tom. It was on the tip of his +tongue to ask if Sid thought there might be a +chance to do some pitching, but he thought better +of it.</p> + +<p>The Dodville Preparatory School had a good +nine and a reputation of putting up a hard game, +but Langridge was set on the idea of playing only +freshmen against them, and thus it was decided. +On the afternoon of the game the team, many +supporters and the scrubs and substitutes boarded +two trolleys for the trip to the grounds.</p> + +<p>It was a jolly crowd, and the way was enlivened +by songs and jokes. Tom was in the first car with +Sid and some others of his particular chums. +Langridge was also there, but he kept rather away +from Tom.</p> + +<p>Out on the platform with the motorman was an +individual with a slouch hat pulled down over his +eyes and his coat collar turned up.</p> + +<p>“Who’s that, a tramp?” asked Tom as he noticed +the man.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Looks like it,” admitted Sid. “Begging a ride +maybe on the strength of this being a special. +Well, let him go. If you call attention to him, some +of the fellows may make a row and create a rough +house. Don’t say anything.”</p> + +<p>Tom did not, but he noticed that the tramp appeared +to be very friendly to the motorman and +talked frequently with him. The electric line to +Dodville ran through a stretch of country not +thickly populated, and at one point it switched over +another trolley road which ran to a distant, thriving +village. The boys were so engrossed in their +fun, laughing and joking that they paid little attention +to matters outside, and the time passed quickly. +Holly Cross was giving (by request) an imitation +of a well-known vaudeville performer when Sid, +who happened to look out of the window, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Say, fellows, where, for the love of tripe, are +we? This isn’t the road to Dodville.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, what’s eatin’ you?” demanded Dutch +Housenlager. “Could the trolley car go off by +itself on a road alone? Answer me that!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what it could do, it’s what it has +done,” retorted Sid. “I know this road. It goes +to Fayetmore, which is next door to Squankum +Center. Fellows, we’re five miles from Dodville!”</p> + +<p>“Get out!” cried Langridge, unwilling to believe +it.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Fact!” asserted Sid. “We’re five miles out of +our way, on the wrong road, and the game starts +in less than an hour. They’ll call it a forfeit on +us and never stop twitting us about this.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, you must be wrong,” declared Holly +Cross. “Don’t you s’pose the motorman knows +the way? It isn’t as if this was an auto.”</p> + +<p>Sid pulled open the front door. The tramp, +who had been talking to the motorman, had gone.</p> + +<p>“I say,” began the first baseman, “is this the +road to Dodville? Aren’t you on the wrong line?”</p> + +<p>“Why, sir, I don’t rightly know,” replied the +motorman somewhat timidly.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know?” repeated Sid incredulously.</p> + +<p>“No. I—I hope this is the right road.”</p> + +<p>“You hope so!” cried Langridge. “Well, I +should say yes. Why don’t you know?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, I’m new on this section of the +line. To-day is my first run. I took the turn back +there where the gentleman told me to.”</p> + +<p>“What gentleman?”</p> + +<p>“The one who was out here on the platform +with me. He said he was your manager.”</p> + +<p>“Manager!” fairly yelled Langridge. “Why, +I’m the manager of this team.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t help it. That’s what the gentleman said. +He said he knew the road to Dodville, and when I +got to the switch he told me to come this way.”</p> + +<p>“What was his name?” demanded Langridge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +who was beginning to “scent a rodent,” as Holly +Cross said.</p> + +<p>“He gave me his card,” went on the motorman, +who had halted his car in the midst of a lonely +stretch of woods.</p> + +<p>“Let’s see!” cried Sid.</p> + +<p>The trolley man fumbled in his pocket for it. +Tom looked back, but could not see the other special +car. That had probably been some distance +behind the first one and had doubtless gone the +right road, the motorman not suspecting that his +predecessor was not ahead of him.</p> + +<p>Sid took the bit of pasteboard which the man +held out to him. He looked at it and then uttered +an exclamation.</p> + +<p>“It’s a trick!” he cried, “a soph trick! Listen +to this, fellows. This is Fenmore’s card, and he’s +written on it this message: ‘This is only part of +what we sophs owe you freshies for the pavilion +game. There is more coming. Hope you have a +nice picnic in the woods.’ That fellow on the platform +was Fenmore,” went on Sid. “No wonder +he kept his hat down.”</p> + +<p>“And here we are—part of the team—out here +in the wilderness, five miles from the game, which +starts in half an hour!” cried Langridge in disgust. +“Say, those sophs got back at us all right. We’re +in a nice pickle!”</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></h2> + +<h3>TOM MAKES A DISCOVERY</h3> + + +<p>There was consternation among the freshmen +and their supporters. With a divided team, part +of it being so far away from the grounds that it +was practically impossible to arrive on time, and +on a wrong road at that, the situation was enough +to discourage any nine.</p> + +<p>“What made you let that fellow tell you where +to go?” demanded Sid of the motorman.</p> + +<p>“Well, he said he was your manager, and I believed +him.”</p> + +<p>“Manager!” cried Holly Cross. “Yes, we need +a manager. We need a nurse and a governess, +that’s what we need. To think that twenty of the +brightest freshmen at Randall have been duped +by one soph! Wow! I must have blood!” and +he began to dance and howl like a stage Indian.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Langridge disgustedly after a few +minutes’ thought, which period was occupied on +the part of the others by the use of language more +strong and rugged than polite, “the only thing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +do is to go back. Make the best time you can and +see what we can do. Shift the car, motorman.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“Because I got orders not to start back until +half-past four. You see, this is a single-track road, +and I might run into a car coming in the opposite +direction. We’ve got to stay here until four-thirty.”</p> + +<p>This was worse than ever, and a howl went up. +But suddenly Sid, who had been narrowly looking +at the motorman, took a step toward him. He +reached up, grabbed his beard and pulled it off.</p> + +<p>“Hayden!” he exclaimed as there was revealed +to view the features of one of the liveliest of the +sophomore class. “By all the gods that on Olympus +dwell, it’s Hayden!”</p> + +<p>“At your service, gentlemen,” exclaimed Hayden +with a mocking bow. “This is a little pleasure +trip that Fenmore and I arranged for you. I hope +you enjoy it,” and with another mocking bow he +slipped off the controller handle and leaped over +the dashboard of the car.</p> + +<p>“We hired the regular motorman to let us take +his place,” he went on. “I guess you don’t play +ball to-day,” and he disappeared in the woods with +a tantalizing laugh.</p> + +<p>“Let’s catch him!” cried Holly Cross.</p> + +<p>“Sure! Let’s scalp him and tie him to a tree,” +proposed Dutch Housenlager.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What’s the use?” asked Sid. “He knows this +part of the country like a book, for he’s been hunting +in it. Better let him go. He’ll only laugh the +more at us.”</p> + +<p>“But what are we to do?” demanded Langridge. +“We don’t want to lose the game.” He was very +vexed, for he knew it would reflect on him as manager.</p> + +<p>“The only thing I see to do is to walk back until +we meet another car and then send on word of this +abandoned one,” said Sid. “It’s a long walk, +but——”</p> + +<p>“Hark!” cried Tom Parsons suddenly. “An +auto is coming along the road.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe some of us can get a ride,” proposed +Phil Clinton. “We can go to town and hire a rig +for the rest of you.”</p> + +<p>Along the road rumbled some big vehicle. +There came in sight a big auto truck, ponderous +and heavy. It was one of several used by a milk +concern to transport cans to the railroad depot.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff!” cried Tom. “Maybe he’ll +take us to Dodville if we pay him.”</p> + +<p>The man was hailed and the situation explained +to him. He looked dubious and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Why can’t you take us?” asked Phil. “You +say you have no load on your truck, and it isn’t +much out of your way. We’ll pay you well.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe you would,” admitted the man, “but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +I’ve heard of you students. If some of you ran +off with a trolley car, there’s no tellin’ but what +you’d take this truck away from me at some lonely +spot and go cruisin’ off like Captain Kidd.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” promised the lads eagerly. “We +won’t cut up a bit.”</p> + +<p>They had some difficulty in convincing <a href="#image02">the man</a> +of this, but did so finally, and he <a href="#image02">allowed them to +pile in</a>. They had to stand up and the road was +rough. They were jolted about, for the truck was +not built for easy riding, but they did not mind +that, for they felt that there was a chance to play +the game, and they urged the man to put on all +speed.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 378px;"> +<a name="image02" id="image02"><img src="images/image02.jpg" width="378" height="600" alt="THE MAN ALLOWED THEM TO PILE IN" title="THE MAN ALLOWED THEM TO PILE IN" /></a><br /> +<span class="caption"><a href="#Page_150">THE MAN ALLOWED THEM TO PILE IN</a></span> +</div> + +<p>They reached Dodville just as the game was +about to be awarded to the preparatory school on a +forfeit. The members of the Randall nine who +had arrived in the second trolley car, which safely +made the trip, could not explain the absence of +their companions.</p> + +<p>The game was started, but it was not remarkable +for any brilliant work on the part of the college +freshmen. In fact the other students played all +around them. Possibly this was due to the episode +that had occurred, for Langridge was nervous and +threw wild, giving a number of men their bases on +balls. Kerr asked him to let Tom pitch, but Langridge +refused arrogantly and with bitter words<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +against the scrub twirler. Nor would he consent +that Evert should fill the box.</p> + +<p>“I’ll pitch!” he cried excitedly. “I’ll strike ’em +out next inning. You watch.”</p> + +<p>Tom happened to be in the dressing-room when +it was the turn of Randall to bat, and Langridge +came in. The ’varsity pitcher did not see his rival, +but going to where his valise was containing his +clothing, he took something from it. Tom saw +Langridge put a bottle to his lips.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if he’s taking medicine,” he thought.</p> + +<p>A moment later the pitcher hurried from the +room as his name was called to bat. Tom walked +to a window that gave a view of the grounds. As +he passed Langridge’s valise he smelled a pungent, +alcoholic odor. He started and for a moment +could not tell what it was. Then it came to him.</p> + +<p>“Liquor! He’s been drinking liquor!” he almost +exclaimed aloud. “He’s broken the training +rules. I wonder—I wonder if this is what Sid +hinted at—if this is what Mr. Lighton meant!”</p> + +<p>From the diamond there came a sharp crack. It +was a bat meeting a swiftly pitched ball with that +inspiring sound that indicates a fair hit. Tom +saw Langridge speeding for first base, while Randall +lads were yelling at the top of their voices.</p> + +<p>“It’s a three-bagger!” cried Tom delightedly, +and so it proved, Langridge bringing in a run a +moment later on a sacrifice hit by Holly Cross.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></h2> + +<h3>AN EXPOSTULATION</h3> + + +<p>“Now we’ll do ’em up!” cried Langridge, dancing +about in a strange enthusiasm as he crossed the +home plate. “Knock a home run, Kerr, and we’ll +roll up a score. Then I’ll strike out the next six +men.”</p> + +<p>There were but two more innings to play, and +the run Langridge brought in had reduced the lead +against the Randall freshmen from 6 to 5. But +five runs are a big handicap, especially when you +can’t depend on your pitcher. Kerr struck out and +so did Sid, who was up next. Langridge was disappointed, +though not discouraged, and he made +wild promises about what he was going to do. But +he did not fulfil them and got careless in his +pitching.</p> + +<p>The game degenerated almost into a farce in the +last inning, when Dodville piled up four runs, making +the total score 17 to 5, it being the worst drubbing +the Randalls had received in many years. +The only consolation was that it was not the ’varsity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +team, but, as Kerr said, that was no excuse. +There were almost jeers mingled with the cheers +of the preparatory school lads, and it was a sore +and sorrowful lot of freshmen who made their way +to the special trolley cars, the stalled one having +been brought up in the meanwhile.</p> + +<p>“Who’s eating cloves?” asked Sid Henderson +as he piled into the electric and threw his big mitt +on the seat beside him.</p> + +<p>“Have some?” asked Langridge, holding out a +quantity. “I had toothache and I took a few.”</p> + +<p>“No, thanks, don’t use ’em,” replied Sid with a +quick look at the pitcher, whose eyes were unnaturally +bright. “But if you have any ginger +about you, it might come in handy.”</p> + +<p>“Ginger—how?”</p> + +<p>“For this team. We need it. To be beaten by +a bunch of schoolboys!”</p> + +<p>“Well, we didn’t have our regular team,” explained +Langridge. “Besides, I didn’t have any +support. I pitched well, but you fellows didn’t +back me up.”</p> + +<p>There was an arrogant look on his face.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you pitched well, you did,” exclaimed +Kerr with an unconcealed sneer in his voice. “You +did hot work, you did.”</p> + +<p>“What about my three-bagger?”</p> + +<p>“That didn’t make up for your rotten pitching!”</p> + +<p>The others looked at Kerr in surprise. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +something new for him to find fault openly with +Langridge. The latter felt it, too, and hardly +knew what to say.</p> + +<p>“Well, I—er—I——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, make some excuse,” went on the catcher +bitterly. “We got dumped, and that’s all there is +to it. I’m not saying I did such brilliant work—none +of us did—but you did rotten, Langridge, and +you know it. It isn’t as if you couldn’t do better, +for we all know you can. You’ve gone stale—or—or +something!”</p> + +<p>Tom had an idea what it was that had made the +pitcher go “stale.” His brilliant hit and run had +been followed by a reaction, the result of the stimulant +he took. It is always thus.</p> + +<p>Langridge stared at Kerr, his most particular +chum, and then, as if not understanding it, went off +by himself in a corner of the car. It was not a +jolly party that rode back to Randall College. Nor +were matters much better when they arrived. The +freshmen had to endure the taunts of the sophomores +concerning the trolley episode, as well as +their own unexpressed disappointment at the result +of the game.</p> + +<p>“Sid,” said Tom in their room that night, when +his roommate was stretched out on the old creaking +sofa—“Sid, if you knew some member of—er—well, +the crew who didn’t train properly—that is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +to say, did sneaking things on the sly—didn’t keep +in form for a race, what would you do?”</p> + +<p>“How’s that? Is some member of the crew trying +to throw the college?” cried Sid, suddenly sitting +up.</p> + +<p>“No, no. Of course not. I’m just supposing a +case. You know we have to suppose cases in our +psychology class. I’m just taking one for the sake +of argument.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” replied Sid sleepily. “If it’s only a supposititious +case, all right. I thought you meant you +knew of some chap who was doing a dirty trick.”</p> + +<p>“Well, suppose I did know of one—or you did—what +would you do? Would you tell the +coach or the captain?”</p> + +<p>“What good would it do?”</p> + +<p>“That’s not the point. Would you?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you must have a reason for telling. +Don’t you learn that in psychology?”</p> + +<p>“Of course. Well, my reason might be that I +wanted to see the crew do good work and not lose +on account of some fellow who couldn’t last out a +race because he broke training rules on the sly. Or +it might be that I wanted to see the fellow himself +take a brace.”</p> + +<p>“Both good reasons, son. Both good. As the +Romans say, <i>Mens sana in corpore sano</i>. You +would do it for his own physical good. Very nice. +For his mental improvement also.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I’m serious,” declared Tom.</p> + +<p>“So am I, you conscientious old wind-ammer! +I know it. The trouble is you’re too serious. Why +don’t you let things slide sometimes?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t.”</p> + +<p>“No, I s’pose not. Well, then, fire away, old +chap. Wait until I get more comfortable, though,” +and Sid turned and wiggled on the decrepit sofa +until it threatened to collapse.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t answered my question yet,” persisted +Tom when his chum had been silent for two +minutes.</p> + +<p>“What question? Oh, blazes, Tom, I thought +you’d gone to sleep. But say, why don’t you come +right out and say what you mean? Do you know +any member of the crew who’s doing that?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t. I told you this was a supposititious +case. But, if there was one, what would you do?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll give you a supposititious answer.”</p> + +<p>Sid closed his eyes. The fussy little alarm clock +seemed to be counting time for him while he made +up his mind.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you tell the fellow yourself?” asked +Sid so suddenly that Tom jumped.</p> + +<p>“Would you?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Sid arose. He came and stood close to his +chum. Then he spoke.</p> + +<p>“There be certain things, son,” he said with an +assumed serious air which was more than half real,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +“certain things that, in college, one might better +ignore. If, perchance, however, one is so constituted +morally that one can’t; if the laws of the +Medes and the Persians are so immutable that one +can’t rest—why, my young philosopher, take the +easiest course so long as you are true to your own +motto, <i>Dulce et decorum est pro alma mater mori</i>. +There, I don’t know whether I’ve got the Latin +right, but it says what I mean—tell the other fellow +first—Tom,” and with that he went over, +picked up his trigonometry and fell to studying.</p> + +<p>It was not an easy fight that Tom had with himself +that night. He went all over the ground: the +arrogance of Langridge, the scene in the dressing-room, +the pungent odor of liquor and then his +knowledge of it. Was it fair to the team to let +the members be in ignorance of the fact that their +pitcher took stimulants secretly—that he had done +it before? For Tom was sure it was not the first +time. Would it not mean, in the end, that Randall +would lose some deciding game and the championship? +Tom thought so and determined that it was +his duty to do something. The question was, what? +In a measure Sid had solved this for him, and before +he fell asleep that night Tom determined to +expostulate with Langridge the first chance he got.</p> + +<p>It came sooner than he expected. There was a +game with Boxer Hall on the grounds of the latter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +university and it was expected to be a hard one, +which expectation was not unfulfilled.</p> + +<p>For the first few innings Randall seemed to have +the contest well in hand. Then, during a few minutes +when his side was at bat, Langridge disappeared +into the dressing-room. With a heart that +beat harder than usual Tom quietly followed. He +was just in time to see Langridge putting away a +bottle that gave out the characteristic odor.</p> + +<p>“Don’t do that!” cried Tom quickly, but in a +low voice. He was hardly conscious of what he +was saying.</p> + +<p>Langridge wheeled around and faced him.</p> + +<p>“Don’t do what?” he asked sharply, his face +flushed.</p> + +<p>“Take that liquor to brace you up. You’ll only +pitch the worse for it, and it’s not fair to the team.”</p> + +<p>Langridge took a step toward Tom.</p> + +<p>“What right have you got to speak so to me?” +he demanded. “You’re a dirty sneak, that’s what +you are, following in here to spy on me! I guess +I know what I’m doing. Can’t I take a little +toothache medicine without being insulted by you? +Liquor! Supposing it is? The doctor ordered it +for me.”</p> + +<p>“Not in the middle of a game,” said Tom +quietly. “Besides, it’s against training rules, and +you know it. It’s not fair.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I see your game,” sneered Langridge. “I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +know what you’re after. You want to tell some +story about me, thinking that I’ll be dropped and +you can have my place. But you can’t. I’ll do you +yet. I’ll show ’em how I can pitch!” He was +boasting now, for he was not himself. “Get out +of my way, you dirty sneak!” he cried. “I’m going +to bat out a home run,” and he put some cloves in +his mouth.</p> + +<p>He almost knocked Tom over as he rushed past +him and went out in time to take his place at the +home plate. He did knock a home run to the delirious +delight of the team, but it was short-lived +joy, for, just as in the other games, Langridge +went to pieces in the box, and Boxer Hall won the +game by a score of 8 to 5. But the home run of +Langridge so shone out that even Kerr did not +have the heart to decry his friend’s ragged pitching. +Coach Lighton, however, shook his head, as +the championship chances for Randall College +seemed fading away.</p> + +<p>“Well,” thought Tom as he accompanied the +defeated team back that afternoon, “I did my duty, +anyhow. I expostulated with him and was insulted +for my pains. I did all I could.”</p> + +<p>But that night there came to him something like +a voice asking, “Did you?” Tom tossed restlessly +on his bed. “What shall I do next?” he thought.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h2> + +<h3>SOME “OLD GRADS”</h3> + + +<p>“What’s the matter, old man?” inquired Sid +the next morning as he rolled over in bed and +looked at Tom.</p> + +<p>“Matter? Why?”</p> + +<p>“You look as if you’d been drawn through a knot +hole, and a small one at that. What’s wrong?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” and Tom tried to laugh it off. “I +didn’t sleep very well, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“For that matter, neither did I.”</p> + +<p>“Get out! I heard you snoring away like a +boiler blowing off steam.”</p> + +<p>“Then I must have been tired. I never snore +unless I am. Wow! ouch! Decameron’s Prothonotary!”</p> + +<p>Sid made a face that indicated intense anguish +and put his hand to his side as he turned over in +bed.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Tom anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Strained my side when I slid for second base +that time. I didn’t notice it yesterday, but it hurts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +like sin now. Guess I’ll have to cut lectures to-day +and stay in bed.”</p> + +<p>“What excuse will you give?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll say—no, I won’t, either,” declared Sid +with a sudden change of decision. “I can’t say it +was playing baseball that laid me up or Moses will +ask me to cut out the ball. I’ve got to suffer. I +know what I’ll do. I’ll limp in chapel and on my +way to lectures. I’m not prepared in trig, anyhow, +and maybe they’ll let me off easy. I’m sure to +slump in Latin, but maybe Pitchfork will have +mercy on a gladiator who was willing to die for +Cæsar.”</p> + +<p>Tom felt like laughing, but he restrained himself +as he saw that Sid was really suffering. The +first baseman crawled out of bed with many a +groan and made wry faces. He limped across the +room.</p> + +<p>“How’s that?” he asked Tom. “Do I do it +naturally?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. It would deceive anybody.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to deceive ’em. It’s gospel truth. +I’m as lame as a sore horse. But I’ll go down.”</p> + +<p>“Let me rub it,” suggested Tom, and he forgot +part of his troubles in giving vigorous massage to +Sid’s strained side.</p> + +<p>“It feels better. Thanks, old man,” declared +the hurt one as he began to dress.</p> + +<p>“But you’re limping worse than ever.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Sure. No use losing any of the advantages of +my limp. It may save me from a discredit in +Latin. Oh, if you want to know how to limp come +to your Uncle Dudley.”</p> + +<p>Tom laughed and prepared for chapel. He +himself was in no very jolly mood, however, for +he could not help thinking of the problem connected +with the discovery about Langridge. That +it was a problem, and no small one, Tom was +ready to admit. He felt himself in a peculiar position. +He had spoken to the ’varsity pitcher and +had been insulted. To let him go on in his course, +breaking training and endangering the success of +the nine, Tom felt would not be right. Yet if he +spoke to the coach or captain about it there would +be but one construction put upon his action.</p> + +<p>Tom could fancy Mr. Lighton thanking him for +the information about Langridge and could even +imagine the coach acting on it and warning the +pitcher. Tom could see the look on the face of +Kindlings when he was told. It would be a revelation. +Yet for all the service that he rendered to +the team there would be but one construction put +upon Tom’s act by his classmates—he would be +accused of informing in order to oust Langridge +so that he might have the pitcher’s place.</p> + +<p>“And I can’t do that,” declared Tom to himself. +“I’ll have to find some other way. I’ll make one +more try with Langridge.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sid’s limp did not save him in Latin, for he +“slumped” most ungracefully, and with a black +look Professor Tines marked a failure against him, +accompanying it with words of warning. As for +Tom, his worry over the secret caused him to pay +too scant attention in his geography class, and he +was caught napping, whereat the instructor looked +surprised, for Tom was one of the best students.</p> + +<p>The next day the scrub team went on a little trip +to Morriston to play a small semi-professional nine, +and Tom had a chance to show what he could do +in the box. He gave a fine exhibition of pitching, +so much so that the other nine was held down to a +goose-egg score, and there were very few hits secured +off Tom. The scrubs were wild about it and +held a celebration, for it was the best victory they +had scored yet.</p> + +<p>During the next few days Tom saw little of +Langridge. In fact the ’varsity pitcher seemed to +be keeping out of the way of the lad who had +remonstrated with him.</p> + +<p>“I’ll see him at the Boxer game Saturday,” +thought Tom. “If I get a chance, I’ll make one +more attempt, though I’m afraid it won’t do any +good.”</p> + +<p>The next Boxer contest was a sort of annual +mid-season affair. It was a game which members +of the alumnæ of both colleges made it a point to +attend in even greater numbers than at the contests<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +deciding the championship. In fact of late +years there had been no chance for such exhibitions, +for Randall did not have a “look in” at the pennant, +as Holly Cross used to say.</p> + +<p>The game was to take place on the Randall +grounds, and before the hour when it was to be +played the stands and bleachers began filling up. +It was a beautiful afternoon about the middle of +May and a better one for a game could not have +been had, even if made to order.</p> + +<p>Oh, how Tom wanted to play! But he could +only look on. The regular team came out for +practice, with the substitutes waiting for a chance +to go in. Then out trotted the Boxer Hall lads, +to be received with a cheer. There were pretty +girls galore, each one waving the flag of her particular +college. Tom moved about in the grandstand, +trying to pretend to himself that he was not +looking for any one, but all the same his heart gave +a great thump when he heard some one call:</p> + +<p>“Tom! Mr. Parsons!”</p> + +<p>“Why, how do you do, Miss Tyler?” he exclaimed. +“I didn’t know you were coming.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I wouldn’t miss this for anything. I +just love to see the old graduates. They are so interesting, +just as if they were boys again.”</p> + +<p>She made room for Tom beside her, and he +gladly availed himself of the chance.</p> + +<p>“Yes, there are quite a few of the old boys on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +hand to-day,” he remarked. “Look at those two,” +and he pointed to two well-dressed men, each attired +in a tall silk hat and a frock coat. They each +had a gold-headed cane and they were very staid in +looks, yet at the sight of each other they rose in +their seats, clasped hands across the heads of intervening +persons and one, the elder, cried out:</p> + +<p>“Well, well! If it isn’t old Skeeziks! How are +you? I haven’t seen you since I graduated in ’73!”</p> + +<p>“Nor me you, you old fish-pedler! How are +things? Do you remember the day we kidnaped +Mrs. Maguire and took all her chickens?”</p> + +<p>“Hush! Not so loud!” cautioned the other, his +face breaking into smiles. “The faculty never +found out who did that, and there’s no use telling +now. But I am glad to see you. Do you think our +boys will win?”</p> + +<p>“I hope so, though I see by the papers they +haven’t been playing as good ball as when we went +to school. They need a little ginger.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right. I wish I was young again. We +certainly had some great games.”</p> + +<p>On all sides similar scenes were being enacted +and like reminiscences were being exchanged. It +was a great day for the “old grads,” and they took +advantage of it. Many there were also from +Boxer, though they occupied a different part of the +grandstand. However, they exchanged visits with +their former rivals during the practice.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ford Fenton was in his element. His uncle, +who had been a coach at Randall, was on hand, +and Ford was showing him off as if he was a prize +animal at a county fair.</p> + +<p>Ford wanted to take his uncle around and introduce +him to his classmates, but Mr. Fenton declined, +as he wanted to meet some of his old +friends. But this did not deter Ford from going +about telling the news, and about all he could be +heard to say was:</p> + +<p>“My uncle, the former coach, is here. He came +to see the game. My uncle says——”</p> + +<p>Then the long-suffering ones would turn away, +or if they were lads who had no particular regard +for Ford’s feelings, they would guy him unmercifully.</p> + +<p>“Hi, Ford!” cried Holly Cross after about half +an hour of this sort of thing, “have you heard the +latest?”</p> + +<p>“No. What is it?”</p> + +<p>“Why, ‘my uncle’ says that if you don’t stop +talking about him, he’s going to leave and take +you with him. He says he’s being ‘uncled’ to +death.”</p> + +<p>“Ha! ha!” laughed Dutch Housenlager. +“That’s right, Ford, that’s right,” and he pretended +to collide accidentally with the lad, knocking +him against Holly, who promptly pushed him +back.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p>But now practice was over. The rival captains +were in conference, the umpire was taking the new +ball from the tinfoil wrapping and the spectators +were settling back for the contest.</p> + +<p>“Boxer has improved since the other game,” +said Tom, who had been critically watching the +teams at practice.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I heard,” replied Miss Tyler. +“Oh, I do hope our boys will win!”</p> + +<p>“So do I,” exclaimed Tom as he watched Langridge, +who was first to go to the bat, in this game +the visitors winning the privilege of being last up. +Tom tried to notice the ’varsity pitcher, to see if +he was in good form, but he could not judge then.</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” called the umpire, and Dave Ogden, +the Boxer pitcher, drew back his arm to deliver +a swift curve.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></h2> + +<h3>TOM IN COLD WATER</h3> + + +<p>Langridge at the first effort sent out a hot +liner, which flew just over the pitcher’s head. The +second baseman made a jump for it and the ball +began to roll along in front of the center fielder. +Amid a wild burst of yells Langridge raced for +first and got there safely, not daring to go on to +second, as Ogden had run down to help cover it.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff! that’s the stuff! That’s the +way to line ’em out!” chanted an excited voice, and +Tom looked around to see the two silk-hatted “old +grads” embracing each other and doing an impromptu +dance in their seats.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t they jolly!” exclaimed Miss Tyler.</p> + +<p>“Very, but they’re crowing too soon. The game +has only just begun. Boxer Hall will play strong.”</p> + +<p>And Tom’s prediction came true, for in spite +of the auspicious opening by Langridge, not a man +crossed home plate for the Randalls that inning, +the pitcher dying on third. Then it came the turn +of the home team to show what they could do in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +holding down the visitors. It looked as if they +were going to do it, too, for Langridge struck out +the first two men. But he gave the next one a pass +to first and was batted for a two-bagger by the +following player, the inning ending with one run +for Boxer. The Randall College boys and their +girl supporters began to look anxious and so did +some of the “old grads.” On the other side there +was laughter, cheers and jollity, while some of the +aged former students of Boxer began to chant oldtime +college songs.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I do hope our fellows win,” exclaimed +Miss Tyler, and there was an anxious look on her +pretty face, while she tapped her flag of colors impatiently +against her little foot.</p> + +<p>“Have you a bet on the game?” asked Tom. “A +box of candy or some gloves?”</p> + +<p>“No, but I want to see Randall win. Besides, +Fred—I mean Mr. Langridge—he told me he +was going to work hard for success, and I never +like to see any one disappointed—do you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Tom rather shortly. He really did +not care to hear his rival’s praises sung by this fair +damsel.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” she went on, “I’ve been thinking +of what you started to tell me about him the +other day. Is it really true?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” began Tom slowly, “if you will excuse +the privilege of a friend who has known you for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +some time, I would say that I don’t believe your +people would like you to go with him.”</p> + +<p>“Why, mamma knows his uncle, who is his +guardian, and she says he is very nice—I mean the +uncle,” and she laughed a little.</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt of it. I only——”</p> + +<p>But Tom did not say what he was going to, for +just then Pinky Davenport, captain of the Boxers, +knocked what Holly Cross described later as a +“lalapoolassa” fly, which went clear over the center +fielder’s head and netted a home run for the +captain of the visitors.</p> + +<p>What yelling and shouting there was then! It +seemed to put new life into the opponents of Randall, +if such was needed, for they began piling up +the score until they were six runs in the lead.</p> + +<p>Then Randall “took a brace,” encouraged by +the yells of the “old grads” and others, and by the +eighth inning had cut it down even. In the close +of the eighth they held their opponents down to +one run, making it necessary to gather in two to +win the game, but with that it meant holding the +visitors hitless in the last half of the final inning.</p> + +<p>The first part of the program was carried out +all right. By some phenomenal playing Randall +managed to get the lead by one run. They would +have had another but for a miscalculation on the +part of Ed Kerr, who was caught napping between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +third and home, where he was run down and put +out.</p> + +<p>“Now, fellows, we have them on the hip!” exclaimed +Captain Woodhouse as he called his players +together for a little talk before the final struggle +was made. “If we can hold them down this +inning we have them. Langridge, it’s up to you!”</p> + +<p>“I know it. But don’t worry, I’ll do it.”</p> + +<p>It sounded well, and there was a determined +look in the pitcher’s face, but his eyes were unnaturally +bright. His pitching had been ragged +during the last three innings and the sudden decline +of the abilities of the Boxer players had done as +much as anything to give Randall her chance.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I hope Fred strikes three out, one right +after the other!” exclaimed Miss Tyler as she +shifted nervously in her seat. “He must be under +a dreadful strain.”</p> + +<p>“Probably he is,” said Tom. “But if he takes a +brace now he’ll be all right.”</p> + +<p>“He’s been taking too many bracers—that’s +what’s the matter with him,” said a voice back of +Tom, and he knew it was one of the former graduates +speaking. Tom looked at the girl beside him. +Either she had not heard or she took no notice of +the remark.</p> + +<p>It was a tense moment when Langridge sent in +the first ball. It was called a strike and the batsman +looked surprised. The next was a ball, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +two more strikes were called without the player +getting a chance to swing at the horsehide. Langridge +smiled at the cheers which greeted him. +Then he did what few other pitchers could have +done under the circumstances. He struck out the +next two men, though one did manage to hit a high +foul, which Kerr missed. Langridge had saved +the game by holding the other team hitless.</p> + +<p>Such a cheer as went up then when it was seen +that Randall had won! The stamping of feet on +the stands sounded like thunder. Back of Tom +and Miss Tyler two old men began yelling like Indians, +hugging each other and whirling about. +They were the two “old grads” of ’73. They were +waving their hats in the air and yelling “Randall! +Randall! Randall!” until their faces were the color +of raw beef.</p> + +<p>“Wow!” cried the taller of the two. “This +does my heart good! I’m forty years young again. +Wow! Whoop-la!”</p> + +<p>Suddenly he drew back his hand and his silk hat +went sailing over the edge of the grandstand to the +grass of the outfield. It was caught by some Randall +players and quickly kicked out of shape.</p> + +<p>“Why, that was a new hat!” exclaimed the man’s +companion.</p> + +<p>“I know it, but there’s more where that came +from. I can buy a new hat every day, but I can’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +see my old college win such a game as this. Wow! +Whoop!”</p> + +<p>“That’s right. I’m with you,” and a second hat +went the way of the first, while the old men capered +about like boys. They were given a round of +cheers on their own account by the team when the +players understood what had happened. Ford +Fenton was running about, all excited, trying to +find his relative.</p> + +<p>“Have you seen my uncle?” he asked several.</p> + +<p>“No!” cried Holly Cross. “And if I do, I’ll +shoot him on sight! Get out or I’ll eat you up,” +and with a roar of simulated wrath he rushed at +poor Fenton, who beat a hasty retreat.</p> + +<p>Tom was jubilant at the success of his college, +nor did he withhold unstinted praise for Langridge. +He had been surprised at the sudden improvement +shown. Tom and Miss Tyler walked +across the grounds toward the campus, the girl +looking back several times. Suddenly Langridge +appeared from amid a group of players.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be with you in a minute,” he called to Miss +Tyler, “as soon as I change my duds. Wait +for me.”</p> + +<p>There was an air of proprietorship in the words +and the girl must have felt them, for she turned +away without speaking.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I’d better say good-afternoon,” spoke +Tom, a trifle piqued.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Not unless you want to,” she replied with a +quick look at him.</p> + +<p>“Of course I don’t want to, but I thought——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t bother to think,” she added with a little +laugh. “It’s tiresome. Come and show me the +river. Not that I haven’t seen it before, but it’s +so beautiful to-day, I want some one to enjoy it +with me.”</p> + +<p>“How would you like to go for a little row?” +asked Tom. “I can get a boat and we’ll go to +Crest Island.”</p> + +<p>“That will be lovely. The water is like glass.”</p> + +<p>They were soon afloat. Tom was a good oarsman +and sent the light craft ahead with powerful +strokes. They spent some little time on the island, +where other pleasure seekers were, and when the +shadows began to lengthen started back.</p> + +<p>“I’ve enjoyed it ever so much,” said Miss Tyler +gratefully as the craft neared the float adjoining +the college boathouse.</p> + +<p>“That’s good,” said Tom heartily. “Perhaps +you will go again.”</p> + +<p>“I probably shall—if any one asks me,” she replied +archly, and then he helped her out, whispering +as he did so, for there were quite a number on +the float, “I’ll be sure to ask you, Madge.” Tom +may have imagined it, but he thought there was +just a little return of the pressure when he pressed +the hand he held.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, I thought you were going to wait for +me,” exclaimed a voice, and Langridge pushed his +way through the throng and came close to where +Miss Tyler was standing, waiting for Tom to tie +the boat.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say so,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“But you—you——” Langridge did not know +what to say.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me now,” said +the girl calmly, though she smiled at Langridge in +no unfriendly fashion.</p> + +<p>“Come and take a walk,” he almost ordered. +“I want to say something to you.”</p> + +<p>Before she could answer Tom was at her side. +He looked keenly at Langridge and was about to +make some reply when the ’varsity pitcher reached +out as though to link his arm in that of the girl. +Miss Tyler drew back and Langridge edged himself +forward. He may have been merely eager or +it may have been the result of intention. At any +rate, he jostled Tom to one side and the next minute +the pitcher of the scrub, vainly endeavoring to +retain his balance, toppled into the cold water of +the river.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></h2> + +<h3>A GAME OF ANOTHER SORT</h3> + + +<p>“Oh!” screamed Miss Tyler. “He’ll be +drowned! Save him, some one!”</p> + +<p>There was much commotion on the float. The +crowd surged to the edge and it tilted dangerously.</p> + +<p>“Get back! get back!” cried Dan Woodhouse. +“Get a boathook, some one!”</p> + +<p>“We will!” cried the Jersey twins, and together +they darted for the place where the rowing craft +were stored.</p> + +<p>Langridge seemed stupefied at the result of his +act. He stood there, peering down into the water +beneath which Tom had disappeared.</p> + +<p>“Get back, I tell you! Get back!” yelled Woodhouse. +“We can’t get him out if you tilt the float +so. We’ll all be in the water!”</p> + +<p>Understanding this, the crowd of lads and girls +moved back. Captain Woodhouse was peering +over the edge of the dock, looking for a sight of +Tom, and meanwhile was taking off his coat and +vest, preparatory to a plunge in.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There he is! I see his head!” suddenly cried +Miss Tyler, and she pointed to a dark object barely +visible in the shadows that were settling down over +the river.</p> + +<p>“I’ll get him!” cried Langridge thickly, but he +could not seem to unbutton his coat.</p> + +<p>“Look out!” cried a voice, and a tall, lithe figure, +clad only in a rowing jersey and trunks, pattered +in bare feet down the length of the float.</p> + +<p>“It’s Fenmore!” exclaimed several, and the tall +sophomore, who had been out in a single shell and +who, arriving at the float, had understood what +had happened, plunged in. He swam quickly to +Tom, who seemed bewildered and unable to help +himself. But, if he was dazed, which they later +found to be the case, he had sense enough to let +Fenmore rescue him in the proper fashion and +was soon being lifted out on the float. His face +was pale and blood from a cut on his forehead +trickled down one cheek.</p> + +<p>“Much hurt?” asked Dan Woodhouse as he put +his arms about Tom.</p> + +<p>“No—not—not much,” gasped the rescued one. +“I hit my head on the edge and that dazed me. I +couldn’t strike out, and I swallowed some—some +water,” he gulped.</p> + +<p>“Can you walk?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. I’m all right now,” but Tom began to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +shiver, for the evening had turned cool and the +water was not yet right for bathing.</p> + +<p>“Here, take my cloak for him!” exclaimed Miss +Tyler, impulsively holding out a thin wrap which +was more for appearance than utility. “It will +keep him warm.”</p> + +<p>“It will ruin it,” declared Tom. “I’m as wet as +a rat.”</p> + +<p>“No matter!” cried the girl imperiously, and she +tried to wrap it about Tom’s shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Here are some sweaters,” said the more practical +Kindlings. “Now run up to the infirmary, +Tom, get into a hot bath and throw some hot +lemonade into you.”</p> + +<p>Tom prepared to start off and Miss Tyler had +taken back her cloak. She went closer to Tom.</p> + +<p>“I’m awfully sorry. It was all on my account,” +she said. “I hope you will be all right.”</p> + +<p>“Su—sure I’ll—I’ll be all—all right,” declared +Tom, though his teeth chattered in spite of himself, +for he had sustained a nervous shock.</p> + +<p>“I’ll inquire for you to-morrow,” she added with +a smile as she turned aside.</p> + +<p>“I say, old man, I’m afraid I pushed you in, but +I didn’t mean to—’pon my soul!” exclaimed Langridge +earnestly as he edged up to Tom.</p> + +<p>“All—all right—it doesn’t matter—now,” answered +Tom, and then his chums rushed him up +to the college, where a warm bath and drinks were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +soon effectively administered. No bad results attended +the unexpected plunge, and that night Tom +was able to join in the celebration that followed the +winning of the ball game, when many bonfires +blazed and the students were allowed more license +than usual.</p> + +<p>It was about a week later when, following a +rather hard series of games between the scrub and +’varsity teams in which Tom had strained his arm, +Coach Lighton advised him to get a new kind of +liniment to rub on it. It could only be had in a +certain store in town, and, obtaining permission to +go there on condition that he return to college before +nine o’clock, Tom started off alone one evening. +Sid had to make up some lessons he was +“shaky” on, and though he wanted to take the +walk, he did not feel that he dared spare the time.</p> + +<p>On his way to the drug store Tom passed the +side entrance of a certain resort much patronized +by the “sporty” class of students. Several lads +were in there, as Tom could tell by the snatches of +college songs that floated out, and as he got opposite +the place the door swung open to give entrance +to others and Tom saw Langridge sitting at a +table with several flashily dressed lads. They were +playing cards and glasses of some sort of liquor +stood at their elbows, while most of them, including +Langridge, were smoking cigarettes.</p> + +<p>“He’s broken training with a vengeance!” exclaimed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +Tom in a low voice as he hurried on. +“Cigarettes are the limit!”</p> + +<p>Tom tried not to think about what he had seen +as he went on to the drug store and had his prescription +filled. He had to wait some little time for +it and as he came out he noticed by a clock that he +would have to hurry if he wanted to get back to +college in time.</p> + +<p>He started off briskly and just as he got in front +of the side door of the resort the portal opened +and several lads came out. Langridge was with +them, and all were somewhat worse for the lively +evening they had spent. The ’varsity pitcher, who +seemed strangely hilarious, caught sight of Tom.</p> + +<p>“Well, if there ain’t my deadly rival!” he cried +in what was intended to be a friendly manner, but +which was silly. “Hello, Parsons! Come in and +have a cigarette!”</p> + +<p>“No,” was the answer in conciliatory tones. +“I’m in a hurry to get back to the college. My +time’s nearly up.”</p> + +<p>“So’s mine—so’s all of us. But what’s the odds? +We’ve got to have a good time once in a while, +eh, fellows?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” came the chorus.</p> + +<p>“I can’t smoke, I’m in training,” spoke Tom, intending +it to be a hint, if not to Langridge, at least +to his companions.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + +<p>“So’m I, you old hunk of fried tripe! Have a +smoke.”</p> + +<p>“No,” and Tom started on.</p> + +<p>“Hold on!” cried Langridge. “I’ll go with you. +I’m going to shake you fellows,” and he waved his +hand to his companions. “I’m going to be virtuous +and go to bed with the larks. I wonder if +larks do go to bed, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“You mean chickens,” declared one of the +others with a laugh. “Come on then, fellows, if +Langridge goes back, we’ll stay and have some +more fun.”</p> + +<p>Tom was not unwilling to play the good Samaritan, +so linking his arm in that of Langridge, he +led him down the street. The ’varsity pitcher was +not as steady on his feet as he should have been.</p> + +<p>“I—I s’pose you’ll tell Kindlings and Lighton +about me, eh, what?” he asked brokenly as he +walked along.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Tom quietly. “But you ought to cut +it out, Langridge, if not for your own sake for the +sake of the team.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right, that’s right, old man, I ought. +You’re a good sort of chap, too preachy maybe, but +all right. I ought to cut it out, but I like fun.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to give up smoking and drinking,” +went on Tom boldly. He had determined that this +was just the chance he wanted and decided that he +would take advantage of it.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There you go again! there you go again!” cried +Langridge fretfully, with a sudden change of manner +peculiar to him. “Don’t go to lecturing. I +get enough of that from Moses and Pitchfork. +Give us a rest. I’m all right. Have another cigarette.”</p> + +<p>“No,” and Tom declined the proffered one.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I forgot you don’t smoke. That’s right. +It’s bad for the heart. I don’t take ’em only once +in a while.”</p> + +<p>Tom tried to reason with him, but Langridge +was not himself and answered pertly or else insulted +Tom for his good offices.</p> + +<p>“You ought to give up gambling, too,” Tom +said, starting on a new tack. They were nearing +the college now.</p> + +<p>“There you go again! there you go again!” exclaimed +Langridge and he was almost crying, silly +in his excitement.</p> + +<p>He sat down on a stone along the road and +lighted another cigarette.</p> + +<p>“Now let’s argue this thing out,” he said. “I +feel just like arguing, Parsons. Guess we’ll call +you ‘dominie,’ you’re so fond of preaching. Let’s +argue.”</p> + +<p>Tom tried to urge him to come on. It was getting +late and only by running could they reach college +and report before the prescribed hour, nine +o’clock. But Langridge was obstinate and would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +not come. Tom did not want to leave him, for he +had heard that Langridge did not stand any too +well with the faculty, and a few more demerits +would mean that he would have to give up athletics. +So Tom determined that, if possible, he +would get the foolish lad within bounds in time.</p> + +<p>But it was a useless undertaking, and Tom +heard nine strokes boom out on the chapel bell +when they were some distance from college.</p> + +<p>“That cooks our goose!” he exclaimed. “It +doesn’t so much matter for me, as it’s the first +time, but Langridge will suffer if he’s caught in +this plight.”</p> + +<p>He redoubled his persuasive powers and by dint +of much talk at length induced Langridge to get +up and come on. But it was half-past nine now +and it was twenty minutes to ten, when, with his +arm linked in that of the lad he was trying to save +in spite of himself, Tom walked up the campus to +get to the dormitory.</p> + +<p>The watchman opened the door at his knock. +Langridge had slipped behind Tom and stood in +the deep shadow.</p> + +<p>“After hours,” said the man simply. “You will +report to the proctor to-morrow morning, Mr. +Parsons.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Tom simply. Langridge was +moving uneasily about in the shadows on the stone +steps.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Any one with you, Mr. Parsons?”</p> + +<p>“Well—er—that is——”</p> + +<p>The watchman started to go out, thinking to +catch several students. At that instant Langridge, +with a cunning evidently born of long experience, +circled around Tom on the opposite side to that on +which the watchman stood and darted down a +small areaway that led to the basement.</p> + +<p>“Ha! trying to hide!” exclaimed the guardian +of the door. “I’ll find out who you are!”</p> + +<p>In the darkness he went down into the areaway. +A moment later Langridge had roughly upset him +there, and before the man could gain his feet, the +pitcher had sprinted up the steps and into the open +door of the dormitory and thence along the corridor +to his room. The watchman had not had a +glimpse of his face.</p> + +<p>The man came panting up the steps.</p> + +<p>“Who—who was that with you, Mr. Parsons?” +he demanded sternly as he rubbed his bruised shins.</p> + +<p>Tom took a sudden resolve. There might be a +chance for Langridge to escape.</p> + +<p>“I’m not going to tell,” he said firmly but respectfully.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” he replied. “You must report to +Mr. Zane in the morning. I’ll inform him of this +outrage. He’ll make you tell who was with you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe he will,” thought Tom as he +went to his room.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></h2> + +<h3>ON THE GRILL</h3> + + +<p>“Well, what’s up?” asked Sid as Tom came in. +“You’re going the pace, aren’t you, old man?” and +he looked anxiously at his chum, whose face was +flushed from the experience through which he had +just gone.</p> + +<p>“I got in late,” admitted Tom.</p> + +<p>“Get caught?” asked Sid, as if that was all that +mattered.</p> + +<p>“Yep, but that’s not the worst of it.”</p> + +<p>“What? You don’t mean to say you’ve been +caught? Well, of all things. You, one of the +‘grinds,’ falling a victim.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t altogether my fault.”</p> + +<p>“How’s that?”</p> + +<p>Tom considered for a moment. Would it be +violating the ethical honor of a college boy if he +told his chum? Would it be contrary to the spirit +of Randall? Tom thought not, merely to let Sid +know what had happened. For it would go no +further, and, as a matter of fact, several students<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +had seen Tom and Langridge leave town together. +Besides, Tom wanted advice. So he told his chum +everything from the time of meeting with the +sporty students until the sensational retreat of +Langridge to his room.</p> + +<p>“Now, what would you do?” asked Tom. +“Keep still and take what’s coming or tell the +proctor and use that as an excuse for coming in +late? It really wasn’t my fault.”</p> + +<p>Sid scratched his head. It was a new problem +for him. He saw the point Tom made, that by informing +on a fellow student, Tom would be held +blameless, as indeed he had a right to be. Why +should Tom suffer for another’s fault? That came +plainly to Sid. Yet he only hesitated a moment before +answering.</p> + +<p>“Of course you can’t squeal,” he said simply.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I thought,” agreed Tom, as if +that was all there was to it. “I’ll have to take +what’s coming, I s’pose.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe proc. won’t be hard on you. You’ve +got a good record.”</p> + +<p>“Fairly. Anyhow, I hope he doesn’t cut me out +from baseball. Well, I’m going to bed. I wonder +if they’ll find out about Langridge? If the watchman +thought to make a tour of the rooms, he’d discover +that he just got in.”</p> + +<p>“He’ll not do that. Too many of ’em. Besides,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +trust Langridge for knowing how to take care of +himself. He’s getting reckless, though.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you won’t say anything to any of the +fellows about him playing cards and smoking,” +went on Tom, but he did not mention the drinking +episode, though probably Sid guessed.</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” came the prompt answer, “but +it’s not fair to the rest of the team. However, I’m +not going to make a holler. Hope you come out of +it all right. By-by.”</p> + +<p>“Um,” grunted Tom, for he was rubbing some +of the liniment on his arm and the pungent fumes +made him keep his eyes and mouth shut.</p> + +<p>Sid tumbled into bed, leaving Tom to put out +the light, and there was no further talk. Tom undressed +slowly. He was in no mood for sleep, for +he was much upset over the incident of the night, +and he was not a little anxious about the next day +and his prospective visit to the proctor. For the +first time that he noticed it, the ticking of the alarm +clock annoyed him, the fussy, quick strokes making +him say over and over again the words of a silly +little rhyme as one sometimes, riding in a railroad +train, fits to the click of the wheels over the rail +joints some bit of doggerel that will not be ousted.</p> + +<p>“I must be getting nervous,” thought Tom. +“Wonder if I’m over-training?”</p> + +<p>This idea gave him such an alarm that it served +to change the current of his thoughts, and before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +he knew it he had fallen asleep over a half-formed +resolution to undertake a different sort of gymnasium +exercise for a few days.</p> + +<p>Tom’s first visit the next morning after chapel +was, as the rules required in such cases, to Proctor +Zane.</p> + +<p>“Well?” inquired that functionary in no pleasant +voice as Tom stood before him, for there had +been some skylarking in the college the previous +night and the proctor had been unable to catch the +offenders. “What is it now, Parsons?”</p> + +<p>He spoke as though Tom was an habitual offender +when, as a matter of fact, though the lad +had taken his part in pranks, it was only the second +time he had been “on the grill,” as the process was +termed.</p> + +<p>“I got in after hours last night, sir,” reported +Tom quietly, though he resented the man’s manner.</p> + +<p>“Ha! So I was informed by the watchman.” +He looked at Tom antagonistically. “Well,” he +snapped, “why don’t you continue? There’s more, +isn’t there?”</p> + +<p>“Not that I know of,” replied Tom calmly. “I +had permission to go to town, but I got in late, +that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, is it? What about the student who was +with you? Wasn’t there some one with you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And didn’t he engage in a fight with the watchman, +and, taking advantage of a mean trick, sneak +to his room? Didn’t he, I ask you?”</p> + +<p>“I presume the watchman has correctly informed +you of what happened.”</p> + +<p>Tom’s voice was coldly indifferent now, and the +proctor recognized that fact.</p> + +<p>“He did,” he snapped. “And you know of it, +too. I expected you to tell me that.”</p> + +<p>“Since when has it been a college rule,” asked +Tom, “to confess to the doings of another student? +I thought that all that was required of me was to +report my own infraction of the rules.”</p> + +<p>Tom knew that he was right and that the proctor +had no authority to ask him concerning the +doings of Langridge, and the proctor knew that he +himself was in the wrong, which knowledge, shared +as it was by a student, did not add to his good +temper.</p> + +<p>“Then you refuse to say who was with you?” he +snapped, his eyes fixed on Tom’s face.</p> + +<p>“I certainly refuse to inform on a fellow student, +Mr. Zane,” was Tom’s answer, “and I don’t think +you have any right to ask me to do so.”</p> + +<p>If he had stopped with his first half of the reply +all might have been well, for certainly the proctor +did not expect Tom or any other student to be a +tale-bearer, though he always asked them to speak +in order to make more easy his own task. But to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +be practically defied, and by a freshman, was too +much for the official, who had a certain dignity of +which he was proud.</p> + +<p>“Ha!” he exclaimed, “you are impertinent, Parsons.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t so intend, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ha! I don’t have to be informed of my rights +by you. I know them. You will write me out two +hundred lines of Virgil by to-morrow afternoon +and you will stand suspended for two weeks, with +absolutely no privileges regarding athletics or +going away from college!”</p> + +<p>It was a hard sentence under any circumstances. +It was an unjust one in Tom’s case, and he knew it. +Yet what could he do?</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir,” he replied, trying to overcome +a certain trembling feeling in his throat, and he +turned to go.</p> + +<p>“If,” went on the proctor in a slightly more conciliatory +voice, “you think better of your resolution +and let me know the name of the student who +so outrageously assaulted the watchman, I may +find it possible to mitigate your punishment. Mind, +I am not asking you to inform me in an ordinary +case of breaking the rules, but for an extraordinary +infraction. The watchman has a badly injured +leg. So, if you wish to inform me later, I will be +glad to hear from you.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I shall not change my mind,” said Tom simply.</p> + +<p>“Nor I mine,” added the proctor, jerking out the +words quickly.</p> + +<p>Tom turned on his heel and left the room.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></h2> + +<h3>DARK DAYS</h3> + + +<p>Sid was waiting for Tom outside the proctor’s +office.</p> + +<p>“Well?” he asked eagerly as his chum appeared, +but it needed only a look at the downcast face to +tell that it was not “well” but “ill.”</p> + +<p>“Rusticated!” exclaimed Tom.</p> + +<p>“For how long?”</p> + +<p>“Two weeks.”</p> + +<p>“On your own account, or——”</p> + +<p>“Mainly because I wouldn’t tell, I guess. Being +out late just once isn’t so monstrous.”</p> + +<p>“Of course not. Still you couldn’t tell.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. It’s tough, though. Suspended +twice in the first term! I wonder what dad and the +girls’ll say.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t tell ’em.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll have to, but I guess they’ll understand.”</p> + +<p>“It certainly is rocky,” admitted Sid, “but, do +you know, I envy you a bit. It’s getting mighty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +hard in class now. I have to bone away like a +Trojan. Pitchfork has it in for me on Latin. I +wish I had a vacation.”</p> + +<p>“Without baseball?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“N-o—no, of course not without being on the +team. But two weeks are soon over.”</p> + +<p>“Not soon enough,” and Tom darted away.</p> + +<p>“Where you going?”</p> + +<p>“Back and study. I can’t afford to fall behind in +my work.”</p> + +<p>“My, but aren’t you the grinder, though!” exclaimed +Sid, but there was something of envy in +his tone for all that. He went into recitation, while +Tom continued on to their common room. He was +walking along the path that led past Booker +Memorial Chapel and paused for a moment to admire +the effect of the early sun shining through a +stained glass window. The combination of colors +was perfect, and Tom, as he stood and looked at a +depiction of a biblical scene which represented the +Good Samaritan ministering to the stranger, felt +somehow that it was a rôle that he himself had had +a part in.</p> + +<p>Then came a revulsion of feeling.</p> + +<p>“Oh, pshaw! You’re getting sentimental in +your old age!” he exclaimed half aloud. “You’ve +got to have your share of hard knocks in this +world, and you’ve got to take what comes. But +it’s queer,” he went on in his self-communing, “how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +Langridge seems to be getting mixed up with me. +This is twice I’ve had to suffer on his account. I’d +like—yes, hang it all, what’s the use of pretending +to yourself—I’d like to take it out of him—in some +way. It’s not fair—that’s what!”</p> + +<p>The thought of Langridge brought another sort +of musing to Tom. He saw a certain fair face, +with pouting lips and bright, dancing eyes, a face +framed in a fluffy mass of hair, and he fancied he +could hear a little laugh, a mocking little laugh.</p> + +<p>“Worse and worse,” growled Tom to himself. +“You’re getting dopy. Better go take a long +walk.”</p> + +<p>He kicked impatiently at a stone in the path and +wheeled around just as a voice exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Ah, Parsons, admiring the windows? The +color effects are never so beautiful as early morning +and the evening. The garish light of day seems to +make them common. But—er—are you going to +recitation? If so, I’ll walk along with you,” and +genial Dr. Churchill, with a friendly nod of his +head and a twinkle in his deep-set eyes, came closer +to the lad.</p> + +<p>Tom wondered if the good doctor knew of the +punishment that had just been meted out. If he +did not he soon would have the report of the proctor +for confirmation.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been suspended,” blurted out Tom. “I +was going to my room to study.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Suspended, Parsons! This is the second time, +isn’t it?” There was surprise and dismay in the +doctor’s voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, but——” Tom paused. How much +should he tell, how much leave unsaid?</p> + +<p>“How did it happen?” asked the head of the +college, and he placed his arm on Tom’s shoulder +in a friendly fashion. Tom said afterward that it +was just as if he had been hypnotized. Before he +knew it he was telling the whole story.</p> + +<p>“But I never mentioned the name of Langridge,” +he protested to Sid, to whom later he related all +the events. “I never even hinted at it, but for all +that I believe Moses knew. He’s a regular corkscrew.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Churchill was silent after the recital, a recital +rather brokenly made, but containing all the +essential facts.</p> + +<p>“Suspended for two weeks!” he murmured when +Tom had finished.</p> + +<p>“With no athletics,” added Tom. “Not even +to see the games that are to be played here, and +there are to be two.”</p> + +<p>“Hum,” mused the doctor. “Well, you know +we must have discipline here, Parsons. Without +it we would soon have chaos. But—ah—er—hum! +Well, come and see me this evening. I will +have a talk with Mr. Zane. He has to be strict,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +you know, very strict under certain circumstances, +but—er—um—come and see me to-night.”</p> + +<p>“What do you s’pose he wants?” asked Sid when +Tom had told him of the meeting.</p> + +<p>“Blessed if I know, unless it’s to give me a lecture +on my conduct.”</p> + +<p>“No, Moses isn’t that kind.”</p> + +<p>“He’s going to restore to you all the rights and +privileges of a student,” declared Phil Clinton, +who, together with some others of Tom’s chums, +was in his room.</p> + +<p>“My uncle says——” began Ford Fenton, but +instantly there was a protesting howl.</p> + +<p>“Give me that water pitcher!” demanded Sid of +Phil.</p> + +<p>“This isn’t fit to drink,” was the remonstrance.</p> + +<p>“I know it, but Fenton needs a bath, don’t you, +Ford? Your uncle! Say, the next time you say +that we’ll make you repeat the first book of Cæsar +backward, eh, fellows?”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” came in a chorus.</p> + +<p>“Well,” went on Fenton in somewhat aggrieved +tones, “he once told me——”</p> + +<p>“Write it out,” expostulated Phil.</p> + +<p>“Move he be given leave to print,” came from +Sid, who had once heard a long debate in Congress.</p> + +<p>There was laughter and more chaffing of luckless +Fenton, whose uncle, from his own making, was +like unto a millstone hung about his neck.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, all the same, I’d like to know what Moses +wants of you,” said Phil, and the others agreed +with him.</p> + +<p>“I’ll let you know when I come back,” said Tom. +“It’s early; you can all stay here for a while.”</p> + +<p>He returned in half an hour from his call on the +head of the college.</p> + +<p>“Well?” demanded his chums of him.</p> + +<p>“Great!” he cried. “He received me in his +study. Say, were you ever there? It’s a fine place. +Books, books, books all over. The floor was piled +full of them. There was a fire going on the grate +and he was sitting there, reading some book with +the queerest letters in it.”</p> + +<p>“Sanskrit,” ventured Phil.</p> + +<p>“I guess so. Well, he brought up a chair for +me, and——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, for the love of Dionysius! give us some +facts,” cried Sid. “What happened?”</p> + +<p>“Well, he said he’d had a talk with the proctor +and he removed the worst part of my suspension. +I can go to the two games here with Boxer Hall +and Fairview, but I can’t play. I couldn’t, anyhow, +on account of my arm, so that’s all right. +And I can attend the special lectures in biology, +which I hated to miss. I can’t recite for two weeks, +but I don’t mind that. It’s all right. I’ll vote for +Moses every time!”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I should say yes,” agreed Phil. “He’s white, +he is. But Zane—ugh! He’s——”</p> + +<p>“Treason,” counseled Sid quietly. “The walls +may not have ears, but the keyhole has. Better +cut it, fellows, the time is almost up, and Zane’s +scouts will be sneaking around.”</p> + +<p>The other lads departed, leaving Tom and Sid +alone.</p> + +<p>“What about your pitching?” asked Sid.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll have to give my arm a rest, Mr. +Lighton says, so this comes in the nature of a special +providence. It isn’t so bad as it looked at +first.”</p> + +<p>But, in spite of his philosophy, there were dark +days for Tom. It was hard to be deprived of the +chance to play on the scrub and he missed the daily +recitations. His arm, too, began to trouble him, +and he was obliged to go to a doctor for treatment, +though the medical man said all it needed was a +little massage and rest. Tom, in his eagerness to +excel, had overworked the muscles.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the ’varsity nine was kept busy at +practice or with league and other games. Word +came that both the Boxer and Fairview nines had +greatly improved, chiefly by shifting their players +about, and the Randall coach and captain wore +serious looks as they “sized up” the work of the +Randall team.</p> + +<p>There came a contest with Fairview Institute on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +the Randall diamond. It was a “hot” game and +Fairview won.</p> + +<p>There was anguish of heart among the Randall +students and it was not assuaged when, the next +week, Boxer, playing on the Randall grounds, took +away a game with them, the score being 8 to 2.</p> + +<p>“Two drubbings in two successive weeks,” exclaimed +Kindlings. “What are we going to do?”</p> + +<p>“One thing we’ve got to do is to improve in +pitching,” declared the coach, and when some one +brought word of this to Tom his heart, that had +been heavy during the two weeks of suspension, +grew lighter.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I’ll get a chance,” he said to Sid. “It +would make up for everything if I did.”</p> + +<p>“No one wants to see you in the box any more +than I do, old chap,” spoke Sid fervently.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h2> + +<h3>AT THE DANCE</h3> + + +<p>It was the night of the junior dance, an annual +affair second only in importance to commencement +and a function attended, as Holly Cross used to say, +“by all the beauty and chivalry of Haddonfield and +all points north, south, east and west.” On this +occasion all strictly partisan college feelings were +laid aside. Forgotten were the grudges engendered +by hazings or the rivalries of the field. It +was an evening devoted to pleasure, and, on the +part of the juniors at least, to seeing that their girl +friends and acquaintances danced to their hearts’ +content.</p> + +<p>“Tom,” cried Sid as they were dressing in their +room, “does this dress suit seem to fit?”</p> + +<p>“Well, it might be a little larger across the +shoulders,” was Tom’s answer as he turned around +from an attempt to get his tie just right and surveyed +his chum.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I thought. I’m outgrowing it. +I’m afraid it will split when I’m dancing, and I’ll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +be a pretty sight, won’t I? I’ll disgrace the girl. +Hang it all, I hate a dress suit. I always remind +myself of some new specimen of a bug, and I think +some entomological professor will come along, run +a pin through me and impale me on a cork. In +fact I’d just as soon he would as to go through this +agony again.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense. You’ll enjoy it,” ventured Tom.</p> + +<p>“Maybe—after it’s all over.”</p> + +<p>But he managed somehow to wiggle himself +into the garments and then, having asked a girl +to the affair, he set off after her in a coach he had +hired. Tom had not invited any one, but he heard +that Miss Tyler was to be there and from the same +source of information he knew that Langridge was +to escort her.</p> + +<p>“In which case,” reflected Tom, “I shall probably +not have a chance to dance with her.”</p> + +<p>The gymnasium had been turned into a ballroom. +Around the gallery, which contained the indoor +running track, flags and bunting had been festooned, +the colors of Randall being prominent. +From the center electric chandelier long streamers +of ribbon of the mingled hues of each class were +draped to the boxes that had been constructed on +two sides of the room. There was a profusion of +flowers and with the soft glow of the shaded lights +the big apartment that was wont to resound to the +blows of the punching bag, the bound of the medicine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +ball or the patter of running feet was most +magically transformed.</p> + +<p>Over in one corner, screened by a bank of palms, +was the orchestra, the musicians of which were tuning +their instruments in thrilling chords which always +tell of joys to come.</p> + +<p>The guests were arriving. Bewildering bevies +of pretty girls floated in with their escorts, who +showed the tan and bronze of the sporting field or +the whiter hue of a “dig” who spent most of his +time over his books. Then came the chaperons, +grave, dignified, in rustling silks, a strange contrast +to the light, fluffy garments worn by the +younger set.</p> + +<p>Tom felt rather lonesome as he strolled out on +the waxed floor, for most of his chums had girls to +whom they were attentive, and of course they could +not be expected to look after him.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Parsons!” called a voice, and he turned +to see one of the Jersey twins. Which one it was +he could not determine, for if Jerry and Joe Jackson +looked alike when in their ball suits or ordinary +clothes, there was even less of difference when +they wore formal black, with the expanse of shirt +showing.</p> + +<p>“Hello!” responded Tom.</p> + +<p>“I’m Jerry,” went on the twin. “I thought I’d +tell you. My brother and I are going to play a +joke to-night.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>“Joe’s going to get talking to a girl and then he’s +going to excuse himself for a moment. I’ll take +his place and I’ll pretend I don’t know what she’s +talking about when the girl tries to continue the +conversation. I’ll make believe I’ve come back to +the wrong girl. Great, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, except maybe for the girl.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ll beg her pardon afterward. Got to +have some fun. I’m on the arrangement committee +and I’m nearly crazy seeing that every one has a +good time. Got your name down on all the cards +you want?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t it on any yet.”</p> + +<p>“No? That’s a shame! Come on and I’ll fix +you up,” and the good-natured Jerry dragged Tom +about, introducing him to an entrancing quartet +of pretty girls and then Tom knew enough to do +the rest, which included scribbling his name down +for a whole or a half dance as the case might be.</p> + +<p>He had just finished this very satisfactory work +when he heard his name called and turned to see +Miss Tyler smiling at him.</p> + +<p>“I’m awfully glad to see you,” he exclaimed, +starting impulsively toward her with outstretched +hand. “May I have a dance?”</p> + +<p>“Only one?” she asked with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“All of them, if you can spare them,” he said +boldly.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Greedy boy! I’m afraid you’re too late. You +may look,” and she held out her card.</p> + +<p>Tom, with regret, saw that it contained the initials +“F. L.” in many places. There was only one +two-step vacant.</p> + +<p>“Some one else has been greedy, too,” he said as +he filled in the space.</p> + +<p>“Let me see,” she demanded, and she made a +little pout. “How dare he think I’m going to give +all those to him!” she exclaimed. “Here, Tom, +let me have your pencil. I never can write with the +ridiculous affairs they attach to dance programs.”</p> + +<p>She used the lead vigorously on the card and +then let Tom see it again. His name was in three +places, and, to his surprise, on the last waltz he saw +that the girl had written his initials under those of +Langridge.</p> + +<p>“What does that mean?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“It means that I’m going to share the last dance +with you,” she almost whispered, “in memory of +old times,” and she nodded. “Don’t forget now,” +and she shook her finger at him.</p> + +<p>“As if I would!” exclaimed Tom.</p> + +<p>The music began a march as the opening of the +dance and the couples took their places, Langridge +coming up almost on the run to claim Miss Tyler. +He looked sharply at Tom.</p> + +<p>“How are you, dominie?” he asked with a nod,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +intended to be friendly, and then he led the girl +away.</p> + +<p>Tom had no partner for the march and he stood +about disconsolately until the first dance. Then +he went to claim his partner, whom Jerry Jackson +had secured for him, a pretty little girl in a yellow +dress who was a fine dancer.</p> + +<p>“I wish you had another open date—I—er—I +mean that you could give me another dance,” he +corrected himself quickly from the language of the +ball field.</p> + +<p>“I can,” she said simply, and she gave him a +quick glance, for Tom was a fine dancer.</p> + +<p>He scribbled his name down and then had to relinquish +her to another partner. Two dances after +that, however, Tom was privileged to claim Miss +Tyler. As he was leading her into the waltz Langridge +came hurrying up.</p> + +<p>“I thought this was my dance, Madge—Miss +Tyler,” he stammered.</p> + +<p>“I wanted to vary the monotony,” she said with +a little laugh that had no malice in it.</p> + +<p>“How is your arm, dominie?” she asked of Tom, +looking up into his face and smiling as she gave him +the nickname conferred on him by Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Oh, much better,” he answered. “How did you +hear?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, the proverbial bird, I suppose. You had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +to stay away from class two weeks on account of it, +didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” exclaimed Tom quickly, “not on <i>that</i> account.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she cried, struck by the change in Tom’s +voice. “I—I heard so.”</p> + +<p>“Did Langridge tell you that?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” was her answer.</p> + +<p>“Well, it was partly on that account,” and Tom +turned the conversation away from what he considered +a dangerous subject.</p> + +<p>If Langridge cherished any ill will toward Tom +for taking away Miss Tyler the ’varsity pitcher did +not show it. But Tom noticed that he was not far +from the girl’s side the remainder of the evening.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if she doesn’t believe what I told her +about him,” thought Tom. “Well, I’m not going +to say anything more. Let her find out for herself. +Only—well, what’s the use?” and he went to claim +another dance elsewhere.</p> + +<p>It was the last waltz. Around the brilliant, +gaily decorated room swung the dancers to the +strains of the enthralling music. Langridge skilfully +led Miss Tyler in and out among the maze of +couples. The music turned into another melody.</p> + +<p>“I think this is about half,” she said.</p> + +<p>“About half? What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you were so greedy,” she explained, +laughter in her eyes, “that I had to punish you. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +gave half this last dance to—to the dominie,” and +her lips parted in a smile.</p> + +<p>“Well, I like that!” spluttered Langridge, but +just then Tom, who had been summoned from the +“side lines” by a signal from Miss Tyler, came to +claim her.</p> + +<p>“I like your nerve, Parsons!” snapped Langridge, +glad to be able to transfer his wrath to a +foeman more worthy of it.</p> + +<p>“It was my doing, Mr. Langridge,” said the +girl with some dignity.</p> + +<p>“You had no right——” began the ’varsity +pitcher.</p> + +<p>“I fancy Miss Tyler is the best judge of that,” +spoke Tom coolly as he took the girl’s hand.</p> + +<p>“Is she?” sneered Langridge. “Maybe she +knows who brought her to this affair then! If she +does, she can find some one else to take her away,” +and he swung off.</p> + +<p>For an instant Miss Tyler stood looking at him. +The dancers whirled around the couple standing +there and the music sounded sweetly. There was +the suspicion of tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“He had no right to say that!” she burst out.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, no,” agreed Tom. “But, since he has, +may I have the honor of being your escort?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, and then, with a revulsion of +feeling, she added, “Oh, Tom, I don’t feel like +dancing now. Take me home, please!”</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h2> + +<h3>DRESS SUITS COME HIGH</h3> + + +<p>So after all, Tom did not get the last half of +the last waltz with Miss Tyler. He did not much +care, however, for, as matters turned out, he had a +longer time in her company. The girl soon recovered +her usual spirits and the walk to where she +was stopping with relatives in Haddonfield seemed +all too short to Tom.</p> + +<p>“Will you be at the game Saturday?” he asked +as they were about to part.</p> + +<p>“What game?”</p> + +<p>“Over at Fairview. Our team is going to try +and run up a big score against them.”</p> + +<p>“I hadn’t thought of going.”</p> + +<p>“Then won’t you please think now?” pleaded +Tom, with an odd air of patheticness, at which +Miss Tyler laughed gaily.</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps I shan’t find that so <i>very</i> difficult,” +she replied.</p> + +<p>“And if you think real hard, can you get a mental +picture of your humble servant taking you to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +that game?” Tom was very much in earnest, +though his air was bantering.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she answered tantalizingly, “I do seem +to see a sort of hazy painting to that effect.”</p> + +<p>“Good! It will grow more distinct with time. +I’ll call for you, then. A number of the boys are +going to charter a little steamer and sail down the +river, and into the lake. We’ll land at a point +about four miles from Fairview, and go over in +some automobiles.”</p> + +<p>“That will be jolly!”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you think so. Is the picture any +clearer?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, much so. I think the autos have cleared +away the mist. Aren’t we silly, though?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“Not a bit of it,” declared Tom stoutly. “I’ll +be on hand here for you, then, shortly after lunch +on Saturday.”</p> + +<p>“Is the nine going that way?”</p> + +<p>Tom felt a sudden suspicion. Was she asking +because she wanted to know whether Langridge +would be in the party of merrymakers?</p> + +<p>“No, I think they’re going in a big stage.”</p> + +<p>“I thought maybe you might want to be with the +nine,” she went on, and Tom saw that he had misunderstood. +“You might get a chance to pitch,” +and she looked at him.</p> + +<p>“No such luck,” replied Tom, trying to speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +cheerfully, but finding it hard work. “Well, I’ll +say good-night, or, rather, good-morning. When +I write home I must tell my folks about meeting +you here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, do. I’ve already written to mine, telling +what a fine time I’m having.”</p> + +<p>Tom was rather thoughtful on his way home. +He stumbled into his dark room, nearly falling +over something.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Sid, who was in +bed.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I want to know,” replied Tom, +striking a match. “Why don’t you keep your patent +leathers out of the middle of the floor?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“I did, Tommy, me lad, as Bricktop Molloy +would say, but I had to throw them out there +later.”</p> + +<p>“How’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Mice. Two of the cute little chaps sitting in +the middle of the floor, eating some nuts that +dropped out of my pocket. I stretched out on the +bed without undressing when I came in from the +dance, and must have fallen asleep, with the light +burning. When I woke up I saw the mice staring +at me, and I heaved my shoes at the beggars, for +I’d taken ’em off—my shoes, I mean—when I came +in, as my feet hurt from dancing so much. Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +I doused the glim and turned in, for I knew you +wouldn’t be along until daylight.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I saw you going off with her. I admire +your taste, old man, but it must be hard on Langridge.”</p> + +<p>“It’s his own fault.”</p> + +<p>“So I understand. I heard about it.”</p> + +<p>“Um,” murmured Tom, for he did not want to +talk about Miss Tyler and her affairs—at least +not yet. There are some things that one likes to +ponder over, and think about—all alone.</p> + +<p>The game with Fairview was looked forward to +with more than ordinary interest, for the season +was about half over, and a partial estimate could +be made of the chances for the championship. Up +to this time the three teams in the league had been +running nearly even, with Randall, if anything, a +trifle in the lead, not so much regarding the number +of games won, but counting form. In the last +two weeks, however, Fairview and Boxer had been +doing some hard work, and in games between those +colleges Fairview had some the best of it. If, on +the occasion that was approaching, Randall won, it +would put her nine in the lead, and if, on the contrary, +she lost it would mean that she would be the +“tail-ender,” though only a few points behind +Boxer, which would be second.</p> + +<p>“We’ve just got to win!” declared Sid, one afternoon,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +following a severe game with the scrub, who +had played the ’varsity to a tie in eleven innings.</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” admitted the coach. “But I +think we will. We have improved all around +lately.”</p> + +<p>This was true, more especially in the case of +Langridge. Since the affair of the junior dance he +had not spoken to Tom, and had taken pains to +avoid him. But the ’varsity pitcher was certainly +doing better work.</p> + +<p>The day before the game with Fairview, Coach +Lighton called Tom to one side.</p> + +<p>“I think you had better prepare to go as a sub +to-morrow,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Why, is Langridge——” burst out Tom, a +wild hope filling his heart.</p> + +<p>“No, it isn’t our pitcher. But I understand Sid +is falling back in his Latin, and he may not be allowed +to play. In that case I’ll have to do some +shifting, and I <i>may</i> be able to give you a place in +the field.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t want to see Sid left, but I would +like a chance.”</p> + +<p>Tom was in rather a quandary. He had arranged +to take Miss Tyler, and he could not, if he +went with the team as a sub. He hardly knew +what to do about it, and was on the point of going +over to see her, and explain, when Sid came bursting +into the room.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Blood! blood! I want blood!” he cried as he +threw his Latin grammar against the wall with +such force that the covers came off.</p> + +<p>“What ho! most worthy knight!” replied Tom +gently. “In sooth, gentle sir, what hath befallen +thee?”</p> + +<p>“Heaps!” replied Sid. “Oh, Pitchfork, would +I had thee here!” and he wadded up the table +cover, and pretended to choke it.</p> + +<p>“What now?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he put me through a course of sprouts for +further orders this afternoon,” explained Sid. +“Thought he’d catch me, but I managed to wiggle +through. Nearly gave me heart disease, though, +for fear I’d have to be out of the game to-morrow. +But I managed to save myself, much to the surprise +of Pitchfork. Now I want my revenge on him.”</p> + +<p>“What can you do?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know—nothing, I guess. I wish—hold +on!” Sid struck a thoughtful attitude, looked +fixedly at the floor, then at the ceiling, and finally +cried: “Eureka!”</p> + +<p>“Has some one been playing hob with your +crown?” asked Tom, referring to the exclamation +said to have been made by the ancient king, when +he discovered, in his bath, a means of finding out +if his jeweler had cheated him.</p> + +<p>“No, but I’ve found a way to get even with +Pitchfork.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“Listen, and I will a tale unfold—a spike-tail at +that. When I was coming in from recitation, disgusted +with life in general, and with the Roman +view of it, particularly, I met Wallops the messenger. +He had a bundle under his arm, and you +know what a talker he is. Confided to me that he +was taking Pitchfork’s best suit to the tailor’s to +be pressed, and his dress-suit to have new buttons +put on, and some other fixings done. Pitchfork is +going to a swell reception to-night, and will wear +his glad rags. All he has now is his classroom suit, +and you know what that is—all chalk and chemical +stains when he goes into the laboratory once in a +while on the relief shift.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t seem to follow you.”</p> + +<p>“You will soon. See, as it stands now Pitchfork +is without a decent suit he can wear, and he’s +such a peculiar build that no other professor’s garments +will fit him.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, when he wants his dress-suit to go to the +blow-out to-night, he’s going to learn something +new.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Just this. That dress-suits come high this time +of the year! It’s going to be the best joke yet. +Now, ladies and gentlemen, with your kind permission +and attention I will endeavor to give you a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +correct imitation of Professor Pitchfork hunting +high and low for his glad rags—particularly high. +I will roll back my cuffs, to show you that I have +nothing concealed up my sleeves. Now, commodore, +a little slow music, please,” and Sid, who had +assumed the rôle of a vaudeville performer, pretended +to nod to an imaginary leader of an orchestra.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a></h2> + +<h3>TOM IN A GAME</h3> + + +<p>“Want any help?” asked Tom, when Sid had +outlined his scheme of “revenge.”</p> + +<p>“No, I guess not, until I get ready to pull the +strings. Then you can give me a hand. We’ll +have to do it after dark, and be mighty careful not +to be caught, though.”</p> + +<p>“But how are you going to get the suit?”</p> + +<p>“I have a plan. Watch your Uncle Dudley.”</p> + +<p>Sid spent the rest of the afternoon in making up +a bundle to look like one that contained two suits +just from the tailor shop. Only, in place of clothes +he used old newspapers. It was toward dusk when +he went out with it under his arm.</p> + +<p>“It’s about time Wallops was coming back,” he +said to Tom. “I’ll meet him in the clump of elms, +where it’s good and dark, and he can’t tell who I +am.”</p> + +<p>“Be careful,” warned his roommate.</p> + +<p>“Sure. But I know what I’m about. Revenge is +sweet! Wow! Wait until you see the face of +Pitchfork!”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sid stole carefully along to a spot near the edge +of the river, where a clump of big elm trees grew. +This was near the bridge on the road to Haddonfield. +The spot was lonely and deserted enough at +this hour to suit his purpose, and the dusk of the +evening, being added to by clouds, and by the +shadows of the trees, made concealment easy.</p> + +<p>“I guess that’s Wallops,” murmured Sid as he +peered out from behind a tree. “That walks like +Wallops, and he’s got a bundle under his arm. +Now for a grand transformation scene.”</p> + +<p>Awaiting the psychological moment, Sid hurried +out, and bumped into the college messenger. Wallops’ +bundle was knocked from under his arm, and, +by a strange coincidence, so was Sid’s.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon!” exclaimed the student in +an assumed voice. “Awfully careless of me, I’m +sure. I beg a thousand pardons! I was in a hurry, +and I didn’t notice you. Is this the road to Haddonfield?”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” replied Wallops good naturedly +as his pardon was begged again. “Yes, +keep straight on, and you’ll come to the trolley that +runs to Haddonfield.”</p> + +<p>“Let me restore your bundle to you,” went on +Sid, picking up both parcels.</p> + +<p>He handed one to the messenger, and kept one +himself.</p> + +<p>“’Twas yours, ’tis mine; ’twas his, ’tis ours,” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +paraphrased. “Again let me express my sincere +sorrow at this happening. I trust there was nothing +in your package that could be damaged when I +knocked it from your grasp.”</p> + +<p>“No, nothing but some clothes of one of the college +professors. It’s all right.”</p> + +<p>“And I’m sure my package isn’t damaged,” said +Sid, in a queer voice, as he hurried away.</p> + +<p>A little later he was telling Tom, with much +mirth, how it all came about. The two, in the seclusion +of their room, opened the bundle, and saw +two suits, one full dress.</p> + +<p>“Won’t he howl when he finds nothing but a lot +of newspapers!” exclaimed Sid. “Now for the rest +of the trick.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe he’ll borrow a dress suit from some student,” +said Tom.</p> + +<p>“Not much he won’t,” replied Sid. “I thought +of that, and I forwarded a message by wireless to +all the dormitories that if Pitchfork sent around to +borrow some glad rags, he was to be refused on +some pretext or other.”</p> + +<p>Sid’s precaution was well taken. A little later it +was evident that something unusual had occurred. +Wallops and several other college messengers were +seen hurrying first to the rooms of one professor, +then to the apartments of another. Each time the +scouts came back empty-handed to that part of the +faculty residence where Professor Tines dwelt.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I knew they had no spike-tails that would fit +him,” exulted Sid. “Besides, most of them are going +to the reception themselves.”</p> + +<p>There was consternation in the apartments of +Professor Tines. Wallops had delivered to him +the bundle of papers, and when the astonished instructor +had threatened and questioned him, the +unfortunate messenger could only say it was the +package he had received from the tailor. That +worthy, on being appealed to by telephone, declared +that he had sent home the professor’s garments. +Wallops had no idea that the stranger he +met in the wood had played a transformation trick +on him, and Professor Tines, in his anxiety to get +dressed, and go to the reception, did not dream +that it was a student prank. Rather he blamed the +tailor, and made up his mind to sue the man for +heavy damages.</p> + +<p>Then, just as Sid had expected, the instructor +endeavored to borrow a dress-suit from one of the +students. But they had been warned, and were +either going to wear their suits themselves, or had +just sent them to the tailor.</p> + +<p>“What shall I do?” wailed Professor Tines. “I +can’t go in this suit,” and he looked at his acid-and-chalk-marked +classroom garments. “Yet I +was to read a paper on early Roman life at this reception. +It is too provoking. I can’t understand +why none of the students have a suit available.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You could have one of mine, only——” began +Dr. Churchill as he looked first at the figure of the +professor, and then at himself. “I’m afraid it +wouldn’t fit,” he added.</p> + +<p>“No—no, of course not!” exclaimed Mr. Tines +distractedly. “I will telephone that rascally tailor +again. Never, never shall he press another suit of +mine!”</p> + +<p>But the knight of the goose and needle insisted +that the professor’s clothes had been sent home, +and that was all there was to it. Mr. Tines could +not go to the reception, and, as it was an important +affair, where nearly all of the faculty was expected +to be present, he was grievously disappointed.</p> + +<p>When all was quiet that night a party of students, +including Sid and Tom, stole out to the campus. +They worked quickly and silently.</p> + +<p>“There!” exclaimed Sid, when all was finished. +“I rather guess that will astonish him!”</p> + +<p>In the morning the attention of most of the college +students, and several of the faculty, was attracted +to a throng of passersby staring up at the +flagstaff. They would halt, point upward, make +some remarks, and then, laughing, pass on. Some +one called the attention of Dr. Churchill to it.</p> + +<p>“Why, bless my soul!” he exclaimed as he prepared +to go out. “I hope none of the students have +put the flag at half mast or upside down.”</p> + +<p>He put on his far-seeing spectacles, and walked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +out on the campus. There, at the top of the pole, +was a figure which looked like a man, with outstretched +arms.</p> + +<p>“What student has dared climb up there?” exclaimed +the head of the college. “Send for Mr. +Zane at once,” he added to Professor Newton, who +had accompanied him. “He must be severely punished—the +venturesome student, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“I hardly think that is a student,” replied Mr. +Newton.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say it is some outsider?”</p> + +<p>“I think it is no one at all, Dr. Churchill. I believe +it is an effigy. See how stiff the arms and +legs are.”</p> + +<p>“I believe you are right,” admitted the venerable +doctor.</p> + +<p>His belief was confirmed a moment later, for a +farmer, who was driving along the river road, left +his team, and came up the campus, a broad smile +covering his face.</p> + +<p>“Good-morning, Dr. Churchill,” he said. “Is +this a new course in eddercation you’re givin’ the +boys?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, good-morning, Mr. Oakes. What do you +mean?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I see you’ve got a scarecrow up on that +liberty pole. I thought maybe you was addin’ a +course in agriculture to your studies. Only if I +was you I wouldn’t put a scarecrow up so high.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +There ain’t no need of it. One low down will do +jest as well. And another thing, I allers uses old +clothes. There ain’t no sense in puttin’ a swallertail +coat an’ a low-cut vest on a scarecrow. Them +birds will be jest as skeert of an old coat and a pair +of pants stuffed with straw as they will of a dress-suit. +That’s carryin’ things a leetle too fur!” and +the farmer laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>“Dress-suit! Scarecrow!” exclaimed Dr. Churchill, +and then he got a glimpse of the figure on top +of the pole. It was arrayed in a full-dress suit, and +Professor Tines, coming out a moment later, beheld +his missing garments.</p> + +<p>“This is an outrage!” he declared. “I demand +the instant dismissal of the student or students responsible +for this, Dr. Churchill!”</p> + +<p><a href="#image03">Dr. Churchill</a> tried hard not to smile, but he <a href="#image03">had +to turn his face away</a>.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 379px;"> +<a name="image03" id="image03"><img src="images/image03.jpg" width="379" height="600" alt="DR. CHURCHILL HAD TO TURN HIS FACE AWAY" title="DR. CHURCHILL HAD TO TURN HIS FACE AWAY" /></a><br /> +<span class="caption"><a href="#Page_222">DR. CHURCHILL HAD TO TURN HIS FACE AWAY</a></span> +</div> + +<p>“I am greatly obliged to you, Mr. Oakes, for +your information,” said the head of the college to +the farmer, who was still laughing. “Our improvised +scarecrow shall be taken down at once.”</p> + +<p>“Scarecrow!” exclaimed Professor Tines. “I +think——” But wrath choked his utterance. “I +demand that my suit be taken down at once!” he +went on, after a pause, “and that the guilty ones +be punished!”</p> + +<p>“They shall be, I assure you,” promised Dr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +Churchill, “when I learn who they are. If you +hear, professor, let me know.”</p> + +<p>“I shall. But I want my suit. Perhaps it is +ruined.”</p> + +<p>But a new difficulty now arose, for Sid and his +fellow conspirators had fastened the halyards high +up on the pole, and it was not until Professor Tines +had sent Wallops for a ladder that the ropes could +be untied and the suit lowered. During this process +a group of students gathered at a respectful +distance from the flagstaff and looked on interestedly.</p> + +<p>But, though a strict inquiry was made, no one +was ever punished for the “scarecrow joke” as it +came to be called, and it is now one of the traditions +of Randall College.</p> + +<p>Owing to the fact that Sid had “made good” in +Latin he was not barred from the game that day, +and there was no chance for Tom to act as substitute. +He went with Miss Tyler, and the trip on +the river, lake, and in the auto was a delightful one.</p> + +<p>There was a big crowd on the bleachers and +grandstand when the nines began to play, and +rivalry in singing college songs, giving college yells +and waving college colors ran high.</p> + +<p>Randall got two runs in the first inning, and for +three more Fairview secured only zeros. Langridge +was pitching fine ball. Then Lem Sellig, who +was doing the “twirling” for Fairview, seemed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +warm up to his work, and struck out a surprising +number of men. In the seventh inning Fairview +secured five runs, and in the eighth they reeled off +five more, for Langridge grew reckless, and not +only gave men their bases on balls in rapid succession, +but struck two men, which gave them free +passes to first.</p> + +<p>“He’s going to pieces!” exclaimed Coach Lighton +as he saw the score piling up against his men. +“It’s got to stop, or we’ll be the laughing stock of +the league.”</p> + +<p>Yet he did not like to take Langridge out. Captain +Woodhouse was angry clear through, and as +for Kerr, he openly insulted the pitcher.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” the catcher cried after a +particularly bad series of balls and a fumble on the +part of Langridge that let in a run. “You’re rotten +to-day!”</p> + +<p>Langridge flushed, but his face had been rosy-hued +before that, and twice he had gone to the +dressing rooms, whence he came odorous of cloves.</p> + +<p>Then the “rooters” seeing their game took up +cries of derision against the pitcher, in an endeavor +to “get his goat.”</p> + +<p>Langridge bit his lips and threw in a fierce ball. +There were two out, but it looked as if it would go +on that way indefinitely. Frank Sullivan, a good +batter, hit it fairly, but Joe Jackson, out in left +field, made a desperate run for it, and got the ball.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +It was a sensational catch, and was roundly applauded.</p> + +<p>When Randall came to the bat for the last time +the score was 12 to 2 in favor of their opponents.</p> + +<p>“We can’t win,” said Kindlings hopelessly.</p> + +<p>“No, but for the love of Mike, don’t let them +roll up any bigger score against us, or they’ll put us +out of the league,” begged Bricktop Molloy. +“Speak to Langridge, and tell him to hold hard.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the use speaking to him?” asked Kerr +gloomily. “He’ll go off his handle if I do. He +told me never to speak to him again, just because I +called him down a bit. Land knows he needed it!”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to make a change,” decided the +coach. “I’ll not let Langridge pitch next inning. +If he does I’ll resign, and I’ll tell him so.”</p> + +<p>He walked over to the pitcher, and soon the two +were in earnest conversation.</p> + +<p>Randall could not make another run, for Sellig +was doing his best and they did not get a hit off +him.</p> + +<p>“Our only chance is to strike them out,” murmured +Kerr as he arose from the bench to take his +place. “Who’s going to pitch, Mr. Lighton?”</p> + +<p>“Tom Parsons.”</p> + +<p>“Tom Parsons? What’s the matter with our +regular substitute, Evert?”</p> + +<p>“His arm is no good and he’s out of practice. +I’m going to put Tom in.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + +<p>And much to his astonishment Tom was summoned +from the grandstand, where he was talking +to Miss Tyler about the slump.</p> + +<p>“Me pitch? Are you sure Mr. Lighton sent you +for me?” he asked Jerry Jackson, who had brought +the message.</p> + +<p>“Sure. Come on and get into part of a uniform.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, do go,” urged Miss Tyler. “I—I hope +you beat them.”</p> + +<p>“It’s too late for that now,” replied Tom sadly +as he walked down from the stand.</p> + +<p>A little later he was in the box, facing Roger +Barns, one of the best hitters on the Fairview +team. Tom was nervous, there is no denying that, +but he held himself well in control. It was the goal +of his ambition—to pitch on the ’varsity, and he +was now realizing it. True, it was almost an +empty honor, but he resolved to do his best, and +this thought steeled his nerves, even though the +crowd hooted at him.</p> + +<p>And he struck out the first three men up, at +which his college chums went wild, for it was all +they had to rejoice over in the game.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h2> + +<h3>THE FRESHMAN DINNER</h3> + + +<p>They wanted Tom to ride back to the college +with the team and the substitutes, but he would not +leave Miss Tyler, and, though he was torn between +two desires, he went back to the girl.</p> + +<p>Moreover, he had an idea that it would not be altogether +pleasant riding in the same stage with +Langridge, who, he had heard whispered, made +strenuous objection when Coach Lighton ordered +him to give place to Tom.</p> + +<p>“He’ll be down on me more than ever,” thought +Tom as he made his way back to the grandstand, +which was rapidly emptying. “Well, I can’t +help it.”</p> + +<p>“Your arm must be much better,” remarked +Miss Tyler as Tom came up to her. “You pitched +finely.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve had plenty of practice,” was his answer. +“I fancy Langridge was tired out,” he added +generously. “It’s no fun to pitch a losing game.”</p> + +<p>“But you did.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, well, it was my first chance on the ’varsity, +and I would have welcomed it if the score had been +a hundred to nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Will you pitch regularly now?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I hope——”</p> + +<p>But Tom stopped. He had almost forgotten that +Miss Tyler was very friendly to Langridge, in +spite of the little scene at the dance.</p> + +<p>For two days after the disastrous game with +Fairview Langridge sulked in his room and would +not report for practice. He talked somewhat +wildly about Tom, the latter heard, and practically +accused him of being responsible for his disgrace. +He even said Tom was intriguing against him to +win away his friends; meaning Kerr especially, for +the ’varsity catcher announced that he was done +with Langridge as far as sociability was concerned. +But Kerr, hearing this, came to Tom’s defense, and +stated openly that it was Langridge himself who +was to blame.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lighton would stand for no nonsense, and +ordered Evert into the pitcher’s box, promising +that Tom should have the next chance. He would +have made Tom the regular substitute but for the +fact that Evert, by right of seniority, was entitled +to it. Hearing this news, Langridge came out of +his sulks and resumed practice.</p> + +<p>“I have a large framed picture of Randall winning +the league pennant,” announced Sid gloomily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +one night as he and Tom were sitting in their room. +“Our stock is about fifty below par now, and with +only a few more games to play, we’ve practically +got to win them all in order to top the league.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe we’ll do it,” said Tom, in an endeavor +to be cheerful.</p> + +<p>“We might, if you pitched, but Langridge is that +mean that he’ll keep in just good enough form so +Mr. Lighton won’t send him to the bench, and +that’s all. He won’t do his best—no, I’ll not say +that. He is doing his best, but—well, something’s +wrong, and I guess I’m not the only one who +knows it.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Tom quietly. “I do and have for +some time. It’s been a puzzle to know what to do; +keep still and let the ’varsity be beaten or squeal +on Langridge.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, one can’t squeal, you know.”</p> + +<p>“No, that’s what I thought, especially in my +case. It would look as if I was grinding my own +ax.”</p> + +<p>“That’s so. No, you can’t say anything. But +it’s tough luck. Maybe something will turn up. +We’ve got a couple of games on our own grounds +next, and we may do better. If we don’t, we may +as well order our funeral outfits. Well, I’m going +to bone away at this confounded Latin. Ten thousand +maledictions be upon the head of the Roman +who invented it!”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sid opened his book, and studied for half an +hour. Tom likewise was busily engaged, and only +the ticking of the clock was heard, when suddenly +there came a gentle tap on the door.</p> + +<p>“Who’s there?” demanded Tom.</p> + +<p>“Yellow, sky-blue and maroon,” was the reply, +which indicated that a freshman was without, that +being the password.</p> + +<p>“Flagpole,” answered Sid, which being translated +meant that it was safe to enter, no member of +the faculty nor scout of the proctor’s being nigh.</p> + +<p>Dutch Housenlager pushed open the portal and +entered. He looked carefully around, and then, +coming on tiptoe to the middle of the room, after +having carefully shut the door, said in a whisper:</p> + +<p>“It’s all arranged!”</p> + +<p>“Nay, nay, kind sir,” retorted Sid, with a shake +of his head.</p> + +<p>“Nay nay what?” demanded Dutch indignantly.</p> + +<p>“No tricks to-night,” went on Sid. “We’re two +virtuous young men. We belong to the ancient and +honorable order of <i>infra digs</i> to-night, Dutch. Too +near the exams. Thus did I exclaim ‘nay, nay, +kind sir.’ We are not to be tempted, nay, even if +it were to take mine ancient enemy, Pitchfork, and +drop him into the lake; eh, Tom?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I can’t afford to take any chances. +Twice bitten once shy, or words to that effect, you +know. I, too, am delving into the hidden paths<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +that lead to the spring of which the poet doth +sing.”</p> + +<p>“Say, you two give me a sore feeling in the cranium!” +exclaimed Dutch as he sank into the easy +chair with force enough almost to disrupt it. +“Who’s asking you to play any tricks?”</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Fiat justitia, ruat cœlum!</i>” exclaimed Tom, +with mock heroics. “We have done you an injustice, +most noble Dutchman. Say on, and we will +hear thee.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve a good notion not to,” said Housenlager a +bit sulkily. “Here I come in to tell you fellows a +piece of news, and I find you boning away, and +when I start to talk you spout Latin mottoes at me. +I’ve a good notion to dig out.”</p> + +<p>“Stay! Stay, dear friend!” cried Tom, laughing. +“There, we’ll chuck studying for to-night, +eh, Sid?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. I’m sick of it.”</p> + +<p>“Now, say on,” invited Tom.</p> + +<p>Somewhat mollified, Dutch took an easier position +in the creaking chair, thereby raising a cloud +of dust, and remarked:</p> + +<p>“Well, the freshman dinner will come off to-morrow +night. It’s just been decided.”</p> + +<p>“Honest?” cried Sid.</p> + +<p>“Sure. Our committee has everything in shape,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +and we’ll fool the sophs this time. Ford Fenton +and I have been going around notifying the fellows. +You see, we had to keep it quiet, because +those sophs will put it on the blink if they can.”</p> + +<p>“Sure they will,” agreed Tom. “Where is it +to be——”</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly, for there was the sound +of footsteps in the hall outside.</p> + +<p>“Some one is spying,” whispered Sid. Softly he +opened the door and then he laughed. “It’s Fenton,” +he said as the other entered.</p> + +<p>“All through?” asked Dutch of his partner.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I don’t believe the sophs suspect. A few +years ago, when the freshmen had a dinner, the +sophs ate it all up, and my uncle says——”</p> + +<p>Tom significantly reached for a heavy book, and +Ford, with a disappointed look, stopped his reminiscence.</p> + +<p>“It’s to be in Cardigan Hall, in town,” explained +Dutch, “and we’ll start from here in a——”</p> + +<p>He paused in a listening attitude and tiptoed +over to the door. Throwing the portal open suddenly, +he darted into the hall, the others crowding +up close to see what was going on.</p> + +<p>“Some one was out there,” declared Dutch as he +came back, “but I couldn’t catch him. Maybe it +was only one of our boys, though. Now I’ll tell +you the plans,” and he proceeded to go into them +into detail, telling Tom and Sid where to join the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +other freshmen the next night, in order to steal +away to Haddonfield and hold their banquet undisturbed +by the sophomores.</p> + +<p>Tom and Sid promised to be on hand, and the +two members of the committee departed, Ford +Fenton being unable to tell what it was his uncle +had said. As Tom saw their guests to the door, +something bright and shining in the hall attracted +his attention.</p> + +<p>“It’s a matchbox,” he remarked as he picked it +up. “It’s got initials on, too.”</p> + +<p>“What are they?”</p> + +<p>“Hum—look like H. E. G.”</p> + +<p>“Horace E. Gladdus,” said Sid. “I wonder if +he was sneaking around here trying to catch on +about the dinner?”</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h2> + +<h3>TOM IS KIDNAPPED</h3> + + +<p>For a moment Tom looked at Sid. The same +thought was in both their minds.</p> + +<p>“Had we better tell Dutch?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t be a bad plan.”</p> + +<p>“All right, I’ll let him know. If Gladdus and +his crowd find out our plans they’ll spoil ’em.”</p> + +<p>So Tom hastened after Dutch Housenlager and +related the finding of the matchbox and the suspicion +engendered by it—that Gladdus had been +listening in the hall.</p> + +<p>“All right,” remarked Dutch. “We’ll change +our plans a bit. I’ll see you later.”</p> + +<p>Tom and Sid did not feel like resuming their +studies after what had happened. Instead they +sat talking of the prospective dinner, Sid stretched +lazily at full length on the sofa, while Tom luxuriously +sprawled in the easy chair.</p> + +<p>“I tell you what it is, old man,” said Sid, “it’s +mighty comfortable here, don’t you think?”</p> + +<p>“It sure is.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And to think that next term we’ll have to go +into the west dormitory,” went on Sid. “We’ll be +bloomin’ sophs then. At least you will.”</p> + +<p>“That’s very nice of you to say so, but what +about yourself?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not so sure,” and Sid spoke dubiously. +“That confounded Latin will be the death of me. +I tell you what it is. I was never cut out for a +classical scholar. Now, if they had a course of +what to do on first base, I’d be able to master it in, +say, a four years’ stretch. But I’m afraid I’ll go +the way of our mutual acquaintance Langridge, +and spend two years as a freshman, at which rate +I’ll be eight years getting through college.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I hope not. You stand better than Langridge. +He’s smart—not that you aren’t—but he +doesn’t get down to it. It’s just like his baseball +practice, if he would only——”</p> + +<p>Then Tom stopped. He didn’t want to talk +about the player whom he was trying to supplant +on the nine. “Well,” he finished, “I guess I’ll +turn in. We’ll have to see Dutch in the morning +and learn what the new plans are.”</p> + +<p>Housenlager and his fellow members of the +freshman dinner committee found it advisable to +make a change after what Sid and Tom had discovered.</p> + +<p>“But we can’t alter the time or place of the +feed,” explained Dutch. “It’s too late to do that.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +Anyway, there’s no danger once we get inside the +hall, for we’ve arranged to have the doors bolted +and braced and guards posted. The only danger +is that they’ll get at some of us before we get to +the place or that they’ll get at the eating stuff in +some way and put it on the blink.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t think there’d be much danger of +that,” spoke Tom. “Won’t the man who is going +to supply it look out for that end?”</p> + +<p>“I s’pose he will,” admitted Dutch, “so the main +thing for us to do is to see that we get safely to +the hall. I think we’d better not meet down near +the bridge, as I proposed first. You know, we were +all going in a body. I think now the best way will +be for us to stroll off by ones and twos. Then +there won’t be any suspicion. The sophs will be +on the watch for us, of course, but I think we can +fool them.”</p> + +<p>“Then you mean for each one of us to get to the +hall as best he can?” asked Sid.</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” replied Dutch.</p> + +<p>“Some fellows did that one year,” put in Ford +Fenton, “but the sophs caught them just the same. +My uncle says——”</p> + +<p>He paused, for the group of lads about him, as +if by prearranged signal, all put their hands over +their ears and all began talking at once loudly.</p> + +<p>“Hu!” ejaculated Ford. “You think that’s +funny, I guess.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Not as funny as what your uncle might have +said,” remarked Sid, who some time previously +had planned to have his chums give this signal of +disapproval the moment Ford mentioned his relative.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess it’s all understood,” went on +Dutch. “We’ll have a sort of go-as-you-please affair +until we get to the hall in Haddonfield.”</p> + +<p>“I hear Langridge isn’t coming,” said Ford.</p> + +<p>“Who told you?” asked Sid.</p> + +<p>“Why, he did. I asked him if he was going to +be on hand, and I told him about a dinner where +my uncle said——”</p> + +<p>“I guess he doesn’t want to come because he is +afraid your uncle will be there,” declared Tom +with a good-natured laugh.</p> + +<p>“More likely because the dinner isn’t going to +be sporty enough for him,” was the opinion of +Dutch. “Well, we don’t want anybody that +doesn’t want to come. But I’ve got to go and attend +to some loose ends. Now mind, mum’s the +word, fellows, not only as regards talk, but don’t +act so as to give the sophs a clue. See you later,” +and he hurried off.</p> + +<p>Few in the freshman class did themselves justice +in recitations that day from too much thinking +about the fun they would have at the dinner that +night. Even Tom fell below his usual standard, +and as for Sid, his rendering of Virgil was something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +to make Professor Tines (who was a good +classical scholar, whatever else he might be) shudder +in anguish. But Sid didn’t mind.</p> + +<p>“I tell you what it is, old man,” spoke Sid to +Tom that evening as they prepared to leave for +the spread, “we’d better go it alone, I think.”</p> + +<p>“Just what I was about to propose. If we leave +here together, some sneaking soph will be sure to +spot us. Will you go first or shall I?”</p> + +<p>“You’d better take it first. There’s a hole in +one of my socks I’ve got to sew up. I never saw +clothes go the way they do when a laundry gets +hold of ’em.”</p> + +<p>“Can you darn socks?”</p> + +<p>“Well, not exactly what you’d call <i>darn</i>,” explained +Sid. “I just gather up a little of the sock +where the hole is and tie a string around it. It’s +just as good as darning and twice as quick. I +learned that from a fellow I roomed with at boarding +school. But go ahead, if you’re going.”</p> + +<p>It was quite dark now and Tom, after a cautious +look around the entrance of the dormitory, to see +if any sophomores were lurking about, stole silently +down toward the river. He intended to take the +road along the stream, cross the bridge and board +a trolley for Haddonfield, which plan would be followed +by a number of the freshmen.</p> + +<p>Tom was almost at the bridge when he saw a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +number of dark shadows moving about near the +structure.</p> + +<p>“Now, are they sophs or our fellows?” he mused +as he cautiously halted. He thought he recognized +some of his classmates and went on a little further.</p> + +<p>“Here comes one!” he heard in a hoarse +whisper.</p> + +<p>Tom stopped. It was so dark he could not tell +friends from foes. But he knew a test. A countersign +had been agreed upon.</p> + +<p>“What did the namby-pamby say?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Back came the answer in a hoarse whisper:</p> + +<p>“Over the fence is out!”</p> + +<p>It was the reply that had been arranged among +the freshmen. Confident that he was approaching +friends, Tom advanced. A moment later he found +himself clasped by half a dozen arms.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got one!” some one cried, and he recognized +the voice of Gladdus. “Take him away, fellows, +and wait for the next. I guess the freshies +won’t have so many at their spread as they think!”</p> + +<p>“Kidnapped!” thought Tom disgustedly as he +was hustled away in the darkness. “Now they’ll +have the laugh on me and some of the other fellows +all right. They have discovered our countersign +or else some one gave it away.”</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE ESCAPE</h3> + + +<p>After the first shock of surprise was over Tom +struggled against being taken away by his captors. +He almost succeeded in breaking loose, but so +many came at him, crowding close around him, that +by sheer weight of numbers they formed an impassable +barrier.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, freshie, you’re hooked good and +proper, so don’t try to get away,” advised a tall +youth whom he recognized as Battersby.</p> + +<p>“All right,” agreed Tom good-naturedly, +though he by no means intended to give up trying +to escape. But he would bide his time. “Where +are you going to take me?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, a good place. You’ll have plenty of company. +Take him along, fellows. I’ll go back and +help capture some more. The idea of these freshies +thinking they could pull off a dinner without us +getting on to it. The very idea!” and Battersby +laughed sarcastically. He and Gladdus had fully +recovered from the electric shocks and were probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +glad of a chance to make trouble for the freshmen.</p> + +<p>Tom, in the midst of half a dozen sophomores, +was half led, half pushed along a dark path, over +the bridge and then down a walk which extended +through the woods. He recognized that he was +being taken toward a little summer resort on the +shores of the lake.</p> + +<p>Once he thought he saw a chance to break loose +as the grips on his arms loosened slightly, but +when he attempted it he was handled so roughly +that he knew the sophomores had made up their +minds to hold on to him at any cost.</p> + +<p>“You’re our first prisoner,” explained one lad, +“and for the moral effect of it we can’t let you get +away. You’ll have company soon.”</p> + +<p>A little later Tom was thrust into a small shanty. +He recognized the place as one that had been used +for a soda water and candy booth at the picnic +grounds, but which shack had not been opened this +season yet, though others near it were in use. +There was nothing doing at the grounds on this +night and the resort was deserted.</p> + +<p>“Lock the door,” exclaimed some one as Tom +was thrust inside. “Then a few of us will have to +stand guard and the others can go back and help +bring up the rest.”</p> + +<p>Tom staggered against some tables and chairs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +in the dark interior of the shack. He managed to +find a place to sit down.</p> + +<p>“We’re a bright lot of lads,” thought the scrub +pitcher, “to be taken in after this fashion. We +should have stuck together and then we could have +fought off the sophs. But it’s too late now. I +wonder if Sid was caught?”</p> + +<p>He listened and could hear the retreating steps +of his captors. That all had not gone and that +some were left on guard was indicated by the low +talk that went on outside and by the tramping +about the shack of several lads.</p> + +<p>“Can he get out?” Tom heard some one ask.</p> + +<p>“No. The place is nailed up tight.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe I can’t and maybe I can,” mused Tom. +“Anyhow I’m going to have a look. Wait until I +strike a match.”</p> + +<p>Holding his hat as a protection, so that no +gleams would penetrate possible cracks in the door, +Tom struck a light and examined the walls of his +prison. The shack consisted of only one room and +was cluttered up with chairs, tables, benches, counters +and other things. Tom at once eliminated +from his plan of escape the front, as there he knew +the sophomores would remain on guard. He must +try either the sides or the back. The sides, he saw, +were out of the question, as they contained only +small windows, hardly big enough for him to get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +through. In addition the casements were closed +by heavy wooden shutters, nailed fast.</p> + +<p>“No use trying them,” thought Tom. “The +back is the only place.”</p> + +<p>This he examined with care, and to his delight +he saw what he thought would enable him to get +out. This was an opening near the top, and it was +closed by a thin wooden shutter swinging on a +hinge.</p> + +<p>“It’s nailed fast,” Tom remarked when, by dint +of lighting many matches inside his hat, he had examined +the shutter. “But I can reach it by standing +on two chairs, and if I can get it open, I can +crawl out and drop to the ground. But how am I +going to pull out those big nails?”</p> + +<p>Indeed it did seem impossible, but Tom was ingenious. +His fingers, when he had thrust his +hands into his pockets, had touched his keen-bladed +knife, the one that had gotten him into trouble +about the wire and which had been returned to him +by the proctor.</p> + +<p>“I can cut away the wood around the nails,” he +thought, and at once he put his plan into operation. +He managed to get two chairs, one on top of the +other, and mounting upon this perch, he attacked +the shutter. Fortunately the wood was soft, and +working in the darkness by means of feeling with +his fingers around the nails, Tom soon had one +spike cut free of the shutter. Then he began on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +others, and in half an hour he could raise the solid +piece of wood. A breath of the fresh night air +came to him.</p> + +<p>“No glass in it,” he exclaimed softly. “That’s +good. Now to get away and show up at the dinner. +I hope they didn’t get any other fellows. +They haven’t brought any more here, that’s sure.”</p> + +<p>He listened at the door a moment.</p> + +<p>“I wish some of our fellows would come back,” +he heard one of the guards saying.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s lonesome here. I wonder if Parsons +is still there?”</p> + +<p>“Sure he is. How could he get away?”</p> + +<p>“That’s so. He couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a bit,” whispered Tom.</p> + +<p>He again mounted the chairs, and pulling himself +up by the edge of the opening, after fastening +up the shutter, he prepared to crawl through and +drop down outside.</p> + +<p>“I hope it isn’t much of a fall and that the +ground is soft,” he murmured.</p> + +<p>Just then he heard a commotion in front of the +shack.</p> + +<p>“They’re bringing up some more of our class,” +he reasoned. “Maybe I can help ’em. Had I better +stay in?” He was undecided, and he remained +on the edge of the window, partly inside and partly +outside the shanty. He heard the door open, and +looking back in the semi-darkness, saw that a struggle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +was going on. He guessed that the sophomores +were trying to thrust inside one or more +freshmen. Then another shout told Tom that his +escape was discovered.</p> + +<p>“I’ll drop down outside,” he decided, “and see +what I can do toward a rescue.”</p> + +<p>He looked down. In the gloom below the high +window was a figure.</p> + +<p>“Look out, soph, I’m going to drop on you!” +cried Tom warningly. He heard a half-smothered +exclamation and then he let go, prepared to defend +himself against recapture.</p> + +<p>The fall was longer than he anticipated, for +there was a depression at the back of the cabin. +He toppled in a heap, and before he could +straighten up, he saw some one rushing toward him. +Then around the corner of a shack came two figures, +one carrying a lantern.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” they cried together.</p> + +<p>Tom was aware that the dark figure which he +had seen underneath the window was jumping toward +him. The light of the lantern shone full on +Tom’s face. He was in the act of struggling to +his feet when he felt some one kick him in the side, +and as the toe of a heavy shoe came against his +right elbow with crushing force the pain made Tom +cry out.</p> + +<p>The lantern swung in a circle and by the light<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +of it Tom, glancing up, saw Langridge standing +over him. It was he who had administered the +kick. Then the light appeared to fade away, and +Tom felt a strangely dizzy feeling. He seemed to +be sinking into a bottomless pit.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</a></h2> + +<h3>ANTICIPATIONS</h3> + + +<p>Tom became dimly aware that he was climbing +up from some great depth. It was hard work, and +he felt as if he was lifting the whole world on his +shoulders. No, it was all on one arm—his right—and +the pain of it made him wince.</p> + +<p>Then he realized that some one was calling him, +shaking him, and he felt as if he had tumbled, +head first, into some snow drift.</p> + +<p>“Wake up, Tom! Are you all right, old man? +What happened? Here, swallow some more +water.”</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes. He saw in the darkness +some one bending over him.</p> + +<p>“What’s the—where am——” he began, and +he was again seized with a feeling of weakness.</p> + +<p>“You’re all right, old chap,” he heard some one +saying. “You had a bad fall, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Phil!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s me, Clinton. They tried to put me +in there, but I fought ’em, and then there came a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +yell for help for the sophs who were bringing up a +lot of our fellows, and the ones who had me and +those on guard cut for it. I guess our lads got +away. I heard a row back here and came to see +what it was. Are you all right now? Can you +walk? If you can, we’ll go on to the dinner. +We’ve beaten out the sophs. Can you manage?”</p> + +<p>“I—I guess so,” replied Tom, who was feeling +stronger every moment. If only that terrible pain +in his arm would cease. “Where’s Langridge?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“Langridge? He isn’t around. I haven’t seen +him to-night at all,” answered Clinton. “Feeling +better?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’m all right. Only my arm.”</p> + +<p>“Is it broken?”</p> + +<p>“No, only bruised. Some one kicked—I guess I +must have fallen on it,” Tom corrected himself +quickly. His mind was in a tumult over what had +happened. He had seen Langridge plainly in the +light of a lantern carried by one of the sophomores, +and he felt that Langridge must have seen him, +for the gleam struck full on his face. Yet why had +the ’varsity pitcher attacked Tom? Could he have +mistaken him for a sophomore? Tom hardly +thought so, yet the kick had been a savage one. +His arm was swelling from it.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure they didn’t catch Langridge?” +asked Tom as he stumbled on beside Phil.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Sure. He said he wasn’t going to the dinner at +all. Had a date in town with some girl, I believe.” +Tom winced, not altogether with pain. “Why are +you so anxious about Langridge?” went on Phil.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, only—only I thought I saw him +around the shack.”</p> + +<p>“Must have been mistaken. You and I were the +only ones they managed to get this far, and they +wouldn’t have had me, only about a dozen of them +tackled me at once.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what they did to me,” admitted Tom.</p> + +<p>“Our fellows made a mistake,” declared Phil. +“We should have been more foxy. However, I +think we all got away. The last bunch the sophs +tackled were too much for them, and they had to +call for help. That’s why those at the shack left +it. But come on, we’ll get to Haddonfield. It +isn’t very late.”</p> + +<p>Tom did not feel much like going to a dinner, +but he repressed his disinclination and bit his lips +to keep back little exclamations of pain.</p> + +<p>Phil and Tom, eluding the sophomores who +prowled about in scattered parties, found most of +their chums gathered in the hall where the spread +was arranged. They were greeted with cheers on +their entrance and made to tell their adventures, +but Tom did not mention Langridge. He explained +his injured arm by saying he had twisted it +in his fall.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Hope it doesn’t knock you out from pitching, +old man,” spoke Sid sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“It would if I had a chance to pitch,” responded +Tom, “but, as it is, I guess it isn’t going to make +much difference.”</p> + +<p>Several other freshmen who had been caught by +the sophomores, but who managed to escape, came +straggling in, filled with excitement, and the dinner +was soon under way, with many a toast imbibed in +cider, ginger ale or water, to the confusion of the +sophomores and the success of the freshmen.</p> + +<p>“We fooled ’em good and proper!” cried Sid, +who had been elected toastmaster. “We put ’em to +rout, and now let us eat, drink and make a big +noise!”</p> + +<p>Which they proceeded to do, undisturbed by any +further attack of their traditional enemies.</p> + +<p>Tom’s arm pained him so before the dinner was +over that he whispered to Phil that he was going +to leave. The big center fielder agreed to accompany +Tom back to college, and without saying anything +to the others to break up the fun, they slipped +quietly away. Dr. Marshall, of the faculty, who +was a physician as well as an instructor in physics +and chemistry, looked critically at Tom’s arm when +Phil insisted that his chum get medical aid.</p> + +<p>“You say you got that in a fall?” asked Dr. +Marshall, examining Tom’s elbow, which was red +and much swollen.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> + +<p>“In a sort of a fall—yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Humph! It was a queer fall that caused that,” +said the physician. “More like a blow or a kick, I +should say. You haven’t been trying to ride a +horse, have you?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ha—hum!” ejaculated the doctor, but he +asked no more questions, for he had been a college +lad in his day and he knew the ethics of such matters. +“You can’t play ball for a couple of weeks,” +he went on, “and you’ll have to carry that arm in a +sling part of the time.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t I pitch on the scrub?” asked Tom in dismay.</p> + +<p>“Not unless you want to have an operation +later,” replied Dr. Marshall grimly.</p> + +<p>Tom sighed, but said no more.</p> + +<p>Healthy blood in healthy bodies has a marvelous +way of recuperating one from injuries, and in a +little over a week Tom’s arm was so much improved +that the doctor allowed him to dispense +with the sling. In the middle of the second week +Tom started in on light practice at pitching, his +place meanwhile on the scrub having been filled by +another player.</p> + +<p>“Now go slow, young man,” advised Dr. Marshall +as Tom one day sought and obtained permission +to take part in a game against the ’varsity +nine. “You’re only human, you know, but”—he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +added to himself as Tom hurried away—“you’re +like a young colt. A fine physique! I wish I were +young again,” and the good doctor sighed for the +lost days of his youth.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile Tom had said nothing to +Langridge. He reasoned it all out—that the ’varsity +pitcher might have been captured as he was, +and, in breaking loose, he might have mistaken +Tom for one of the sophomores. Nor did Tom +communicate in any way his suspicions to his chums. +He knew if he began asking questions intended to +disclose whether or not Langridge had been among +those captured some one would want to know his +object.</p> + +<p>“I might be mistaken,” thought Tom, and he +honestly hoped that he was. “Anyhow, my arm is +better, and I can pitch—at least on the scrub.”</p> + +<p>The game between the first and second teams +that day was a “hot” one. Langridge seemed to +have recovered mastery of himself and he pitched +surprisingly well. Tom, because of his hurt, was +not at his best. The ’varsity lads were joyful when +they beat the scrub by a big score.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, if we do as well as that Saturday +against Boxer Hall,” said Kindlings Woodhouse, +“we’ll be all to the pepper hash, poetically speaking.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to do a great deal better than this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +against Boxer,” declared Coach Lighton with a +shake of his head.</p> + +<p>“Why?” asked Langridge.</p> + +<p>“Because much depends on this game. I don’t +know whether you boys have figured it out, but we +have a mighty slim chance for the pennant this +year.”</p> + +<p>“Have we any?” asked Sid.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied the coach, “and it’s just this. If +we win the game against Boxer——”</p> + +<p>“Which we will,” declared Langridge confidently.</p> + +<p>“If we do,” went on Mr. Lighton, “and also +win the one the following Saturday from Fairview, +we will capture the pennant by a narrow margin.”</p> + +<p>“Hurrah!” cried Kindlings.</p> + +<p>“Not so fast,” admonished Mr. Lighton. “You +boys will have to play ball as you never played it +before and against rather heavy odds.”</p> + +<p>“How’s that?” inquired Sid.</p> + +<p>“Well, both games are away from your own +grounds. You are to play Boxer Hall on their diamond +and the Fairview game takes place over at +the co-ed institution. That means that they’ll +have a big crowd of rooters out, and you know +what an incentive that is.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll take a lot too!” cried Holly Cross.</p> + +<p>“Sure, we’ll organize a cheering club,” added +Bricktop Molloy.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And bring megaphones,” declared Jerry Jackson.</p> + +<p>“And phonographs,” echoed his twin brother.</p> + +<p>“Win the games, that’s what you want to do!” +said Mr. Lighton. “Win the games! Play ball! +Bat your best, you hard hitters. You that aren’t +so sure, practice. Fielders, get on to every fly as if +you had glue on your gloves. Kerr, play close up +to the bat. Henderson, you want to practice jumping +for high ones, for they do come high when the +boys get excited. Langridge——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, what about me?” drawled the pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Pitch your very best,” said Mr. Lighton, and +there was a different meaning in his admonition +than before. “Now don’t let any chance go by +without practice,” he added as he turned toward +the other members of the nine. “We’ve got our +work cut out for us. I want to see Randall win the +pennant.”</p> + +<p>“So do we!” shouted the others in a chorus as +the coach left them.</p> + +<p>And the days that followed were filled with anxiety +and anticipation for the members of the nine +and those substitutes who hoped for a chance to +play. As for Tom Parsons, he felt that if he could +pitch in one of the games he would ask for nothing +more. But he had small hopes.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</a></h2> + +<h3>A GREAT GAME</h3> + + +<p>Sid Henderson fairly burst into the room +where Tom Parsons was studying. The first baseman +strode over to the window, looked out as +though he was glaring at some attacking force and +then throwing himself into a chair, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“It’s rotten, that’s what it is!”</p> + +<p>“What?” asked Tom, looking up from his book. +“Has Pitchfork been at you again about the +Latin?”</p> + +<p>“No, this is worse. I don’t see how we’re going +to win the game to-morrow. And if we lose!”</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Tom, for he +had seldom seen his chum so excited.</p> + +<p>“Matter enough. Langridge is pitching fierce +ball. We just had some light work and arranged +a code of signals for him and Kerr. Why, you’d +think our pitcher didn’t have to practice! He +seemed to think that all he had to do was to stand +up in front of the Boxer players and they’d strike +out just to please him. It makes me sick! But +that’s not the worst of it.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, what is?” asked Tom, smiling at Sid’s +vehemence. “Might as well get it out of your system +and you’ll feel better.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you know what it is as well as I do,” went +on Sid. “There’s no use trying to ignore it any +longer. I’ve tried to fight shy of it and so have +some of the other fellows, but what’s the use? It’s +enough to make a fellow disgusted so he’ll never +play on the nine again.”</p> + +<p>“You mean——” began Tom.</p> + +<p>“I mean that Langridge isn’t playing fair. He +doesn’t train. He’s been drinking and smoking on +the sly and staying up nights gambling. There’s +no use mincing words now. I caught him drinking +in his dressing-room to-day, and he was in a blue +funk for fear I’d tell. Said he had a weak heart +and the doctor had told him to take it. Weak +heart! Rats! He drinks because he likes it. I +tell you if we don’t look out, we’ll be the laughing +stock of the Tonoka Lake League. Langridge can +put himself on edge with a drink of that vile stuff +and do good work for one or two innings, maybe. +Then he’ll go all to pieces and where will we be? +I know. We’ll be tailenders, and it will be his +fault. It’s a shame! Some one ought to tell +Lighton.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you?” asked Tom quietly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you know I can’t. No one could go peach +like that.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I know. I asked you about it once when I discovered +what ailed Langridge. You remember +what you said?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and I almost wish I’d told you to go and +tell. The team would be better off now, even if it +was against tradition and ethics and all that rot. +It makes me sick! Here we are to go up against +a hard proposition to-morrow and every other fellow +on the team is as fit as a fiddle except Langridge. +He seems to think it’s a joke.”</p> + +<p>“What do the other fellows say?”</p> + +<p>“Well, they don’t know as much about him as +you and I do. But they are grumbling because +Langridge doesn’t put enough ginger into his +work.”</p> + +<p>“What about Mr. Lighton?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Sometimes I think he suspects +and then again I’m not sure. If he really knew +what Langridge was doing, I don’t believe he’d let +him pitch. But you know Langridge has plenty of +money and he hasn’t any one like a father or +mother to keep tabs on him, so he does as he +pleases. He’s practically supported the team this +year, for we haven’t made much money. I suppose +that’s why Kindlings stands for him as he does. +Maybe that’s why Mr. Lighton doesn’t send him +to the bench. Langridge’s money will do a great +deal.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I shouldn’t like to think that because of it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +he is kept on the team when there’s a chance of our +losing the pennant.”</p> + +<p>“Neither would I. Maybe I’m wrong about the +coach, but what’s the use of saying anything? +Langridge will pitch for us against Boxer Hall, and—no, +I’ll not say what I was going to. I believe if +we lose that game there’ll be such a howl that he +won’t dare pitch against Fairview. That will give +you a chance, Tom, for the last game of the +season.”</p> + +<p>“What about Evert?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s practically out of it. He hasn’t had +any practice to speak of and wouldn’t last two minutes. +You’re in good trim. You did some great +work on the scrub yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but it’s not likely to amount to anything. +However, I’m going along and root for you to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we’ll need all the support we can get. I +declare I’m as nervous as a girl, and I’ve got to +buckle down and prepare for a Latin exam, too.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you let it go?”</p> + +<p>“No, it’s too risky. I’m only on the team now +by the epidermis of my molars, as the poet says. If +I flunk in Latin it will mean that I can’t play +against Fairview.”</p> + +<p>“Then don’t flunk, for the team needs you.”</p> + +<p>“It needs more than me, but I’m going to try +and forget it now and bone away.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tom hoped to have the pleasure of taking Miss +Tyler to the game with Boxer Hall, which was to +take place on the grounds of that institution, but +the girl sent back a regretful little note, saying she +had arranged to go with Langridge or, at least, he +was to bring her home.</p> + +<p>“Hang it!” exclaimed Tom. “I thought she +was done with him.”</p> + +<p>And, somehow, there was a rather bitter feeling +in his heart as he prepared to accompany the other +fellows to the great game that Saturday afternoon. +He almost made up his mind that he would not +bother to speak to Miss Tyler again and then he +thought such a course would be silly and he tried to +be more philosophical about it, though it was difficult.</p> + +<p>Never had there been such a crowd out to witness +a game on the Boxer diamond. The grandstand +was packed long before the teams trotted out for +practice and the bleachers were overflowing. A +fringe of spectators packed the side lines, and what +with the yelling and cheering of the rival factions, +the waving of the colors, the tooting of the auto +horns in the throng of machines that had brought +parties to the contest, there was an air of excitement +that might have excused even more veteran +players from getting nervous, for the game meant +much to both colleges. If Boxer won, it would +have a chance to play Fairview for the championship,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +but if Randall won the privilege would fall to +that college. And that both teams had determined +to win goes without saying.</p> + +<p>Almost at the last minute Coach Lighton had +told Tom to get ready to go as a substitute, and it +was in his field uniform then instead of his ordinary +clothes that Tom went to the game. But he +had slender hopes of pitching, for Langridge +seemed in unusually fine form and that morning +at Randall had done some good work. But the +orders of the coach could not be disobeyed. So +Tom took his place on the bench with the other +Randall lads, and, after some practice on the field, +his eyes roved over the grandstand in search of a +certain face. He fancied he saw where Miss Tyler +sat, but he could not be sure.</p> + +<p>“Langridge will probably go home with her,” +thought Tom. “He didn’t bring her here, for he +came in with us.”</p> + +<p>He had little more time for thought, however, +as the umpire was getting the new ball from the +foil cover and was about to call the game.</p> + +<p>Boxer had won the toss and elected to bat last, +so it was the turn of the visitors to get up first and +show what they could do. Langridge was greeted +with a cheer from a crowd in the Randall section +of the grandstand as he went to the bat. He was +popular with the large mass of students in spite of +his ways. He seemed in good form and there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +a confident air about him as he swung his willow +stock to and fro.</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” called the umpire.</p> + +<p>Dave Ogden, with a calculating glance at the +batsman, tied himself into rather a complicated +knot and threw the horsehide. It was right over +the plate and Langridge struck viciously at it, but +made a clean miss. There was a groan from the +Randall supporters and the team looked glum. +Langridge, however, was not disconcerted. He +was as confident as ever. Once more the ball was +hurled toward him. He stepped right up to it, for +he knew a pitcher’s tricks and there was a resonant +crack that made the hearts of his chums leap. He +had lined out a “beaut.”</p> + +<p>“Go on! go on! go on!” yelled Coach Lighton. +“Leg it, Langridge, leg it!”</p> + +<p>Langridge was running low and well. The +Boxer right fielder had muffed the ball, but made +a quick recovery and threw to first. It seemed that +Langridge was safe, but the umpire, who had run +down toward the bag, called him out.</p> + +<p>A groan went up from the Randall sympathizers +and the team joined in.</p> + +<p>“That’ll do!” cried Captain Woodhouse sharply +to his men. “Don’t dispute any decisions. Leave +that to me. We’ll accept it. You’re up, Kerr.”</p> + +<p>Kerr was a notoriously good hitter and Ogden +gave him his walking papers. Sid Henderson was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +next at the bat and he knocked a little pop fly, +which the second baseman neatly caught, and Sid, +shaking his head over his hard luck, went to the +bench.</p> + +<p>Captain Woodhouse himself was next to try, and +there was a grim look on his face as he went into +the box. It was justified, for he made a safe hit +and went to second on a swift grounder that Dutch +Housenlager knocked, the ball rolling between the +shortstop’s fingers. The Randalls would have +scored if Bricktop Molloy had hit harder or higher, +but the shortstop made as pretty a catch as was seen +on the grounds that day, leaping high for the ball, +and with Bricktop out it was all over, and a goose +egg went up on the scoreboard as the result of the +first half of the initial inning.</p> + +<p>“Now, Langridge, don’t let them get any hits +off you,” implored Kindlings as he and his men +went to the field.</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” promised the pitcher easily.</p> + +<p>His first ball was wild and there was an anxious +feeling in the hearts of his chums. But he steadied +almost at once and his next two deliveries were +called strikes.</p> + +<p>“Here’s where you fan!” he called to Pinky +Davenport, who was up.</p> + +<p>“Do I? Watch me,” replied Pinky, but he +only hit the wind.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That’s the way to do it!” called a shrill voice +from the grandstand. “Fine, Langridge!”</p> + +<p>“All right, don’t tell us what your uncle said,” +retorted the pitcher. “Keep that back, Fenton,” +for it was the boy with the ever-present relative +who had yelled, and there was laughter at the +pitcher’s jibe.</p> + +<p>Langridge had never done better work than in +that first inning when, after passing the hardest +hitter of the Boxers to first purposely, in order to +make sure of one of their weakest stick-wielders, +the Randall twirler struck him neatly out, and the +rivals of Randall were rewarded with a neat little +white circle.</p> + +<p>In the next inning Jerry Jackson was first up and +he ingloriously fanned, but Phil Clinton earned +fame for himself in the annals of his <i>alma mater</i> +by bringing in a home run—the only one of the +game. Langridge kept up his phenomenal work +and another pale zero went up for Boxer, while +Randall had a single mark that loomed big before +the eyes of the cheering throng.</p> + +<p>But the hopes of those who wanted to see Randall +win suffered a severe setback, for in the next +two innings they could not score, while in each +frame for the Boxers there were two runs chalked.</p> + +<p>“Four to one,” remarked Tom to Phil Clinton. +“They’re crawling up. I wonder if we have any +show?”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>“The game is young yet,” answered Phil. “I +think we will do them.”</p> + +<p>Randall got one run in the fifth and Langridge +was the lucky player who brought it in. He showed +his elation.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ve got ’em on the run!” he cried, and +then he went into the dressing-room. There was a +queer look on Tom’s face as his eyes sought those +of Sid, and the latter shook his head. Coach +Lighton, too, seemed anxious. He watched for +the reappearance of Langridge, but his attention +was occupied for a moment when Woodhouse +knocked a neat fly. The captain was steaming +away for first, but the ball was also on its way +there and both arrived about the same time.</p> + +<p>“Out!” cried the umpire, and a dispute at once +arose. The Randalls had to give in, though it was +manifestly unfair. When Langridge came out of +the dressing-room there was a noticeable change in +his manner. His breath smelled of cloves, and +Sid, who noticed it, made a despairing gesture. A +little later Housenlager hit the breeze strongly +and went out, the score at the ending of the fifth +inning being 4 to 2 in favor of the Boxer team.</p> + +<p>“Now, Langridge,” said the coach earnestly, “it +depends on you. If you can hold them down, we +are pretty sure of winning, even if we have to go +ten innings, for some of our batters have Ogden’s +measure.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I’ll do it!” cried Langridge. “You watch +me!”</p> + +<p>But he failed miserably. He did manage to +strike out two men, for there was snap and vicious +vim in the way he delivered the balls, but suddenly, +when the influence of the stimulant he had taken +wore off, he went to pieces and the Boxers piled in +five runs before they were stopped by a remarkable +brace in the Randall fielding contingent.</p> + +<p>There was a steely look in the eyes of Coach +Lighton as the Randalls came in for their turn to +bat in the sixth inning.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do better next time,” promised Langridge, +but he spoke rather languidly.</p> + +<p>“No, you’ll not!” exclaimed the coach.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” and the pitcher seemed suddenly +awakened.</p> + +<p>“Because you’re not going to pitch next inning!”</p> + +<p>“I’m not?”</p> + +<p>“No, you’re not.”</p> + +<p>“I guess I’m manager of this team.”</p> + +<p>“And I’m the coach. I say you shan’t pitch any +more in this game, or, if you do, I’ll resign here and +now. Captain Woodhouse, are you with me in +this?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, can’t you take a rest for a couple of +innings, Fred, and pitch the last one?” asked the +captain, adding: “if the Boxers will allow us to +suspend the rules for you.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> + +<p>“If I pitch at all, I’ll pitch the whole game!” +cried Langridge fiercely.</p> + +<p>“If you do I resign,” was the decision of Mr. +Lighton.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s up to you,” said Woodhouse with a +shrug of his shoulders, as if ridding himself of the +burden. “Whatever you say goes.”</p> + +<p>“All right, then I say Langridge goes to the +bench. He’s not fit to pitch and he knows it.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with me?” demanded the +youth haughtily.</p> + +<p>“Do you want me to tell?” asked Mr. Lighton +quickly, with a sharp look.</p> + +<p>Langridge, without a word, walked into the +dressing-rooms.</p> + +<p>“Parsons will pitch the remainder of the game,” +went on the coach to the Randall players and he +made the necessary announcement to the game officials. +“Tom,” he called, “come on; you’re up in +place of Langridge.”</p> + +<p>Tom Parsons’ heart gave a great throb. At last +he had the chance for which he had waited so long. +He was to pitch in a big game!</p> + +<p>Tom was a good batter. He was also acquainted +with many pitchers’ tricks, for Mr. Lighton had +given him good instruction. Tom was ready for +whatever came. The first ball Ogden delivered +was an incurve. Tom instinctively stepped back to +avoid it, but it went neatly over the plate and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +strike was called on him. He shut his teeth hard. +He reasoned that Ogden would expect him to be on +the lookout the second time for an outcurve, for +it might naturally be supposed that the pitcher +would vary his delivery.</p> + +<p>“But he thinks I’m looking for an out,” thought +Tom. “Therefore he’ll give me another in. I’ll +be ready for it.”</p> + +<p>He was. He stepped right into the next ball, +which was an incurve, and with a mighty sweep +sent it sailing far over the right fielder’s head. It +was good for three bases and Tom took them.</p> + +<p>“Go on! Keep running! That’s a beaut! Take +another! Make it a homer!” yelled the crowd, +which was on its feet shouting like mad, waving +hats, hands, handkerchiefs and college colors.</p> + +<p>“Stay there!” cautioned Coach Lighton, for the +ball was being relayed home.</p> + +<p>Tom’s sensational hit seemed to put new life into +the team and Bricktop Molloy also brought in a +run. That, however, ended the good work.</p> + +<p>Then came Tom’s turn in the box. That he was +a little nervous was natural, but he kept control of +himself and only allowed one hit, though it was +good eventually for a run. There was a noticeable +stiffening in the work of the team and the coach +congratulated Tom as he came in with his chums +to take their turn at the bat again.</p> + +<p>The seventh inning saw four runs safely laid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +away for Randall, while the marker put up a neat +little ring in the square for Boxer, for Tom struck +out two of the three men who were up, one going +out on a pop fly, the pitcher having misjudged his +batter. Neither side scored in the eighth, and +when Randall got three runs in the ninth, and, in +spite of strenuous work on the part of Tom, the +Boxers got one run that same inning, the score +was tied—11 to 11.</p> + +<p>“Ten innings! They’ve got to play ten innings!” +went the cry around the field. Then came +more cheers. It was a game of games and it +began to look as if the hoodoo against Randall was +broken and that the college had a chance for the +pennant.</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for Tom Parsons!” yelled Ford +Fenton, and what a shout there was!</p> + +<p>“What would your uncle think of him?” asked +a student.</p> + +<p>“He’d say he was all right!” rejoined Ford +good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>Randall got one run in the tenth, putting them +ahead, and then came a supreme struggle for Tom. +Coolly and calculatingly he delivered the balls. +He struck out the first man, who viciously threw +down his bat so hard that it splintered. The second +man also went the same way, and there was a +salvo of cheers that shook the stands, while the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +stamping of feet of the anxious ones threatened to +bring down the structures.</p> + +<p>Tom measured his next man and sent in a neat +little drop. But the batter was a veteran and got +under it in time. He sent it well out into the field.</p> + +<p>“Take it, Jerry! Take it!” cried the coach, for +the horsehide seemed about to fall into the right +fielder’s hands. But he muffed it, and what a +howl there was! George Stoddard, who had +knocked it, kept on to second, for which he had to +slide, but he was called safe. Then Tom was +obliged to pass the next man to first, for he was an +excellent hitter, while the one who followed him +was not. But just then one of those “accidents” +that are always cropping up in sport happened and +the poor hitter made good, knocking a curious little +twisting fly that the first baseman misjudged, and +the run came in, again tieing the score. But no +more Boxer players crossed home plate.</p> + +<p>It was with a “do or die” expression on all the +faces of the Randalls that they came to bat in the +eleventh inning. The story of that game is college +history now, and how Tom brought in a run +after a magnificent hit that would have been a +“homer” but for the fleetness of the opposing +center fielder’s feet is told to many a freshman. +They could do no more, though, after getting one +ahead.</p> + +<p>It needed but a single run on the part of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +Boxers to tie the score and two to win. But Tom +resolved that they should not get even that one +tally. He went to his box, his teeth clenched, making +his jaw look firm and square. He resolved to +try a new sort of twisting curve that he had used +several times against the ’varsity. Each time it +had proved deceptive. He worked it on the first +man and sent him ingloriously to the bench. Then +the second batter fell for it, but Tom dared not +try it on the third. He felt himself getting nervous, +and his next delivery was a bit wild. A ball +was called on him, but that was all. The next +three deliveries were strikes, and <a href="#image04">the batter</a>, though +he fanned desperately at them, <a href="#image04">missed each time</a>.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 378px;"> +<a name="image04" id="image04"><img src="images/image04.jpg" width="378" height="600" alt="THE BATTER MISSED EACH TIME" title="THE BATTER MISSED EACH TIME" /></a><br /> +<span class="caption"><a href="#Page_270">THE BATTER MISSED EACH TIME</a></span> +</div> + +<p>“That settles it!” cried Phil Clinton as Tom, +with a wildly throbbing heart, walked out of the +box, while a hush fell over the assemblage, for the +crowd could hardly realize that the game was +over and that Randall had won by a score of 13 +to 12.</p> + +<p>“Good work, Parsons! Oh, pretty work!” +yelled a host of supporters, and then such cheering +as there was!</p> + +<p>“Come, fellows, a cheer for Boxer Hall!” cried +Captain Woodhouse, and it was given, followed by +the college yell.</p> + +<p>Boxer generously retaliated, and as the teams +ran for the dressing-rooms Langridge, pale and +with trembling hands, stepped out. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +dressed in his street garments, and without a word +to his chums, he started across the diamond for +the grandstand.</p> + +<p>“He’s going over to her,” thought Tom, and +the joy of the victory he had helped to win was +embittered for him.</p> + +<p>“Parsons, you did splendidly!” cried Mr. Lighton. +“I congratulate you with all my heart. If it +hadn’t been for you, we’d have lost the game.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know about that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we would. You’re the regular pitcher on +this team for the remainder of the season, subject, +of course, to the confirmation of Captain Woodhouse.”</p> + +<p>“Whatever you say,” assented Kindlings, but +he looked a bit uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>“There are only two more games,” went on the +coach, “one out of town next Saturday, and then +comes the final struggle with Fairview. If we win +that, we’ll have the pennant.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ll win!” cried Holly Cross. “Look +who’s going to pitch for us.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about that,” replied Tom with a +laugh, but he was silenced with cheers.</p> + +<p>“Well, I want you to win that game,” concluded +the coach as he walked off the diamond and the +team got ready to go back to Randall.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</a></h2> + +<h3>LANGRIDGE APPEALS</h3> + + +<p>While the stage coach in which the players had +come from Randall was being gotten ready to take +the victorious nine back Tom strolled across the +diamond toward the grandstand. He wanted to +be alone for a moment and think, for he had many +ideas in his mind, and they were not all connected +with his recent work in the pitcher’s box. A certain +bright-eyed girl figured largely in them.</p> + +<p>“I thought she’d given him up,” he said to himself. +“Well, of course, it’s none of my affair, +but——”</p> + +<p>There generally was a “but,” Tom felt. The +crowd was nearly gone and he was about to turn +back and join his chums.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he became aware of a girlish figure +alone in the big stand. He looked to make sure +who it was, for at the first glimpse he had felt that +it was she of whom he was thinking. As he did so +the girl looked at him. It was Miss Tyler, and +Tom noticed that there were tears in her eyes. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +saw nothing of Langridge as he hastened toward +her.</p> + +<p>“Why, Madge—Miss Tyler!” he exclaimed, +“what is the matter? Have you lost anything? +Are you alone? I thought Fred Langridge was +going——”</p> + +<p>She stamped her little foot.</p> + +<p>“Please don’t speak his name to me!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Tom opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Why—why——” he stammered.</p> + +<p>“He came over to me in—in no proper condition +to escort me home,” she went on tearfully. +“Oh, Tom, I’m—I’m so miserable!”</p> + +<p>She acted as though she were going to break +down and cry in real earnest, and Tom was on the +anxious edge, for he hated to see girls weep. But +she mastered herself with an effort.</p> + +<p>“May I take you back to Haddonfield?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, and she came down from the +upper part of the stand to join him. They walked +off the field, both silent for a time, and Tom was +wondering what would be the safest subject to talk +about. But Miss Tyler spoke first.</p> + +<p>“You did fine work,” she said. “I’m—I’m glad +you got the chance to pitch.”</p> + +<p>“So am I,” declared Tom, “but I’m sorry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +for——” He did not know whether or not to +mention his rival’s name. But she understood.</p> + +<p>“So am I—I’m very sorry for him. It’s all his +horrid money that’s doing it. He wants to be +what the boys call a ‘sport.’ But he isn’t. He’s +unfair to himself—to me. But I’m done with him! +I shall never speak to him again.”</p> + +<p>Tom was both glad and sorry.</p> + +<p>“Do you think you will win from Fairview?” +asked the girl after a pause.</p> + +<p>“I think so.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you do. I want to see that game, but I +don’t——”</p> + +<p>“Won’t you let me take you?” asked Tom +quickly. “We are going in a number of autos and +there’ll be lots of room.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I didn’t mean to hint so broadly,” she exclaimed, +and her face crimsoned.</p> + +<p>“I was going to ask you, anyhow,” declared +Tom. “Will you go?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she replied softly.</p> + +<p>“And help me to pitch to win,” added Tom, and +he tried to look into her face, but she averted her +eyes.</p> + +<p>There was great celebrating in Randall that +night. Some of the boys wanted to light historic +bonfires along the river, which blazes were always +kindled on great occasions, but Mr. Lighton reminded +the lads that they had still to win the contest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +with Fairview before they would be champions, +and he urged that the game was no easy one. So +milder forms of making glad were substituted. +Tom was the hero of the hour, and he felt that +there had been made up to him everything that he +had suffered in being kept so long on the scrub.</p> + +<p>It was dark in the apartments of Langridge. +No one had seen him since the game and few cared +about him.</p> + +<p>“He got just what was coming to him,” declared +Sid vindictively. “He’d have thrown the game for +a drink of liquor and a cigarette. Pah! I’ve no +use for such a chap.”</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe he didn’t mean to do it,” replied +Tom, who could afford to be generous. “He may +have taken some to steady his nerves and it went +to his head.”</p> + +<p>“Rats! It ought to have gone to his pitching +arm. But I’ve got to bone away. Exams are getting +nearer and nearer every day, and the closer +they come the less I seem to know about Latin. +From now on I’m going to think, eat, sleep and +dream in Latin.”</p> + +<p>The following Saturday the team went to the +Indian school at Carlisle and played a game with +the red men. It was a hard-fought battle and the +aborigines made the mistake of putting in a lot of +substitutes for the first few innings, for they had a +poor opinion of Randall. But the visitors rolled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +up a good score and Tom was a whirlwind at pitching, +holding the red men down to a low score. +Then the Indians awakened and sent in some of +their best players, but the Randalls had the game +“in the refrigerator,” as Holly Cross said, and took +it home with them, despite the war cries of the +redskins and their efforts to annex the scalp-locks +of the palefaces.</p> + +<p>The winning of this game against what was +generally considered to be a much stronger team +than that of Randall did much to infuse an aggressive +spirit into the latter players. The trip, +too, acted as a sort of tonic.</p> + +<p>“Boys, I think we’re fit to make the fight of our +lives a week from to-day,” declared Captain Woodhouse +as he and the team were on their way back +to college. “We’ll wipe the diamond up with +Fairview and then maybe that banner won’t look +fine at the top of our flagstaff.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what!” cried Phil Clinton. “I’m ready +to play ’em now.”</p> + +<p>“Same here!” cried Pete Backus, giving a great +jump up into the air, seemingly to justify his title +of “Grasshopper.”</p> + +<p>“My uncle says——” began Ford Fenton, but +Holly Cross gave such an imitation of an Indian +war whoop that what the former coach had said +was lost “in the shuffle.”</p> + +<p>“Great work, old man!” cried Phil Clinton to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +Tom as he linked his arm in that of the new ’varsity +pitcher.</p> + +<p>“That was a fine catch of yours, to return the +compliment,” said Tom with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Don’t go forming a mutual admiration society,” +advised Mr. Lighton. “Play ball—that’s +the thing to do.”</p> + +<p>“It’s queer what’s become of Langridge,” remarked +Tom to Sid when they were in their room +a few nights later, talking over the approaching +final game with Fairview. “He seems to have +dropped out of sight.”</p> + +<p>“That’s where he’d better stay,” declared Sid. +“He’ll never be any more account to the team. +We’ll have a new manager when we whip Fairview.”</p> + +<p>“If we only do!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we will. I only hope I can play.”</p> + +<p>“Why, is there any chance that you won’t?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m pretty shaky in Latin, and Pitchfork +has warned me that if I slump, it’s me to the +bench for the rest of this term. I’m going over +and see Bricktop Molloy. He’s a fiend at Latin. +Rather study it than eat. He’s been coaching me +lately, and I want to get the benefit of it. So I’ll +just go and bone with him a bit.”</p> + +<p>“Go ahead, old man. Wish I could help you, +but I’ve got to look after my own rations. I’m +none too safe.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sid went out and Tom was left alone with his +books. But somehow he could not study. He +took no sense of the printed page. There was an +uneasiness in his mind and he could not put his +thoughts into form.</p> + +<p>“Hang it all!” he exclaimed. “I guess I’m thinking +too much of baseball.”</p> + +<p>He got up to take a turn in the corridors to +change the current of his thoughts when there came +a knock at the door.</p> + +<p>“Come!” he cried, thinking it would prove to +be some of his chums. The portal slowly swung +and Tom, looking at the widening crack, saw the +pale face of Langridge.</p> + +<p>“May I come in?” asked the former pitcher, and +his voice trembled.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” answered Tom heartily. “Where +have you been keeping yourself?”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t much matter. I—I’ve come to ask +a favor of you, Parsons.”</p> + +<p>“A favor of me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and it’s a mighty big one.”</p> + +<p>There was a dogged, determined air about him +as he stood there facing his rival who had supplanted +him, and Tom wondered what was coming +next.</p> + +<p>“Why, I’ll do anything I can for you, Langridge, +of course.”</p> + +<p>“Wait until you hear what I want. There’s no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +use beating about the bush, Parsons. I’ve been +mighty mean to you. I’ve played a low-down +hand against you, but I’m not going to apologize—not +now. I thought it was fair—in war, you +know. I didn’t want you to pitch in my place, but +you’ve done me out of it.”</p> + +<p>“I think I acted square,” said Tom quietly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you did. You were white. I wasn’t. I +didn’t play fair about that wire nor yet about +sneaking in the dormitory that night. You did. +I suppose you know—about the night you were +captured—the night of the freshman dinner.”</p> + +<p>“I think you knew it was I before you——” +began Tom.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I knew it was you before I kicked you,” +went on Langridge, and he spoke as if he was getting +through a disagreeable confession. “I—I +didn’t mean to boot you so hard, though. I +thought maybe you’d give up pitching if you got a +good crack on the arm, but you didn’t.”</p> + +<p>“No, I’m not that kind.”</p> + +<p>“So I see. Well, you’ve got what you wanted +and I got what I never expected. Now I want you +to do me a favor.”</p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>“I want you to refuse to pitch in the Fairview +game.”</p> + +<p>Tom wondered whether he had heard aright.</p> + +<p>“You want me to refuse——” he began.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That’s it,” went on Langridge eagerly. “Tell +Kindlings—tell Lighton you can’t pitch—that your +arm has given out.”</p> + +<p>“But it hasn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind. Tell them. Tell them anything, +as long as you don’t pitch.”</p> + +<p>“And why don’t you want me to pitch? Do you +want to see your college lose? Not because I’m +the best pitcher that ever happened, but you know +there’s no one else they can put in at this late day.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there is.”</p> + +<p>“Who?”</p> + +<p>“Me! I’ll pitch. I want to pitch. I’ve just +got to. You don’t know what it means to me. Let +me pitch this last game. Please, Parsons! It +won’t mean much to you and it means everything +to me. I can do it. See, I—I haven’t touched a +drop since—since the Boxer game. I’ve been getting +in shape. I’m as steady as a rock. I can pitch +the game of my life. Come, do! Say you won’t +pitch. They’ll give me a chance then. I want to +get in the last game—and win. Will you? Will +you let me get in this last game in your place?”</p> + +<p>He was leaning forward, his hands held out to +Tom, his rival, begging a boon of him.</p> + +<p>“Will you resign in my favor?” he asked. “I +know it’s a big request, but will you, Parsons?”</p> + +<p>Tom did not know what to answer.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</a></h2> + +<h3>THE FINAL CONTEST</h3> + + +<p>Langridge stood before his rival, waiting. It +was quiet in the little room, so quiet that the ticking +of the alarm clock sounded loud. Outside +could be heard the tramp of feet in the corridor, +students going to and fro. Langridge glanced +nervously at the door. He was plainly afraid lest +some one should enter and find him there.</p> + +<p>It was a hard problem for Tom to solve. The +appeal of the lad who had done much to injure him +moved him strongly. He knew what it would +mean to Langridge not to pitch—that he would be +out of athletics for the rest of his college course. +If Tom gave way in his favor, it would mean his +rehabilitation and for Tom only a temporary loss +of prestige.</p> + +<p>“Will you do it?” asked Langridge softly.</p> + +<p>Tom did not answer. He paced up and down +the room. What ought he to say? He felt that he +could afford to sacrifice his own interests—could +even forego the high honor of pitching in what +was the greatest game of the college year—for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +sake of Langridge. If he did not and if Langridge +went away disheartened, it might mean that +he would plunge deeper into dissipation. Then +there came to Tom the thought of the nine. Was +it fair to the others, to the college?</p> + +<p>Something told him it was not, that it was his +duty to pitch—to do his best—to win for the sake +of the college and the nine. Langridge might possibly +do it, but it was doubtful. The former +pitcher could not be sure of himself, sure that he +had mastered his desire for stimulant. Then Tom +decided, not on his own account but for the sake of +the team and the college.</p> + +<p>“I can’t do it, Langridge,” he replied, and his +voice showed the anguish he felt at the pain he inflicted.</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll pitch?” asked his rival.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I feel that I must. The team depends +on me, and—and I can’t go back on them.”</p> + +<p>Langridge must have seen that Tom’s answer +was final, for without a word he turned and left +the room.</p> + +<p>Then Tom felt a wave of remorse sweep over +him. After all, had he done right? Had he done +the best thing? He was almost on the point of +rushing after Langridge and telling him he could +pitch in the final game, for the memory of his +face haunted Tom. But when his hand was on +the knob of the door Sid entered.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Tom’s chum, looking +curiously at him.</p> + +<p>“Nothing. Why?”</p> + +<p>“You look as if you had been seeing ghosts.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I have—a sort of one,” answered Tom +with an uneasy laugh. “How’d you make out with +the Latin?”</p> + +<p>“Pretty punk, I guess. Bricktop says I’ve got to +put in all my spare time boning. If I slump and +can’t play that last game, I’ll—I’ll——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you dare slump!” cried Tom earnestly. +“We can’t put a new man on first at this late day. +Don’t you dare slump, Sid.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll try not to,” and Sid dumped himself +down in the easy chair and with an air of dogged +determination began devouring Latin verbs.</p> + +<p>The ’varsity had had its final practice against +the scrub, with Tom in the box for the first team. +He was beginning to take it as a matter of course +and acquiring that which he needed most—confidence +in himself. The scrub pitcher who had replaced +him was good, but he was pretty well batted, +while very few hits, and these only one-baggers, +were secured off Tom.</p> + +<p>“Boys,” said Mr. Lighton two days before the +game, “I think I can see our way clear to the +Tonoka Lake League pennant. Now take it easy +to-morrow, a little light exercise, be careful of +what you eat, don’t get nervous, go to bed early<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +and sleep well. Then Saturday afternoon we’ll go +to Fairview and bring back the banner.”</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for our coach!” called Kerr, and +Mr. Lighton, veteran that he was, blushed with +pleasure.</p> + +<p>“I hope we win,” remarked Ford Fenton as the +team walked to the dressing-rooms. “My uncle +says——”</p> + +<p>But Kerr threw his big catching mitt with such +good aim that it struck Fenton full in the face.</p> + +<p>“Here—huh! ho! What’d you do that for?” +he demanded.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t want you to wear out that uncle of +yours,” was the cool answer. “It’s getting warm +weather now and you’d better can him so he’ll keep +until next year.”</p> + +<p>Ford scowled and then laughed, for he was +good-natured in spite of his one failing.</p> + +<p>Sid entered the room where Tom was late that +afternoon with a worried look on his face.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Tom in alarm.</p> + +<p>“Pitchfork has decided to have a special Latin +exam to-morrow for my class. Wow! I was +counting on it going over, but it won’t, and I’ve +got to take it to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“No, not well—bad. If I slump, do you know +what it means?”</p> + +<p>“You can’t play against Fairview?”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Exactly. Oh, Tom, I’m as nervous as a girl +before her first big party. Here, coach me a bit,” +and Tom, taking the books, gave Sid what help he +could until they were both so tired and sleepy that +Tom insisted that bed was the only place for them.</p> + +<p>The news spread the next day. Sid was the only +member of the team who was in the special Latin +class, and consequently the only one who had to +go through the ordeal. When he went into recitation +his mates on the team gathered in silent conclave +on the diamond.</p> + +<p>“If Sid slumps,” spoke Captain Woodhouse, “I +don’t——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk about it,” pleaded Bricktop Molloy.</p> + +<p>“If he does, couldn’t we play Langridge on +first?” suggested Phil Clinton. “He used to practice +there.”</p> + +<p>“Langridge is down and out,” declared Kerr. +“I don’t know what’s come over him. He won’t +speak to me any more. I guess he knows he’s got +to do a lot of studying to pass, and he must be +tutoring with some grind. He keeps himself +mighty scarce. I don’t believe he’d play.”</p> + +<p>“No, we couldn’t use him,” said Kindlings. “It +all depends on Sid. I wish the exam was over. +It’s like waiting for a jury to come in.”</p> + +<p>The whole team was on tenterhooks. No one +felt like talking, and some one would start a topic +only to witness it die a natural death. The members<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +of the nine paced to and fro on the diamond. +They were waiting for news from Sid. If he did +not pass he could not play, and it practically meant +a lowering of their chances for the pennant.</p> + +<p>An hour went by. A few lads began coming +from the recitation room where the examination +was being held.</p> + +<p>“Some of them have finished,” commented Tom. +“Let’s ask ’em how Sid’s making out.”</p> + +<p>One of the Latin students strolled over toward +where the ball players were.</p> + +<p>“How’s Henderson doing?” asked Kindlings.</p> + +<p>“Sweating like a cart horse,” was the characteristic +answer. “It’s a stiff exam all right.”</p> + +<p>There was a groan in concert and the anxious +waiting was resumed. Fifteen minutes passed. +Several more students had come from the room.</p> + +<p>“Where can he be?” murmured Tom.</p> + +<p>“There he comes!” cried Phil Clinton as Sid +appeared, coming slowly toward the group.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bet he failed,” said Kindlings solemnly. +Certainly in Sid’s approach there was not the air +of a conqueror.</p> + +<p>All at once he stopped, bent down to the ground +and appeared to be tearing something to pieces.</p> + +<p>“What’s he doing?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“Let’s go see,” proposed Kerr.</p> + +<p>They advanced and beheld a curious sight. Sid +was tearing up a book and making a little heap of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +the leaves. A moment later he touched a match to +the pile, and the paper began to burn.</p> + +<p>“What in the world are you doing?” called Tom.</p> + +<p>“Did you pass?” fairly roared Kindlings.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” replied Sid as calmly as if he had always +expected to. “I passed with honors, and now I’m +destroying the evidence. I’m applying the torch +to Cæsar’s Commentaries and I’ll never open a +book like it again in my life. Come on, fellows, +join the festive throng. Tra la la! Merrily do +we sing.”</p> + +<p>He began prancing about and the others, with +yells of joy, joined in. Sid would cover first base +for them in the big game.</p> + +<p>With a tooting of auto horns, the waving of +many flags, shouts, cheers, yells of encouragement, +laughter from many pretty girls, the waving of +handkerchiefs, renditions of the college yell the +ball nine and its supporters started the next day in +a long cavalcade for Fairview.</p> + +<p>Several automobiles had been provided for the +use of the team, and in one of these rode Tom and +Miss Tyler, whom he had called for at her home +that morning. A number of ladies went along as +chaperones for the girls of Haddonfield.</p> + +<p>Dr. Churchill and most of the faculty also went +to the game.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you coming, Professor Tines?” asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +the head of the college as he and the other instructors +were about to start.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t care much for baseball. I shall +remain here and arrange for another Latin examination +for some of the students.”</p> + +<p>Sid groaned and his chums laughed, whereat +Professor Tines frowned.</p> + +<p>“Do you think you’ll win?” asked Miss Tyler +as she sat next to Tom.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure of it,” he answered promptly.</p> + +<p>When the Randall team and its supporters arrived +they found a big throng present to greet +them. Even their opponents sent out a ringing +cheer of welcome. The Fairview nine was out on +the diamond practicing.</p> + +<p>“Snappy work,” observed Tom critically as the +batting and catching was under way.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we can do just as good,” asserted Kindlings. +“Don’t get nervous now. You’ve got to +pitch your head off.”</p> + +<p>Some one started the Randall college song, “<i>Aut +vincere aut mori</i>,” and as the beautiful strains +floated over the diamond when the players poured +out from the dressing-rooms the team came to a +sudden halt.</p> + +<p>“That’s it, fellows,” said Kindlings solemnly, +“‘Either we conquer or we die!’ Play for all that’s +in you and then some more,” and he laughed.</p> + +<p>Auto horns tooted blatantly, girls cried in their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +clear, shrill voices, the lady contingent of Fairview +rendering some weird yells. Then there were the +hoarse voices of the boys, to which answered the +cheers of Randall. The grandstand and bleachers +were waving geometrical figures of brilliant hues. +It was an inspiring sight. No wonder that the +players felt nerved to do their best, for on the result +of the game depended much.</p> + +<p>Kindlings missed the call when the coin was +spun, and he and his men had to start the hitting. +But they did not mind this, and when, in the revised +batting order, Kerr went up first, he “poked +his stick into the horsehide for a two-bagger,” as +Holly Cross said. There was a yell that could +have been heard a mile and every Randall lad was +on his feet shouting:</p> + +<p>“Go on! go on! go on!”</p> + +<p>But Kerr stopped at second prudently, for he +would have been nabbed at third. This opened the +game and the play at once became hot. Randall +scored two runs that inning and Tom, giving walking +papers to a particularly heavy hitter, managed +to come out of the initial ordeal without a hit +being registered against him.</p> + +<p>The Randall boys went wild then and began the +song, “When Fairview awoke from her sweet +dream of peace,” which was repeated again and +again.</p> + +<p>But the next three innings saw only the negative<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +sign chalked up in the frame on the scoreboard +given over to Randall, while in the last half +of the fourth Fairview secured a run, for one of +the players “got the Indian sign” on Tom, to quote +Holly Cross, who was an expert in diamond slang, +and “bit his initials in the spheroid for a three-bagger.” +The run would not have been scored, +for there were two men out, only Joe Jackson made +what seemed to be an inexcusable fumble, and the +runner came in. Still it looked safe for Randall +until the fatal seventh inning.</p> + +<p>For some teams this is held to be a lucky one, +but it was not for Randall. Tom was doing his +best, but in delivering one ball he gave his arm a +peculiar wrench, and a sharp twinge of pain in the +region where Langridge had kicked him made him +wince. After that he could not control his curves +so well, and three men made safeties off him, a +trio of runs being registered. The score was 4 to +2 in favor of Fairview at the close of the seventh. +Kindlings looked grave and Coach Lighton paced +nervously to and fro.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter, old man?” the captain +asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“Nothing much,” was the answer. “I gave my +arm a little twist, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Come inside and we’ll massage it,” proposed +Mr. Lighton, who was always ready for emergencies, +and he and Kindlings rubbed some liniment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +on Tom’s joint. It felt a little better, and Tom +said so, though when he went into the box, following +an inning when Bricktop Molloy brought in +one run, the pitcher was in considerable misery. +He shut his teeth grimly, however, and resolved to +do his best, though to deliver his most effective +curves meant to give himself much pain.</p> + +<p>Tom only allowed two hits and one run came +in, making the score at the ending of the eighth +inning 5 to 3 in favor of Fairview.</p> + +<p>How the co-eds shouted and cheered then and +there was corresponding gloom among the Randallites +until once more that grand old song, “<i>Aut +vincere aut mori</i>,” welled forth and gave confidence +to an almost despairing nine.</p> + +<p>“It’s about our last chance, fellows,” said Kindlings +grimly as he walked to the bat.</p> + +<p>He waited for a good ball, though two strikes +were called on him, and then, with a mighty sweep +of his strong arms, he sent the sphere away out into +the field.</p> + +<p>“A good hit! Oh, a pretty hit!” yelled Phil +Clinton. “Run, old man! Run!”</p> + +<p>And how Kindlings could run! On and on he +leaped, around first base, speeding toward second, +while the stands were in a frenzy of excitement.</p> + +<p>“Third! third!” cried the coach, for the left +fielder was still after the ball.</p> + +<p>Kindlings was running strong, and he had now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +started home. Would he reach it? The fielder +had the ball now. With a terrific heave he sent +it to the third baseman, but Kindlings was half way +home. Then ensued a curious scene. The baseman +was afraid to throw the ball to the catcher, +for Kindlings, who was tall and was running upright, +was in the way. The baseman started to +trail the captain down. There was a race. Kindlings +looked back and decided to keep on to +home. The catcher was leaping about excitedly.</p> + +<p>“Throw the ball! throw the ball!” he yelled. +But the baseman thought he could outrun Kindlings. +He almost succeeded and then, when he +saw it was too late, he tossed the ball over the +captain’s head to the catcher. Kindlings dropped +and, amid a cloud of dust, slid home.</p> + +<p>Like a flash the hand of the catcher holding the +ball shot toward him. There was a moment of +suspense.</p> + +<p>“Safe!” howled the umpire, and one more run +went to the credit of Randall.</p> + +<p>Tom brought in another not so sensational, but +it counted. He knocked a pretty fly, which sailed +over the second baseman’s head and the pitcher +got to first, stole second and came in with a rush +on a swift grounder bunt that Phil Clinton sacrificed +on under orders.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII</a></h2> + +<h3>VICTORY</h3> + + +<p>“The score is tie! the score is tie!” came the +yells. And so it was—5 to 5 in the last half of +the ninth inning. From the Randall stand came +the chorus of the song, “We have their measure, +we’ll beat them at pleasure!”</p> + +<p>The game, however, was far from won. There +were a bunch of heavy hitters to come to the bat, +and Tom’s arm was in poor shape. But he said +nothing and walked to the box with a step as light +as though he knew he was to win.</p> + +<p>When he gave two men their bases on balls there +was some groaning among the Randallites, but +Tom knew what he was doing. Lem Sellig and +Frank Sullivan were generally good for safeties, +and he could afford to take no chances. He had +the measure of the next three men and he took it.</p> + +<p>Seldom had the devotees of the diamond witnessed +such pitching as the exhibition which Tom +gave after he had allowed the heavy hitters to +walk. No one ever knew what he suffered as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +delivered his most effective curves, but the cheering +that resulted when he had struck his third man +out, without allowing a player to get to third base, +must have warmed his heart.</p> + +<p>“A ten-inning game!” was the cry, for the score +still stood tie. Over in the grandstand Ford Fenton, +who was cheer leader, called for the “Brace, +brace, brace” song and it came in a mighty chorus.</p> + +<p>“Only one run! only one!” pleaded hundreds of +Randall lads. “One run to beat ’em, and then +Tom Parsons will strike ’em out!”</p> + +<p>Tom heard it and smiled. His arm had been +given another rubbing, and though it pained him, +he went to the bat first in the tenth inning with a +confident step. Somewhere on the grandstand he +knew a girl was watching him, and he tried to single +her out. Could that be she standing up and +waving a yellow and maroon flag at him? He +hoped so, and he gritted his teeth, resolving to hit +the ball for all that was in him.</p> + +<p>There was a steely look in the pitcher’s eye as he +delivered a vicious ball to Tom. Tom saw it coming +and stepped up to it. He remembered a former +experience. His bat got under it and he lifted +and hit it outwardly in a long, upward curve.</p> + +<p>“Too high! too high! He’s gone!” murmured +Kindlings sadly, but Tom was off for first like a +deer. In some unaccountable manner the right +fielder muffed the ball and there were groans of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +anguish. Tom started for second, but was warned +back. Later he did manage to “purloin the bag +like a second-story man getting away with a diamond +necklace,” to quote Holly Cross, and went to +third on a pop fly by Housenlager, who never got +to first. Then, on a sacrifice hit by Kerr, Tom slid +home, the dust cloud being so thick that the spectators +could not witness the play.</p> + +<p>“Safe!” declared the umpire, and this meant +that a run had been added to the score for Randall, +making the tally 6 to 5 in their favor. Tom was +pale when he arose.</p> + +<p>“Hurt?” asked Kindlings anxiously.</p> + +<p>“No,” was the answer, but Tom had to bite his +lips to keep back a groan of pain. He had jarred +his sore arm badly.</p> + +<p>Though Randall tried desperately to better the +score, it was not to be. Their only hope now lay +in keeping their opponents from making a run, and, +if they did, they would have the game and the +championship.</p> + +<p>Tom felt as if he would collapse, and his first +ball, instead of being a puzzling drop as he intended, +went straight over the plate distressingly +slow, so that Ted Puder, captain of the Fairview +team, hit it mightily. Up and up it went, a black +speck against the blue sky, while the youths and +maidens of the institute were yelling encouragingly +to the runner, who had started for first.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, if he only gets it! If he only can get it!” +murmured Kindlings as he watched Phil Clinton +race after the ball.</p> + +<p>It was a long, high fly, and Phil had to sprint +well toward the back field to even get under it. He +had turned and was racing with all his might. +Would he judge it properly? Could he hold it +after he got it?</p> + +<p>He had turned again, and with his eye on the +ball was running backward now. He stumbled +over a stone and seemed about to fall. There was +a groan from the Randallites, but Phil recovered +himself. The ball was almost over his head when +he saw that he had not gone far enough back. It +was too late to take another step, but Phil did the +next best thing. He leaped up, and, with his right +hand extended as far as it would stretch, he caught +the ball. It was a mighty fine play and the yells +and applause that followed testified to it.</p> + +<p>“Runner’s out!” decided the umpire.</p> + +<p>Tom breathed easier. His heart had been in +his throat when he saw what had happened to the +first ball he delivered. But Phil had made good.</p> + +<p>“What a magnificent catch!” exclaimed Dr. +Churchill as he adjusted his glasses, that had been +knocked off in the excitement.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” admitted another member of the faculty +who sat near him. “And how Clinton can run! +I’d like to see him on the gridiron.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Perhaps you will,” went on Dr. Churchill. +“The boys will soon organize the eleven.”</p> + +<p>Tom’s nerve came back to him. Now he didn’t +mind the pain in his arm. There was one man out +and Tom’s team was a run ahead. If he could +only strike out two more men the championship +would be safe.</p> + +<p>The next batter was easy, for he was a poor hitter, +and Tom soon sent him to the bench. The +following player was one of the best stick-wielders +Fairview had.</p> + +<p>“If I can only get him,” thought the pitcher.</p> + +<p>Warily Tom delivered to him an inshoot. It +was missed cleanly, but a look in the batter’s eye +warned the pitcher that another such curve would +not fool him. Tom sent in a puzzling drop and +the batter struck over it.</p> + +<p>“Two strikes!” called the umpire, amid almost +breathless silence.</p> + +<p>Kerr signaled for another incurve, but Tom +shook his head. He was going to deliver a style +of ball he had used but once before that day because +it twisted his arm fiercely. It was a sort of +“fade-away” ball, made famous by a great professional +player.</p> + +<p>Tom drew his arm back, having gripped the ball +strongly. The action made him wince with pain, +but there was no time now to stop for that. Out +straightened his muscles and the horsehide left his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +hand swiftly. He knew it was a good ball, but in +spite of that he almost feared lest he should hear +the fatal “ping” as the bat hit it or listen to the +umpire’s “ball one.” Tom felt that he could not +toss another curve. His arm was numb and tingled +away up to his shoulder. He saw a black wall +looming up before his eyes and there was a ringing +in his ears.</p> + +<p>But above the tumult he heard a voice shouting:</p> + +<p>“Three strikes! Batter’s out!”</p> + +<p>Oh, what yelling there was! How the handkerchiefs +and banners fluttered! How the girls’ +shrill voices mingled with the deep cheering of the +boys! What a stamping of feet on the grandstand!</p> + +<p>Then out from the tumult came booming that +heart-stirring song of Randall: “We have come +and we have conquered!”</p> + +<p>Tom staggered as he pulled off his glove and +walked toward the bench. His mouth was parched +and dry.</p> + +<p>“Oh, good old man!” yelled Kindlings, rushing +up and embracing him. “Oh, fine! Oh, great! +Oh, oh, oh! Wow!”</p> + +<p>“Up with him, fellows!” called Sid Henderson. +“On our shoulders!”</p> + +<p>“No, no!” protested Tom.</p> + +<p>But he might as well have talked to the wind. +They lifted him up and marched with him around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +the field, singing again: “We have come and we +have conquered!”</p> + +<p>“Now, fellows, a good round of cheers for Fairview,” +proposed Kindlings, and the team, gathering +in a circle about Tom, who had managed to +descend to the ground, raised their voices in a +tribute to those over whom they had been victorious.</p> + +<p>From where they were gathered, downcast but +not disheartened at their defeat, the Fairview team +sent back an answering cheer. Then came more +songs from the contingent of Randall students, and +many an “old grad” walked with a prouder step +that day, for once more, after many seasons, the +bird of victory had come back to hover over the +college on the river and the championship banner +would float from the flagstaff on the campus.</p> + +<p>Tom and his chums dispersed to dress. A crowd +surrounded the victorious pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Let me congratulate you, Parsons,” said Dr. +Churchill, making his way through the throng. +“You have brought honor to the college,” and he +shook Tom’s hand heartily.</p> + +<p>“The rest of them did as much as I,” replied +Tom modestly. “If it hadn’t been for Clinton’s +run, I’m afraid we’d have lost after all.”</p> + +<p>“You get out!” cried Phil.</p> + +<p>“May I also congratulate you?” asked a voice +at Tom’s elbow, and he turned to see Miss Tyler.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +His face, which was pale from pain, flushed, and +as she held out her hand he hesitated, for his was +all stained from the dirt of the ball, while hers was +daintily gloved.</p> + +<p>“As if I minded that!” she cried as she saw him +hesitate, and she took his hand in both hers, to the +no small damage of the new gloves.</p> + +<p>“I knew you’d do it,” she said, while she smiled +happily. “Oh, Tom, I’m so glad!”</p> + +<p>“So am I,” he answered, and after that the pain +in his arm did not seem so bad.</p> + +<p>What a triumphant procession it was that +wended its way toward Randall that afternoon! +How song followed song and cheer was piled upon +cheer! Tom sat in the corner of a big auto, with +Miss Tyler at his side. He had to put his arm in +a sling and he was overwhelmed with questions as +to how he felt, while the number of sweaters offered +him as cushions would have stocked a furnishing +store.</p> + +<p>“Oh, boy, but you’re a daisy!” exclaimed Sid a +few hours later when he and Tom, after a good +bath, were resting in their room.</p> + +<p>“As if you didn’t cover first base as it never has +been covered before,” declared Tom.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, that was easy for me after I passed +that Latin exam. But you and your arm—I don’t +see how you did it.”</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And don’t forget Phil Clinton. That was one +of the greatest runs and catches I ever saw.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, it certainly was great. But did you +hear the news? Phil isn’t going to play any more, +at least for the present.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“He is going into training for our football +eleven this fall. Some of the older heads think +he’ll make a great player.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve no doubt he will,” said Tom. “He’s built +for it.” And what Tom said was true, as we shall +learn in our next tale, to be called “A Quarter-back’s +Pluck.” In that story we shall meet Tom +and Sid and all the boys of Randall College again +and also Miss Madge Tyler, and learn the particulars +of several fiercely contested games on the gridiron.</p> + +<p>“No, sir, I don’t really see how you did it,” repeated +Sid, “with such a sore arm as that.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see, either,” answered Tom, but he knew +that the memory of a certain girl had done as much +to keep him up as had his desire to make his team +win.</p> + +<p>Some one knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>“More congratulatory calls,” said Sid as he went +to open it.</p> + +<p>“May I come in?” asked a voice, and Langridge +stood in the corridor. Tom arose from the couch +where he was lying.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Come on in,” he said quietly.</p> + +<p>“I—I just want to congratulate you, dominie,” +he said, and he smiled a little, but there was a curious +note in his voice. “You did magnificent work. +I could never have equaled it in a thousand years. +Will you shake hands?”</p> + +<p>Sid wondered at the queer air of restraint about +Langridge, but Tom understood, and there was +heartiness and forgiveness in the grip that followed.</p> + +<p>“I’ve resigned as manager,” went on Langridge. +“I—I hope they’ll elect you, dominie. We won’t +be rivals any more.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going to leave college?” asked Sid +curiously.</p> + +<p>“No. I’m going to give up athletics for a while, +though, and become a grind. I’ve been beaten two +ways lately,” he went on. “Parsons is a better +pitcher than I am, and—and——” but he did not +finish, though Tom knew he referred to Miss +Tyler. Then Langridge went out and Sid and +Tom played the game all over again in talk.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a shout out on the campus. +Tom looked from the window.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” asked Sid.</p> + +<p>“They’re getting ready for the procession and +the bonfires along the river. Come on.”</p> + +<p>The two chums rushed downstairs, Phil Clinton<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> +joining them on the way. Out on the green +was a throng of students, every one in the college.</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for Tom Parsons, the best pitcher +that ever tossed a ball!” called some one.</p> + +<p>How the yells resounded again and again, with +innumerable tigers and other wild and ferocious +beasts added!</p> + +<p>“Fall in! fall in! Down to the fires along the +river!” commanded Captain Woodhouse. “Oh, +but this is a great day!”</p> + +<p>“That’s what,” added Ford Fenton. “My +uncle says——”</p> + +<p>But his voice was drowned in the shout that followed, +and then came that inspiring song, “<i>Aut +vincere aut mori</i>.”</p> + +<p>And many fires of victory blazed along Sunny +River that night.</p> + + +<p class="p4 noic">THE END</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By LESTER CHADWICK</p> + +<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in Colors.</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Price 75 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image05.jpg" width="150" height="209" alt="The College Sports Series" title="The College Sports Series" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2"><i>Mr. Chadwick has played on the diamond +and on the gridiron himself.</i></p> + + +<ol> +<li>THE RIVAL PITCHERS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Baseball</i></span> + +<p>Tom Parsons, a “hayseed,” makes good on +the scrub team of Randall College.</p></li> + + +<li>A QUARTERBACK’S PLUCK<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Football</i></span> + +<p>A football story, told in Mr. Chadwick’s best style, that is bound +to grip the reader from the start.</p></li> + + +<li>BATTING TO WIN<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Baseball</i></span> + +<p>Tom Parsons and his friends Phil and Sid are the leading players +on Randall College team. There is a great game.</p></li> + + +<li>THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Football</i></span> + +<p>After having to reorganize their team at the last moment, Randall +makes a touchdown that won a big game.</p></li> + + +<li>FOR THE HONOR OF RANDALL<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Athletics</i></span> + +<p>The winning of the hurdle race and long-distance run is extremely +exciting.</p></li> + + +<li>THE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>A Story of College Water Sports</i></span> + +<p>Tom, Phil and Sid prove as good at aquatic sports as they are +on track, gridiron and diamond.</p></li> +</ol> + +<p class="noic"><i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</i></p> + +<p class="noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE JACK RANGER SERIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By CLARENCE YOUNG</p> + +<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in Colors</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Price 75 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional</i></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image06.jpg" width="150" height="216" alt="The Jack Ranger Series" title="The Jack Ranger Series" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2"><i>Lively stories of outdoor sports and adventure +every boy will want to read.</i></p> + + +<ol> +<li>JACK RANGER’S SCHOOL DAYS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Rivals of Washington Hall</i></span> + +<p>You will love Jack Ranger—you simply can’t +help it. He is bright and cheery, and earnest +in all he does.</p></li> + + +<li>JACK RANGER’S WESTERN TRIP<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or From Boarding School to Ranch and Range</i></span> + +<p>This volume takes the hero to the great West. Jack is anxious +to clear up the mystery surrounding his father’s disappearance.</p></li> + + +<li>JACK RANGER’S SCHOOL VICTORIES<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Track, Gridiron and Diamond</i></span> + +<p>Jack gets back to Washington Hall and goes in for all sorts of +school games. There are numerous contests on the athletic field.</p></li> + + +<li>JACK RANGER’S OCEAN CRUISE<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Wreck of the Polly Ann</i></span> + +<p>How Jack was carried off to sea against his will makes a “yarn” +no boy will want to miss.</p></li> + + +<li>JACK RANGER’S GUN CLUB<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail</i></span> + +<p>Jack organizes a gun club and with his chums goes in quest of +big game. They have many adventures in the mountains.</p></li> + + +<li>JACK RANGER’S TREASURE BOX<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Outing of the Schoolboy Yachtsmen</i></span> + +<p>Jack receives a box from his father and it is stolen. How he +regains it makes an absorbing tale.</p></li> +</ol> + +<p class="noic"><i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</i></p> + +<p class="noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor"><span class="smcap">By ROY ROCKWOOD</span></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in Colors</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid</i></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image07.jpg" width="150" height="209" alt="The Great Marvel Series" title="The Great Marvel Series" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2"><i>Stories of adventures in strange places, with +peculiar people and queer animals.</i></p> + + +<ol> +<li>THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH +POLE<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Wonderful Cruise of the Electric Monarch</i></span> + +<p>The tale of a trip to the frozen North with +a degree of reality that is most convincing.</p></li> + + +<li>UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Strange Cruise of the Submarine Wonder</i></span> + +<p>A marvelous trip from Maine to the South Pole, telling of adventures +with the sea-monsters and savages.</p></li> + + +<li>FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Mystery of the Center of the Earth</i></span> + +<p>A cruise to the center of the earth through an immense hole +found at an island in the ocean.</p></li> + + +<li>THROUGH SPACE TO MARS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Most Wonderful Trip on Record</i></span> + +<p>This book tells how the journey was made in a strange craft and +what happened on Mars.</p></li> + + +<li>LOST ON THE MOON<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or In Quest of the Field of Diamonds</i></span> + +<p>Strange adventures on the planet which is found to be a land of +desolation and silence.</p></li> + + +<li>ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Captives of the Great Earthquake</i></span> + +<p>After a tremendous convulsion of nature the adventurers find +themselves captives on a vast “island in the air.”</p></li> + + +<li>THE CITY BEYOND THE CLOUDS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Captured by the Red Dwarfs</i></span> + +<p>The City Beyond the Clouds is a weird place, full of surprises, and +the impish Red Dwarfs caused no end of trouble. There is a fierce +battle in the woods and in the midst of this a volcanic eruption sends +the Americans sailing away in a feverish endeavor to save their lives.</p></li> +</ol> + +<p class="noic"><i>Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i></p> + +<p class="noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle"><i>The Boy Hunters Series</i></p> + +<p class="noi adauthor"><i>By Captain Ralph Bonehill</i></p> + +<p class="noic">12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid.</p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image08.jpg" width="150" height="199" alt="The Boy Hunters Series" title="The Boy Hunters Series" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2 noic">FOUR BOY HUNTERS<br /> +<i>Or, The Outing of the Gun Club</i></p> + +<p class="cap">A fine, breezy story of the woods and +waters, of adventures in search of +game, and of great times around the campfire, +told in Captain Bonehill’s best style. +In the book are given full directions for +camping out.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic">GUNS AND SNOWSHOES<br /> +<i>Or, The Winter Outing of the Young Hunters</i></p> + +<p class="cap">In this volume the young hunters leave home for a winter outing on the +shores of a small lake. They hunt and trap to their heart’s content, +and have adventures in plenty, all calculated to make boys “sit up and +take notice.” A good healthy book; one with the odor of the pine forests +and the glare of the welcome campfire in every chapter.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic">YOUNG HUNTERS OF THE LAKE<br /> +<i>Or, Out with Rod and Gun</i></p> + +<p class="cap">Another tale of woods and waters, with some strong hunting scenes and +a good deal of mystery. The three volumes make a splendid outdoor series.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic">OUT WITH GUN AND CAMERA<br /> +<i>Or, The Boy Hunters in the Mountains</i></p> + +<p class="cap">Takes up the new fad of photographing wild animals as well as +shooting them. An escaped circus chimpanzee and an escaped lion +add to the interest of the narrative.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic">CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE BOB DEXTER SERIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor"><span class="smcap">By WILLARD F. BAKER</span></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in Colors</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</i></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image09.jpg" width="150" height="199" alt="The Bob Dexter Series" title="The Bob Dexter Series" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2"><i>This is a new line of stories for boys, by +the author of the Boy Ranchers series. The +Bob Dexter books are of the character that +may be called detective stories, yet they +are without the objectionable features of the +impossible characters and absurd situations +that mark so many of the books in that class. +These stories deal with the up-to-date adventures +of a normal, healthy lad who has +a great desire to solve mysteries.</i></p> + + +<ol> +<li>BOB DEXTER AND THE CLUB-HOUSE MYSTERY<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Missing Golden Eagle</i></span> + +<p>This story tells how the Boys’ Athletic Club was despoiled of its +trophies in a strange manner, and how, among other things stolen, +was the Golden Eagle mascot. How Bob Dexter turned himself into +an amateur detective and found not only the mascot, but who had +taken it, makes interesting and exciting reading.</p></li> + + +<li>BOB DEXTER AND THE BEACON BEACH MYSTERY<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Wreck of the Sea Hawk</i></span> + +<p>When Bob and his chum went to Beacon Beach for their summer +vacation, they were plunged, almost at once, into a strange series of +events, not the least of which was the sinking of the Sea Hawk. +How some men tried to get the treasure off the sunken vessel, and +how Bob and his chum foiled them, and learned the secret of the +lighthouse, form a great story.</p></li> + + +<li>BOB DEXTER AND THE STORM MOUNTAIN +MYSTERY<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Secret of the Log Cabin</i></span> + +<p>Bob Dexter came upon a man mysteriously injured and befriended +him. This led the young detective into the swirling midst of a series +of strange events and into the companionship of strange persons, not +the least of whom was the man with the wooden leg. But Bob got +the best of this vindictive individual, and solved the mystery of the +log cabin, showing his friends how the secret entrance to the house +was accomplished.</p></li> +</ol> + +<p class="noic"><i>Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i></p> + +<p class="noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, PUBLISHERS New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By <i>Clarence Young</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>12mo. illustrated</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Price per volume, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Postage, extra, 10 cents</i></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image10.jpg" width="150" height="207" alt="The Motor Boys Series" title="The Motor Boys Series" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2"><i>Bright up-to-date stories, full of information +as well as of adventure. Read +the first volume and you will want all +the others written by Mr. Young.</i></p> + +<ol> +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Chums through Thick and Thin</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or A Long Trip for Fun and Fortune</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Secret of the Buried City</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Hermit of Lost Lake</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Cruise of the Dartaway</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Mystery of the Lighthouse</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Lost in a Floating Forest</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Young Derelict Hunters</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or A Trip for Fame and Fortune</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE ROCKIES<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or A Mystery of the Air</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE OCEAN<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or A Marvelous Rescue in Mid-Air</i></span></li> + +<li>THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE WING<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Seeking the Airship Treasure</i></span></li> +</ol> + +<p class="p2 noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By LESTER CHADWICK</p> + +<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Illustrated. Price 50 cents per volume.</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image11.jpg" width="150" height="203" alt="The Baseball Joe Series" title="The Baseball Joe Series" /> +</div> + +<ol> +<li class="p2">BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER +STARS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Rivals of Riverside</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL +NINE<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Pitching for the Blue Banner</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE AT YALE<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Pitching for the College Championship</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL +LEAGUE<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Making Good as a Professional Pitcher</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or A Young Pitcher’s Hardest Struggles</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTS<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Making Good as a Twirler in the Metropolis</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIES<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Pitching for the Championship</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Pitching on a Grand Tour</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE: HOME RUN KING<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE SAVING THE LEAGUE<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Breaking Up a Great Conspiracy</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Bitter Struggles on the Diamond</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE CHAMPION OF THE LEAGUE<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Record that was Worth While</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE CLUB OWNER<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Putting the Home Town on the Map</i></span></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE PITCHING WIZARD<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Triumphs Off and On the Diamond</i></span></li> +</ol> + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</i></p> + +<p class="noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">SEA STORIES FOR BOYS</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor"><span class="smcap">By JOHN GABRIEL ROWE</span></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Colored jacket</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Price per volume, $1.00 Net</i></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image12.jpg" width="150" height="197" alt="Sea Stories for Boys" title="Sea Stories for Boys" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2"><i>Every boy who knows the lure of exploring +and who loves to rig up huts and caves and +tree-houses to fortify himself against imaginary +enemies will enjoy these books, for they +give a vivid chronicle of the doings and +inventions of a group of boys who are shipwrecked +and have to make themselves snug +and safe in tropical islands where the +dangers are too real for play.</i></p> + + +<ol> +<li>CRUSOE ISLAND + +<p>Dick, Alf and Fred find themselves stranded on an unknown island +with the old seaman Josh, their ship destroyed by fire, their friends +lost.</p></li> + + +<li>THE ISLAND TREASURE + +<p>With much ingenuity these boys fit themselves into the wild life +of the island they are cast upon in storm.</p></li> + + +<li>THE MYSTERY OF THE DERELICT + +<p>Their ship and companions perished in tempest at sea, the boys +are adrift in a small open boat when they spy a ship. Such a strange +vessel!—no hand guiding it, no soul on board,—a derelict.</p></li> + + +<li>THE LIGHTSHIP PIRATES + +<p>Modern Pirates, with the ferocity of beasts, attack a lightship +crew;—recounting the adventures that befall the survivors of that +crew,—and—“RETRIBUTION.”</p></li> + + +<li>THE SECRET OF THE GOLDEN IDOL + +<p>Telling of a mutiny, and how two youngsters were unwillingly +involved in one of the weirdest of treasure hunts,—and—“THE +GOLDEN FETISH.”</p></li> +</ol> + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i></p> + +<p class="noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE BOMBA BOOKS</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By ROY ROCKWOOD</p> + +<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With colored jacket.</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Price 50 cents per volume.</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image13.jpg" width="150" height="204" alt="The Bomba Books" title="The Bomba Books" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2"><i>Bomba lived far back in the jungles of the +Amazon with a half-demented naturalist +who told the lad nothing of his past. The +jungle boy was a lover of birds, and hunted +animals with a bow and arrow and his trusty +machete. He had a primitive education in +some things, and his daring adventures will +be followed with breathless interest by thousands.</i></p> + +<ol> +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Old Naturalist’s Secret</i></span></li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE MOVING +MOUNTAIN<br /> <span class="ident"><i>or The Mystery of the Caves of Fire</i></span></li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE GIANT +CATARACT<br /> <span class="ident"><i>or Chief Nasconora and His Captives</i></span></li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON JAGUAR ISLAND<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Adrift on the River of Mystery</i></span></li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE ABANDONED +CITY<br /> <span class="ident"><i>or A Treasure Ten Thousand Years Old</i></span></li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON TERROR TRAIL<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or The Mysterious Men from the Sky</i></span></li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE SWAMP OF +DEATH<br /> <span class="ident"><i>or The Sacred Alligators of Abarago</i></span></li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE SLAVES<br /> +<span class="ident"><i>or Daring Adventures in the Valley of Skulls</i></span></li> +</ol> + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</i></p> + +<p class="noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE BOYS’ OUTING LIBRARY</p> + +<p class="noic"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full color.</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Price, per volume, 50 cents. Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image14.jpg" width="150" height="218" alt="The Saddle Boys Series" title="The Saddle Boys Series" /> +</div> + +<div class="adpage"> +<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE SADDLE BOYS SERIES</b></p> + +<p>By CAPT. JAMES CARSON</p> + +<p class="noi"> +The Saddle Boys of the Rockies<br /> +The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon<br /> +The Saddle Boys on the Plains<br /> +The Saddle Boys at Circle Ranch<br /> +The Saddle Boys on Mexican Trails<br /> +</p> + + +<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES</b></p> + +<p>By ROY ROCKWOOD</p> + +<p class="noi"> +Dave Dashaway the Young Aviator<br /> +Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane<br /> +Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship<br /> +Dave Dashaway Around the World<br /> +Dave Dashaway: Air Champion<br /> +</p> + + +<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES</b></p> + +<p>By ROY ROCKWOOD</p> + +<p class="noi"> +The Speedwell Boys on Motorcycles<br /> +The Speedwell Boys and Their Racing Auto<br /> +The Speedwell Boys and Their Power Launch<br /> +The Speedwell Boys in a Submarine<br /> +The Speedwell Boys and Their Ice Racer<br /> +</p> + + +<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE TOM FAIRFIELD SERIES</b></p> + +<p>By ALLEN CHAPMAN</p> + +<p class="noi"> +Tom Fairfield’s School Days<br /> +Tom Fairfield at Sea<br /> +Tom Fairfield in Camp<br /> +Tom Fairfield’s Pluck and Luck<br /> +Tom Fairfield’s Hunting Trip<br /> +</p> + + +<p class="p2 noi"><b>THE FRED FENTON ATHLETIC SERIES</b></p> + +<p>By ALLEN CHAPMAN</p> + +<p class="noi"> +Fred Fenton the Pitcher<br /> +Fred Fenton in the Line<br /> +Fred Fenton on the Crew<br /> +Fred Fenton on the Track<br /> +Fred Fenton: Marathon Runner<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p class="p2 noic"><i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</i></p> + +<p class="noic">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE WEBSTER SERIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By FRANK V. WEBSTER</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image15.jpg" width="150" height="207" alt="The Webster Series" title="The Webster Series" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2">Mr. Webster’s style is very much like +that of the boys’ favorite author, the late +lamented Horatio Alger, Jr., but his tales are +thoroughly up-to-date.</p> + +<p><i>Cloth. 12mo. Over 200 pages each. Illustrated. +Stamped in various colors.</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Price per volume, 50 cents.</i></p> + +<p class="noic"><i>Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + +<p class="p2 noi adpage"> +Only a Farm Boy<br /> +<i>or Dan Hardy’s Rise in Life</i><br /> +<br /> +The Boy from the Ranch<br /> +<i>or Roy Bradner’s City Experiences</i><br /> +<br /> +The Young Treasure Hunter<br /> +<i>or Fred Stanley’s Trip to Alaska</i><br /> +<br /> +The Boy Pilot of the Lakes<br /> +<i>or Nat Morton’s Perils</i><br /> +<br /> +Tom the Telephone Boy<br /> +<i>or The Mystery of a Message</i><br /> +<br /> +Bob the Castaway<br /> +<i>or The Wreck of the Eagle</i><br /> +<br /> +The Newsboy Partners<br /> +<i>or Who Was Dick Box?</i><br /> +<br /> +Two Boy Gold Miners<br /> +<i>or Lost in the Mountains</i><br /> +<br /> +The Young Firemen of Lakeville<br /> +<i>or Herbert Dare’s Pluck</i><br /> +<br /> +The Boys of Bellwood School<br /> +<i>or Frank Jordan’s Triumph</i><br /> +<br /> +Jack the Runaway<br /> +<i>or On the Road with a Circus</i><br /> +<br /> +Bob Chester’s Grit<br /> +<i>or From Ranch to Riches</i><br /> +<br /> +Airship Andy<br /> +<i>or The Luck of a Brave Boy</i><br /> +<br /> +High School Rivals<br /> +<i>or Fred Markham’s Struggles</i><br /> +<br /> +Darry the Life Saver<br /> +<i>or The Heroes of the Coast</i><br /> +<br /> +Dick the Bank Boy<br /> +<i>or A Missing Fortune</i><br /> +<br /> +Ben Hardy’s Flying Machine<br /> +<i>or Making a Record for Himself</i><br /> +<br /> +Harry Watson’s High School Days<br /> +<i>or The Rivals of Rivertown</i><br /> +<br /> +Comrades of the Saddle<br /> +<i>or The Young Rough Riders of +the Plains</i><br /> +<br /> +Tom Taylor at West Point<br /> +<i>or The Old Army Officer’s Secret</i><br /> +<br /> +The Boy Scouts of Lennox<br /> +<i>or Hiking Over Big Bear Mountain</i><br /> +<br /> +The Boys of the Wireless<br /> +<i>or a Stirring Rescue from the +Deep</i><br /> +<br /> +Cowboy Dave<br /> +<i>or The Round-up at Rolling River</i><br /> +<br /> +Jack of the Pony Express<br /> +<i>or The Young Rider of the Mountain +Trail</i><br /> +<br /> +The Boys of the Battleship<br /> +<i>or For the Honor of Uncle Sam</i><br /> +</p> + +<p class="p2 noic">CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers NEW YORK</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="noi adtitle"><span class="smcap">The Saddle Boys Series</span></p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By CAPTAIN JAMES CARSON</p> + +<p class="noic">12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid.</p> + +<p class="p2">All lads who love life in the open air and a good steed, +will want to peruse these books. Captain Carson knows his +subject thoroughly, and his stories are as pleasing as they are +healthful and instructive.</p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image16.jpg" width="150" height="219" alt="The Saddle Boys Series" title="The Saddle Boys Series" /> +</div> + +<p class="p2 noic"><span class="smcap">The Saddle Boys of the Rockies</span><br /> +<i>or Lost on Thunder Mountain</i></p> + +<p>Telling how the lads started out to solve +the mystery of a great noise in the mountains—how +they got lost—and of the things +they discovered.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><span class="smcap">The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon</span><br /> +<i>or The Hermit of the Cave</i></p> + +<p>A weird and wonderful story of the Grand +Canyon of the Colorado, told in a most absorbing +manner. The Saddle Boys are to the front in a +manner to please all young readers.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><span class="smcap">The Saddle Boys on the Plains</span><br /> +<i>or After a Treasure of Gold</i></p> + +<p>In this story the scene is shifted to the great plains of the +southwest and then to the Mexican border. There is a stirring +struggle for gold, told as only Captain Carson can tell it.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><span class="smcap">The Saddle Boys at Circle Ranch</span><br /> +<i>or In at the Grand Round-up</i></p> + +<p>Here we have lively times at the ranch, and likewise the +particulars of a grand round-up of cattle and encounters with +wild animals and also cattle thieves. A story that breathes +the very air of the plains.</p> + + +<p class="p2 noic"><span class="smcap">The Saddle Boys on Mexican Trails</span><br /> +<i>or In the Hands of the Enemy</i></p> + +<p>The scene is shifted in this volume to Mexico. The boys +go on an important errand, and are caught between the lines +of the Mexican soldiers. They are captured and for a while +things look black for them; but all ends happily.</p> + +<p class="p2 noic">CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="tnote"> +<p class="noi tntitle"> Transcriber’s Notes:</p> + +<p>A List of Illustrations has been added by the transcriber for the + convenience of the reader; it was not present in the original.</p> + +<p>Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.</p> + +<p>Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p> + +<p>Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rival Pitchers, by Lester Chadwick + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIVAL PITCHERS *** + +***** This file should be named 39582-h.htm or 39582-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/8/39582/ + +Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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